Page 66 of Heist in Paradise

“We got a new shipment arriving in thirty minutes. Well, less now.”

That made my lungs seize all over again. Ice swept through my veins, chasing away the heat. “More girls?”

“Presumably so.”

“How do you know?”

“Nate still has that dickhead’s phone. Turns out he was here to prepare the house for the drop.” But Ryle was still grinning, so I knew it wasn’t all bad news. “Jax called another war room. We’re going full Rambo on their assess.”

I nodded robotically. Ryle gave me a friendly bop on the head as I passed him, clearly sensing my malfunction.

The mood was instantly different upon returning to the war room. The atmosphere was electric, the kind of excitement that prefaced a homecoming game. I felt detached from it, an outsider.

Would this day ever end?

There was no hint of exhaustion in the crew. Even Nate had apparently found his second wind. They crowded around the dining table, their packs and equipment spread out like a smorgasbord of chaos. It was nearly sundown, the chandelier encasing the room in a warm, anticipatory glow.

Jax looked up where he stood at the head and caught my eye. Whatever he saw on my face hardened his own. I deliberately didn’t look at Madoc, feeling those laser eyes on me from across the room.

Jax crooked one gloved finger and beckoned me over.

Like a hopeless idiot, I went. When I stood before him, he faced me, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me—a reassurance I’d gladly accept—but instead he reached for my hand and placed something cold in my palm.

“Yours,” he said.

I unfurled my fingers slowly and found a silver flash drive. My eyes instantly burned, and emotion clogged up my windpipe.

Evidence.

The very thing I had traveled across the country for. The reason I’d exposed myself to skeevy fisherman and sex dungeons and mouthy thugs with piercing eyes and bruised knuckles.

It didn’t feel real. Not him. Not any of it.

I closed my fist around it, the sharp bite into my palm a welcome sting. “Thank you.”

The tender moment was broken by an enthusiastic Ryle reaching for a long-nozzle gun. “Dibs on the AR-15.”

“No!” Callum, Jax, and Zola said at once. Callum reached around and plucked it from his grasp.

“Let’s take it easy, boyo,” Callum said, unmoved by Ryle’s answering pout. “We all know you get a wee bit trigger-happy.”

“Do not.”

I stared, wide-eyed and unnerved by the spread of weapons. “So, uh, what’s the plan exactly?”

Jax’s shoulder bumped mine. “You ever seen Home Alone?”

“Only a million times.” It was Molly’s favorite movie.

“Well, it’s like that, only more carnage.” His hands were piecing together what looked like a complicated metal egg. “We rig up the house, wait for them to set off the traps. Then we take them out.”

“And by take them out, you mean…?”

Across the room, Madoc dragged his finger across his throat.

Right. Murder. How cute.

The others were piecing together their own weapons. Zola’s fingers were flying across tablets and keys with scary speed. They’ve done this before, I realized with a sudden pang of awareness, something that shivered like fear through my body.