Page 8 of Heist in Paradise

Madoc stayed at my back as we climbed. Nate went behind him, still humming obnoxiously. I kept an ear out for Ryle at the tail.

Between one blink and the next, the house appeared.

It was definitely no humble cabin. Five stories tall, half-embedded in the mountain like the rock had eroded around it over time. Large panoramic windows and a long, wraparound porch. Big stone pillars and arches. Ugly as fuck decorative statues that looked like lumps of granite.

In other words, it was a goldmine. Pretentious, isolated, and full of priceless junk. A younger me would’ve raided every nook and pissed on his silk pillows.

“Damn,” Nate said between blustering pants. “Call me Goldilocks. I’m trying out the beds.”

“Yo’ baby bear.” I grabbed Nate’s arm and hoisted him up the remaining steps. “What’s that look like over there?” I pointed to the left side of the property.

Nate squinted through his sweat-stiff locks. “That…is a helicopter pad, boss.”

A groan traveled through the group.

Nate held out his hands in exasperation. “How the fuck was I supposed to know? We had limited intel, remember?”

“Logistics wizard, my freckled ass.” Callum helped Ryle up the last few steps. “We’re revoking your wand. It’s back to maintenance for you, boyo.”

I watched Ryle with concern. He was too pale, and he kept blinking like he’d been flashed. Brain auras. I knew them well, usually after a concussion or a bad hangover. I dipped my head to catch his eye. “Hey, you with us, Sunbeam?”

“Stomach still hurts,” he admitted, clutching his middle. “I’ll be good in a minute.”

A chrome water bottle was thrust between us. “Drink,” Madoc said. I hadn’t heard him move.

Ryle shook his head. “Nah, really, I’m fine.”

“Drink.”

“But I have barf mouth.”

Madoc’s eyes narrowed. “Drink or I’ll waterboard you. Choose quickly.”

Ryle snapped up the bottle and chugged it.

As we moved back to the front of the group, I smirked at Madoc. “Waterboarding, huh?”

Madoc’s own mouth ticked up faintly. “Junior needs a firm hand.”

“It’s just zero to all-out torture with you.”

Madoc shrugged. He faced the mansion and began silently mapping the access points. I left him to it, knowing his mind had already disengaged from me. Meanwhile, Zola was merrily ripping Nate a new one for his careless oversight.

“The guy is, like, a hundred years old, Nate! Did you really think he was going on a four-mile hike every time he came home?”

Nate glared at her. “A chopper isn’t exactly conspicuous, is it?”

“The less time we’re here, the better, dingus. We could’ve planned a backup.”

I rubbed my face tiredly. “Jesus, morons. Enough.”

Not for the first time, I considered knocking their heads together and banning them from fucking. If I were smart, I’d enforce the no-relationship rule like some of the other crews under Dr. Z’s syndicate. I’d bet my left nut the Japanese Vipers didn’t tolerate shit like this.

Because you’re soft, my father’s words jabbed at me inside my head. Soft and weak, boy.

Inwardly wincing, I turned my back on them. At least I had Madoc. He looked at me with nothing but bored determination. My dependable soldier.

“Remember,” Zola said as we each slipped in our covert earpieces. “These are only short-range because we’re in the middle of nowhere. Don’t stray too far or we’ll lose you.” She gave Nate a pointed look.