Page 67 of Stealing Blinds

Jax kicks his feet onto a coffee table, somehow managing to feed the tension with a lazy demeanor. “Who knows you’re using the cleaning company?”

“Only my employer, E.”

“A change shortly after you received that note? I don’t like it,” Cash practically growls, announcing his domineering declaration before he utters, “I’m going with you.”

Zara’s emerald eyes widen, as if to say, Introducing Daddy Cash.

“You’re not.” I pin him with a glower that warns him to shut up. “It’s fine. Every job has hiccups—like a relentless Noire showing up uninvited to be my plus-one. I don’t like repeating the same ones. I can handle this.”

His features harden to granite. “I go, or you don’t.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” My coffee sloshes up the sides of the cup with my exasperation, so he takes it out of my hand and downs a hefty swig before passing it back to me with his unyielding threat.

“Someone was at your apartment, Sly. And you’re employed by a man you don’t know the identity of. I’m unwilling to compromise your safety. Your mother would back me on this. I promised her I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I can lock you down here if I need to.”

“I wouldn’t fuck around with that,” Zara warns in a tone that leads me to believe this is something they’ve done before.

Panic takes root at the base of my throat. “This might be my only opportunity before the final job. I’m as good as dead if you prevent me from going.”

“I’m not preventing you,” he counters. “I’m escorting you.”

The room grows deathly silent while we engage in a standoff. I am so pissed, and yet my heart is fluttering like a foolish hummingbird because his protectiveness feels like more. Like not being alone. And like an aphrodisiac. He’s either contemplating strangling me, cuffing me to him, or fucking me.

Maybe we could multitask later. After I complete my heist alone.

Axel tires of our deadlock and redirects. “Where is the final job?”

Grateful for the segue, I don’t hold back. “It’s at the Minds of Our Time retreat, hosted on a private island near the South of France.”

“Invitation only,” Jax pipes up, saying so much more than that simple phrase.

Everything about this event is hush-hush, but apparently, Jax has insider information.

“So, you’re after a historical artifact located there or something that one of the guests will have with them? How are the jobs linked?” Axel probes, but he notices my reluctance to divulge the particulars. He runs his hand through his ash-brown hair in mild aggravation. “If I’m going to disentangle you, I need to have something to work with.”

I’m cornered by all of them, but my gut tells me I’m safe here. That’s not something I’ve ever felt with E, so I lay it all out. “Beneath the main resort, there’s a storage bunker. It houses documents—confidential ones. It also has a highly secure computer system, which requires a combination of physical keys and access codes to unlock it.”

He taps a button on his watch, studying it for a beat. “You’re stealing the keys?”

I’m intrigued to see how they all respond to this—whether it’s about helping me or an eagerness to glimpse the prize—so I offer more. “And the information in the computer.”

“To what end?” Ryker jumps in, his icy blues swirling with hunger.

“I’m not sure what he wants with it. My debt is just that—a debt. I don’t get to ask what he’s spending it on.” I stall with another swill of my coffee. “But the information in that computer is worth … I’m guessing it’s priceless.”

Maddox twirls his balisong around with impressive skill, the blade catching the midday sunlight trickling into the room. “Any idea what it is?”

“I have some thoughts, but they’re all speculation. I’ve been given limited details, and my mother has been adamant that I keep it that way.”

“But you know who has the keys.” Axel’s sapphire eyes narrow. He’s contemplating something. “We can start with that.”

“What about how these people are connected?” Zara tries. “Have you found any links other than the keys?”

“No,” I sigh. “And I don’t think digging into them will give you much. The keyholders change every year. It’s another security measure. No one knows who’s been chosen.”

“Which makes it an unbelievable honor,” Maddox muses. His neck and hand tattoos make him appear so menacing, but even here, there’s a freeness about him—similar to Cash.

“Exactly,” I agree.