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Carver sighs and glances my way. “You’re never going to tire of reminding us just how badly we fucked up, are you?”
“You might as well embrace it,” I grin. “That reminder is going to be hanging over your heads for the rest of your lives.”
“Fuck me,” Carver mutters before the car falls silent.
He pulls into my driveway and my heart breaks looking up at my home to find the windows all boarded up and the yard a mess from the raid a few days ago, but now isn’t the time to get upset about it. There will be time to fix my home, along with Carver’s once this shit is over, but right now, we have bigger fish to fry. There’s no time for tears.
“Alright,” he says, stopping by the keypad for my home and nervously looking up at the gate. “Let’s hope they’re too fucking busy to watch the gate today.”
He enters what looks like Grayson’s new code, knowing that had he entered his own, the guys would be notified. We both hold our breaths, despite not having to. We’ve both done dumber shit than this, and besides, the worst that could happen is being caught by the boys, or Paris could be inside with them all tied up just waiting for me to come flying through the front door so she can put a bullet through my head, but hey, I’m all about that positive thinking now.
The gate slowly peels open and Carver hits the gas, taking us closer and closer to our doom because, let’s face it, Carver was right, the guys aren’t going to appreciate this one bit, but what’s done is done. No one saw us sneaking in, so there’s absolutely no reason why we can’t hide out here until it’s all over. At least that way we’ll all be together.
Carver drives up around the side of the house and parks in between the bushes and a big tree, concealing the sedan as best he can, though I’m sure at some point we’ll remember to return it … or not.
We climb out of the car and we both freeze for a second, our eyes coming to one another’s. “Front or back?”
“Well,” he winks, making me squirm with need, “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Carver,” I snap.
He laughs off his stupid joke and shrugs his shoulders. “I guess it really doesn’t matter at this point, but if you really want to fuck with them, I’d sneak in through your bedroom window.”
CHAPTER 9
Carver and I laugh like a bunch of delinquent children as he makes a brace for my foot and I hold on to his shoulders. “Don’t fucking miss,” he whisper-yells as we both look up at the second story roof. It’s one thing getting the guys up there, but me? Fuck that. This is definitely not something that I would ever try by myself, yet somehow Paris got her bitch ass up here so if she can do it, then so can I.
“Oh yeah,” I grumble, searching deep within me for every little bit of sarcasm I can possibly muster. “I’m really going to go to all this effort just to miss the fucking ledge, but it wouldn’t be an issue if I actually had someone who wasn’t such a bitch trying to haul me up. Heard of a gym? How much do you bench anyway? Ten, maybe pushing twenty pounds?”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t knock back so many fucking burgers, we wouldn’t be having this issue,” he teases, more than capable of throwing me around whenever the fuck he wants; a point he’s proven far too many times. “For real though,” he continues. “Are you ready?”
I nod, focusing all my attention on the ledge that I have to cling onto for dear life. “Make a bitch fly.”
And fly, I do.
Carver launches me up, maybe a little too high as my whole body lands flat on the second story roof, no clinging for dear life needed. “Whoops,” he chuckles below as I scramble to get my legs securely on the roof. “You good?”
“Good,” I laugh, getting myself in a safe position before looking back down at him to watch him turn this mission into the gun show as he flexes his biceps and looks them over with pride.
“Damn,” he says with a stupid grin. “I don’t even know my own strength.”
“Shut up and get your ass up here, little rabbit,” I say, mocking the ridiculous new nickname he has for me. “And besides, I weigh all of three pounds. Now, if you launched a semi up here with me, then I’d be impressed.”
Carver lets out a frustrated huff and with one smooth move, he bends and jumps like nothing I’ve ever seen before. His fingers grip onto the ledge and he pulls himself up as though he was on Ninja Warrior. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet before guiding me toward my bedroom window, clutching my hand tightly, terrified that I’ll misstep and tumble to my fifth or sixth death of the week.
