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She had that interesting combination of playfulness, challenge, and helpless submission that he found so fascinating. Her body was gorgeous, but her face and those large, expressive eyes—he could stare at her by the hour and never get bored.

He sighed to himself.

“Are you still obsessing about her?” Addison asked, slipping her arm through his as they walked out to where Luke was waiting by a nondescript sedan.

“I’m not obsessing,” Atlas grumbled. “Besides, she’s a cop. Where the fuck is that going to go?”

“You could do some hot cop/thief role play,” Luke suggested. He was leaning on the hood of the car. “Of course, you’d have to let her top you for that scene or it wouldn’t really work.”

Addison laughed. “No. What you have to do is accidentally kidnap her. That’s how men get wives in this family.”

They all got into the car, and Atlas found himself chuckling despite his grim mood. “I’m prettier than these two, so I don’t have to stoop to kidnapping.”

Fox made a rude noise. “Prettier than me? Well there goes my dream of being a swimsuit model.”

“Awww, you’re plenty pretty,” Addison said. She gasped, then laughed about something, but Atlas refused to turn around to see what they were up to back there.

“Besides,” Fox said, after he hissed at Addison to stop, “kidnapping a cop has to be a bigger offense than kidnapping a bratty car thief.”

Playing a kidnapping game with Mila would be fun. She’d run like hell and he’d chase after her and throw her over his shoulder while she struggled and pretended to want to get away . . . Wait. They’d already done that. He wanted to do it again.

He shifted in his seat and tried to forget that scenario. For days he’d been antsy and irritable, trying not to think about her yet finding his mind recalling every moment with her at Fitte in graphic detail.

Their road turned off on to the highway, and he watched the glow of the city grow as they got closer. She was somewhere here in the city, and for the past week the possibility of running into her again had him checking every squad car even though she probably never drove a marked one.

“If you really want her, you could always amend your evil ways and become a law-abiding citizen,” Luke suggested.

Atlas could practically feel the tension coming at him from the two in the backseat. Luke had been hinting he might want out, but Fox was deep in denial.

The idea of going straight had surfaced in Atlas’s mind so many times in the past couple of years that their mocking suggestions to one another to go straight no longer had as much bite.

The truth was, the only people in the group who still had a passion for stealing cars were Fox and Addison, and they all knew it. The two of them were like Bonnie and Clyde without the crazy recklessness or the bloody, violent deaths. At this point, he often felt like their third wheel, both on the job and at the house. Maybe they needed a chaperone, but it wasn’t a job he wanted.

“Okay. This is good,” Addison said, thumping the back of Luke’s seat in her enthusiasm. “Drop us here.”

Had any of them ever loved the job as much as she did? The rush could be fun, but most of the time to Atlas it was just work. Addison fucking loved this.

Luke pulled up to the curb well out of sight of the cameras, and dropped off Fox and Addison. He drove around the back of the block to let Atlas out too.

“Head in the game,” Luke reminded him, ruffling his hair the way he used to when Atlas was the little cousin, tagging along after the bigger boys when he was barely tall enough to see over the dash.

“My head is always in the game,” Atlas retorted, realizing how defensive he sounded only after he said it.

“Uh-huh. So if you get arrested we’ll know it’s because you secretly love group showers.”

“Secretly? It’s not exactly a secret.” Atlas chuckled. “Although the guys in juvie weren’t as friendly as those two redheads you picked up in Chicago a couple of years back.”

Luke shuddered. “Yeah, they were hot. I still hope they were kidding about being sisters though. That got a little too Game of Thrones for me.”

Atlas snorted, then opened the passenger side door to get out. “Bye.”

“No more stupid chances, idiot.”

“Yes, Mom.” Atlas kissed the tips of his fingers and smacked Luke’s forehead with them. He got out onto the curb and moved off toward the club, hoping the recon Addison had done was solid, because his head wasn’t in the game at all, and if he had to think fast he’d fuck it up.

By the time he got to the front door, Fox was already installed there with a tall, lanky blond man whose nametag said Gilbert. Apparently, old names were part of the vampire shtick of the club. Atlas was Thomas, and Fox was Oscar.

“The turnover in this place is crazy,” Gilbert was saying. “George and Charles disappeared a few nights ago, and I’ve been running my ass off ever since.”

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