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“That’s murder,” Eric points out, as if it had never occurred to Gage.
Gage twists more to look at Eric. “And?”
“Calm down, mate.” Eric scowls. “We’re burglars. I didn’t sign up to be no murderer.”
Gage’s eyes flash, and when we look at each other, I know what we’re both thinking—murder is easy when you’ve taken lives. While Gage killed people on the streets, bad people he had to in order to survive, I had the full support of the government for my kills. It didn’t matter if some of mine had been bad people. Some of them had been good and innocent, and those deaths stained my soul.
“No murder,” I agree. My soul is black enough. I can’t stomach killing someone who fought their hardest when others would have run. She deserves a fighting chance, even if we can’t let her go.
“We’re not killing her,” Archer states, backing me up. “She’s worth more alive.”
“Out of the city,” I say again. “It’s our best plan. We get her out, regroup, and figure out what we’re going to do. Maybe Chaz will pay a hefty amount for her return.”
“Chaz isn’t worth a penny,” Archer reminds me. “But someone will want the woman back, I’m certain.”
“Aye. They always look for the rich,” Eric adds. It goes without saying that they don’t exactly look for people like us when they go missing. It’s a harsh dose of reality.
We’re all silent for a moment before I speak up. “We could go to the farmhouse.”
Archer glances over at Gage before returning his gaze to the road ahead of us. The streets are packed, even for as late as it is. The weekends are always busy in London, the sidewalks full of drunken twenty-year-olds and middle-aged hunters looking for prey. Sometimes it’s simply pickpockets, and sometimes it’s worse. The dark alleys of London can hide some of the slimiest humans.
“Gage? You okay with that?” Archer queries. “You haven’t been back since—”
“Just go,” Gage commands. “We’ll get there, get settled, and figure out what we’re going to do from there. The farmhouse is secluded, and no one really even knows it’s in my name now.” He pauses. “Booker is right. It’s a good idea.”
There’s silence after we agree, and I find myself looking down at the woman again. She’s still out cold, barely making a noise. As I watch, a tiny, adorable snore slips out before she falls back into silence. If I weren’t a big, bad burglar, I might have smiled a little bit at the sound. How did a douchebag like Chaz Dandridge convince this woman to love him? It just doesn’t make sense.
“To the farmhouse it is,” Archer murmurs.
The drive to Gage’s farmhouse out in the country is long, and we mostly spend it in silence. Genevieve doesn’t wake up, despite the rough ride, the punch to the cranium likely hard enough to make her sleep for hours. I suppose we’ll have to worry about a concussion next. Fucking Gage. The woman didn’t deserve that, no matter how much fire she has.
Something about her is different from any of the rich bitches we’ve dealt with before, which only raises the question in my mind again.
What the fuck is she doing with slimy Chaz Dandridge?
