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GENEVIEVE
The old farmhouse almost feels like home. It’s been a few days since we grabbed the painting. Archer returned it to the rightful owners, passing on how excited they were. They knew not to speak of it, to keep it within the family lest the billionaire come after them, and something sat well with me that we reunited a family with their heirloom.
After everything, these guys aren’t so bad after all, or at least they have some kind of heart.
“Do we have any other hits lined up?” Eric asks as we’re all in the living area.
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on some grapes while going over the paper Booker offered me. It’s not current. In fact, it’s at least ten years old, but like Booker, I find it interesting. It’s for the nearest town, not anything big, and it’s almost relaxing to read about how Hannah Kline won the local baking contest with her homemade blueberry scones.
Gage is outside doing who knows what. Though we’d come to some sort of understanding between us, he’s mostly kept to himself since then. I’m starting to think the grumpy man is scared of me.
Soon, I’ll call him out on it.
Eric is flipping through different music videos on his phone, a wide variety of musical genres coming from it every so often. I glance at him weirdly when a rock cover ofPhantom of the Operacomes on, but he shrugs nonchalantly and grins.
“I’m not some uncultured swine.”
Archer has gone back to avoiding me, though not to the same extent as before. Every now and then, I catch his heated eyes on me, no doubt remembering what it felt like for my mouth to be wrapped around him. When I catch him looking, I can’t help throwing a wink at him. Sometimes, I switch it up and drop another cheesy pick-up line. I’m determined to make the always in control ringleader blush.
Booker sits at the table with me, taking apart a handgun so that he can clean it. I’m intrigued by the way he sets the parts out in a specific pattern that’s undoubtedly tactical more than anything. His fingers glide easily over the parts, as if it’s second nature, and it’s almost as sexy as watching them drive a car. Strange the things I’m finding I’m attracted to now.
“Nothing yet,” Archer answers. “Our contact hasn’t reached out with any new intel.” He glances at me in a weird way, but I don’t question it. “No other jobs have come in yet.”
They are silent for a moment, but curiosity gets the better of me. “This contact… He just calls you and tells you someone worth hitting?”
“Something like that,” Booker says. “The fucker likes to make it difficult.”
Gage storms in through the door and stomps his shoes on the mat. He quickly takes them off, not wanting to track mud through the house, but I only spare him an initial glance.
I furrow my brows. “You know, I’m part of the elite.”
Four sets of eyes stare at me blankly. When none of them seem to get it, I sigh.
“I know most of the people you probably hit,” I add with a pointed look towards Archer.
“And?” Eric prompts. “You trying to convince us to hang out with them?”
“No.” I sigh in exasperation. “I mean, I know people who would make good hits. I could be your source, whether temporary while the contact gets his shit together or for longer.”
Archer’s brows go up. “You’d sell out your own kind?”
“First, saying ‘your own kind’ makes you sound like a pompous asshole, and you can fuck off with that. Second, why not? There are plenty of bad eggs. Hell, I could tell you one right now. In fact, I’d love for you to steal all kinds of shit from him.”
They are all quiet for several long seconds. Not surprisingly, it’s Archer who recovers first, despite my insult.
“Oh pray, tell us who this person is that you’d happily steal from,” he purrs, coming over from his spot to sit at the table. The others move closer until we’re all around the table.
I hold out my hand for his tablet with a raised brow.
Archer looks down at the tablet and then back to my hand. He only hesitates for a few seconds before he passes the tablet over. It’s a sign of trust I don’t expect, even if I can’t do much while they are all right here with me.
The moment I have the tablet, I pop open Google and type in a name before handing it back to Archer once the results load. He takes it and reads the name out loud.
“Charles Wentworth IV.” He blinks. “He’s worth a nice chunk. Why him?”
I shrug. “He’s an asshole, and he preys on women.”
“Says here he’s married,” Eric reads as he leans over Archer’s shoulder.
“Exactly.” I nod. “He brags openly about the jewels he buys his various mistresses all the time, not to mention the family heirlooms he lends out willy-nilly. The asshole is so stupid, the lock code to his safe is probably his birthday.”
The corner of Archer’s lips tilt up, and he meets my eyes. “Well, it looks like we have a new source,” he announces. He leans in closer than he’s been since I had his cock in my mouth. “What a perfect little spy you make,” he purrs.
I beam under the praise, realising just how much I’ll do as long as Archer looks at me like that.
I’m a bad girl, but sometimes, it’s so much more fun to be good.
