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Almost done Dont txt back
I scuttle like a crab across the garage and back to the office where I entered. Pressing my ear to the door, I don’t hear any footsteps, so I slip back out to the hallway. Just as I pass the door to the bathroom, I hear a toilet flush.
My body wants to freeze in panic. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the hallway. Nowhere for me to hide. But I learned long ago how to ignore my panicked responses. With three long, almost-leaping steps, I reach the door to the stairwell, pull it open, slip inside, and let the thing swing almost all the way shut. I keep my hand braced on the cold metal, cushioning the door a centimeter away from the latch, avoiding even that small noise that could give away my presence. Through the slim opening, I listen to the bathroom door open—the guy didn’t bother to wash his hands, gross—and booted footsteps. The tread is slow, moving away from me.
Only when I hear the latch of a second door closing do I slowly guide the stairwell door shut.
On a long, low exhale, I ease away some of the tension.
But I’m not done yet.
Climbing to the second floor, I enter the office space. All the lights are off, the floor empty and eerily quiet. Not even the hum of AC.
On soft feet, I cross to my uncle’s office. He left the door locked. I crouch down and pull my picks out again, getting into the room easier than the roof entrance.
Unfortunately, the place seems to be empty. No stray papers lying around. No file labeled “Criminal Business Plan.”
In a cabinet, I find a combination safe. I try a few different number sequences on a wild hope, but nothing comes from it. If I used my impressive thigh muscles, I might be able to lift it, but no way could I jump across the gap between roofs. Besides, I don’t want my uncle to know anyone was here. Stealing his safe is an obvious tell. Wanting to do something with this, I snap a picture of the safe. Proof that it exists. Not much, but I’ll take anything at this point, not sure if the VIN numbers will be a genuine threat if I ever need to play this hand.
When I leave the office, I leave everything the way I found it, including the locked door.
As I retrace my steps, I move with as much caution as I did entering the building. Would be the perfect fuck-up to get through all this only to get caught at the last second. On the roof, I lock that door as well and make my way to the roof’s edge. Finally, I slip off my ski mask, the night air cool on my exposed skin.
I suck in a deep breath, experiencing a glow of triumph that’s quickly doused by the reminder of why I had to do this—and how like my father’s family I am at this moment.
Just another Lamont breaking the law.
But no time to wallow about that. Charlie’s waiting for me.
I jump.
ChapterTwenty-Six
CHARLIE
The text should help calm my nerves.
It doesn’t. All I can see is Luna lying vulnerable under a car, and some shadowy hulking figure grabbing her ankles and dragging her out, and then…
Hell, I can’t even imagine what kind of retaliation her uncle would level against her.
For the first time since our wedding day, I feel like a true poseur.
Obviously, I must be a fake husband. Someone in a true marriage would never let their partner do something this dangerous alone.
But when Luna asked me to trust her, how could I not?
So I sit here, fingers digging into my knees to keep from texting her back, constantly asking for proof that she’s alright.
She told me not to text.
“Fuck,” I groan, tugging at my shirt collar. The thing is choking me. I can’t breathe.
A knock on the window has me jumping in my seat and letting out a high-pitched yelp.
But then there she is, her beautiful face smiling at me through the window. I scramble out of the car and don’t bother questioning the instinct to gather her into my arms.
“Damn it, Luna,” I mutter, burying my face in her hair to breathe in that tart citrus scent of her shampoo.
