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“I know that voice,” he purrs softly. “But it’s your eyes that give you away.” He gradually drops his hand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I back up.
He shakes his head, his white teeth mocking me. I want to knock that smile right off of his face.
“So why do you do it?” he asks. “A little rich girl like you pickpocketing like a common thief.”
He steps forward again, and I’m enveloped in the scent of cloves. I’d like it if it weren’t coming from him.
“Not even a good thief,” he tuts. “Since I caught you sticky-handed.”
I grind my teeth, infuriated. That was a fluke; I’ve never been caught. It would be a champagne-drunk peacock who happens to look up at the wrong moment. And how does he even remember anything from last night? He was completely toasted.
“Like I said, you have the wrong person.” I make to turn away, but his voice pulls me back.
“Those aquamarine eyes. Saw you on a billboard this morning—actually—saw you onfivebillboards this morning, and I just knew. The brown you wore last night really made them pop. Same with the beautiful shade of your skin now. You know, you should really consider changing your eye color for your life of crime.”
I look around the room, suddenly desperate to spot someone I know and get away from him. Who knew the End Men were so sinister? Like I didn’t have enough eyes always watching me, waiting for me to slip up.
“Enjoy the party.” I move to walk away and suddenly feel the warmth of a very large hand on my arm.
“Have a drink with me,” he says.
I shake my head. “You’re shitting me, right? You accuse me of theft, insult me, and then ask me to have a drink with you? What type of crazy pellets do they feed you over there on Man Island?”
“If it weren’t true, you wouldn’t feel insulted.” He smirks.
I press my lips together. “You’re an insufferable asshole.”
“I’ve been called worse.” His grin widens, like a Cheshire fucking cat.
I’m acutely aware of how his eyes rove over me.
He bends down and whispers in my ear. “You know what’s missing with your outfit? A bracelet with pretty red stones…”
I glare at him, searching his face. What the fuck is he even getting at?
“You see the woman the governor is talking to?”
I follow the direction of his eyes and find Sean in a heated discussion with a stern-faced blond.
“That’s Lourdes Marques, our attorney general.”
He waves away my comment, not seeming to care about her career choice.
“Yes, yes, but look at her wrist.”
I jerk back. On a normal day, I’d never target someone like Lourdes. The stakes are too high. I steal from housewives and socialites, easy and unsuspecting targets. They stink of entitlement, too busy to notice when their bangles go missing. I spot the heavy gold ornament on Lourdes’ wrist encrusted with tiny rubies. I’ve seen her wear it before.
“What about it?”
Jackal licks his lips. “If you can steal it from her, I won’t tell anyone what I saw at the ball.”
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
Jackal shrugs. “It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.” His tone is bored. Every year a new End Man parades through our Region. I’ve had words with a few of them when they’ve come to the ballet. I’ve mostly found them polite in an aloof way. I’ve met the famed Folsom once or twice. He complimented my grand jeté—a complete gentleman.
I glare at Jackal and glance at Sean, grinding my teeth. He has no proof. I’m fairly certain that no one else at the ball saw me. I even wore that dumb deer mask that covered half my face. He’s bluffing, I tell myself. But even if he is, he could still cause a lot of trouble for me.
