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She laughed, retreating into the kitchen. She looked at the breakfast he had made and grabbed a piece of bacon, ripping a bite off one end. "I should trust the man that came into my apartment bare-assed naked?"
He crossed his arms. "You can't always use that to get what you want or to prove a point."
"But it does prove my point." She chuckled, staring at him with wicked eyes. "I don't know you, and I'm certainly not letting you go anywhere with my father's items. You either take me, or you don't go at all."
He knew there was no winning with her. She was stubborn, and when she set her mind on something, she wasn't budging. So, like her father.
"Fine, but you listen to what I say. Understood? The person is …" He thought of how to describe Nydia. "Rigid and strict. I'd rather not piss them off."
Mickey smiled. "Sounds like fun. Where do we begin?"
"Let me see the journal, and I'll let you know."
She shook her head. "No, we can eat first and then look through them."
I would much rather take you over my knee and spank you. But that's for another time.
He inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He remained calm, though. He had to.
If he could do this one last gig and get his hands clean from Nydia, they could leave. He could guide her away from being a thief, and they could live out their days in peace.
All he had to do was commit one more robbery, and he was free. And that sounded like the best news of his life.
TWELVE
MICKEY
She woke up to someone talking. At first, it felt like maybe it was part of her dream, but then she could hear the shift of urgency in the tone. It sounded like Strap.
She pulled her eyes open and blinked, finding his side of the bed empty. Her heart sank a little. She pulled her eyes up and heard him standing outside on the terrace.
He paced, nodding his head as he spoke. Whoever he spoke to set him on edge. She wondered who it was.
"Stop yelling at me," he growled, shaking his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned. She quickly closed her eyes, remaining still.
She counted a few breaths before she peeked back at him. He turned back to the city view, nodding once more. She slipped out of the sheets and snuck up to the bedroom window next to the terrace. She leaned close, pressing her ear to the glass.
A woman's voice snapped through the air, angry. "That doesn't answer my question. Am I fucking talking to a broken record here? Answer the goddamn question."
Whoever was on the other line was pissed. Her heart twisted for Strap. Had he gotten himself into a bad situation?
"I'm sorry, are my nerves getting to you? Maybe going back to jail would be better for you. Did you think I just let you loose to waste my time? Because I didn't."
She pulled a hand up, covering her mouth so he couldn't hear her shock. She bit her tongue, wondering who Strap was. Who did he work for?
She hardly knew him, and it appeared there was more to the reason he was following her. She just didn't know what. And her gut told her whoever was on the other line was a big part of it.
She needed to figure out what Strap did during all of the time away from her father. If he used to know him, why didn’t he know her father had died? What made them go in separate directions?
She watched his hand ball into a fist. "You do realize he sold those, don't you?"
Was he talking about her father? Her father sold something? Had her father stolen something from Strap?
The other person spoke about baseballs and that she wanted them back. A shiver ran down her spine. She was sending Strap after them. Of course, she was. He was an incredible shifter … a double shifter. Meaning he was going to steal something.
Just then, she noticed he was about to turn, and she rushed back to bed. She quickly pulled the sheets back and made it look like she was asleep.
Her heart pounded, and she stared at the wall opposite the terrace. Her heart sank.
