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Before I could argue anymore, Kenz looked toward our table, and the moment her gaze landed on me, her smile widened more, as though nothing was more important or exciting than her realizing I was there, too.
She headed our way, then gave me a quick kiss before sitting at our table. “I thought you were working all day.”
“I was,” I admitted. “But I finished up a little earlier than I thought and realized I hadn’t stopped by in a while. I hearyou’revisiting pretty often?”
She didn’t give me a look that implied she felt bad about that. Instead, she shrugged. “I like coming by. Plus I always walk away with cookies. Apparently, I’m pretty easy to bribe.”
Her words warmed me, especially because I knew they weren’t true. She didn’t come for the cookies, but because this place mattered to me, because she was kind, because she was the good person I’d never thought I could be.
One of the newer residents walked by, their face pinched into unhappy lines. I watched them go, unable to shake the feeling something was wrong.
“She got here a few days ago,” Claire explained. “She hasn’t said much, but clearly something’s wrong.”
Another resident, Harold, sat in the chair to the side of Kenz. “I heard that she had a house she’s lived in her entire life, but her kids pretty much pushed her out of it so they could sell it since the market’s high.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching as the woman walked with no problem at all. She didn’t seem old enough to need the help a place like this required, and her expression went along with the idea that this move hadn’t been her idea.
“So they’re selling her house from under her?” Kenz asked, that sweet voice of hers heartbroken already. “That’s horrible.” She turned her gaze toward me, a question there.
It made me want to laugh, that pleading she had. No, not just that. She didn’t look at me as though she had to beg, just like the others at the table. Instead, they looked my way as though I were not just a problem, but rather the solution. I wasn’t just a surly, unpleasant conman they needed their guard up around.
Instead, they looked at me like I was a hero, someone who could fix this, who could make things right.
It melted me all over again for Kenz, who accepted and understood every part of me—the ugly ones I used to hide included.
So I smiled back at her, the look real, then nodded. “Yeah, let’s go get her house back.”
Kenz leaned over and wrapped her arms around me, then took my lips in a kiss that was probably entirely inappropriate for the location, but fuck if I cared.
Kenz was my whole damned world now, and I’d con anyone out of anything if it meant keeping her.
* * * *
Tor
The sun had long past disappeared beneath the horizon by the time I reached home, when I spotted the porch lights of the house like an oasis in the desert.
I’d hoped to get back much earlier, but the job hadn’t gone perfectly, which was a fact of life for people like me. Instead of the quick in-and-out I’d planned for, the target had ended up in a panic room.
Breaking into a panic room was a quick way to a ruined schedule.
Still, some relief hit me as I glanced at my watch to find the time at two in the morning. Kenz would be safely asleep, which meant I didn’t have to see her.
Not that I didn’t want to see her. Each time I left for a job, the craving to see her bright smile, her dark eyes, it ate away at me. I didn’t keep her photo on the phone I used for jobs—the last thing I would ever allow was for her to end up in danger if something happened to me—which meant I had to suffer through that absence.
However, I always avoided seeing her at first when I came back from jobs, terrified she’d look at me differently.
I unlocked the front door and turned off the security system so I could enter. I reactivated the exterior sensors and doors once inside, then headed for my room. The hallways remained dark and silent, making it almost feel as though I lived alone again, like the past months hadn’t happened.
And, in a turn of events I would never have expected, I found that I didn’t like that quiet.
I put my gear away first, locking it into the safe in my closet. Tomorrow I could go through it all, clean what needed cleaning, replace what got used. I had already disposed of anything that might connect me to the job anyway.
I stripped down, tossing my clothes into a laundry basket in the closet before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
The first bit of hot water to stream over me, to wash away the dirt and sweat from the job, let me sigh heavily.
There were times I thought about quitting. Not because I disliked my job, not anymore, but because this heavy fear had grown inside me, day by day, and I struggled to carry it any longer.
