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“Riley has been a huge help,” Andi said. “And she’s fast.”
“Andi’s additions were off the top of her head,” Riley said. “Impressive memory.”
“I just studied heists of the past, the catalogs of the galleries my company insures.” Andi shrugged. “My only recollection of back-to-back heists were two heists that two teens pulled off. Two teens who ended up in juvie.” Her quizzical gaze shifted to Christian.
He gave her an I’m-busted smile.
“I remember they were masterful heists. The thieves—you and Ethan—only got caught because of trying to move a stolen piece too fast and public.”
“That was Ethan.”
“I hate to say impressive, but the execution of them was.”
“But we deserved jail for what we did,” he said.
“And you served your time.”
Riley’s gaze bounced between the two of them. “And it’s in the past,” she said, always standing up for her big brothers.
“Exactly.” Andi nodded. “But it’s no wonder you’re so good at busting them.”
“I wish I was in this case.”
“We’ll get them,” she said with assurance, then cast her gaze at Greyson. Christian’s followed. Grey still stood by the glass columns with writing in black scrolled across them.
“What are the two columns for?” he asked.
“The list on the left are galleries where I’ve consulted on or upgraded their security system,” Christian said. “The right column are galleries in New Mexico, Arizona, California, and Utah with collections that might interest our thieves. They have the most Aztec and Mesoamerican collections in the country.”
“What’s with the underlined ones?” Greyson asked, moving to take a seat at the table.
Riley popped a butterscotch into her mouth and tossed the wrapper on the table.
Greyson stared at it, then her.
Christian smirked. He gave it thirty seconds.
Twenty seconds in, Greyson reached for the wrapper and tossed it in the trash.
“I would have gotten it,” Riley said.
“Sure you would have,” Greyson said. “That’s why I find wrappers all over the place. I sat on one in my chair today.”
“Oops,” Riley said.
“What were you doing at my desk, anyway?”
“I needed a stapler and couldn’t find mine.”
Greyson smiled—that half smile of his. “That’s why everything was out of place.”
“I put things back,” Riley insisted.
Andi leaned over, her mouth by Christian’s ear, her breath warm and tickling. “Are they always like this?” she whispered.
“Usually worse,” he said, fighting the urge to forget the Bickersons were in the room and pull Andi into his arms and—
“Not where they belong,” Greyson countered, yanking Christian from his thoughts.
