The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1)

by Samantha Keith

  “Then keep a lookout and I’ll give you a cut of the profit.” She turned her back to him and then spoke again, this time with her mouth hovering at her wrist. “Dani, read me back the combs I gave you.”

  He tore his gaze from the gentle curve of her spine and clenched his hands with the effort it took not to touch her. God, how could he still want her so badly? He’d pictured her smile and dimpled cheeks a thousand times. Her laugh had always made him grab her and kiss her. And right now, all he wanted to do was study that tattoo while he drove into her. He shoved all those delicious images from his head. Her words circled back around his thoughts:

  Dani.

  He should have known that Serena on a job meant her sister was in the shadows, if not beside her. Dani was probably the sole reason Serena was still stealing.

  He cupped her elbow and wheeled her around. “Are you crazy? You must have a death wish if you’re stealing from Alban.” He brought his fingertips to her ear and plucked the tiny bud out.

  “Hey!”

  He caught the device in his palm and scowled. “You need to get out of here.” He swooped up all her tools and shoved them inside her Go Go Gadget clutch. “Now.”

  Her eyes squinted into ferocious blue slits. “I’m not going anywhere without the diamonds.” She wrestled the earbud from his grasp and tucked it in her cleavage.

  “Then be ready to talk to the FBI because they’re going to be raining down in about”—he lifted his wrist and peeled back the sleeve of his jacket—“nine minutes.”

  Her jaw snapped open and her breasts rose on a breath. “The FBI?” She squeezed the hair at her scalp, and he tried like hell to push from his mind the picture of those blonde waves spread out on his pillow. “You’re . . . You’re a snitch?” Her voice climbed an octave.

  “Shh.” He slapped her clutch against her abdomen, where her free hand snagged it, and then towed her by the arm toward the bedroom, taking advantage of her lapse in defiance. “Look, this gig is my ticket out of stealing without doing any time. I’m undercover as a mole for the FBI, working as one of Alban’s security guards. That’s all I can say right now.”

  “Well, that’s dandy for you.” She dug her heels into the carpet at the doorway of the bedroom. “Milo, I need those diamonds. It will only take me a minute.”

  “Dammit, I’m not messing around, Serena.” He held fast to her bicep and opened the door to the hallway. “This place is crawling with guards. Alban will be up any minute to get the diamonds and—”

  “He’s getting the diamonds? Why?”

  He scanned the shadowed hallway and pulled her after him. He grunted his impatience. “Because he’s auctioning them off tonight.” Her skin went cold in his palm. Knowing Serena, she’d likely diligently planned her heist. She never walked into a job half-cocked, but there was no way she would have gotten wind of the auction. Nor would she have foreseen that tonight, the FBI was ready to lock Alban up on a shit ton of charges—charges that his intel was helping to lay.

  He checked his watch again. Six minutes. He cursed and picked up the pace. There was only one exit they could get to that quick. He rounded the corner of Alban’s suite and ran down the butler’s hallway.

  “Where are you taking me?” Her voice shook, but it was more likely because of his rushed footsteps than fear.

  “Closest exit.” He stopped at the top of the stairs leading toward the servants’ quarters.

  “Wait,” she said, as she bent down and grabbed a handful of her train.

  “If you don’t hurry your ass, I’m going to carry you.”

  “Go to hell,” she mumbled. She flicked his waiting hand away and proceeded down the stairs in front of him.

  He closed in on her retreating form. Her temper hadn’t changed one bit, either. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and he locked his hand around her shoulder before she could step into the hall. He didn’t dare pull out the flashlight at his hip, but the soft hum of the fridge in the kitchen around the corner reached his ears. The coast was clear. He stepped in front of her, and she followed close to his back. They reached the servants’ entrance, and he eased the door open. The chirp of crickets peeled through the summer night, and he eased her into the darkness and against the side of the house. It was pitch black, the only illumination coming from the stars.

  Stars. That was another thing he hadn’t been able to get out of his head. Lying on the grass of one of the local lookouts, the stars bright above them, her warm, lithe body curled into his arms. The night they’d almost had sex.

  He coasted his hand down her arm. Her skin was as soft as silk against his much rougher palm. He hooked his fingers into hers, and she gripped his hand.

  A thrill raced through him.

  He glanced down at her and his heart knocked in his chest. Still so damn beautiful. How could someone be so perfect? It was dark, but his eyes had long since committed her features to memory. Slightly upturned nose, dusting of freckles over the bridge of it, eyebrows delicately arched and always so cynical without the least bit of effort. And when she was mad . . . Christ. Nothing turned him on more than her temper.

  And now, just like a decade ago, he couldn’t be with her. Her breath spiraled in the air between them, hot and sweet—like the taste of her mouth and pink flesh between her thighs had been that night. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Her body surged against him. She lifted to her toes, her tongue meeting his in a tentative dance. Her hand curled into the crook of his neck, pulling him to her.

  His phone buzzed against his leg.

  Sonofabitch. It was time. Time for him to walk away from this dangerous life and let go of his past. He pulled his lips away and pressed his forehead to hers.

  “I never want to see you again,” he said, his voice so hard it pained him. She stiffened. “Get the fuck away from this life, Serena. You’re better than this.”

  Click

  The metallic sound shot through his ear canals. Serena shrieked and then pressed her hands against her mouth.

  “Step away from her, you traitor.”

  “Goddammit,” Milo breathed. More curses fell from his lips. He couldn’t let them get her. Serena’s eyes shifted to the asshole behind him. The whites of her eyes matched her colorless lips.

  “I’m at the servant’s entrance with a thief and—”

  Milo snapped his fist over his shoulder and caught the guy in the nose. He jerked his elbow back and the guard coughed out a breath. Then Milo snatched the gun and jabbed the bald guard in the face. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head. Milo rounded on Serena.

  “Go! Now,” he snarled, jutting his forefinger toward the forest that surrounded Alban’s property. Any second and they’d be ambushed by guards. Her hands stayed cupped over her mouth, terror sharp in her eyes. A figure stepped out of the shadows, and his senses prickled before he recognized Peyton.

  “Serena, let’s go!”

  Serena picked up her dress, turned, and ran into the darkness.

  Taking his heart with her.

  CHAPTER 2

  Two years later

  “The landscaping cost me over a mil.” Titus Phillips waved at the expanse of his manicured backyard from the second-story balcony off the master suite. Clouds hung in the sky, confirming the heavy rain fall weather forecasters had predicted would arrive any minute.

  Serena clutched her folder to her abdomen and peeked over the railing. Her five-inch stilettos wobbled with the shift of her weight. She sucked in her breath. Beautiful. Since entering the Lone Tree Estates mansion, in one of San Diego’s most prestigious neighborhoods, she’d had to contain her excitement. There was nothing more unprofessional than a realtor doing backflips for a listing.

  She needed this contract. If she landed Titus’s sale, and sold the property for a respectable price, she’d end up partner of Sunshine Coast Realty. She stared out at the scene before her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Titus’s stare and her skin tingled under the heat of his gaze. A bite o
f unease threatened to crack her shiny veneer. He was a dangerous man. She didn’t want to get on his bad side. This listing had to go as planned.

  “It’s stunning,” she said, forcing a smile. “Having this view off the master is a sensational perk. A lot of people will appreciate this privacy.” She tracked her gaze over the pool to the stone fountain and caught sight of a miniature house styled similarly to the main house. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the east side of the property.

  “Ah, I’m glad you brought that up.” He stepped closer to her, following her line of vision. The action was unnecessary given the unobstructed view. The wind picked up and the edges of his jet-black hair that should have sported a sign of gray fluttered in the breeze. “I have three rottweilers. That’s their house. They’re usually in my house though. I have a room for them on the main floor, so I’ll need enough notice for showings to have one of my staff move them outside. If someone comes unannounced, they’ll be sorry.” He smirked, and she cringed at the thought of what three ferocious rottweilers could do to a person.

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his white linen pants and gestured for her to precede him through the sliding door.

  “There’s one more thing that would please anyone of my stature,” he said, moving through the bedroom. She ignored his self-boasting comment and let her gaze drift over the marble bathroom with blue accented tile. Her heels—he’d insisted she keep them on—clicked on the floor and then sunk into the lush carpet of the walk-in closet on the other side of the bathroom.

  “This is not something I want in the listing.” He waved his hand in the air and turned to face her. Walls of expensive shoes and impeccably pressed suits surrounded them. “But when the right buyer is interested, it’s something we can . . .” He swirled his finger as he searched for the word. “Disclose.”

  He reached for an oil painting on the wall. His fingers traced its edges, and the soft clink of metal sounded. Serena’s breath snapped into her lungs. Peeling the frame away from the wall, he revealed a five-foot-tall safe.

  Every muscle in her body twined tightly.

  She couldn’t—wouldn’t—think about what was behind the safe’s door. The old Serena’s wheels wanted to turn, and despite her effort, every snippet of gossip she’d heard about Titus flicked a light on in the dark corners of her mind.

  Diamonds. Gold. Cash.

  And he was showing her the door to his safe because he thought her some flighty realtor. He had no idea that she was Serena Metcalf: thief.

  No, dammit.

  She was Serena Smith now. Top San Diego realtor. She wouldn’t be tempted. She had almost everything she wanted now. Money, freedom, and above all else, self-respect. Everything except someone to come home to at night . . . someone like Milo. Her ex’s face slid on the carousel of her mind and she shoved it out. Seeing his picture on social media sure as hell hadn’t helped her focus tonight.

  She cleared the gravel from her throat and kicked Milo from her mind like she did on an almost daily basis. Built-in safes were common in high-end listings, but she’d keep that bit to herself. “I’ll be sure not to reveal its existence without your permission.”

  He swung the picture back into place and pressed his hand to the small of her back. “Let’s discuss the listing price downstairs.”

  Her muscles tightened beneath his palm, and she curled her fingers until her knuckles ached to prevent herself from slapping him.

  Please, don’t hit on me.

  She stepped out of his reach and breezed through the master suite.

  “I have the comps here we can go over,” she said, waving the folder at her side. He kept his hands to himself but lingered, too close, as they descended the stairs.

  A deep quake rumbled in her belly. She wanted nothing more than to get out of Titus’s house—after she landed the listing. At one of the two expansive islands in the sleek, modern kitchen, she whipped the papers onto the pristine stone.

  She went through each of the nineteen houses that compared closest to his that had recently sold or were currently on the market. “Considering these comps, the size of your lot, and the obvious upgrades, I’d suggest listing your home just below nine million.”

  Her fantasies threatened to run wild. That would put her commission at over two hundred thousand dollars.

  Lord almighty. It was more money than she ever could have dreamed of landing in one sale. She could even help Dani get on her feet and out of the game. But more than that, her career would be launched on a rocket. Once she sold this house, she’d be unstoppable.

  “That will guarantee a quick sale?”

  She tucked the corner of her mouth into her cheek. “I don’t think anything in this price range will go ‘quick,’ but you would be priced aggressively against what’s currently on the market.”

  He propped his elbows on the island. “To be honest, I have a few other realtors I’m considering. Some have valued my property higher, but . . .” He turned his palm over. “I like you. Melanie says you’re her top agent,” he said, referring to her boss. “I want someone young and hungry. Give me a couple of days. I have family visiting over the weekend, and I’ll be leaving for a business trip Sunday evening. If I go with you, I expect my listing to become your priority.”

  Tremors threatened to take over her hands, so she busied them by tucking the papers together. “You have my word that your property will be at the top of my list.” She forced down her nerves and met his gaze.

  His lips slid into a grin and his eyes dipped to her starched white button-down shirt and back up to her face. She wouldn’t let him rattle her. She needed this contract. His eyebrows lifted, but the skin on his forehead didn’t crinkle, likely from too many Botox injections that did nothing to help his receding hairline.

  “I’ll do everything in my power to get this house sold.”

  He straightened from the counter and held out his hand. With her heels on, she was nearly eye level with him. He couldn’t be more than five foot nine. Keeping her shoulders back, she pressed her hand into his, her grip firm.

  “I’ll be in touch Sunday.” He winked, and despite the implications behind the gesture, her heart sang.

  She’d gotten the listing.

  * * *

  She opened the door to her Acura SUV, dropped her fifteen-pound handbag on the passenger seat, and shut the door. Having planned to go to the gym after her meeting with Titus, she’d packed her gym clothes. No way she’d be focused enough to work out now. Besides, didn’t most people chill on Friday nights? She’d earned the break and the chocolate bar stashed above her fridge for nights like this.

  A chill raised her flesh. She reached into the back seat, snagged the cardigan she kept there, and fit her arms through the heather-gray material. During the hour and a half that she’d been inside Titus’s house, rain had dampened her windshield.

  She let out a little squeal and turned over the engine. She shouldn’t let herself get excited, but if Titus didn’t sign with her, she’d be shocked.

  Her phone dinged from inside her purse, and she fished it out.

  Please, S. Don’t make me beg.

  Dani. Serena had already said no, and she wasn’t caving.

  Her sister claimed she and Peyton had a goldmine heist and they needed her to help execute it. But Serena was set. She loved her job. Sure, it lacked excitement and she had to work her ass off, but she made good money and was far away from the dangerous cycle she’d been stuck in for so long. Dani and Peyton were her only ties to that life now. She loved her sister dearly, but occasionally, Dani tried to tempt her with the heist of the century. Serena didn’t blame either of them. Both women were so deeply engrained in that world that neither wanted out. Sometimes she’d hear Dani speak longingly about a career in event planning, but just when Serena’s hopes would soar, Dani would reveal a new job she and Peyton were working on.

  Serena glided her thumbs over the screen.

  You know what my answer is. I’l
l call you when I get home.

  She dropped her phone in her bag and Milo’s face revisited her mind’s eye again . . . She shook it away, but it kept ricocheting back, pushing away every other image she tried to replace him with. Dammit, why had she scrolled through Facebook while scarfing down her supper in her vehicle before meeting Titus?

  Because she couldn’t bring herself to cut all ties to Milo, she followed his sister’s bar’s social media page. God, he’d looked good—well, more like his profile in the background of the picture of his sister, Tasha, had looked good.

  He’d changed. His hair was now finger length but still raven black, his body even more ripped. The bulge of his curling bicep against the sleeve of his shirt was dangerously sexy. He’d held a glass to his lips while the photographer snapped a picture of Tasha at the pub she owned in the Gaslamp Quarter: The Fainting Goat.

  Serena eased down the winding drive and drove toward the city limits. Night had fallen and stars lay hidden from sight amid the rain clouds.

  Milo was back in San Diego, where they’d both grown up. So what? Why did that burn a river of temptation through her? The last time she’d seen him, he’d stomped on her heart . . . after kissing her senseless. Why was she pining over a relationship that had died when she was seventeen? They were done. So done that there weren’t even ashes to resurrect. After the failed gig in Beverly Hills that Sebastian had set up, she and Dani had cut ties with their uncle and lain low while Serena worked on her realtor’s license.

  It was only a matter of time before Milo’s path and hers would cross. Because that’s what life did for its sick, torturous amusement. Serena merged onto W University Avenue, and the wipers sped up, making the rain bounce off her windshield at warp speed. This much rain was so rare in San Diego that she sat a little straighter in her seat. All it took was a slight change in weather for people to forget how to drive. She turned down one of the side streets in Hillcrest, and traffic slowed.

  He probably hadn’t even looked her up. She’d changed her last name—Serena Smith had a nice ring to it—and her once blonde hair was now a rich brown. With her history of theft, she’d been hesitant to take on such a public career. But no one had been looking for her then, and no one would be looking for her now.