The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1)

by Samantha Keith

  “What are you doing?”

  She returned her phone to its pocket. “Just letting my boss know there’s been an emergency and I need someone to step in for me on a couple of things tomorrow.”

  “Think she’ll understand?”

  Serena nodded. “Without a doubt. Melanie’s very considerate, and I’ve yet to call in sick for anything in the two years I’ve been on her team. She’ll be worried I’m sure. But I don’t want to give her too many details in case she takes it upon herself to notify the police.”

  Milo huffed. “Good call. That’s the last thing we need.”

  Dani’s terror-filled face loomed in her mind’s eye, and tears burned behind her lids. With a background in self-defense, Dani could handle herself in almost any situation. Whoever had taken her had either rendered her defenseless by injuring her or vastly outnumbered her.

  Serena sat forward. “That building on the left,” she said, and stretched her hand toward the window.

  Milo slowed and pulled into the parking lot.

  “I assume you have a key?”

  “Of course.”

  She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the car. Milo had rounded the vehicle before she stepped onto the sidewalk. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay close.” His wry tone made her roll her eyes. But the shrubs dotting the walkway to the front entrance swayed in the breeze, and she let her body gravitate closer to Milo’s. If he noticed her anxiety, he didn’t react.

  The downpour had become a light drizzle. They reached the door, and she shook the key to Dani’s apartment loose from the others that hung on her key chain. She entered the building with Milo close behind her.

  “She’s on the third floor,” she said, as she led him to a bank of elevators. Milo punched the button as she scanned the tattered gray carpet. Dani had been kidnapped—there had to be a clue, a witness . . . something.

  The elevator dinged and they stepped inside. Again, she searched for an indication that Dani had been taken from her home.

  “They wouldn’t be dumb enough to take her from her apartment. Do you know where she was when she texted you?”

  God, if only she’d called Dani on her way home from Titus’s. Her gaze slid to Milo’s tall form. She hadn’t, because her mind had been too set on him. Dani would have picked up on her distraction, and she would have ended up talking about Milo when she hadn’t wanted to.

  “No.” The elevator cart slowed and the doors opened. They stepped onto the third floor. She led the way down the hall and stopped when they reached Dani’s door. Milo’s hand slid around her waist, and he eased her against the wall.

  “Give me the key.”

  She held it out and he accepted it. His free hand moved behind his back and removed a gun from the waistband of his pants. The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

  “You have a gun?” Her throat squeezed out the word.

  He lifted his shoulder. “Does that bother you?”

  She wet her lips and shook her head. Any form of protection was an asset right now. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

  He winked at her. “Don’t worry, I know how to use it.” He edged her back with his elbow until she was two feet away from the door. He moved close to the white-painted wood and brought his ear close to the surface.

  He unlocked the door, stepped back, and shoved it open with his foot, keeping his gun trained on the open doorway. She pressed her body tight to the wall as blood rushed through her brain.

  Milo stepped over the threshold and jerked his head toward the interior.

  “Stay close.”

  She nodded and followed him into the apartment. He held his hand out, indicating for her to wait in the open-concept kitchen and living area as he swept through the rest of the tiny space.

  “All clear,” he said, as he exited Dani’s bedroom, closed the front door, and secured the lock.

  Serena rolled her shoulders back and advanced to the edge of the couch, where Dani permanently kept her laptop. On the side table sat several framed pictures—one of Dani and her celebrating her first real estate sale, another of Peyton and Dani in Europe a couple of summers before. A smile touched her lips as she stared at Peyton’s tight hold on her sister’s shoulders. Dani and Peyton had been best friends since they were nine.

  Dani had taken their mother’s death the hardest. For the first month after moving in with their aunt and uncle, she hadn’t spoken a word to anyone.

  Then she’d met Peyton.

  Serena’s heartstrings pulled at the memory of the petite strawberry-blonde girl who at age nine had looked no older than seven. The day Dani had found Peyton, cops and a fire truck had surrounded the little girl’s house and she’d been hiding in a tree. Dani climbed up and sat beside her. They instantly bonded. Later, Serena learned that Peyton had set fire to the back porch of her new foster home. Having grown up watching her father beat her mother half to death, she’d been whooshed into child protective services and had a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. She’d rebelled against every home she’d been placed in, but the last set of foster parents didn’t give up on her despite her pyro moment, and now, from what Serena knew, she had a good relationship with them.

  She lowered herself to the couch and opened the computer. Milo paced in front of the door with his gun still drawn for a few moments and then turned to face her. The password bar popped up, and she glided her fingers over the keys. Milo dropped down beside her on the couch.

  “You know her password, too?” His eyebrow cocked.

  She glanced at him. “Dani has used the same password for everything since she was a teenager.” A beat passed. “Don’t you dare tell her I told you that.”

  He chuckled and laid the gun on the coffee table inches from his knees.

  “Scout’s honor. What are you looking for?”

  She pulled up Dani’s email first. “She was trying to coerce me into doing a job, so that means she already had it well planned. Which means she’d put a team together.”

  “Can’t you just phone those people?”

  She shook her head. Saying she and Dani ran in different circles would be an understatement.

  “I don’t know her friends anymore.”

  “What about Peyton?”

  “I haven’t talked to her since the Alban heist. I don’t have her number now, but maybe I can reach out to her another way.”

  Milo rested his elbows on his knees, and his hands hung between them. God, he was so close. The muscles in his thighs pressed against the material of his jeans. Her throat constricted.

  Focus.

  “You and Dani were joined at the hip growing up. How is it you don’t know her friends other than Peyton?”

  Sadness gripped her tongue as her childhood washed over her. She rubbed the pad of her thumb over her middle fingertip as she stared at the screen. She and Dani had always been best friends. As children raised by a thief, they’d always known they were different, that their home was different. Kids at school talked about their parents’ careers and spent their evenings playing sports with the neighborhood kids. Not Dani and her. When their uncle wasn’t grooming them for a job, they were helping Aunt Mae around the house. Even in school they’d been ostracized. No one wanted their kids playing with the nieces of a criminal. Dani, Milo, Brock, and Peyton had become her family. After Serena had gotten out, she’d told Dani to keep her jobs and colleagues away from her. All it took was for Serena to be seen with one wanted criminal to detonate the life she’d built. However, doing so had put a small wedge between her and Dani. Peyton was the only friend of her sister’s that she knew well.

  She scrolled through Dani’s inbox, but nothing from the last few days jumped out at her. A couple of Amazon orders and—ooh, her favorite designer boot store. She resisted the urge to click on the shipping notification that could be her Christmas present and went to Dani’s Sent folder.

  She didn’t spare Milo a glance. “Because, like I already told you, I’m not in that lifestyle anym
ore. We hang out and watch our favorite shows, shop, eat, but she knows I don’t want anything to do with her . . . associates.”

  Milo grunted. “That’s why she tried to . . . what did you say? Coerce you into working this job?”

  Her skin burned, but she wouldn’t take her gaze off the email that had caught her eye to sear him with her stare. She double-clicked on the subject line of the email addressed to Peyton and three others.

  “I’m not going to talk about that right now. Look at this,” she said, gesturing to the single paragraph in the body of the email.

  I’ve got the blueprints. Mark November 29 in your calendars. We’ll go over the details and any questions Thursday night.

  She straightened and turned to Milo. “The email was sent two days ago. Their meeting would have been last night,” she said. Milo leaned closer to read the email.

  Milo took the computer and put it in Sleep mode. “Whoever took her could have been someone inside her team. A mole, maybe. We need to take her computer and get back to my place. I’ll have Rhett trace the IP addresses of the people CC’d on the email.”

  Hope surged through her, giving her a third wave of adrenaline. She stood and made a beeline for Dani’s bedroom. “I need to grab a few things,” she called. There was no time to stop at her apartment for clean clothes. She’d have to make do with some of Dani’s. She scooped up her Gucci weekend bag—Dani would kill her—and helped herself to her sister’s clothes and makeup. Thank god they were similar in size.

  “C’mon, S.”

  She snagged Dani’s cardigan from the end of the bed, since her own was doused in blood, and made her way back to the main living area.

  “Sorry, I need clothes.”

  Milo grunted and tucked her sister’s laptop under his arm. “Let’s go.” He stopped at the front door and lowered his eye to the peephole while Serena kicked off her high heels and fit her feet into Dani’s running shoes.

  “Don’t you think whoever has Dani would be with her and not sneaking around her apartment building?” She released the dead bolt and turned the door handle, bringing her much too close to the rigid wall of Milo’s chest.

  “I’m not taking any chances. Let me check the hall,” he said, nudging her to the side. The door creaked as he pulled it open, but his eyes locked on hers.

  He winked at her. Her breath blew through her lips and her loins clenched beneath her abdomen.

  No, don’t do this. Don’t get tangled in his web . . .

  Bam!

  The front door banged open, and Milo stumbled back. A booted foot retracted, and then a gun moved through the now open door. Panic rooted Serena’s feet to the spot.

  “Serena, get down!” Milo dove for the attacker and a shot went off.

  CHAPTER 5

  Serena’s scream sliced through him as his arms locked around the attacker’s body. He blew a punch into the man’s kidney. A grunt of pain rewarded him.

  Crack!

  A black curtain shuttered in front of his eyes, making him almost lose consciousness. The bastard had smacked the butt of his gun against his skull. Milo hooked his foot around the back of the guy’s knee and shoved at his torso, but he didn’t go down. The fucker was an ox.

  Bang!

  The sound of metal connecting with a solid surface rang through the air. Then the man’s body went limp and folded to the ground.

  Milo jerked his head up. Serena stood behind the attacker wielding a cast-iron pan. Her eyes met his, and the hard lines in her forehead smoothed. She dropped the pan and launched herself at his chest. He winced as she connected with his aching ribs from where the attacker must have struck him.

  “Are you okay?” She caught his face in her hands. Concern pinched her brows together.

  He lowered her feet to the ground, turning so that she wouldn’t be standing on top of the unconscious man on the floor. Not that he cared if the asshole got trampled.

  “I’m fine,” he said, as he ran his palms over her shoulders and down her back. “When that shot went off—” He forced the rest of the sentence down his throat. Her lips parted and her hands twitched on his cheeks.

  His mouth firmed, and he nodded at the discarded frying pan. “I didn’t realize you finally learned your way around a kitchen.”

  Her shoulders jostled on a chuckle.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Her gaze dropped to the body at their feet. “Is . . . is he dead?”

  Milo peeled his arms away from her and dropped to his knees. Then he pulled the mask off the man’s face and tossed it to the ground. A trickle of blood ran over the guy’s ear from the wound on the side of his head.

  A pale white shade took over her skin. “Oh my god, please tell me I didn’t kill two men in one day.”

  Milo lifted his gaze and saw her press her hands to her eyes and turn away. He brought two fingers to the attacker’s throat and waited. A pulse beat slowly beneath them.

  “He’s not dead.” Milo studied the man’s face. Sandy curls dangled around his ears. His mustache was the same color. He fished around in the man’s leather jacket and retracted a wallet.

  He pulled out the driver’s license and read the man’s name. “Bart Walker.” He dropped the wallet on his chest. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Serena’s knee bumped into his side. Slowly, she slid down to squat next to him. He studied her makeup-free profile. The delicate lines of her cheekbone tapered to her chin. Her pouty lips hardened his cock.

  Christ.

  She tilted her head. “He looks familiar.” She plucked up the ID between her thumb and forefinger. “That’s not right. Look,” she said, and thrust the license under his nose. “There’s no way he’s five foot six. It also says his hair and eyes are brown.”

  Milo leaned forward and parted Bart’s—or whatever his name was—eyelids. “Blue.”

  Serena dug through his pockets. “He belongs to Alfonso’s Boxing Club in Beverly Hills.”

  “So?”

  She turned to face him. Color had returned to her cheeks. Her eyebrows inched up her forehead. “You don’t remember? Alban co-owns the club with his brother—”

  He gripped her knee. “Alfonso Moussa. Fuck, how could I have missed that?” He stood and rubbed his thumb over his beard. Damn, he hadn’t shaved that morning. “It’s Alban. He must be after you and Dani . . . but why?”

  Serena placed her hand around the base of her throat. “I followed up on the story after the raid. He escaped.”

  “Yeah, so if he wasn’t arrested, what the hell could he have against you? I never told anyone I caught you in his house. The bald guard is the only one who saw you.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit. Alban could have been Dani’s next target. Maybe one of her friends is a mole or it’s possible the bodyguard told him you were working with the FBI and caught me there. Though I don’t know how he would have identified me.”

  “We don’t know how long he was listening to us before he attacked me that night.”

  The color that had returned to her cheeks morphed into a flaming red. Memories of her hot, wet tongue and lithe body in the barely there dress she’d worn to the party assaulted him. Need coursed through him. How could he have been such an ass to kiss her and then tell her to get lost?

  Serena pressed her palms to her thighs and stood. “We need to get some answers from this guy.”

  He nodded. “Lock the door and find something to restrain him with.” No way in hell he’d leave Serena alone in the room with the bastard. She locked the door, secured a chair beneath the handle, and then disappeared into the laundry room off the kitchen. He snagged the man’s leather jacket and rolled him onto his stomach. The attacker’s gun lay on the ground. Milo stretched across the guy’s back and picked it up.

  The attacker bolted up.

  In a flurry of movement his elbow connected with Milo’s jaw, and then he clamped his hand on the gun. Milo held fast to the weapon and swept his arm be
neath the attacker’s neck, positioning him in a chokehold.

  “I found—”

  “Get back!”

  Serena squeaked and ducked into the laundry room. The man drove his fist back, catching Milo in the nose. Pain erupted in his sinuses and blood rolled through his lips to prickle his taste buds. The man tore the gun from Milo’s hold.

  No!

  Keeping the attacker in a chokehold, Milo reached behind his back and pulled out his Beretta. The man bucked out of Milo’s hold and wheeled around, pointing the gun at Milo’s chest. Milo jerked his finger over the trigger.

  Crack!

  The gun dropped from the man’s fingers, and his hands lifted to cover his neck. Blood oozed through his hold and his eyes spasmed on each gurgle of air he struggled to suck in.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Milo grabbed the man’s shoulder and pressed him to the linoleum floor. He covered the guy’s hands, where the wound was. Fear brightened the whites of the man’s eyes.

  “Tell me who sent you and I’ll call an ambulance.”

  The attacker jerked beneath him, and the scent of urine wafted to Milo’s nostrils. Jesus Christ. He had to get some answers out of him.

  “Tell me—now!”

  The man’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Milo brought his ear closer to his lips. “Diamonds,” he gasped. His body loosened beneath Milo’s hold and his eyes rolled to the side.

  “Fuck!” Milo pounded his hand into the floor by the man’s head.

  “M-Milo . . .”

  He looked up. Serena stood beyond the kitchen table, her eyes wide as saucers and her face white as a sheet. He got to his feet and opened his arms. She gravitated to him, but her spine stayed stiff, her body tense.