The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1)

by Samantha Keith

  “First . . .” he said. He was pressing his luck, but he needed to know—before she pushed him away and never got back in his bed again. “What’s the tattoo mean?”

  Her features pinched together and the whites of her eyes glittered at him. “Why do you want to know so bad?”

  He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the edge of her shoulder, keeping his attention locked on the motion. “Because it’s on you.”

  Her diaphragm dipped on a breath. “It’s a song lyric. That’s all.”

  “What song?”

  She squirmed beneath him. “Milo, we said five minutes of rest. You can’t have that and grill me about my tattoo. Pick one.”

  He tapped her collarbone. Something about the tattoo was making her defensive—was it about an ex-boyfriend? Shit. He hadn’t even fucking thought of that. If she had something permanently etched on her body to remind her of another man, he’d hate himself even more for not claiming her a long time ago. Deciding it was better not to know, at least for now, he closed his eyes.

  “Fine. Rest.” He toyed with her skin on her shoulder. So smooth. So soft. Touching her was like therapy. All his tension fell away, and the heat from their lovemaking kept their bodies warm.

  He cracked his eyes open. Serena’s head tilted toward his, her cheek in full view. One of her hands lay splayed above her head, and soft puffs of breath blew through her nose. She needed rest. Even if only a few minutes . . . an hour tops. She’d slept only four hours in the last forty. He let his eyes close and concentrated on the cadence of her breath.

  “Get up!”

  A rough shake made his head slump off the pillow at an awkward angle. He groaned and rolled to his stomach as Serena untangled her legs from his.

  “Milo. Get. Up.” She enunciated each word. “We slept five hours!”

  He jerked up his head and the events of the last several hours hit him with the force of a freight train. He stumbled off the bed and dove for his phone on the end table. Brock had called three times. He’d had the device on vibrate and hadn’t even heard the damn thing.

  “Shit.”

  Serena whirled on him, her pants now covering her delicious ass and her arms frozen through the straps of her bra. “What?”

  “Brock called.”

  Serena pressed her hands to her forehead. “Oh my god. He’s downstairs, isn’t he? He knows we had sex.”

  Milo went to the attached bathroom, wet a cloth, and cleaned off the remnants of their sex. He was beyond caring if Brock knew they’d slept together, but he hated that she was embarrassed.

  “Milo!”

  He poked his head around the corner. The pink tint of embarrassment that had colored her cheeks seconds before was gone.

  “Dani gave me a hint,” she said. Her eyes were wild and as radiant as if she’d slept twelve hours and not five.

  He frowned and accepted the jeans she hurled at his chest. He stepped his feet into the legs. Fuck, he needed caffeine. His brain was spinning like the tires of a vehicle stuck in the snow. “What?” The syllable dragged out like the drunken call of an owl.

  She scooped her shirt off the floor near the door. “I’ll tell you downstairs. Brock needs to hear this too.” She shoved the shirt over her head, opened the door, and finished dressing as she exited.

  Milo grabbed his shirt and followed. By the time he’d reached the stairs he was fully clothed. Brock’s voice carried from the kitchen.

  “Did you guys sleep?”

  “We, uh . . . yeah. Well, I passed out and—”

  “Serena has intel,” Milo said, as he grabbed one of the mugs Brock had taken from the cupboard. He didn’t waste time perfecting his coffee with cream and sugar. He needed the miracle elixir like an addict needed heroin.

  “I’ll have one of those too,” Serena said, spreading her hands wide on the island. She moved her gaze from Milo to Brock. “This is going to sound crazy, but hear me out.”

  Milo raised his eyebrows and poured their coffees.

  “I think she tried to hint at the job she was planning.”

  He lifted his gaze. Coffee sloshed over the lip of the mug and onto his hand. He cursed, shook his fingers, and grabbed a towel from the counter. “What makes you think that?”

  She sandwiched her hand in her hair. “When I spoke to her, she sounded off.”

  He and Brock stared at her.

  She stared back defiantly and drew her arms in front of her chest. “Dani said some weird things. At first, I thought she was delirious, or maybe had a concussion, but I couldn’t put them out of my mind.”

  Beside him, Brock’s body tensed. “What did she say?”

  “She said ‘I love you, even though you stole my ex.’”

  Milo lifted an eyebrow. That didn’t sound promising. Serena let out an exasperated breath.

  “I know. It doesn’t make sense.” Her puffed chest deflated, but the delicate lines of her face remained hard, her eyes as focused as a sniper’s.

  Brock’s body slumped and Milo winced. He hated to take the wind out of her sails. “Babe, I don’t know if that’s a good hint to go on. Sounds like she was confused, or . . .” He didn’t want to say “drugged” or “has a head injury,” so he scratched his head.

  “That’s not all. She also said she should have listened when I tried to tell her this job was too big.” She dropped her stare to the counter and then lifted it again. “Look, I know this isn’t concrete. But it’s the only thing we have. I think I know what she’s trying to tell me.”

  Milo scratched his thumbnail over the groove in his chin. “‘Stole my ex?’ I don’t see how that could relate to the job she was planning.”

  “She always named her heists. Plan S, Plan 8. Always random letters or numbers. Maybe ‘Stole my ex’ means X as in Plan X.”

  Brock remained quiet but met his gaze. The idea that Dani’s rambling could be a clue was a stretch, but not inconceivable. He wanted to believe her, but the likelihood that Dani had sustained a head injury was strong.

  “Why would she do that? Hint about the job? Wouldn’t she try to tell us who took her?”

  Serena shook her head. “Maybe we’re right and whoever took her is connected to the job she was planning.”

  “That could be a possibility,” Brock said. “How the hell are we supposed to get a hold of her plans?”

  Serena pursed her lips. “I’ve got her computer upstairs.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Desperation clawed its way up Serena’s spine as she climbed the stairs. She had to be on to something. Dani was too smart not to try to give her a hint. She burst into the guest room, grabbed Dani’s laptop and, without waiting until she got back downstairs, cracked it open.

  Her heart squeezed and her eyes burned with tears. She didn’t linger on the screensaver photo of Dani and her on vacation in Mexico last year. She moved into the living room and perched on the couch with the computer on her lap.

  Milo sat next to her while Brock paced over the area rug that covered the center of the hardwood floor, looking the worse for wear. His California tan had faded to a sallow gray. His fierce eyes and pinched lips shone a light on his relationship with Dani. From what little Dani had said about him recently, Serena had gotten the impression that the two would attack each other like feral cats if they crossed paths.

  This didn’t seem to be so true for Brock.

  She shifted her attention back to the screen and opened Dani’s email account.

  Please let there be something . . .

  She typed “Plan X” into the search box.

  Item not found.

  Shit. She chewed the edge of her thumb.

  “Try her desktop. Maybe she saved some things under a different name.”

  Serena scanned the icons laid overtop of the picture of Dani and her. One file jumped out at her: “Prospects.” She narrowed her gaze and double-clicked the folder. A spreadsheet with ten names expanded.

  “This could be it,” Milo said. Brock came around to lean ov
er the sofa behind her.

  A column beside each name held the person’s rarities. Cash, art, gold . . .

  “It has to be this one.” Brock tapped the fourth one down. Serena read the name and her mouth fell open.

  Alfonso Moussa. Alban’s brother.

  Dani hadn’t been kidding. This would have been the heist of a lifetime. Aside from diamonds, he also had a large stash of gold and other big-ticket items. Which was why Brock had spotted his name from the list.

  She flicked out her hand, connecting it with Milo’s chest. “That man who broke into Dani’s apartment . . . Bart something. He had Alfonso’s boxing-club card, remember?”

  Milo rocked forward on the couch. “That’s too big of a coincidence.”

  “Do you think they’re the ones who took her?” Before anyone could reply, she shook her head. “No, that doesn’t add up. Why would they come to her house after she was gone? They had her already.”

  “Maybe they were looking for something,” Brock said.

  Serena flicked her gaze to Brock and then to Milo. His brow pulled down into a frown and he made a tsking sound.

  “Could be, but we can’t ignore the possibility that Bart was working for someone other than Alfonso. We need to talk to Dani’s team again. After that we’ll have more to go by.”

  Her shoulders melted forward. “I spoke with Vivi, remember? I got nothing out of her.” Dang it, they were almost there. The tantalizing taste of cracking this confusing puzzle dangled at her lips like decadent chocolate cake, which she hadn’t indulged in in years.

  “There’s two more people on the team we can try.” Milo’s hands went to her shoulders, kneading the muscles there. Her body still hummed with delight from the earth-shattering orgasm he’d given her hours before. Sex should have cleared the air, should have dimmed the screams of need that had been popping up since she laid eyes on him again. It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t a sex fiend. Hell, she’d gone more than a year without it and hadn’t missed it. Well, not that much. So what was causing this rage of hormones? Stress? That had to be it.

  There was a low buzzing, and Brock pushed away from the sofa. He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be right back,” he said, as he strode out of the room.

  She let her head fall to Milo’s shoulder. As if robbing one of her clients wasn’t bad enough, she’d also have to interrogate Dani’s team. There were so many angles to consider, and if they overlooked any of them it could cost Dani her life. The saving grace of this whole fucked-up situation was Milo. Had he not been here, had he kicked her out of Tasha’s pub two nights ago, she wouldn’t be holding it together right now.

  “I wish I’d agreed to the job Dani was planning. At least I’d be on the inside. Dani isn’t careful enough when it comes to colleagues,” she said into his shirt, which held a warm, piney scent. “You know me—I’m always cautious and prepared.”

  Milo’s gruff laugh shook her shoulders. “Prepared? That’s like saying an architect is someone who designs sandcastles.”

  “A lot of good it’s done me.” He was right: she’d always been beyond prepared. Back then, it had paid off. Even in her real estate career, she’d benefited from the skills she’d honed in the past. But her perfectionist personality was crippling her now, in terms of tackling Dani’s kidnapping.

  Brock’s footsteps scuffed over the hardwood and she turned from Milo, breaking their contact.

  “Who else can we reach from the team?”

  Serena tapped her middle finger on the laptop’s touch pad and brought up Dani’s email again. She’d show Brock and Milo the other two names. Maybe they’d know them. She typed Vivi’s name into the search box and stopped at an email from Peyton.

  Sending the plans via WeTransfer. Please confirm receipt.

  “Peyton,” she said. “She’s working on this with Dani. I sent her an email earlier, but maybe she didn’t get it.” Out of anyone on Dani’s team, Peyton would be the most trustworthy.

  Milo leaned into her side, viewing the email. His thick arm rubbed against hers and a little thrill raced through her. She’d never get over their size difference and the pounds of muscle that stacked his frame.

  Ex-boyfriends shouldn’t be so damn hot.

  Milo made a frustrated sound, pushed himself to his feet, and stalked into the kitchen. Serena let her eyes wander after him. Every powerful movement of his legs showed his angst. His hands hung at his sides and his fingers curled and uncurled.

  “What is it Milo?” Her words came out small. If Milo was on edge, then it wasn’t good.

  “I hate being pessimistic, but whoever has Dani has us by the balls.”

  Warnings fired through her cells. She met him in the kitchen. “What are you getting at?”

  He planted his hands on the island, eating up the wide expanse of stone. His eyes, hard chunks of steel that only hours before had roamed every inch of her body with delicious need, were now darkened with doubt.

  He worked his mouth as if the words wanted to spill out against his will. “Even if we succeed at raiding Titus’s, there’s a good chance they’ll still kill her.” His voice didn’t wobble but rang with conviction.

  His words threatened to shove her to the floor. She gripped the stool next to her and slid her butt into it before she collapsed. Her pulse spiked. Blood oscillated against her eardrums at a painful speed. She closed her eyes. It didn’t dim the sound.

  He was right.

  That very fear had kneaded its way into the back of her mind when the whole nightmare began. Acknowledging that the kidnapper would keep Dani alive only until the exchange was made was too much to bear. It made all their efforts futile. She focused on her breaths until the raging storm in her head subsided to a tolerable level.

  “What are we supposed to do then? Not bother?”

  Milo’s mouth tightened. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “He’s trying to prepare you for the worst, Serena,” Brock said from the living room. His footsteps followed. At the moment, she wanted them both to disappear.

  Silent minutes passed.

  A warm, heavy hand on her bicep shook her until she lowered her hands from her face. She stared at Milo.

  “We’re doing everything to get her back, I promise. All I’m saying is we need to expect the worst—”

  “You want me to accept that they’re going to kill her?” Serena’s voice rose to a shrill level. Milo winced. She shook away from his hold on her arm. “I won’t do that.”

  He didn’t touch her again, but his body remained close. Close enough that the heat that radiated from him in waves soothed her chilled skin.

  “If you’d let me finish, you’d understand I’m not telling you to accept they’ll kill her. I’m telling you to expect that they’ll try. We have to outsmart them.”

  She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. Irritation seared up her neck to scorch her ears. “How do you suppose we do that? You said yourself they have us by the balls.”

  Tension crackled between them. Milo held her gaze for two heartbeats before he shifted his focus over her head, to Brock. Then he looked at her face with those soul-sucking orbs again.

  “We need to kill them first.”

  Her mouth opened and she stared at him.

  Kill them first.

  Until Friday night, she’d never killed anyone. She and Dani took self-defense classes regularly. She was capable enough to get out of most situations, but she’d never thought about needing to use her skills to kill someone. Until now, she hadn’t had to.

  She cleared the croak from her throat and forced it down. Thoughts scattered around her brain like spilled marbles. Pressing her fingers into her temples until the tender tissue ached, she rolled her fingers in a circular motion. “Killing them will start a war. Whoever is behind the kidnapping will put a bounty on our heads.”

  Milo positioned his arms on the counter and his elbow touched hers. “Look, I didn’t want to say this at the beginning, bu
t we’re just gophers in this game. Do you honestly believe they’re going to just take the ransom and let us leave with Dani? You saw her face in the first video call, right? She could identify them.” He exhaled a long, low breath. “I’m sorry, Serena, but their plan from the beginning has been to kill us all after we give them the diamonds.”

  Dammit, she hated that he was right. She straightened her back one vertebra at a time until she sat erect.

  She wasn’t going to let Dani die, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to give the kidnapper reason to kill her sister before the drop-off. They had no choice but to carry out the heist and take the jerk’s diamonds.

  Tapping the edge of her thumb against the soft spot of her head, she kept her gaze down. “Fine.” Her voice held the firm determination that had taken up residence in her bones. “I hope you have enough guns.”

  * * *

  Milo stared at the drone images of Titus’s property, which Serena had requested the previous week. Twenty-eight shots of every possible angle leading to the house, and aerial views of the palm-tree-laden two-acre lot the property sat on. The house was a Spanish-inspired desert retreat, and the courtyard was complete with fountain, infinity pool, and guest house.

  Illegal diamond importation sure was a lucrative business.

  The day had been spent drinking coffee, going over plans and making a checklist of everything they’d need for tonight.

  Serena shuffled through papers and pointed to a sheet. “Two guards are on duty around the clock.”

  Milo crinkled his lip. The odds weren’t horrible—two against three—but he didn’t want Serena to get caught in the crossfire.

  “We need more men,” Brock said, from the other side of the island. The last few hours had taken their toll on him. Gone was the lightness in their exchanges. Now when Brock spoke it was only for good reason.

  Brock had it bad. Milo remembered the two lovebirds from years ago. He’d never expected Brock and Dani to split. And if Milo wasn’t mistaken, Brock was still madly in love with her.

  Milo nodded. “I agree, but I don’t have anyone I can trust. I’ve been out of this game a long time and I’m not in touch with my old contacts.” He jerked his head toward Brock.