If only she hadn’t been addicted to drugs. If only she hadn’t died. Their life would have been so different. She and Dani would have been loved. Cherished. Happy. Not used and brainwashed.
“Yeah, he was great at manipulating. After the Alban heist went down, Dani and I totally cut him out. We left our apartment in the middle of the night and changed our phone numbers. He must have been livid.”
“You haven’t heard from him since?” He passed her a glass of water.
“Nope.”
“And Aunt Mae?”
“She passed away a few months before the heist.” Serena chortled. “Uncle Sebastian even used her death to trap us. With the medical bills and funeral costs . . . it wasn’t hard to believe he needed money. We agreed that job would be the last one.”
“Do you think he tried to find you?”
“Probably for a while,” she said, shrugging. “I can’t see him having much purpose anymore, with Aunt Mae gone. Even when he asked us to do the Alban heist, he was different. Resigned, you could say.”
Milo leaned forward on the counter across from her. The deep greens of his eyes roamed over her face. “I’m sorry about Mae. She was the kindest lady I’ve ever met.”
Fondness burned a fuzzy halo over her skin. She missed her mother’s sister almost as much as she missed her mother. Serena had never wanted to burden her with what their uncle made them do, but Mae wasn’t stupid. She’d known her husband better than anyone. It seemed she’d always put her head in the sand about how he provided for them.
“Me too.” She stretched her spine against the back of the stool. “Angelo hasn’t reached out to you?”
Milo looked down. She hated that she had to make him uncomfortable, but if they didn’t talk about their past, they couldn’t move forward.
“He called me about six months ago. I was supposed to see him and, well, I guess I just got busy with the house.” A vein jumped in his arm and he kept staring at the counter. “That’s not true. It’s hard not to resent him. All those years of never adding up in his eyes, always seeking his approval and never attaining it.”
Yet Milo let Angelo come between us.
Bitterness swelled in her chest but she forced it down. Like he’d said, he’d been young then. A kid. Of course he’d done whatever his father had wanted. Her fingers ached to cover his knuckles. Words singed the tip of her tongue. Did he resent Angelo for coming between them? Milo’s actions had been solely his own, but she knew of the deep yearning he’d always suffered for his father’s affection. He might not hate Angelo for turning him against her, but she did.
“When will he be out?”
Milo shrugged, the movement sullen. “I think he has another year at least.”
“Did he ever talk about Sebastian ratting him out?”
Milo finally lifted his head. His green eyes sharpened on her, but his lips tipped up, taking the edge off his expression. “Why do you want to talk about this? It doesn’t exactly conjure up good memories for either of us.”
“No, it doesn’t. I can see it’s uncomfortable for you, but we have history together. If we ignore it, it will just swell between us.”
He didn’t take his gaze off her, but his eyebrows lowered. “Hash it out now and clear the air, is that it?”
“Exactly. We’re ready for the job—all we need now is for time to go by so we can move in. We might as well pass the time efficiently.”
He laughed. “Efficiently, huh? Not sure I’d call it that, but all right. Yeah, he talked about Sebastian. A lot. He cut my dad out of a million-dollar job, almost had him killed, and then ratted him out. I hope Sebastian is ready for his release. I’ll bet you anything that’s the first place Angelo will show up.”
Serena stared at the flecks of silver in the quartz countertop. Talking about the murder of her uncle should upset her, but it didn’t. Her senses buzzed with anger. If Angelo killed him, Sebastian had asked for it.
“I’m surprised he’s stayed alive this long. He has more enemies than a rat.” She turned to Milo. The words she wanted, no, needed to ask churned in the depths of her belly.
She’d shaken the bottle—but did she want to open it?
She curled her fingers against the cool surface. She didn’t want friction with Milo, but this was something she had to do. “Why did you do it?” The words blurted from her mouth with the force of a bat striking a baseball.
His jaw popped open, and all the fire left his eyes. She didn’t need to explain. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
Why he’d left her.
“I told you . . .” He groaned and hung his head. “Dammit, Serena. I don’t want to think about those days.”
“Why?” Oh god, she was really pushing it. But who was he to shut her out? He’d broken up with her in the middle of the street. Tears had flowed down her cheeks, and her arms had stretched toward him, and he’d stalked off and never turned back. Never reached out to her. Her chest ripped open with fresh, raw pain. She’d buried those feelings under resentment, had forced Milo from her heart since that day. Yet here she was . . .
She studied the top of his head. Dark strands whipped every which way from his fingers tearing repeated tunnels through his hair. A few gray strands mixed in with the black. Time had passed. Over a decade. But instead of feeling sympathy for him—who knows what he’d been through in those years—she only ached more for the years lost.
“Milo.”
“I was weak. My dad beat the shit out of me and told me if I stayed with you, I was dead to him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me . . . why I always craved his approval. I should have told him to fuck off and run away with you.”
“Did you love me?” Her voice broke on the words and tears stung the backs of her eyes. No, no, no. She wouldn’t cry. She needed an honest answer.
“Yes.” His tone was ragged, and the word wrapped around her broken heart.
“But you were ashamed of me?”
“No,” he barked.
“At Alban’s you said ‘Get away from this life.’”
Somber green ice stared at her. God, how she loved his eyes. She’d gotten lost in them so many times. And she was lost in them again. “I’ve always wanted better for you. If we’d stayed together, I never would have let you continue.”
She pursed her lips.
“You know what I mean.”
“So you left because of your dad, but you stayed away because . . . ?”
A smile split his face. “You’re really not letting this die, are you?”
She stiffened. “I would have let it die had we not decided to have sex and open a can of worms.”
He blew out a long, low breath. “My dad always made things so difficult, you know? Everything was always about loyalty and respect—and all he cared about was his family respecting him. He didn’t give a shit about showing respect in return. Being with you would have been the ultimate slap in the face. He wants your uncle dead, and if he weren’t in jail, he’d probably carry it out.” He lowered his gaze to the counter briefly and then looked at her. “I felt like a coward after I broke things off with you, and I couldn’t bring myself to crawl back to you after that.” A beat passed and he cocked his head. “Even though I missed you. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you.”
He rounded the counter. His palm landed on the crown of her head and slowly slid over her hair to her back. His gaze followed the motion.
“Seeing you at the bar the other night nearly killed me. Part of me was mad that I had to face you, the other part so fucking relieved to see you.”
His eyes shifted to her face, and he brushed his knuckle over her cheek. “I know it doesn’t take back what I did, but I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
The tears that had been inching closer and closer to her lashes let loose and brimmed around her vision. She fought her lip, which wanted to push out in a pout, and dropped her head to his chest. The natural scent of his skin filled her nostrils, transporting h
er back to a simpler time, when one hug from Milo had taken away all her pain.
She’d spent so many years hating him . . . and loving him. “We should go,” she whispered. She gave a little cough to strengthen her voice. “Priss is waiting.”
* * *
Milo dialed Brock’s number as he pulled out of the driveway. “Hey, we’re on our way to Peyton’s. Did you get the address I sent you?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was asleep when you sent it. Just getting some things together. I should be there in about twenty minutes.”
They disconnected and Milo drove along the familiar winding asphalt of his subdivision. Thank god he drove this route every day because his concentration was on anything but the road. Serena crossed and uncrossed her legs, drawing his gaze to her black yoga pants.
Christ, he’d never get the image of those legs wrapped around him like a vise out of his head.
“Gum?” She held out a small bag and he opened his palm. She shook out two pieces and he popped them in his mouth. The sting of cinnamon hit his tongue and flooded his mouth. After he’d apologized, things had gotten awkward. Gone was the determined Serena he’d spent the last couple of days with. Her movements were jerky and stiff. She was either upset with him or anxious about the heist. Both prospects were possible.
He rolled his tongue around the sweet wad in his mouth and couldn’t pull a word from his brain. After this was done, once they had Dani back, he’d push more.
But push for what? For forgiveness for his immature, adolescent actions? Is that what he craved so much? Maybe if he had her forgiveness he could move on. He could put aside the guilt that had flared up inside him with every thought of her sweet smile over the years. Seeing her had transformed that flicker of remorse into a flame of torture.
No. Absolution wouldn’t cut it.
He turned into the parking lot behind Peyton’s building. He didn’t have the time or the energy right now to explore exactly what it was he needed to hear from Serena so badly. They climbed out of the vehicle and Milo moved close to her quickly advancing back. Shadows of shrubs and vehicles darkened their path. He stretched out his arm and pulled open the glass door to the lobby before she could grab it. She punched in the code to Peyton’s suite and the door buzzed open.
He followed her into the elevator, where the silence nearly killed him.
“Are you going to say anything?” God, he sounded like a petulant teenager.
Wide blue eyes flew to his, and she tightened her arms around her ribs. “Sorry. I—I can’t get Dani off my mind.”
Christ, he was an ass. Here he was fretting over the exchange in his kitchen and it was the farthest thing from her mind. He rubbed the tip of his thumb over his eyebrow.
“Of course you can’t. I didn’t mean to be a . . .”
Her eyebrows lifted, waiting.
“A wimp, I guess.”
A grin split her face. “Wimp? Of all the names I could call you, that wouldn’t be one of them.”
He groaned and rested his hip against the wall. “I’d like to hear what your choices would be.”
She scrunched her lips and squinted. “Well, you can be an ass sometimes.”
He shrugged. That was fitting.
“And . . . funny.”
“Keep going.”
“A smart-ass.”
“You already said ass.”
The elevator dinged.
“You do have a nice one.”
Heat struck his abdomen. Not at the thought of his own ass, but hers. Sex with Serena so far had been about filling an urgent need. Not the leisurely roam of her body that he wanted to embark on. Starting with her luscious cheeks, so nicely packaged in the tight yoga pants. He dragged his knuckles over her hip and around the landscape he sought. “I hope that’s not the only part of my anatomy that impressed you today.”
Her laugh bounced off the walls of the elevator and she pushed away from him. She led him into the hallway and bobbed her eyebrows. “A lady never tells.”
Milo threw his head back and laughed. “Does a lady also scream ‘Harder, Milo’?” He leaned close to her as he spoke but didn’t lower his voice.
A red sandstorm rose from her chest and darkened her cheeks. She pinched her lips together, but the hint of a smile played on them. She stopped at Peyton’s door and rapped her knuckles on the wood. Shuffles sounded from inside.
“I could always try to be more ladylike, but then we probably wouldn’t end up in bed together.”
His smile fell. Desire scorched up his back. “I love the noises you make when I—”
“Hey, come on in,” Peyton said, as she opened the door. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt. Her thumbs peeked through cutouts in her sleeves. Her gaze flicked from Serena to Milo and her eyebrows crawled together with interest. She backed away from the door and they entered. Milo shut it behind him.
“Where’s Brock?”
“He’ll be here soon.”
Peyton made a face and led the way to the kitchen table. “Can the dude ever be on time?”
Serena kicked off her shoes and reached for the briefcase Milo carried over his shoulder. “He knows this is important. Let’s get started.”
Serena watched as Peyton sat and set her hands on the table. A stab of gratitude hit her as she looked at the people—old friends with a fortress of differences and history—who had come together to save one of their own. It was also a stark reminder of how terrified and alone she’d felt after the men attacked her. Only days before, she’d had no one to call, no one on her side, no one to fight for her.
She closed her eyes and prayed that it all wouldn’t be for nothing. Sitting next to Peyton, she pulled the papers from the briefcase. She forced down the fury of pain that wanted to seize her body and tapped her finger on the plans. “There’s three rottweilers, two guards, and three staff who reside on the property. To avoid the cameras and hopefully the dogs, we’ve decided to go in through the balcony.”
Peyton’s sharp gaze followed Serena’s finger, and she compressed her lips.
“We need people on the ground, so Milo and I will get inside while you and Brock keep a lookout.”
“I’d prefer to be inside,” Peyton said.
Serena couldn’t blame her. No one wanted to be on watch duty—it was always more thrilling to be in the thick of the action. “I know, but we need you on the ground. You’re one of the best shots.”
Peyton worked her lips into a purse and then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. When do we leave?”
Milo flipped his wrist over. “It’s 10:00 p.m. We’ll need to leave within the hour so we can get started at a decent time. Our deadline is 1:00 a.m.”
“I have earbuds. I’m sure you guys already have some, but I’m going to grab my stash of supplies in case something goes wrong.” She headed toward her bedroom.
Serena smiled, remembering Peyton’s tendency to be overprepared. On more than one occasion, her extras had come in handy.
Ding dong
Serena bounded from her chair but Milo snatched her arm.
“I’ll get it,” he said, loudly enough for Peyton to hear from her bedroom. Serena followed him to the door and waited while he checked the peephole before opening it.
Brock entered, and his gaze landed on her first. “Any news?”
She shook her head.
“Well, no news is good news. Let’s get to work.”
“Look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Peyton called from the hallway. “Hi, Brock.”
Brock took one of the kitchen chairs, spun it around, and straddled it. “Hey, Priss. Long time no see.”
A spark sprang to Peyton’s eyes at the nickname and Serena coughed to distract her.
Peyton moved toward the table and clapped Brock on the back. “Glad to have you.” A beat passed. “Dani will be too.” Despite their intention, Peyton’s words lacked conviction.
“Let’s go over the plans one last time,” Peyton said. Milo and Brock groaned.
&
nbsp; “We’ve been over it a dozen times at Milo’s,” Brock said.
Peyton shrugged. “Not all of us together.” She winked when Milo rolled his eyes. “C’mon, guys. I ordered food.”
CHAPTER 13
Serena zipped up the front of the sweater she’d taken from Dani’s closet. The zipper stopped just over her cleavage. The black material clung to her more than she was used to on a job but would make climbing the balcony easy.
“You drive, Milo,” Brock said. “I have to arrange our equipment.” He nodded to Milo’s truck, which was parked next to his red Ford F-150. “Go ahead and take shotgun, Serena. I’ve got some things to sort.” He hefted the bag into the back seat of the truck and slid inside. Peyton climbed in next to Brock, her own bag stocked full of essentials.
They’d spent the last hour rehearsing the plan—again—and eating pizza, which Serena had hardly touched since she’d already eaten at Milo’s. She looked at the clock on the dash as Milo buckled his seatbelt. At any time, the kidnapper would text the meeting point where they would swap the diamonds for Dani, and they needed to be out of Titus’s, gems in hand, by then.
Milo pulled out of the driveway. A beam of light from the back seat caught her peripherals. She turned and took in Brock’s hunched form. As much as she disliked him for the stunt he’d pulled with Dani, she couldn’t hate him. Peyton seemed to have taken a similar stance. Aside from Milo, there would have been no one else to turn to. Nineties music playing low through the speakers reminded her again of the nights spent with Milo in the grass.
“All right. S, here’s your earbud.” Brock passed the small device to her and she tucked it into her ear. A wave of nostalgia washed over her. Then a rush of adrenaline hit her bloodstream, chasing away brain fog and heightening her senses. Like a recovering smoker inhaling a cigarette, she savored the tantalizing high of adrenaline.
“Testing,” Brock’s voice sang in her ear.
She lifted her sleeve, where the speaker was clipped. “Copy.” She turned to look at Brock and he winked at her.
“You’re all set.” He handed her another device. “Give that to Milo. Here, Priss,” he said, as he passed her one too. Peyton mumbled something unintelligible but took it. Serena smiled at her—it was just like old times.
The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1) Page 15
