The Last Heist (Pretty Thieves Book 1)

by Samantha Keith

  She wrinkled her lip. “No. Not a chance.” He’d lost his damn mind if he thought she’d come this far to sit and watch.

  His hand swooped around the back of her neck. He pulled her face to his, crushing his lips against hers. His several-day-old scruff abraded her sensitive skin, sending all kinds of kinky images to her head even though several guns would be pointed at them in about five seconds.

  This might be the last time she ever got to kiss him . . .

  She moved her lips against his, swiping her tongue between his teeth and reveling in the strong scent of man and adrenaline. She brought her hand to his chin and stroked her fingertips over that mulish, hard line that had scowled at her more times than she could remember.

  He parted their lips and pressed his forehead to hers. “Babe. I’ve always—”

  Honk! Honk!

  Serena jerked away and looked at the SUV in front of them. Two men stood next to it, outside the open driver’s side door. Her throat constricted and saliva swam in her mouth.

  From this distance, she couldn’t tell if either of the men were part of the group that had attacked her. She met Milo in front of the hood of his truck. He didn’t reach for her, probably so he could grab his gun if he needed. He strode half a pace in front of her, his body like a big, muscular shield.

  He stopped where the beams shining from his headlights ended. Serena moved to his side. Tremors that started at her ankles wiggled up her calves. She locked her knees together to prevent her body from succumbing to trembles. She brought her attention to the two men. The one nearest the vehicle stood broader and several inches taller than the other man. Black ski masks covered their faces. Only their eyes and lips peeked through. The wind picked up, and the wisps of hair that had come free of her ponytail tickled her cheek and tangled in her eyelashes. She snagged the traitorous strands, forced them behind her ear, and glared at the men. Her senses prickled. The shorter man’s top lip raised with amusement, and his eyes bore into hers like they had through the ski mask—he was the one she’d spoken with on the phone, the one who’d hit Dani.

  The Beretta at her spine burned through her skin, demanding her to grab it and shoot him. Never in her life had the need to commit murder coursed through her veins, but it did now. He would pay. She would make sure of it.

  The taller man folded his arms across his chest, and Dani’s captor took a step toward them. “One of you, bring the diamonds forward. Keep your hands where we can see them—both of you.”

  Serena lifted her chin. “Release Dani first.”

  The two men looked at each other, and the larger one gave a curt nod and opened the SUV’s rear driver’s side door. Slim, feminine legs in pink yoga pants stumbled onto the gravel. Serena drew a breath into her lungs and skidded forward. Milo’s firm arm, suddenly around her waist, stopped her from charging the distance between them. She hung in his hold. Her eyeballs burned, but she didn’t dare blink.

  The man’s meaty hands hefted Dani up by her biceps and moved her forward in front of him. A cloth bag lay over her head. Serena’s belly spasmed on every shallow breath she forced through her teeth. Milo’s steady voice spoke into her ear, but not a syllable penetrated the fuzz as thick as spun cotton around her brain.

  “Release her!” Milo barked, shaking her chest.

  His familiar scruff nestled against her ear. “Did you hear Brock? He and Peyton have clear shots of these guys. As soon as Dani is out of the way, they’ll shoot.” His whisper was barely audible, but it steadied her.

  The fog parted and her coiled muscles softened a fraction.

  “Good.”

  The man holding Dani yanked off the black cloth. Wild strands of blonde hair scattered around Dani’s face. She shook her head and the tendrils flung to one side, revealing her identity.

  A cry broke through Serena’s lips, and tears created a partial curtain over her vision. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and stared at the face she’d known her whole life. One of Dani’s eyes was swollen shut, her lips bore a scabbed-over gash, and blood and dirt marred her normally perfect complexion. Yet, the hint of a smirk played on her lips.

  “She stays here until we have the diamonds,” the smaller guy said. “One of you bring them forward and you can take her back with you.”

  Serena dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out the satchel. Milo caught the material and tore it from her fingers. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll go.”

  She pushed back the territorial need to go to her sister knowing that if she went forward, the kidnapper might try to pull something. Serena tented her fingers over her top lip and stared at Milo’s back. Her desire to scan the trees, to catch a glimpse of Brock and Peyton, made her eyelids ache. She didn’t dare give into the temptation. The last thing they needed was to tip off these assholes.

  Milo’s hands hovered in the air above his head and the black bag dangled from his fingers.

  Please, God. Please let us get Dani out . . .

  She squeezed her eyes shut and mouthed the prayer over again. Without Milo’s sturdy form against her back, her legs began to quake. Stones skittered behind her, and she snapped her eyes open.

  “Now!”

  A set of arms locked around her waist and hauled her up. Her body careened through the air and her abdomen crushed against a rigid shoulder.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Guns fired and deep grunts followed.

  “Milo!”

  Her captor was moving quickly. Gravel swirled in her line of vision, and she strained her neck to take in what was going on. Her gaze landed on a dark clothed form on the ground. Gravel dust covered his jacket and pants and all the heat left her body. Milo.

  No, no, no!

  Her captor stopped running and hurled her through the open SUV door. Her ass landed on the edge of the seat, and she toppled into the footwell. Tears sprang to her eyes and she lunged for the door, Milo’s name roaring from her chest on a scream.

  CHAPTER 17

  Pain radiated through Milo’s skull. A low buzzing sound in his ears was growing louder. He rolled to his side and pushed himself up on his forearms. The body of the shorter man lay next to him. Blood gushed from the man’s chest, and his eyes were fixed on the stars above, the only witnesses to what had gone down.

  “Milo! Are you all right?” Brock’s booming voice replaced the ringing in his ears. Milo jerked into a sitting position. The ground tilted on its axis, but he swiveled his head in every direction. Brock and Peyton jogged across the gravel lot and Brock dropped to his knees beside him.

  “Where is she?” The hoarse croak belied his fury and panic. He racked his brain, forcing forward the memory that resisted his consciousness. He’d walked forward with the satchel and Serena had waited behind him. The shorter man had pulled a gun and fired at him, and the taller man holding Dani had thrown her in the vehicle. Shots had been fired—Brock’s and Peyton’s—killing the shorter man.

  Milo touched the warm, sticky substance rolling over his cheek and found the source at a gash above his ear. He peeled his fingers away and held them in front of his face. Blood. That explained the sharp ringing in his ears that was beginning to fade. The bullet had whizzed past his head, taking a chunk of skin with it.

  Brock knelt beside him and caught his shoulder. His pupils dilated in the shadows. “They shot at you and then grabbed Serena and put her in the SUV with Dani. When you came forward with the diamonds, someone rushed up from behind her. I didn’t even realize it because I was focused on what they were doing with you and Dani.”

  Milo grabbed Brock’s forearms and got to his feet. No. She couldn’t be gone. “Why would they take her?”

  Peyton stepped forward, her eyes rimmed with tears. “I was too scared to shoot. I didn’t want to risk hitting Serena. He had her over his shoulder and—and . . .”

  Peyton’s stammering fell away from Milo’s ears. Brock pulled her against him, but Milo couldn’t for the life of him offer any words of support. The reality
of the situation hit him with the force of a wrecking ball.

  “Christ!” He howled the word, doubling over as it tore from his chest. He turned and headed for his truck. “We need to get her back.”

  Brock ran in front of him and Milo skidded to a stop. His blood pressure shot through the roof, and he grabbed Brock’s collar. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Brock raised his hands. “We’re on a mountain. If we get into a high-speed chase, they could die. Let me drive and you can call for help.”

  “If we hurry, we could have law enforcement reach them before they hit the city limits,” Peyton said.

  They were right. If he got behind the wheel, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself in check. Keeping Serena safe might mean keeping a bit of distance until they could get help. He dug his keys out of his coat pocket and slapped them into Brock’s palm.

  Milo climbed in the front passenger seat and Peyton got in the back. Brock rounded the hood, hopped in the driver’s side, and peeled out of the lookout zone. Milo fished his phone from his coat and hit Rhett’s contact icon. The clock on the dash read 1:12 a.m. Hell, as an FBI agent, Rhett should be a light sleeper.

  “’Lo?” Rhett’s groggy syllable grated through the phone.

  “It’s me. I need your help.”

  “Christ, Milo. It’s the middle of the night—I sure as hell hope you need help.” Brock drove steadily down the hill as Milo explained the situation to Rhett. The constant twists and turns kept them far behind Serena. Too far.

  “I told you not to make any ransom deals! Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  Milo heard the rustle of jeans being yanked on behind Rhett’s words.

  “We had no choice. They’ve got Serena and Dani.” He gave Rhett the name of the road they were on.

  “I’ll call some uniforms and head there right now. And Milo,” Rhett said, his voice heavy with warning.

  “What?”

  “If you’re there when the cops arrive, get rid of your handhelds and anything to tie you to a crime.”

  He thanked Rhett and hung up. Milo hadn’t given a blink of thought to protecting his own ass. Hell, if he didn’t get Serena back, did it even matter?

  God, he’d been so fucking stupid. He’d spent years away from her when deep down he’d longed to hold her. He couldn’t say that everything would have been perfect between them, not with the beef between Sebastian and Angelo. But he still could have been present. He hadn’t had to run, to push her away. He’d just gotten her back for god’s sake. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t live without her—not again. It had taken seeing her shaken and scared, blood on her hands and murder in her eyes, to realize what he’d given up. All this time, a piece of him had been missing.

  He needed her. He always had.

  Milo pocketed his phone and stared at the road. “Can you speed up? If we don’t catch up soon, we won’t be able to keep track of which way they go once we get to the bottom.”

  Brock slid his gaze toward him. Milo returned the stare and made an impatient flick of his hand. His friend pressed his lips together and accelerated.

  They rounded another bend and caught sight of the SUV’s taillights just before they disappeared around a corner. Milo sat forward and grabbed the dash.

  “There! We’re not far. Cut your lights so we don’t alert them to how close we are.”

  Brock nodded and flipped a switch next to the steering wheel. Darkness closed in around them, and Milo had to squint to see the road ahead. The moon peeked through the clouds, lending a sheen of light to the asphalt. “Can you see?”

  Brock snorted. “Not really. As long as wildlife stays off the road, we should make it.”

  Milo pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants. These bastards were going to get their heads blown off. Milo forced saliva down the back of his throat and wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He closed his eyes and pictured Serena’s laughing face, the one she’d made when they were tangled in the sheets hours before.

  Hang on, honey. I’m coming. I won’t lose you again.

  * * *

  Her captor threw himself in the seat between her and her only route of escape and slammed the door, closing off her view of Milo sprawled on the ground. Serena reached for the gun at her back. Dark eyes surrounded by black material zeroed in on her hand. The guy shot his foot out and booted her in the chest. The wind left her lungs and she fumbled the Beretta. Pain snapped through her chest cavity as he snatched the gun from her fingers, and she clawed at the air. He raised his boot again and she retracted her hand.

  “Who are you? Where’s—”

  Something brushed against her back, light and so cold that ice penetrated the material of her sweater. Serena looked over her shoulder and Dani’s face filled her vision. Hope inflated in her chest, and she caught her sister’s hand and squeezed.

  “Are you okay?” Tears filled Serena’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Dani smiled and nudged her again with her knee.

  “’Course. You’re here now.” She winked, but her gaze flicked over Serena’s head, toward the driver. Serena followed Dani’s line of vision and curled her lip.

  “Who are you? Why did you take us?” It had been on the tip of her tongue to say they’d already complied with the kidnapper’s wishes, but if they hadn’t looked at the diamonds yet, she sure as hell didn’t want to remind them.

  He turned, and his cold brown eyes blazed at her before returning to the road. “C’mon, Serena, you’ve always been smart. You haven’t pieced it together by now?” The gentle cadence of his voice struck a chord in her memory. She let her gaze wander over his bulky body. His hands, free of gloves, curled around the steering wheel.

  Wrinkled hands. Aged. She snapped forward and studied the familiar outline of his body. A body very similar to . . . Milo’s.

  She sucked in her breath and widened her eyes. “Angelo?”

  No. It couldn’t be. Milo’s father was in prison.

  His deep baritone laugh beat through the tight space. He pulled off his mask and tossed it on the seat next to him. His hair was much longer than she remembered. The shaggy strands, still jet black, jutted out in every direction. From this angle, she could see his profile, and her stomach lurched at his likeness to Milo. The hard angle of the profile, the perfectly sculpted nose, and the eyebrows matched Milo’s to a T. But Milo had been blessed with his mother’s green eyes, and from what Serena knew, he had her heart—not Angelo’s.

  Her mind worked a mile a minute. She closed her eyes and laughed without humor. “I don’t understand. What’s this about? Why did you need me for this?”

  “I just got out of prison thanks to that bastard uncle of yours. I have nothing. My wife and son want nothing to do with me. Did you know Milo didn’t visit me for months? What kind of man does that to his father?”

  Fury burned her ears and she bolted forward. “He—”

  “Shut up,” Angelo barked. “He’s a mistake is what he is. I knew he wouldn’t help me get on my feet after I got out, so I didn’t tell him. The ungrateful shit. I had nothing, not a dime. You’re the only one I knew who could pull off the heist. The fact that you went running to Milo for help made the whole thing fucking hilarious. Milo ended up helping me get rich in the end, and he never even figured it out.”

  Serena forced his insults away. She had to reason with him. “What’s your plan now? You have what you want. Why didn’t you let us go?”

  “For starters, your nosy sister saw my face.” Angelo nodded at the rearview. “But to be honest, I planned to kill you two anyway. Sebastian deserves to suffer for what he did. Killing him would be too easy. Now he’ll have to live with your deaths on his and Mae’s conscience.”

  Serena’s blood pressure plummeted, and she gripped Dani’s hand tighter. She wouldn’t let him kill them.

  “It’s a shame though. You two are valuable. Hell, I thought about getting you guys to work one more heist for me, but the risk is too great.” He turned in his seat and smiled at
her. “You understand.”

  “If you think Sebastian will care if we’re dead, you’re even stupider than I thought.” Dani scoffed. “You know Aunt Mae is dead, right? So you can forget her guilting him about our demise.”

  “I promise, he’ll care. No one wants to see their family burned alive.”

  Terror pierced Serena’s skin, and she took shallow breaths to slow her rapid heartbeat. No. He couldn’t do that . . . wouldn’t. The captor in the seat next to Dani moved forward. “You killed Axel. For that, you’re going first.”

  Serena frowned. “I killed who?”

  His face turned to slate. “My brother. You stabbed him in the neck. I’d do the same to you, but I want you to suffer first.”

  Panic bubbled inside her, and her hold on Dani’s hand loosened slightly. She wouldn’t die like that and she sure as hell wouldn’t allow him to hurt Dani any more than he had. She had to keep him talking. From where she sat on the floor, she couldn’t see the road behind them. If Milo had survived, he’d be after them . . . and if he hadn’t, Brock or Peyton would have called for help. Pain spread through her chest wider than an eagle’s wingspan and fresh tears tickled her sinuses.

  Please god, don’t let Milo be dead . . .

  She wet her lips. She had to stay strong and distract Angelo. She couldn’t rely on someone else to rescue them. Her only chance was to keep him talking and convince Angelo to keep them alive. “I don’t understand. The police couldn’t find his body.”

  Angelo’s gaze landed on hers in the rearview mirror before shifting back to the road. “We took his body. We couldn’t have the cops find him and tie anything back to me. You had something to do with Bart’s death, too, didn’t you?”

  The image of the sandy blond-haired man Milo had shot in Dani’s kitchen clicked through her mind. She shook her head. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  “She’s lying,” the man next to her growled.

  “’Course she is. Don’t worry, Ian. I’m very effective at getting people to tell the truth.” His words rang on a sing-song note.