“Good to know you’re a murderer on top of being a thief,” Dan responded, his voice abrasive. His fingers numbed, and he couldn’t fathom why he was even considering any of this in the first place.
“I won’t apologize for that,” Grif responded, his cobalt eyes gleaming in the sallow exterior lights. “You don’t know my past or the lengths I’ve gone to survive. However, if you let assholes like Brennerman run free, you might find out.”
Too late. He let out an irritated sigh before looking up. “Then why bother?”
The ragged edge to Grif’s words and the heat behind them made his knees weak. The way this man turned him upside-down was so, so dangerous, and Dan knew he played with fire, guaranteed to end in burns.
Grif’s eyes flashed, and he closed the space between until inches separated them. He leaned in close, his hand slamming into the wall behind him. Dan should’ve been terrified at being crowded by this dangerous man who had lied to him, and yet he met his gaze, unrelenting. No matter what veneer Grif had presented, Dan wasn’t the only one unraveling.
“Because I can’t get you out of my goddamn head,” Grif growled, his voice echoing in the chilled air. His eyes flashed with a furious amount of emotion, more than he’d ever seen from the placid man. The kind he’d lose his mind and soul trying to chase. “Because the mere thought of a moment with you has me breaking all my rules. Because you’ve got this softness the world hasn’t managed to beat out of you yet, and I’m going insane trying to shove it out of my system.”
Grif’s shoulders heaved in exertion as he lapsed to silence. Dan sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn’t look away from him if he tried, even though the anger had reached a melting point, burning incandescent in his chest. Those lips so close scrambled his mind, and his body warred with the temptation to either crumble against his firm chest or sling a punch. Except falling into this man’s arms was how he’d gotten cornered by Brennerman in the first place. Grif goddamn Blackmore. For all his pretty words, he’d come in like the thief he was, all lies and charm.
“Pretty sure the softness has been beaten out of me now,” he whispered, his voice cracking in the process. His heart was trapped in a vise, and beneath the surface lay deep shame that he’d been so stupid in the first place. Even now, he drowned in Grif’s intense presence and didn’t want to come up for breath.
Grif reached forward and skimmed his thumb along Dan’s chin, nudging it up until their eyes locked again.
“Bullshit,” he responded, his mesmerizing mouth an inch away. “I can still see it in your eyes.”
The flash of yearning in Grif’s gaze grew so strong Dan’s breath lodged in his throat. Not fucking fair. He couldn’t upend his world and stand here dropping dulcet lines that made his body respond even as his heart rioted. The gentle way his thumb smoothed against his skin was so opposite the teeming power looming in front of him.
“Flip the mirror back around,” Dan responded, unable to keep the scrape of frustration from his voice. “Don’t go searching for what you already have.”
He reached up to place a hand on Grif’s shoulder. The light push was all he needed. Grif backed away at once, and shame flickered across his features, along with a self-loathing he didn’t think possible on that handsome face. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed something vulnerable creeping in his eyes, but he couldn’t dwell. Not now. He needed to get home and process all of this away from this man he found impossible to resist, even after everything was shattered between them.
Dan focused on one step in front of the other as he strode past Grif Blackmore, the con man, the thief, the liar.
The man who might just have convinced him to infiltrate his own company. The one he’d placed his position on the line for without even thinking. The one he’d jeopardized not just his future for, but his company’s. He focused on his Audi that lay feet away. He needed to get home—away from all of this.
All Dan knew was he’d hit rock bottom, and Grif Blackmore happened to be the one person offering him a hand up. Which tangled the circuits in his mind even more.
The entire drive back to his condo, Dan’s heart hadn’t stopped racing.
He couldn’t slam the door shut on Grif’s words, ones that clanged in his mind like a fire alarm. He’d thought the intense attraction would’ve died when he found out the man had deceived him. What sort of fucked-up was he that this magnetism hadn’t faded?
The steps creaked under his heavy tread as he made his way to the third floor. Leo was minutes behind him—he owed him a full briefing of how their situation may have taken a surprise left turn.
He slipped his key into the knob, but the door was already open. Dan’s eyebrows drew together as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Vanessa lay on his couch, curled up with a Nora Roberts novel. She kept her legs tucked beneath her, and her full concentration was zoned in on the page, like he’d found her a million times in the past. Reading had always been his sister’s escape.
“What makes you think we’re good right now?” Dan asked, not bothering to gentle his tone, which bled exhaustion and bitterness. He shut the door behind him and headed into the living room. After all her promises that she was on his side, Vanessa had turned on him when he needed her and then avoided him the rest of the workday. Granted, the board meeting felt like it had happened to a different person after his rendezvous with the leader of the Outlaws.
Vanessa closed her book and set it on the coffee table before she looked at him. Her eyes brimmed with a seriousness that made him want to stop in his tracks and cut a quick retreat. The amount of bullshit from today would tide him over for the next century.
“You have every right to be pissed, Danny,” she said, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. “I made a promise, and I didn’t pull through for you when you needed me the most. But I couldn’t talk at work—it’s not safe there.”
Dan crashed onto the couch beside her, melting into the cushion. He toed off his shoes and just stared at the ceiling as the room spun around him while their silence percolated.
“All right, Nessa,” he said at last, running a hand through his hair. “Lay it on me. Why the sudden turnaround?”
“My car rolled into traffic this morning.” Her tone was perfunctory, clipped, but her eyes blazed with fear.
Dan’s head whipped toward her. “Is your car okay? Did you go to the hospital?” His fingers numbed like he’d plunged them into a snowbank.
Vanessa arched an eyebrow as she shot him a look. “I got lucky, or I wouldn’t have been in the office today. Hell, really lucky, because if I’d been two seconds later, I might not be here having this conversation with you. Someone cut my brakes.”
Dan’s hand balled into a fist even as his internal temperature plummeted. He let her continue without interruption. The pit in his stomach heralded the truth. There was no doubt in his mind who had been behind the sabotage.
“Brennerman was my last meeting of the day yesterday. We’d gotten heated, and he’d warned me against voting for your proposal. I knew the man was dangerous, but I didn’t realize he would stoop to those depths. I don’t think it’s coincidence former employees of ours wind up dead.”
Dan caught the tremble of her hands, the quiet shake that rolled through her entire body. Vanessa was the strong one, the one who’d shout loud at Dad when necessary, who didn’t back down from ballbusting an executive. She’d been the sister who plunged into the deep side of the lake and held her breath as long as she could, who had never been afraid of heading down into the basement at night, even when they both heard creaking sounds.
And this monster well and truly scared her.
Her eyes watered as she looked at him, her normally perfect hair tumbling in soft curls around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Danny. I know I let you down.”
He placed his hand over hers. He’d been numb for most of the day, but this resurrected flame from embers he thought had doused. A deep, deep rage bloomed within, threatening to consume
.
“We’ve got to stop with the digging and the hard pushes,” she murmured, the concern lowering her voice. “This is way beyond anything we could’ve fathomed.”
She could’ve died.
Dan opened his arms, and Vanessa closed the space between them to sink against his chest, smelling like vanilla and hazelnut. She’d done the same for him too many times to count after dates gone wrong or when Dad or Uncle Felix went on their usual homophobic, slur-laden tirade that ate him up inside. Vanessa had just held him, stroking his hair as they watched something mindless on TV.
“Okay, Nessa,” he said, rubbing circles over her back in an attempt to stop her shaking. In an attempt to settle their soles back on the ground. “I’ll take some steps back.”
She couldn’t be a part of this any longer. Phil Brennerman was the sort of dangerous he couldn’t face alone, but Vanessa or Leo couldn’t take the risk any longer. Interfering might mean their lives. Not that his sister would listen. She was so stubborn that given time to shake off the fear, she’d be shouting at Brennerman in the board meetings and researching the company history, even at the risk of her own life.
However, one man was dangerous enough to give Brennerman a run for his money.
The Outlaws might be criminals, liars, and thieves, but they were the only people who might stand a chance at bringing Phil Brennerman down. They also might be the only ones who could keep Vanessa safe.
His phone buzzed, and he slipped it out of his pocket. Greg—or, Grif—had sent a text.
I’m glad you know.
Nineteen
Breakfast had been miserable this morning.
John burned the bacon. On purpose. Knowing how annoyed he’d been, he probably spit on the toast too.
Every one of his Outlaws were pissed, and understandably so. Their continued existence depended on knocking out this heist in mere nights, and he’d brought their mark in on the mission. Truth be told, he wouldn’t know if he’d made the right call until tonight. Dan hadn’t responded to his text last night, so either he showed and became part of the operation, or he became an enemy they’d have to avoid or eliminate.
He paced in the living room, the tangerine lamp casting a mellow glow against the cream walls. Chicago’s skyline lit up outside the window against a velvet night sky, like the city’s neon attempted to compete with the stars. His chest had been tight all day, not the normal cloudless-sky-serene that descended before a heist. Danilo-fucking-Torres had infested his thoughts, and he seemed to see through Grif’s fronts without even trying.
“All the back and forth doesn’t look a lot like faith he’ll show,” Alanna said from her yoga mat on the floor. She leaned forward to stretch out her leg, bringing her arm up and over to wrap around her foot. She and Tuck both shared this routine, stretching and strength training for whatever climbs and runs they’d need to do on the heist. Not like Tuck would be operating at full speed with the wound he’d gained the other night. Still, the ex-carnie sat on the floor beside Alanna, forcing himself through sit-ups.
“He’ll show,” Grif responded, dropping to the ground to launch into push-ups beside Tuck. The excess energy percolating through his veins told him otherwise, but he’d survived this long by following his gut, not his fears. And his gut told him Dan Torres was the real prize, genuine and honest in a way few rarely were in this misanthropic age. Too good for the likes of him. He continued pumping against the ground, his muscles flexing like pistons on a machine as he channeled everything into the movements.
“And if he doesn’t, we’ll take care of him,” John called over from the chair he leaned back in, laptop resting on his thighs. “Even if you can’t.”
Tuck grunted as he lifted from another sit-up. Sweat dripped down his forehead, causing those thick curls to plaster against his skin. “If he’s anything like the rest of us, he’ll show even as he’s cursing you here and back.” He offered a half smile, his dark eyes crinkling with amusement. Grif’s lips pressed tight. He preferred the insults any day. He deserved the insults.
He pushed off from the ground and let out a low breath. “I’m grabbing a drink. Anyone need anything?”
“Yeah, a new job,” Alanna mouthed off. “And PTO, or I’ll unionize.”
“Good luck on that one,” Grif said as he wandered toward the kitchen. The pressure tightening his shoulders hadn’t abandoned him, and it increased with every passing minute. Out of every plan he’d rolled through, this one contained the biggest risks—but it was also the only one that didn’t end with Dan Torres maimed. At the end of the day though, no matter what sparks flew between him and the CEO of Torres Industries, his loyalty lay with the Outlaws.
When Grif stepped into the kitchen, Scarlet looked up from his laptop. He chewed on the end of a pen, and a steno pad lay on the counter, filled with scribbles. Grif strode past, and Scarlet held out the empty coffee cup resting by his side at the table. He snagged the mug on the way and filled up from the half-empty pot they’d brewed an hour ago. Coffee, Jack Daniel’s, and bacon were three things that never lasted long in this house.
Grif strode over with an unopened bottle of Jameson and Scarlet’s coffee. He placed it on the table, and silence spread between them as he unscrewed the cap and tilted the bottle back. The liquid splashed on his tongue, but the burn didn’t come close to cleansing away his issues.
Scarlet’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the clack, clack, clack echoing through the room as he took a sip of coffee.
Grif’s self-loathing reached a dull roar inside him, and the whiskey wasn’t erasing those feelings, just giving them a pat on the ass.
“Lay it on me, Scar.” Grif broke the silence, not able to take the tension any longer. “How fucked are we?”
Scarlet arched his delicate eyebrow and pursed his lips. “I know you’re a masochist, but that’s not my kink, babe. You know how fucked we are if Dan Torres doesn’t show tonight, just like you knew the set of problems when you chose to bring him in on our operation.”
Grif gripped the bottle of Jameson tighter. Scarlet was right. He knew better, on all of this.
Scarlet closed his laptop and blew a couple of strands of his chocolate hair from his forehead. “Listen up.”
Grif sat a little straighter. Scarlet never closed his laptop.
“Some of this fuckup is your fault. You were sloppy, getting involved with a mark. However, the Sunset Ruby mishap? Luka selling our job to Doncaster? Dan having some super-hacker on his side who managed to track us down? You couldn’t have predicted any of that, and you’re not omniscient.”
“But I’m in charge,” he reminded Scarlet. He bore the weight every day, from the moment he recruited each of his Outlaws and they started running jobs together. “At the end of the day, it’s my crew and my responsibility.”
Scarlet flattened his palms over his laptop and leveled a look at him, one part caring and another part withering. “Grif Blackmore, I know you hate to hear it, but you’re human, a right mess of contradictions. For all the front you swagger around with like you’re impervious to emotions, you’ve got plenty. We don’t follow you because we expect a perfect leader. We love you because you give a damn, and for some of us, you’re the first person who has.”
Grif swallowed hard and took a swig from the Jameson. Except Scarlet wasn’t stopping.
“I’ve known you from the beginning,” Scarlet reminded him, his dark eyes knowing. “My parents had kicked me out, and I was hacking from terminals, as homeless as they come. You were the one who noticed my regular library visits, who asked me to dinner, which ended up being an invitation to your crew. I don’t expect a perfect plan from you, because I trust your instincts. You don’t let people in easy, but once they’re yours, you’ll believe in them more than they believe in themselves. And it’s been clear from the moment you met Dan that he worked his way into your system, same as we all did.”
Grif leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out under the table. Scarlet’s words wor
ked better than any shot of whiskey, the warmth pooling in his chest. He remembered watching her library visits—he’d been looking to assemble his Outlaws and someone had pointed him in her direction. Once he sat Scarlet down and talked to her, he’d known, a gut feeling he couldn’t shake.
The exact same one he felt the moment he met Dan.
Scarlet tipped back his cup of coffee, chugging the liquid like it wasn’t steaming. He offered a wry smile that crinkled his eyes, a quiet, warm presence Grif couldn’t imagine life without. “For all your posturing as the bitterest bastard at the ball, you’re an idealist, Griffy.”
“Ugh, not that name,” he groaned. “Anything but that name.”
Scarlet’s gaze pinned him down. “I see how you soften when you mention Dan. And don’t worry, I won’t bring up the dreaded c word, but finding folks who soften our sharp edges are rare. They’re worth holding on to.”
“I’d like to hold on to something else of his,” Grif drawled, unable to admit how Scarlet’s words affected him. His Outlaws knew him better than he did himself on most days. A flush crawled across his skin at the honest assessment, at kindness he would never feel like he deserved.
Scarlet arched an eyebrow. “Cute. I said my piece, so now it’s up to you to get your head in the game, bossman.”
“You’re the best person I’ve ever known, Wylie Raven,” he murmured, using Scarlet’s real name.
“I know I am,” he said with a smirk. “Someone’s got to keep this chaos grounded.”
The buzzer sounded, and Grif almost lunged from the table to press the button for entry.
Scarlet snickered. “No, you’re way too cool to care. Go get ’em, tiger.”
Grif reached out and skimmed his hand through Scarlet’s styled hair, earning him a middle finger in response as he strode out of the kitchen. He passed through the hallway and entered the foyer of their penthouse, trying to ignore the swirl of adrenaline eddying through his veins. Every damn time with this man, the thrill of seeing him was more intoxicating than a free rappel off the side of a building. He balled his hand into a fist, then flexed his fingers again. With their streak of luck, Dan wouldn’t be at the door. It would be Nevarra’s cronies, here to shoot him in the fucking face.
Midnight Heist (Outlaws Book 1) Page 14
