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Copyright © 2020 Beckett Riley. All rights reserved.
book Publication 2020
Cover Art by Shashika
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters in this story are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Chapter One
Josie
I looked up from the register when I heard the bell go off on the door. Goddamn it, it’s fucking Karen again. She walked into the bookshop five minutes before closing. How many fucking tarot card sets does this bitch need?
“Hi, Karen,” I said, hoping she didn’t buy anything and come near me to check out. She usually stunk of stale cat litter. The glamorous life of a pagan priestess, I suppose.
“Hi, Jo! I know you’re closing, I just need a replacement tarot deck, and I’ll be out of here in a jiffy!”
Fuck you, Karen. We both know you won’t. This bitch was going to be here for at least thirty minutes. I used all my strength to fake a smile as I watched her go to her favorite aisle: spirituality. Oh well, I shouldn’t complain. Business has been slow, and I should be gratef—Fuck that, I am complaining. A $15 card deck isn’t going to keep me from defaulting on another month of rent.
I was sick of this place. Not just the bookshop, but this entire town. Don’t get me started on my dating life because there’s nothing to say, it was nonexistent. In a small town like this, pickings were razor-thin. The hottest, most eligible guy in town was the sheriff’s deputy, Alan Patterson (his name alone put me to sleep).
Alan was the literal definition of the average Joe; polo, khakis, sneakers, and Sunday night football. He had an average build, nothing to write home about, certainly not like the guys on Lockup, my favorite men-in-prison show on Discovery Channel. Oh yes, I’ve discovered plenty on that show, but back to Alan.
We’ve been on a couple of dates, and they were all the complete opposite of earth-shattering. We had made out on our last date, and I even let him grope one of my tits, but he managed to make that a snore-fest. No matter, he was a superstar in his own eyes. He had quite possibly fucked a quarter of the female population in this town due to a shortage of halfway-decent-looking men. It took about a year of pestering to get me to go out with him. I had moved here from California with my parents in my senior year, never fit in, still didn’t. But it wasn’t because I was new in town or culturally different, I just never fit in anywhere, ever.
After my parents had died, my life became stationary. The only thing I really loved to do was collect books — I always dreamed of owning a bookstore in Venice, Italy that was only accessible by gondola, but that was just a stupid dream. Dreams like those don’t come true, so I did the next best thing: I used what little money my parents had left me to open this bookstore three years ago. I put my heart and soul into making the coziest, most Instagram-worthy bookshop in the State. Not bad for a twenty-two-year-old except for the big-box store that opened in town a year ago. Locals spent their money there and took pictures here.
I couldn’t compete with their prices and keep my head above water, so I’ve been struggling for the past six months. I was worn out. I used to be excited to come here every day, but now I just dreaded it. Not knowing if I would make rent did that. In a jiffy.
Karen walked up to the register and asked me to help her pick a set of a tarot deck. It was between the one with depressed-looking chicks and one with even more depressed-looking chicks. I told her the first (more expensive) set gave me positive vibes. She made small talk while I rang her up, which meant she asked intrusive questions. She spotted the dry-cleaned dress I had picked up earlier that day hanging on a hook behind the register.
“That’s gorgeous! Big plans tonight?”
Here we go. “Um, not really, I’m going to the Speckled Hen for a drink.”
“Oh? With a certain deputy, I presume? I’ve heard through the grapevine things are getting serious with you two!”
Nosy bitch.
“Well, we’ve gone out just a few times. I wouldn’t exactly call that serious.”
“Still, you two would make gorgeous babies!”
Get the fuck out, Karen.
“We’re definitely not there yet, so...” I handed her the cards and the receipt.
I sprayed Lysol in the air after Karen had left and turned off the main lights before balancing the cash drawer. My eyes were getting heavy and the next thing I remember was waking up with a text from Alan. “Car crash out on ninety-five, shouldn’t be long but might be fifteen minutes late. Can’t wait to see you.”
Well, that’s great fucking timing. I never made it home to shower and change so I’d have to meet him there. I looked at the dress on the hanger. It was a bit much for the Speckled Hen, but I was out of time, so I changed in the back, grabbed my phone, and locked up the bookstore. I started writing a text to Alan letting him know not to pick me up at my place when I saw a black SUV pull up at the closed bank across the street.
That was weird. The ATM was a drive-thru, and it was located around the back.
Chapter Two
Ronan
Ten small-town banks scattered through Middle America over the course of five years. Easy as fuck. This was our last job. Bank reserves are the minimal amounts of cash a bank must keep in hand in order to meet unexpected withdrawal demands. Why small-town banks? Early closing times and class M vaults. Class M’s are the easiest to break into. The standard time it takes most men to pull this off is fifteen minutes, which means I can do it in ten. This comes at a price though, these kinds of banks don’t keep large quantities of cash. Some big branches hold millions in their vaults, but smaller ones like this might hold around $200,000. This was definitely more work, but the chances of walking away scot-free were higher than targeting a large branch.
The last one was a joke. I grabbed the duffel bag with the explosive and a pair of bolt cutters for the pathetic-as-fuck folding scissor gate on the front door. My younger brother, Dagen, was the wheelman, so he always stayed in the car. I put on my ski mask, swung the duffel over my shoulder, and grabbed my assault rifle. Yeah, the rifle was overkill for a place like this, but I’d rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.
One snap of the lock and I was in. The silent alarm would go off the moment I opened that front door, so we had exactly ten minutes to get in and get out. Just so happens the land-whale of a sheriff and his cumstain deputy were just called out to a nonexistent car accident right outside city limits. It would take them ten minutes to drive out there, another five to realize there was no accident, and thirteen more to reach the bank when it was called in. That gave us an eighteen-minute head start.
In eighteen minutes, we would be long fucking gone.
I set up the homemade bomb on the vault. Six minutes later — boom! I was in and got to work f
illing the duffel bag. Nine minutes, done. Fuck yeah. I grabbed the rifle and headed out. I threw the bag onto the backseat and was about to climb into the passenger seat when I saw the girl staring directly at me and Dagen, who wasn’t wearing a mask. Fuck. My. Life. I guess she was closing that gay-ass looking book store and walked out at the same time I did. I’ll give her credit, she pretended not to see us and tried to lollygag away, but there was no way we could let her go.
“Stop! Don’t you take one more fucking step, sweetheart!” I yelled at her from across the empty street, pointing my rifle at her. What the fuck was this girl doing out here so late?
She stopped in her tracks, and the tears were streaming down her face as I approached her. Ah, fuck. This poor thing was going to be scarred for life.
“Just grab her and let’s go, man!” yelled Dagen from the driver’s seat.
Shit.
“No, please! I won’t say anything! I swear to God!”
I would have, but she had seen Dagen’s face.
“Let’s go, honey. In the car,” I ordered, grabbing her phone and purse.
She shook her head, and it hurt me to do it, but I yelled at her.
“Now!”
She flinched and started crying harder as I pulled her arm and led her to the SUV, shoving her onto the backseat with me.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she kept saying over and over again.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I said through my mask, making eye contact with her. Jesus fucking Christ. Her eyes were ice blue, unfuckingbelievable. I’d never seen anything like them before. Dagen looked back and did a double-take before he glanced at me.
N
Dagen
I felt like a piece of shit listening to the girl crying in the backseat while I drove to our hideout in the town over. She was fucking hot too, but talk about the wrong place, wrong time kind of shit. Fucking hell. I had no idea what we were going to do. We were on the main highway within minutes; it was dark as fuck out, so I could only see her silhouette.
“What the fuck were you doing in town this late?” asked Ronan.
The girl tried to collect herself and spoke through her sobs. “I o-own the-the place with th-the-those things.”
“Books?” asked Ronan, helping the poor girl get her words out.
“Yes! Fucking Karen, um, the tarot cards, with girls, the sad gir—and she was asking, um, beautiful babies, and I was closing the regist—counting and then the Speckled Hen.”
Oh fuck, this girl was a mess.
“Oh god, please, I don’t want to die,” she said through another bout of sobs. I heard Ronan’s loud sigh and the next thing I knew, his mask was off.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Please don’t be fucking Karen.
“J-Josie.”
Thank you, God.
“Okay, Josie. Now we don’t want to hurt you. But you saw his face. And now you’re seeing mine. So, we need to make sure we’re on the same page before we let you go. Okay? I promise we won’t hurt you.”
I saw her nodding in the dark, and she finally stopped crying. I reached into the glove box to grab some napkins and handed them to her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Her voice was sweet, and I noticed her perfume for the first time. I never imagined the scent of flowers mixed with money could smell so fucking good.
Ronan and I are both former marines. He enlisted when he turned eighteen, and I did the same two years later. After two tours each, we’d had enough. We lived here and there for a while, ultimately going back to our old hometown where we reconnected with a high school buddy, who had recently done a stint for bank robbery. It hadn’t been his first so when he told us how much he had made before getting caught, five years behind bars didn’t sound so bad. Fast forward ten years, and we had just about nearly funded our early retirement.
Chapter Three
Josie
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. We just pulled into a garage in a cabin somewhere. The guy next to me got out of the SUV with his giant fucking gun and held out his hand for me to take. Gun Guy.
“Let’s go,” he said. I shuffled over and placed my hand in his. He squeezed it and helped me out. His grip was powerful. Jesus, he could snap my neck like a chicken bone if he wanted to. I kept my head down, and both men were standing in front of me, just staring. I slowly raised my gaze and met theirs. They were tall, six feet two, six feet three at least, with long, dark caramel-colored hair. Gun Guy had it up in a bun and Driver Guy in a half-bun. Both had full beards. They were definitely brothers or something, same chocolate brown eyes and muscular. I could see they were built like fucking Thor under their black tactical gear.
These were, hands down, the hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life. If we were at the Speckled Hen, I’d definitely have trouble picking just one. The thought of being with both crossed my mind, and I felt my face all but boil. I looked down again. I didn’t know why I was having these thoughts; they were probably going to kill me.
“We’re not going to kill you, Josie,” said Gun Guy while the driver put my phone in his pocket before he picked up the duffel bag from the floor and walked toward the door leading into the cabin. “If you try to run, I’m—”
Like the fucktard I am, I tried to run. To the garage door — the one that was closed. Gun Guy cursed, and I felt his massive arm wrap around my waist before I even got two steps in. He raised me off my feet and carried me inside as if I were a toddler. After setting down the gun and my purse on the kitchen counter, he grabbed a chair and sat me on it. I was shaking like a leaf, and he leaned in close with both arms on either side of me, caging me in. He smelled like musk and metal. A deep and very dirty part of me wondered what he tasted like.
“I don’t know why I did that. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be angry, sir. I swear to God I won’t do it again.”
The gun guy put his index finger over his lips, urging me to shut the fuck up, and I nodded.
“If you ever do that again, I’m gonna fucking kill you, Josie. I don’t want to, but I will. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Good. And don’t call me sir again. I’m not your fuckin’ dad.”
I shook my head and looked at the driver. I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
“Are you thirsty? Hungry? We’re going to be here for a while, so it’s best to get comfortable.”
“I have to pee.”
Both men grumbled and bickered who would take me. The driver threw his hands up and gave in.
“Okay, let’s go. This way.”
He grabbed my arm and led me to the half-bathroom near the kitchen. My Oxford heels clacked on the hardwood floors.
“Don’t close the door. If you do, I will break it down, and there’ll be hell to pay. Understood?”
“Yes.” I went in and lowered my panties with my eyes glued to the door. Through the crack, I could see the driver facing away from the door, standing there waiting for me to finish. I flushed the toilet and was washing my hands when I heard the door creak open. He was right behind me, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t know which guy was hotter. He broke our gaze and asked me if I was done. I could tell it embarrassed him.
“Okay, c’mon.”
I nodded and did as I was told — going back to the kitchen and sitting down on the same chair against the wall. Gun Guy was counting the money from the bag, putting stacks into the cash counter like in the movies. I had never seen so much money in my entire life. I thought about my bookstore and how much money I owed. I wonder if I have the balls to rob a bank? Nope.
Driver Guy sat down, and they both stared at me. I don’t know why, but something in their eyes told me they would not harm me. I smiled. I told you I didn’t fit in.
N
Ronan
Sitting in the kitchen, I got real lucky with Josie. Jesus fucking Christ, she was beautiful. Black hair, creamy white skin, and those blue eyes. She was like straight out of a goddamn fairytale. The thought of hurting her feelings alone felt like a crime, much less doing it physically. Shit, I must have ripped her dress sleeve when I grabbed her. It was short with a high neck and a pretty bow; she looked like a librarian. Scratch that, the world’s hottest librarian. And the rack hiding underneath? Fuck. They were completely covered but you could tell those were nice, big tits. I’m not gonna lie, my cock twitched just looking at Josie. She wasn’t like the usual girls Dagen and I were used to. Much less strippery and much more classy.
He and I exchanged glances when she smiled at us. What the fuck was this little girl up to? I caught her checking out our dicks a few times while we were putting currency straps on the cash. When she noticed I caught her yet again, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“See something you like, sweetheart?”
She started blushing like crazy and looked away. Holy shit, I think she really liked us.
Dagen chuckled as he threw the last stack of cash into the duffel before zipping it up.
“Ready?” he asked me.
I reluctantly said yes.
“All right, who goes first?”
Josie was staring at the floor, and I saw her eyes go round. I tried not to laugh, but this was too good to pass up.
“I’m older, I go first. Then you can have at it. I’m probably going to take my time so don’t bother knocking. You wait your fucking turn and make us something to eat. I’ll be starving by the time I’m done.” I heard a tiny gasp coming from the corner.
“Asshole,” replied Dagen, opening the fridge to prepare something to eat.
I stopped right in front of her and leaned over so our faces were inches apart. Man, she was gorgeous.
Heist Page 1
