by Jane Henry
Yeah, she knew I stole shit. That I was a professional thief. That my mom had been a junkie. But it was hard to believe that someone as upright as Sabrina could really be cool with hearing the details behind those facts. Especially knowing that in some ways, my past was very much still my present, even though now I broke-and-entered for the greater good.
“Not a saint,” I told her. “Just Saint.”
She blinked in confusion. “A… nickname?”
I shrugged. “If you like. A street name, really. If you talked to the guys in my old neighborhood and asked for Anson Daly, they wouldn’t know who the fuck you were talking about. The kid who used to do second-story work was always known as Saint.”
“Second-story work.” She laid her hands flat on my chest. “Like, climbing up the side of buildings?”
“You’ve watched a lot of Mission Impossible, haven’t you?” I asked her, a smile tilting my lips.
Sabrina raised an eyebrow. “You rappelled me out of my father’s office,” she reminded me, all saucy and sexy as hell.
I tugged at a lock of her bright copper hair. “True,” I allowed. “But whenever possible, I prefer to take the stairs. Simpler is usually better, you know? No crazy Spiderman shenanigans, no over-the-top heroics. Just stick to the plan, do the job, and get out. I made a fortune that way over the years.”
“Stealing.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.
“Stealing. Money, art.”
“Cars?”
“Not a lot of call for that in New York City, but on occasion.”
“Jewelry?”
“Not the personal kind.” I grabbed her chin in one hand and forced her eyes to mine. She moved willingly, and the look in her eyes was more curious than judgmental. “I have always tried not to steal anyone else’s memories, or any shit with sentimental attachment. But don’t romanticize it. Don’t romanticize me. There was a time, baby, when I stole whatever I had to, to get as much money as I needed.”
She nodded. “Because of your mom.”
“Partly. And partly because I’m very, very good at it.”
She looked at me for a minute, considering, and I had never wished I had Ethan’s special skill set as much as I did just then. That I could read someone’s mind. But she nodded, finally.
“After you rappelled me out of my dad’s office…” she said with a small smile, “I haven’t doubted who you are, Anson. A thief. But a good man.”
I swallowed hard and pulled her close, and when she dipped her head to my chest, she nestled her soft red hair beneath my chin. This woman undid me in a way that no one else ever had, and I was pretty sure no one ever would.
“Saint,” she mused. Her warm breath tickled the skin above my t-shirt, and I let my palm coast down to cup her luscious ass. I’d just had her hours ago, but I wanted her again. “Do people still call you that?”
“Not really,” I said. “Ethan does sometimes.” Because he’s a manipulative asshole, even with his friends, I added silently.
“Would you like me to?”
“No,” I said, more forcefully than I’d intended. I squeezed her ass and she gasped just a little. “No. I’m not ashamed of that time. Saint is a part of me and always will be. But that part of me is in my past. And it isn’t who I am with you.” I ran my fingers up and down her spine, trying to figure out how to explain it, but in the end I didn’t have to.
“You’ve evolved,” she said softly, putting into words what I couldn’t. “I get it. I’m not BeeBee anymore.” She made a gagging noise. “Not that I ever was to anyone but my dad.”
Sure as fuck not to Max Pederson. Good.
“So, how’d you get the name Saint?” she asked. “Was it because you wouldn’t do something the other guys did?”
I snorted. “Baby, what did I just say about romanticizing me? There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do… when it came to stealing, anyway,” I added. There were a lot of other things I could have done but hadn’t. I’d never, ever sold drugs or contracted with anyone who did. I’d never killed anyone or hurt anyone except in self-defense. I’d never sold my body or anyone else’s. “The name came from this guy I used to work for when I was a kid. Billy Morton. My mentor once upon a time. I was maybe the best guy in his crew. Steady hands, strong arms—”
“I would agree with that,” she said, squeezing my bicep appreciatively, and I had to laugh. If biceps were what she wanted, she could have had Caelan or a hundred other guys. But then she slayed me as she added, “Steady hands, strong arms, brilliant mind, good heart.”
I shook my head, ready to read her the riot act for trying to turn me into a hero again, but she covered my mouth with her hand. “You are, Anson. I just know.” Her wide eyes stared into mine. “You took care of me when you didn’t have to. You saved my life in the car accident. You’ve stayed by my side every night. So no more bullshit. You are a good man.”
I wanted to be, for her. But I didn’t say that.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I told her, instead. “Billy used to say ‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, all the angels and saints, I don’t know how you managed to do that’.” I shrugged. “He said it often enough, somehow that part stuck.”
She giggled softly and looped her arms around my neck. “I’m pretty sure I said something similar last night.”
I pinched her ass again, hard enough to hurt this time, and she shivered beautifully for me.
“I could try to make you say it again now, if we’re done torturing eggplant for its vitamins.” I waggled my eyebrows comically and gave her my best leer. Her answering smile was heart-stopping.
“Hey, Sonny!” Walker stuck his head into the kitchen and his eyes found mine. “Debrief in five, in the lair.”
“Debrief?” I couldn’t even be annoyed at the cock-blocking son of a bitch, or the stupid nickname he insisted on keeping alive. Not if the grin on his face meant what I thought it meant. “You cracked it?”
“Was there ever a doubt?” he demanded, smug as hell.
I snorted. “Hey, Walk?” I called as he retreated back to the hallway.
“Yeah?” His dark head reappeared, and I smiled at him as sweetly as I could. “Call me Sonny again and I’ll shove your head so far up your ass you’ll never see daylight.”
He shook his head sadly. “Your words hurt my feels, Sonny, they really do.”
Fucking idiot.
Sabrina buried her head in my chest, shaking with laughter, and I let my fingers tangle in her hair for just a second, enjoying the way she felt pressed up against me.
The after-op debrief was probably the thing I’d learned to like best about being one of the Masters. Too often when working on my own, I’d be left wondering what I could have done to make an operation go more smoothly, where I’d cut things too close. There were no coaches in my field of expertise, since most people either faded into retirement or ended up wearing orange for the rest of their days. But you can believe Xavier never let an opportunity go by to criticize our performance.
In this case, however the debrief was for an even better reason. It meant that Walker had managed to crack the encryption on Pederson’s hard drive. And I knew he wouldn’t be calling a meeting if he hadn’t found something important.
I grabbed Sabrina’s hand, and she followed me down the hall to the room Xavier always called the media room, like the posh bastard he was, but the rest of us knew was Walker’s lair. Walker had claimed this room a few months back, along with another office he used to store his larger equipment, as well as his huge desk, monitors, and an enormous leather chair that looked like it had been taken from the set of Star Trek.
Hell, maybe it had.
But while the office was mostly off-limits to anyone but Walker, the lair was a comfortable living space ringed with slouchy, cream-colored couches and fronted by several enormous TV screens. This was where Walk dragged us when he wanted to put on a show.
Caelan and Ethan had already taken their spots, Ethan stretched out along the far
side of the three-sided sectional and Caelan sat near his feet. I claimed the middle section for Sabrina and me, and she followed Ethan’s cue, tucking her feet up beside her and leaning into my side.
“Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious,” Caelan told her. “Do I detect the smell of rosemary and garlic?”
“You do,” Sabrina agreed. “I’m working on this new recipe for vegetable salad.” She tossed me a glare that was probably supposed to be superior, but just made me want to cart her out of the room over my shoulder. “I figured I’d grill some chicken, too, and make you all my taste-testers at dinner.”
Walker came in and took a spot next to Sabrina. “Dude, way to help the team. You coulda stumbled over any chick on an op, but you managed to stumble over the best chef in Manhattan,” he said, patting his belly happily. He raised his fist in my direction. “Hit it, man. Right here.”
Jesus. I rolled my eyes, but obligingly bumped fists with him over Sabrina’s head.
“Glad I could contribute,” Sabrina said wryly.
“What’s she doing here?”
We all turned to look at Xavier, who was standing in the doorway, watching Sabrina. His tone of voice made me sit up straighter, ready to throw down if he decided to unleash any of his caustic shit, but Sabrina laid her hand against my stomach—soothing and restraining at the same time. It was a gentle reminder that she was very capable of fighting her own battles, but that she knew I was there. I sat back.
“She,” Sabrina told him, “is ready to hear what Walker’s got to say about the hard drive. And considering she helped secure that information and get us out of there, I think she is entitled.”
Xavier set his jaw and glanced around the room.
“She’s an honorary Master,” Caelan told him. “Especially after that stunt she pulled at the Pedersons’.”
“And because the thing that unites us is that we’ve all lost people we love thanks to the person or people who killed Eugenia Carmichael’s husband,” Ethan said quietly.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about her being considered one of the Masters, honorary or otherwise. It was fine for her to be on the comms with us, and definitely cool for her to hear what Walker had to tell us, but there was no way in hell Sabrina was risking one hair on her head in any of our operations.
But I glanced down at Sabrina, who was still giving Xavier a challenging look, and bit my tongue. This wasn’t the time or place to have that discussion; I’d deal with the issue of her safety if it ever came up.
Walker cleared his throat. “You about ready to sit down so I can talk? Or you wanna stand there glaring at us awhile longer? I mean, I’ve got no plans tonight, so I’m cool either way, but…”
With a roll of his eyes, Xavier walked forward and threw himself down on the empty side of the couch.
“Okay. Alright. Good,” Walker said. He grabbed a tablet from a table behind the couch and tapped it. The large screen on the wall flashed to life, showing a standard computer directory tree, and a shit-ton of number-coded files. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, and his dark brown eyes grew serious. “So. I cracked the system yesterday afternoon.”
“Yesterday afternoon,” I repeated. “Why are we just hearing about this?”
“Uh, hold your horses, dude. Getting into the computer itself means shit, okay?” His accent thickened as his brows furrowed. “It’s like getting into someone’s house when you have no intel on what’s inside. You don’t know if there’s anything of value, or where it might be hidden. Takes time, dude. Shit could be in the toilet tank, or under the mattress, or in the freezer. Or hanging on the damn wall. You just don’t know.”
I nodded. “Apologies.”
“Right.” Walker nodded. He ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw and collected his thoughts. “So, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I got in and I went through everything. And I mean, every document, every bookmark, every bank record. Let me just tell you, you do not want to see this dude’s bookmarks, m’kay?”
“Bad?” Caelan grimaced.
“Dude had a more extensive porn collection than I do. And he paid for it.”
“What? Who pays for porn?” I demanded. Ethan and Caelan made noises of agreement.
“I know, right? Estupido,” Walker said. “Like, I almost wanna pull him aside and tell him—”
“Oh my God. It’s like living in a damn frat house,” Sabrina grumbled, eyes to the ceiling.
“Tell me about it,” Xavier said. He gave her a small, conciliatory smile, which she returned, before burrowing into my side more fully. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
“Anyway,” Walker said. “Suffice it to say, I checked thoroughly.” He shook his head and glanced around at all of us. “It’s kind of a good news-bad news-good news thing.”
“A what?” Xavier asked, raising one superior blond eyebrow.
“Okay, so good news, the guy is clean. His financials are spotless. He’s not raking in any money from unidentified sources, unless you tell me that he’s doing it with a different computer or in a different location. And even if you told me that, I wouldn’t believe you, because this guy is just not savvy enough to hide his money. His banking password is BeeBee123, for God’s sake.”
Sabrina stiffened against my side, and I muttered, “I just do not like this guy.”
“Creepy as fuck, maybe,” Walker agreed. “But he’s no criminal. That’s the first bit of good news.”
“And the bad news?” Caelan prompted, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“Well, the bad news is… he’s not Stuart Fowler’s secret keeper, either.”
“His what?” Xavier frowned.
“His… you know… secret keeper? Like, from Harry Potter?” Walker took in Xavier’s blank look and shook his head. “There were books… and movies? You’ve never heard of it? Wow. Okay. This explains so much. Anyway, he’s not the one holding a backup of all Fowler’s information. Or if he is, it’s on a thumb drive somewhere, and not in his hard drive.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, staring at the ceiling. Back to square one. As always. Two tiny steps forward, one giant step back.
“You’re telling me there was nothing?” Sabrina demanded, leaning forward. “How is that even possible? He was my dad’s best friend, and his attorney. There is no one else in the world he would have given that information to.”
“Except you,” I reminded her, running a hand over her lower back.
“Even then.” She shook her head. “I loved my dad, and I know he loved me, but we weren’t close. Not like that. Not like he’d imagine I’d have the first clue what to do with his backup information if something happened to him. He kept me out of all his business, legitimate and not.”
“Well, then there’s the possibility of a thumb drive,” Walker suggested again. “And maybe Pederson hid it.”
“It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” I told them. “Impossible. It could look like anything, from a refrigerator magnet to an earring, and be hidden in countless places.”
“And Pederson or Fowler could have put it in a safety deposit box,” Ethan said, folding his arms over his chest and looking uncharacteristically grim. “It could be anywhere.”
“Well, not really,” Walker argued, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, this was Fowler’s backup. Not just one piece of static information, but the kind of thing Fowler would have needed nearby so he could update it frequently. A safety deposit box wouldn’t be practical.”
“It would have been something at his office, then?” I said, sliding forward next to Sabrina and bracing my elbows on my knees. “Maybe it was in the safe after all. Maybe whoever robbed the safe got the backup when he got the originals.”
“Eh.” Walker shook his head. “I mean, keeping it in the safe would be stupid, too. You don’t keep your spare key on the key ring with your other keys, right? It probably would’ve been something he gave Pederson before he went into prison. Or something he knew Pederson would
get when he died.” He turned to Sabrina. “Did your dad leave a will?”
“Yeah, for all the good it does.” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “He died while under investigation. All his assets were frozen. His apartment was tossed by the police, and they’re still holding it as a crime scene even though he was arrested months ago. The authorities picked over everything at his office too, except client files and the documents in the safe, which contained privileged information.” She laughed, but it was a short, bitter sound. “That’s why I had to get Curt’s help to break into my own father’s office just to try to find the picture I wanted. And it wasn’t even there anymore.”
I bit my lip, remembering the framed picture I’d found at the Pedersons’, which I’d yet to give her. Then I frowned as the implications hit me.
“There was a cardboard box on the floor in Pederson’s home office,” I announced, sitting back again and looking at each of the other guys in turn. “Papers and things that must have been his personal effects, and were probably sent to Max Pederson to go through, since he was your father’s attorney.”
Caelan’s blue eyes flared and his voice was rough with excitement. “So likely Pederson does have it.”
I nodded, and a slow smile spread across his face.
“I mean, not to throw cold water on all this enthusiasm,” Xavier said, leaning forward. “But the same issues would still apply. Say Pederson got the box with the thumb drive. Now he really could have put it anywhere, and we have no way of finding it.”
“Unless we ask him,” Sabrina said. She turned to look at me, her blue eyes huge and excited. “We could just, you know, ask him.”
I shook my head in instinctive denial. I didn’t want her anywhere near that dude, with his creepy, longing looks and his too-long hugs and his childhood nicknames.
“Seriously,” Sabrina said, turning toward Ethan and Caelan, like she was hoping for a better reaction. “I could talk to him. He clearly has a… you know… thing for me. Some uncle-like affection or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” I repeated sourly. “I wanna know how much of his paid-porn featured girls who looked like you.”
