Hustle

by Claire Chilton

  Raised by her father to be a grifter, Ellie Phillips needs to get away from the hustling life and her mobbed-up boss. The map she just stole is her key to one last big score. But its rightful owner, Jacob Hawkins, isn’t letting it, or Ellie, get away so easily. And when she jets off to South America on a treasure hunt, he’s right on her trail.

  Ellie’s never had a problem conning anyone, but everything about Jacob feels a little too real. When her boss’s men show up and bullets start flying, Jacob is right by her side…and soon, he’s in her bed, too. She might be falling for the biggest con game there is—or about to find the one thing she didn’t even know she was missing….

  Hustle

  Claire Chilton

  This book is dedicated to Jonathan Eldred for his ongoing support and wonderful ideas for this story. Without your inspiration, it wouldn’t have been such an exciting adventure. You’re the best muse a girl could have.

  I would also like to thank Eileen Gormley and Caroline McCall (also known as Evie Hunter) for their excellent advice and expert assistance with my sticky sentences. Thank you for being great friends and mentors.

  Thank you to everyone at Wattpad and Harlequin for supporting this story, and for providing me with so many wonderful opportunities.

  Finally, I would like to thank my mother for instilling me with the belief that life is an adventure and anything is possible, because it really is.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter One

  As alarms blared throughout Hawkins Hall, Ellie Phillips dropped the stone tablet she was trying to steal from the glass case in front of her. She winced as it bounced across the Persian rug. Relieved to see that the tablet was still in one piece, she scooped it up and slipped it inside her handbag. The clasp of her outsize clutch barely snapped shut around it.

  Her heart hammered as she heard footsteps pounding up the sweeping staircase outside the room. She spun around to stare at the panel of wires that had been concealed behind an oil painting of an old cargo ship.

  I cut all the alarms. I know I did!

  The professional in her itched to check the schematics and go over the wiring again, but the time for that had passed. She exhaled a frustrated sigh. She had locked the door behind her as a precaution, but she had assumed that she would evade the notice of Hawkins Hall’s formidable security staff when she disabled the alarms. Now they were pounding down the door and the police were probably on their way.

  Meyer had given her an easy job. All she had to do was get into Hawkins Hall, grab an Incan tablet and get out, but she’d somehow managed to bollocks it up. Well, the only thing to do now was escape. She’d have to figure out what had gone wrong later. She frowned as she scanned the room for an exit route. Strolling out of the building disguised as a guest wasn’t a viable option anymore.

  She glanced at the window, narrowing her eyes. With the door blocked by angry-sounding security guards, it was the only available exit.

  She inhaled sharply as she leaned out into the evening air. It was a four-storey drop. Glancing sideways, she saw a narrow ledge beneath the windowsill that led around the corner of the manor house. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pop the bubble of panic that was growing in her throat.

  This is insane.

  Something heavy collided with the locked door behind her, galvanising her into action.

  She scrambled through the open window and struggled to balance on the narrow ledge, teetering on towering Louboutin heels. She took a few precious seconds to regain her footing before she closed the window.

  The silk frock she’d bought to fit in with the charity-auction crowd did nothing to protect her from the gusts of cold blasting across the English countryside. She took one tiny step sideways, and then ventured another; she forced herself not to look down.

  Just get around the corner, and they won’t know you’re here.

  Her stomach twisted in cold fear as she edged around the corner of the building, clawing at the brickwork for any kind of handhold. She held her breath as she heard the window slide open just as she cleared the corner.

  She froze in position, breathing a sigh when she heard the window slamming shut. I got away with it!

  Her moment of triumph was cut short when she heard the commotion coming from the grounds below. Security guards, no doubt. But they were down there, and she was up here. Her immediate concern was getting back inside Hawkins Hall.

  She pressed herself against the damp limestone and carefully continued her way along the ledge. She almost lost her footing when another gust of cold wind blasted into her. When she threw a hand back against the wall to steady herself, she felt a window frame. It seemed to be open an inch or two.

  Thankful that her luck had finally turned, she slid close enough to look inside. Beyond the heavy damask curtains she saw a master bedroom, complete with an ornate oak bed and matching furniture. There was no one in the room and the door was closed.

  She pushed the window open and tossed her handbag inside. It landed on the thick carpet with a dull thud. Relieved to have the heavy bag out of her hands, she gripped the window frame with one hand, hoisted up the fishtail skirt of her evening dress with the other and slid herself into the room.

  Once safely back inside Hawkins Hall, she surveyed the room and collected her thoughts. She was starting to wonder about this gig. It should have been a snap. Go to a fancy party, pretend to be posh, nab an Incan tablet and swan out the front door after asking a valet to call a cab. Meyer had given her everything she needed—a wad of cash to blow on a high-street outfit, the layout of the estate, instructions for disarming the alarms—and Meyer didn’t make mistakes. He was ruthless, but he was also a pro. So why had the alarms gone off?

  Ellie had been so sure that this would be her last job. Working cons with her dad had been a breeze, but everything had changed after he’d died. Joseph Meyer had moved in on the territory, and he was a different kind of criminal. She knew that the only way she could leave the life behind was with a big haul. Well, she could also leave it in a body bag, but she didn’t much fancy that option.

  She’d thought that this job would be her way out, but now she wasn’t even sure she could get out of this room.

  She took a quick peek out the window. The manicured lawn was still filled with men running around, flashing torches and yelling into walkie-talkies.

  If I ever do another job like this, I’m dressing as a security guard instead of a fucking debutante.

  She picked up her handbag and paced the room. Then she plopped down on the edge of the huge bed and dropped her handbag into her lap.

  The handbag bent in half across her knees.

  She felt sick. There was a stone tablet in her handbag. It should not bend in half.

  She remembered the thump when it hit the floor. Oh, shit, I broke the fucking tablet! Meyer’s going to kill me. He will cut me into pieces if I don’t deliver. The guy doesn’t own a pig farm just for bacon.

  She closed
her eyes and took a deep breath as she opened her bag and reached inside. She pulled out the tablet in two jagged pieces. It had snapped clean in half.

  She tried not to panic as she reached into her handbag again to pull out her mobile. Hitting speed dial, she called the only person who could get her out of here—her best friend, Jimmy Carroll.

  Come on, come on. Pick up.

  She listened to the phone ring. Jimmy was always there. A geek to the core, the only thing that would stop him answering would be if he was busy raiding in “World of Warcraft” or chatting with his imaginary girlfriend in Florida. When her call went to voicemail, she gave up.

  Well, that’s it. I’m dead. She gave the two slabs of stone in her lap a despairing glance and frowned. Then again…

  There was something wedged inside one half of the stone. It was tan and pliable. She touched it, realising it was old leather. Her eyes widened as she pulled a leather scroll out of the tablet. She unrolled it and peered at it. Odd words and sigils covered it, but if she wasn’t mistaken, it was a map. She stared at the words written on the scroll. She thought she recognised some Latin, and some of it might even be English, but the script was hard to read. Whatever it is, it sure as shit isn’t Incan.

  Then something familiar caught her eye. There was a flag inscribed on the bottom left corner, and the sight of it caused her to inhale sharply. She knew this flag very well. It was the flag for the Henry Rose. Her father had been fascinated by the lost ship. Well, mostly he had been fascinated by the Corazón de Fortuna—the Heart of Fortune—a massive Spanish gem that was supposed to have been on board when the Henry Rose sank. She traced her fingers around the swirl of stars on the flag. This was the haul her father had dreamed of.

  She frowned again. It was too much of a coincidence that Meyer had sent her on a job that led to her father’s obsession. What the hell is Meyer playing at?

  She set her jaw. This job just changed. Either he wants the tablet, or he wants the map. I broke the tablet, and I’m not giving up the map. He’ll kill me either way, so screw him.

  The thought that she was almost certainly doomed was strangely fortifying.

  She grinned as she tossed the tablet on the floor and kicked it under the bed. Then she rolled up the scrap of leather and was about to put it in her bag when she considered the possibility of security guards at the door. She didn’t know if Jacob Hawkins would have the nerve to search his fellow toffs, but she wasn’t prepared to take the chance.

  She smiled down at her shoes. They might have a use after all. She slid the shoe off her right foot. She unfurled the scroll and pressed it along the inside of the shoe. Then she slipped her foot back in. Perfect.

  She decided to try Jimmy again. She hit speed dial on her phone one more time.

  ‘What the hell are you doing in here?’

  She jumped, and then stood up, still holding the ringing phone to her ear. She hadn’t even heard the door open. Maybe the housekeeper oils the hinges every day.

  But there he was: Jacob Hawkins, lord of the manor. Quickly gathering her wits, she smiled and gestured for a moment of silence from the imposing owner of Hawkins Hall by holding up her hand.

  ‘Thanks, Mummy,’ she said to the still-ringing phone, using her plummiest voice. ‘I’ll be home soon.’ She made a show of rolling her eyes.

  After nodding for a moment, she hung up and turned to face Jacob, smiling sweetly. He didn’t smile back. Nor did he move out of the doorway.

  ‘I do apologise. I needed to make a call, and the party was so loud.’ Ellie stood up and briskly brushed down her skirt before dropping her phone back into her bag.

  Jacob Hawkins stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Oh, this is not good.

  She stared at his back while listening to the door shut with an ominous click. His dark hair curled around the collar of his white shirt, and his broad shoulders fitted perfectly into his tux. He was tall, and he was obviously muscular. Fighting her way past him was clearly not an option.

  She sighed. Charm wasn’t exactly her strongest weapon.

  As he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes bore into hers. ‘Usually, when women come into my bedroom, it’s not to make a phone call.’

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She knew how to play this, but there was something about Jacob that sent shivers down her spine. She took a second to compose herself. Come on, it’s the oldest con in the book. Use it or lose it.

  She peered down in submission and twirled a lock of her ebony hair around her fingers. ‘Why, Mr Hawkins, you’ll make a girl blush with comments like that.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ He covered the space between them in a couple of strides, stopping a few inches away from her. His eyes scanned her from head to toe. ‘I don’t think I’ve made you blush yet.’

  She gulped, silently berating herself for losing her cool. It was just another con. She’d done hundreds of them since growing up with the greatest grifter of all time. This should be easy, but the close proximity of Jacob made her feel trapped. His presence surrounded her, making the room feel claustrophobic and small.

  ‘And there is it,’ he muttered as his fingers traced her collarbone. ‘So you do blush after all.’

  He slid his hands over her shoulders and down her body to her waist. She froze. His touch sent her libido into overdrive, causing shivers of pleasure to ripple under her skin. But when his hands reached her hips, a moment of clarity filtered through the lustful haze that seemed to have gathered over her brain. Son of a bitch! He’s patting me down for the tablet. Don’t play a player, sweetheart.

  The fog lifted. She pressed her body against his and ran her fingers up the back of his neck as she undulated against him. ‘Let’s see if I can make you blush,’ she breathed in his ear. She felt him gulp as she kissed his neck.

  She pulled away and glanced into his eyes. Her lips were just inches from his, and her heart was racing. She’d never used sex to get out of a fix before, but this didn’t feel like a con. And that’s a problem! Pull yourself together, Phillips! Her brain was screaming for her to finish this job and get the hell away from Hawkins Hall, but her body…

  The air was electric with tension, nothing but the sound of their breathing echoing in the room. There was a glow of passion in his eyes and a faint blush on his cheekbones. ‘And there it is,’ she whispered before brushing her lips over his. She fought to shake off her overwhelming attraction to him even as she kissed him.

  She eased back to take a look at him. His brown eyes clouded over, his long dark lashes framing the wanton storm within. He swooped down, claiming her lips while pushing her back onto the bed with a growl. Oh, shi— Mmm.

  She rode a turbulent wave as he took over her senses again and again with his seductive lips and hard body pressing against her. Every time she came up for air, she plunged back under the surface, captured by temptation. She kissed him back, arching against him. The voice urging her to finish the job and get out was drowned out by the hum of tingling nerves. She was aching for him to do more than just kiss her.

  Reality came crashing back when he began untying the straps of her gown. Wait a minute. This isn’t some hot guy who wants to get your dress off for the body under it. He’s just found a new way to search you. She went cold at the thought, narrowing her eyes. Fine. Now it’s my turn.

  ‘Mmm,’ she moaned. ‘I love you.’

  His lips froze on hers before he pulled back, staring at her with wide eyes. ‘What?’

  She smiled up at him and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I think I’m in love.’ She offered him a coy smile. ‘I mean, I don’t want to rush things, but don’t you think that Jemma Hawkins sounds wonderful?’

  He rolled sideways, removing his hands from her body and putting some space between them. ‘I, er… What?’ He climbed off the bed and backed away from it by a few paces as if it were home to a dragon, rather than an infatuated girl.

  She sat up and flashed an eager smile. ‘I
don’t want to rush things, of course. It’s not as if I’m clingy. But when you know it’s true love, I don’t think you should hide it, do you?’ She crawled towards him on all fours, trying not to laugh at the expression of pure terror on his face. She climbed off the bed and approached him. ‘I know you feel the same. With kisses like that, how could you not?’ She beamed at him as he stumbled back against the wall.

  ‘Look.’ He held up his hands to ward her off. ‘I think you’re a lovely girl, but—’

  ‘Hush.’ She placed two fingers over his lips. ‘Don’t fight it, my darling.’

  The door opened to her right, and she turned to see a burly man in a black suit—by the looks of him, a bodyguard—staring wide-eyed in the doorway. ‘Is everything, er, okay?’

  ‘Bill, perfect timing!’ Jacob gripped the top of Ellie’s arm and marched her towards the door. ‘Jemma will need escorting back to her car.’

  ‘Call me, my love.’ She was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face.

  As he ushered her out of the room, the bodyguard shot a glance of disbelief at Jacob. ‘I’ll make sure she’s sent off safely for you, sir. Do you want me to give her the number for your direct line?’ he asked innocently.

  Jacob glowered by way of response.

  Ellie snorted a laugh, quickly covering it up with fake tears. ‘My heart will ache until we are together agai—’ She didn’t finish her sentence as Jacob slammed the door in her face.

  She turned to face the guard. ‘He’s so masterful,’ she gushed.

  The guard nodded, even though he also appeared to be trying hard not to laugh. ‘That’s the Hawk for you, masterful at getting girls out of his bedroom,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s get you home, shall we? Where did you park?’

  ‘You know.’ She leaned into his arms as if losing her balance, playing the role of the tipsy debutante. ‘I don’t think I should be driving right now, Bill.’

  ‘I tend to agree. How about we call you a cab?’

  ‘That is such a good idea!’ She staggered down the opulent hall towards the front door with the stolen map securely hidden inside her shoe.