Thick As Thieves: An Enemies-To-Lovers Romance (Paths To Love Book 5)

by Grahame Claire

“Do not play games with me.”

  I cupped his jowls in my hands and stared up at him. “Never.”

  Okay, so that was a big fat lie, but it seemed to give him pause.

  Then he swatted my hands away and grabbed me by the hair. That was short-lived. “Tamas,” I screeched.

  He said nothing, dragging me toward his study by my curls. Did I mention how big his apartment was? Like a whole floor monstrosity. It was one of the reasons I’d hung around. The shower was like a car wash with jets and nozzles and— “Ow. Ow. Ow.”

  Good Lord, this man had an iron grip. I bent forward in an attempt to ease the tension on my scalp. That did no good. It was a wonder a clump of my hair wasn’t in his fist.

  The hardwood floors turned to plush navy carpet I recognized. I focused on the pattern in hopes I could forget the pain radiating from my scalp.

  We stopped.

  He yanked.

  I was face to face with the open safe door. Stuffed inside were stacks of cash, papers, jewels, and . . . a gun.

  “Tell me where it is, and all will be forgiven.” Strangely enough, he sounded sincere. But his hold on my hair tightened, and I was no fool.

  “Have you checked through everything?” I reached up to look under some of the documents in the safe, but he batted my hand away.

  “Twice,” he hissed.

  I twisted like some sort of contortionist so I could make eye contact. “I saw Esmerelda in here earlier.” I lifted a finger. “Come to think of it, the safe was open.”

  His jaw clenched. That crimson shade turned up another degree.

  “She has been with me for twelve years. Nothing has ever been stolen,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Maybe she’s patient.”

  Whap.

  Stars formed behind my eyes as pain exploded in my head. Automatically, I lifted my hand to my face. Did he just . . . punch me?

  “I am not.”

  He reared back, and I ducked, narrowly missing his swing. I’d broken free at the expense of some of my hair. The sting on my scalp temporarily made me forget about the pain around my eye.

  I shed my Louboutin’s from my feet and chucked them at the bastard. My dress was too tight around the legs for me to jet, so I lifted it above my hips and sprinted for the front door.

  Serge, Tamas’s bodyguard, froze in position in the living room at the sight of the white lace lingerie I wore, which left nothing to the imagination. Or maybe it was my ass hanging out. I didn’t stop to find out.

  I flung open the front door and made for the stairwell. Taking the steps two at a time, I went up a few floors.

  “Find her,” Tamas yelled as heavy boot-steps thundered.

  Farther and farther away they went. Dumbasses. They assumed I went down.

  After a minute to catch my breath, I realized my dress was still up around my waist. I straightened it, exited on a higher floor, and called the service elevator.

  Without a trace, I sauntered out the back of the building like I still had on a two-thousand-dollar pair of shoes.

  I had two rules:

  Never get caught.

  Never leave on their terms.

  I had just broken both.

  Chapter Three

  Drew

  Two thirty-seven.

  I stared up at the ceiling, though I could barely make it out in the darkness. For hours, I’d tossed and turned until I’d finally given up on sleep. Even the whiskey hadn’t helped.

  Was Mama bluffing about turning me in?

  I didn’t think so. Her anger was palpable when she left me drowning in my miseries.

  Fuck this.

  I threw off the quilt. The last time I’d seen the thing had been in the room I shared with Easton at Grandma Carter’s house. Extreme Makeover Memory Lane edition hadn’t stopped with the front of the apartment. My mother hadn’t left a square inch of this place untouched by the past.

  She never did tell me why she came to my apartment and deposited bits and pieces of my past all over my home, but she didn’t need to. She hoped the memories would bring me back to reality, to my beginnings and the person I was born and raised to be. Not the idiot I’d become.

  I tugged on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my keys and cigarettes, and trudged to the elevator. It wasn’t that I gave a rat’s ass about smoking inside. I felt as if I was suffocating.

  New York City air hit my lungs when I stepped out into the alley behind the building. I tapped a cigarette out of the pack. Placing the Parliament Light between my lips, I cupped the end to block the wind and lit it with the engraved lighter my father had given me when I was fourteen. He hadn’t meant for me to use it for cancer sticks, but when had I ever done anything he’d intended for me?

  I leaned against the concrete and looked down the alley. A rat scurried toward a garbage dumpster. What the fuck was I doing here? I drew in a pull, the cherry glowing on the end of my cigarette, and the smoke and fog of breath I blew out comingled in the darkness. I was on borrowed time, the laundry list of sins I’d committed finally catching up with me.

  Yesterday, I’d signed over whatever parental rights I’d had to a child I’d refused to believe was mine. But Holly hadn’t lied as I’d thought all these years. The test didn’t lie. Not like the one in high school after a nasty baseball injury that deemed me infertile apparently had. She was the mother of my son even though it still didn’t seem possible. Things had worked out for the best anyway. I wasn’t built to be a father. That kid was better off away from the likes of me, yet I hadn’t expected how hard it would be to ink my signature on something so permanent.

  Those fuckers my brother had befriended used my transgressions against me to force me into giving away my boy, although I’d never accepted him as such. I should be able to go on with my life as I had been, but everything was changing. I was . . . unsettled. Untethered. I didn’t have the same drive to be heartless. And if I wasn’t that man, who the fuck was I?

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?”

  I was beginning to wonder why exactly I’d been so hell-bent on moving into this building. My brother stood on the other side of my door, looking almost as tired as I felt.

  “Picking your ass up.”

  “Is it safe to invite you in, or are you going to punch me again?” I held open the door anyway. When he discovered what I’d done to our family company, how I’d manipulated the software program we’d used to house all our financials, he’d wasted no time knocking me flat on my ass in this very spot. I’d had it coming. I rubbed my jaw where it was still sore.

  “Let’s go.”

  Apparently, Easton had been relegated as warden for the sentence I hadn’t agreed to serve. Yet I was dressed to go to Paths of Purpose even though I was still on the fence about going. I’d told her I wouldn’t do the time, but her ultimatum had gnawed at me ever since.

  Paths of Purpose.

  Jail.

  Neither option was ideal.

  I didn’t move. The image of Mama’s determination yesterday flashed through my head. I hadn’t seen that side of her in a while. Part of me lit up that she’d been fighting for me. Or maybe I just saw what I wanted to. When she found out about the boy I hadn’t thought was mine, the theft would be nothing.

  I’d disappointed her enough.

  The elevator chimed, and the doors scraped open. Please don’t let it be my brother’s bitch of a wife. They were like conjoined twins. What he saw in her—hell, what my whole family saw in her—was beyond me.

  Dad?

  I struggled to keep the surprise off my face when he stepped into the lobby. He didn’t appear any more pleased to see me than I was to see him.

  “I can’t believe it.” I stepped backward toward the safety of my hellhole apartment. “That Paths of Purpose place was a lie.”

  Easton arched a brow and our father remained standing near the elevator as if he got any closer to me he might catch something.

  “You used her,” I con
tinued before either of them could get a word out. “Because you wouldn’t be here unless you were hauling my ass to jail.” I thrust an accusatory finger in Dad’s direction.

  He was motionless and expressionless as a rock. They’d used my mother to trick me. As unfeeling as I thought I was, that hurt more than I’d admit to anyone. Her, out of everyone . . . I was blindsided.

  “We’re going to the shelter,” Easton said evenly.

  I took another step back, wary. “I don’t believe you.”

  He shrugged. “The word is trust.”

  I snorted. How could he say that? After what I’d done, there was no getting any semblance of trust back.

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll find my own way.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then we’ve got a problem.” If I got in a car with them, they’d take me straight to the FBI or cops or whoever could lock me up the longest.

  “You know the choices.”

  Ah, so my father could speak.

  “I should’ve known you were behind this. In your mind, there’s only one place for me.” I gripped the doorframe, struggling to ignore the onslaught of hurt. It wouldn’t go away.

  “She wasn’t supposed to see you,” he said through tight lips. “But this is what Loretta wants, so it’s what’s going to happen.”

  Easton looked at his watch. “They’re expecting us. Do I need to call Mrs. Quinn and tell her we’ve made other arrangements?”

  I glanced back and forth between the two of them. A powerlessness swept over me. I was always in command. I pulled the strings. That way I wasn’t left exposed. Now? What choice did I have?

  I pushed off the doorframe. “If y’all think it’s a good idea to put me in a place full of women, that’s on you.”

  Chapter Four

  Sonya

  Walking barefoot through New York City sucked.

  It didn’t help I had to stick to side streets and alleys to avoid Tamas and his goon. Yet with every block of distance I put between me and the apartment, the easier I breathed.

  That hadn’t gone as planned.

  Esmerelda had snitched on me. She’d seen me nosing around Tamas’s study, and of course he’d take her word over mine.

  But a black eye was worth it.

  I couldn’t say worse had happened, though it would heal, and I’d still have the coin . . . as long as I lay low for a while. My head smarted where he’d yanked out a chunk of hair. I hadn’t seen the aftereffects yet, but I was sure it wouldn’t be lovely. One thing was for certain: Tamas wouldn’t stop looking for me until his last breath. I’d heard countless conversations—more like threats—when he’d found out his chief engineer disappeared after he’d stolen and attempted to sell the new technology for his company’s latest rechargeable battery. Three days. That was how long the engineer was able to hide from Tamas. But he’d never think of the place where I was headed. And he was the one who’d introduced me to it.

  Turned out the state he’d left me in would play to my advantage when I got there.

  A whimper came from a shadowy doorway. I knew better than to go into dark corners I couldn’t see, but that plea for help had me backtracking. As I crept toward the cry, I heard it again. What a time to have no phone for a flashlight.

  When I was just outside the doorway, something licked my foot. I let out a startled screech and prayed it wasn’t a giant rat even as I squatted.

  In the darkness, big, sad eyes met mine. My heart lurched. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  I held my hand out. The dog lifted his head and sniffed, swiping his tongue over my fingertips. I stroked down matted, dirty fur and felt bones where meat should’ve been.

  “Are you hungry?”

  With my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw his tail wag. This baby was starving and who knew what else, yet he was trying.

  “Can you come with me? I don’t have anything, but we’ll find you something.”

  I forgot about how my face and feet hurt, determined to help this sweet creature. It took him a minute and a struggle to get up, but once he did and we were in the alley light, what little heart I had shattered.

  He was a pretty good size mutt with long lanky legs and floppy ears. But he was so skinny, I wasn’t sure if he’d eaten in a week.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I promised, though I wasn’t sure if that was more for me than him.

  I stroked his head, and he looked up at me with all the hope and love I didn’t deserve. How could he trust a human when we’d let him suffer so? I didn’t. The only one I could and would ever rely on was myself. This wasn’t how I saw my life turning out, but there I was.

  We trudged slowly to the street. When I moved, he moved. When I stopped, he stopped. He stuck close by my side. Even though it was obvious it took all his effort, he tried so hard, as though he knew if he could just make it wherever we were going, he’d be okay.

  But he was tired.

  I hailed a passing cab, which skidded to a stop. When I opened the back door, my companion looked at me like he didn’t know what to do. Carefully, I hefted him inside.

  “No dog,” the driver said.

  I ignored him and climbed in the back seat, rattling off an address. He caught sight of my black eye, clamped his mouth shut, and took off.

  * * *

  “Your charity will come back to you tenfold.”

  I slammed the car door. The dog stared at me as I stared at the brick building in front of us. Tree-lined sidewalks and a quiet that was difficult to find in this city settled over us. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

  A bronze plaque indicated we were at the right address.

  “They’ll help us.”

  I tried the doorknob, uncertain what the protocol was, but found it locked. So I rang the doorbell. The dog sat on my feet while we waited for someone to answer.

  I was about to press it again when the door flung open.

  The woman who answered had an elegant gray bob and wore a pantsuit that looked expensive. A strand of pearls circled her neck. And she smiled as if she’d been expecting me.

  “Hello. I’m Mrs. Quinn. Come in.” She stepped aside and ushered us into the foyer, which felt homey, comforting. “And who do we have here?” She patted the dog’s head, and he nuzzled her palm.

  “I’m Sonya.” I snapped my mouth shut. Why had I given her my real name? “And this is . . . Sam.”

  My new friend looked up at me when I spoke his new name, and relief coursed through me. Although this woman probably thought I was an asshole who didn’t feed her own dog.

  “Why don’t we get you two something to eat?” Mrs. Quinn led us to an opulent office and didn’t seem to mind when we tracked dirt onto her cream carpet.

  Come to think of it, she hadn’t even flinched at the pair we made. Black eye. Barefoot. Dress in tatters. No coat. Dirty. She didn’t seem to see any of it.

  She offered me a blanket draped on the arm of the sofa and indicated for me to sit. I opened it and huddled underneath the soft cashmere. Sam placed a paw on the cushion, those brown eyes pleading for help. He didn’t have the strength to jump up.

  If Mrs. Quinn minded when I helped him up, she didn’t say a word. He laid his head in my lap. My hand shook as I stretched the blanket to cover his chilly fur. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until we’d reached the warmth of the building.

  “I’ll return in a moment.”

  My teeth chattered, and I snuggled deeper into the blanket. Sam heaved out a long sigh and closed his eyes. In seconds, he was snoring.

  As I stroked his head, I realized I hadn’t checked to see if he was actually a he. Good thing Sam could go either way.

  Before I could peek, Mrs. Quinn returned with a tray of food. She set it on the end table and passed me a steaming mug. I blew on the hot tea. It burned my throat when I took a sip, but it instantly warmed my stomach.

  “We didn’t have any dog food, so I had to improvise,” she said when she revealed
a bowl of rice, steak, and . . . carrots? “I couldn’t separate them out. Perhaps they’re good for a dog’s vision too.”

  I found myself snickering. “Maybe.”

  Gently, I shook Sam. He stirred, and I held the bowl under his mouth. With barely a sniff, he inhaled half the contents like it was about to get away.

  “Hey. Slow down. It’s not going anywhere.”

  He ignored me and licked the bowl over and over even when there was nothing left.

  Mrs. Quinn took in the scene without a word. I prayed we looked like we knew each other well so she wouldn’t make Sam go to the pound.

  “Have some soup.” She gave me an encouraging nod and held out her hands for Sam’s empty bowl. He stretched his neck as though he wasn’t quite ready to let it go. His stomach made a strange noise, and then he laid his head back down on my lap.

  My first few bites of the vegetable soup were tentative, but then it was like I’d taken a lesson from Sam. It wasn’t long before I hit bottom, the spoon scraping against the porcelain. I shouldn’t be starving either. I’d only been gone from Tamas a couple hours at most . . . but it was as if the quiet and warmth—the safety—of this place had that effect. It was okay to let my guard down . . . momentarily.

  “We don’t normally accept pets.” She tilted her head as if reconsidering. “Strangely enough, there have only been a handful of incidences where the issue has come up. But there’s always been someone to foster the animal.”

  “No.” I clamped my mouth shut. What the hell was I doing? I needed this place to hide out. Was I going to give it up for a dog I didn’t even know?

  If the way I put a possessive arm around his skinny frame was any indication, I was in trouble. The cold must have done something to my brain. I didn’t get tangled up emotionally with anyone—human or dog.

  Her smile turned sympathetic. “You’ve been here less than thirty minutes and have already sparked an idea for a new program.”

  I tucked my feet up under my legs and realized too late she’d probably have to have the sofa cleaned. Crap. But when I looked up at her, expecting exasperation, it wasn’t there. How could she look past our filth? My filth . . .