Page 2

“Yeah, you just don’t want one long term,” Addie states.
“Exactly. Relationships give me hives.” Ryder shudders, and we all laugh.
“I wouldn’t mind a relationship,” Brighton says carefully, “as long as it’s with the right man.”
“You mean a man collecting Social Security?” Ryder asks, and I crack up. We all know Brighton likes the silver foxes.
“There’s nothing wrong with a distinguished older gentleman. Maybe you boys could learn a thing or two from a more experienced man.”
The fellas and I all make a chuffing sound at that.
“I’ve never had any complaints,” Deck says gruffly.
“Who’s around long enough to complain, Mr. Fancy-Free?” Brighton teases. “We know you prefer being a bachelor.”
“Damn straight. I hate clingy women,” he grumbles.
“Depends what they’re clinging to, if you know what I mean.” I waggle my eyebrows, and everyone chuckles.
“Mon Dieu!” Brighton rolls her pretty green eyes. It’s cute when she starts speaking French. I think she reverts to her native language when she’s annoyed. And I have way too much fun riling her up.
Giving her a devastating smile, I reach for her hand, lift it to my lips and press a kiss to her soft skin. “Mademoiselle Leroux, has anyone told you how stunning you look today?” I ask huskily.
She lightly flicks the end of my nose with her index finger. “You are so full of shit.”
I grin and nip her knuckle, releasing her hand as an incoming call rings on Addie’s laptop.
Finally, I think, sitting up a little straighter.
The Man, whoever he is, always receives our full attention without even asking. There’s something about him that commands respect. It’s weird that we all feel it, yet none of us know his true identity. There must be a reason he prefers staying in the shadows. All we know is Addie’s mom told her she could trust him. That after she was gone—which she is—The Man would be here to help and occasionally check in with jobs.
It’s all a little cloak and dagger, but Addie’s brother—a Navy SEAL—worked for a secret group called The Agency. Guess doing secret shit must run in the family.
A man dressed in black with a scrambled face appears on the screen. It’s hard to tell much about him except he has a broad, firm chest and muscled arms. His deep voice, however, is clear as day, and completely unfamiliar.
“Hello, how is everyone doing?” The Man asks.
“Good,” Addie responds, and the rest of us nod. “What have you got for us?”
I hide my smirk. Addie always likes getting straight down to business. I don’t think she has a carefree or impractical bone in her body, but that’s probably what makes her so competent. The woman doesn’t waste time or mince words. She’s pragmatic and tenacious, and those qualities serve her well.
At least when it comes to our line of business. If we’re talking about romance, not so much. I get the feeling she may have been burned in the past, so now she keeps things simple—and that means testosterone-free. Apparently, none of us wants any of the drama that invariably seems to come with a relationship. We prefer our drama to come from the excitement of a heist.
“A man named Alejandro Torres, currently in South America, has a massive emerald.”
“Emerald?” Ryder echoes, perking up. “How many carats are we talking?”
Someone mentions a gem and, I swear to God, Ryder gets a hard-on.
“Just over twenty carats and near-perfect transparency.”
“Fuck yeah,” Ryder exclaims. “That’s a nice stone.”
“Torres stole it, and now I want you to steal it back,” The Man says. “Then it will be returned to its rightful owner.”
That comment raises all our eyebrows. We aren’t exactly Robin Hood, and we’re certainly not known for our charity work.
“So, we’re not cutting and re-selling it?” Addie confirms.