Page 12

Chapter twelve

Cillian

I wake from my nap and turn my head—and inhale a mouthful of Nova’s dark hair. She hasn’t moved from the little spot right beneath my shoulder. Her light snores sound throughout the otherwise silent bedroom of my suite, making me smile. Since when does snoring make me smile? Hell, since when has half the things this woman does ever made me feel like this? Never would be the correct answer.

Though the room isn’t as glamorous and over the top as the one we stayed in last night, this rather modern suite will always be special to me. Which is another anomaly altogether. I’ve slept with women. They’ve been to my place, and I’ve been to theirs, but never had there been a place that always seemed like “ours,” or an entire city for that matter. New Orleans will always be Nova to me.

When she walked out of the bathroom as Charity last night, I was stunned speechless for a few moments. I fucking loved that under her disguise, I still saw Nova. Not the woman who I was planning a heist with, not the pickpocket I met only a few weeks ago, but the real her. She somehow has the power to stun me stupid at every turn. And I fucking love it. Her wit, her charm, hell, everything about her has been completely unexpected. I find myself falling under her spell, falling for her more and more every moment we spend together. I could fight against it, but Nova is a force. It doesn’t matter what I’ve told myself or Finn about not wanting what he has with his wife; I can’t help but think I was a fool for thinking I could resist this stunning creature lying in bed next to me.

I have no idea if there’s a future for us, but I hope to God there is. If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize about Nova, it’s that you can’t rush her or push her into talking about something she isn’t ready for. Good thing I’ve learned to play the long game in my line of work. When she talked about taking her money and getting out of New Orleans, she didn’t give me the impression she considered Boston as a viable option. Nova was quick to shrug off the idea of me helping her unload the haul from last night. I’m beginning to think she has something against the city or something.

“Are you staring at me while I sleep?” Nova asks in a raspy voice as she peeks at me through the hair covering her face.

“Busted.” I gently swipe the hair from her face. “Your damn hair nearly choked me to death.”

“That’s what you get for being creepy.” She rolls off my shoulder and onto her back, scrubbing a hand over her face. “What time is it?”

I reach over and grab my phone, turning the screen on so I can check the time. “Almost four.”

“Jesus Christ, we’ve been sleeping all day.”

“We had an eventful night,” I say, smiling as I remember just how eventful it was when we got back to the suite.

Nova looks at me and groans when she sees the grin on my lips. “You’re a sex fiend, aren’t you?”

“I’m a you fiend,” I reply and grab her waist, hauling her over me. Nova lets out a squeal but doesn’t try to get away when my arms wrap around her, holding her tight to my chest.

Then I hear what has to be the loudest stomach rumble come from Nova.

She laughs and buries her head in my chest. “I’m a little hungry. Again,” she says, though it’s muffled with her face smashed against me.

“Alright. Let’s get you some dinner.”

“Ugh, it’s so early for dinner.” She pops her head up and rests her chin on my chest. “I’m going to feel like an old fogey or something.”

“Fine. Call it a late lunch.”

“What are we going to have for dinner then?”

“Are you trying to be difficult?”

“It’s an honest question. If this is lunch, then what’s for dinner?”

“A spanking if you don’t be quiet.”

“If that’s supposed to be a threat, you’re missing the mark by a long shot.”

“So you ask absurd questions to get spanked? Good to know.”

Her stomach rumbles, and I tap her bare ass. “Alright, up and at ’em. The early bird special waits for no man.”

“I hope that’s not your version of a spanking. It’s weak as shit.”

She rolls to get off me, and as soon as she stands, my palm connects with her ass—hard.

Nova lets out a yelp and turns her head to face me, her brow quirked with an otherwise flat expression on her face. I smile triumphantly at her before leaning over and pressing a kiss to the cheek that now bears a red handprint.

“I’ll kiss it and make it better after we get you some food.”

Nova walks into the bathroom completely naked, and I lie back, looking on with satisfaction at the pink handprint. It’s a good look on her.

When the light flips on, she turns to me. “Or, you could kiss it and make it better now,” she says before disappearing into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

Well, with an invitation like that…

The good thing about having dinner at five o’clock in the afternoon is there’s no wait at the little French restaurant I take Nova to. After sharing a bottle of wine and a three-course meal where she polishes her plate with every course, we each lean back in our chairs with glasses of wine, enjoying the little patio and late afternoon sun.

“You pull off that Southern belle accent pretty well,” I say after the waiter has cleared our plates. “Are you from New Orleans?”

Considering the amount of time Nova and I have spent together over the last few days, we really don’t know that much about each other. Sure, I’ve figured out all sorts of ways to make her come, I know how she makes me feel, but I don’t know her history or her life before she came to New Orleans. Throughout the last few days, I’ve gotten a strong feeling she likes to keep it that way. I’ve never felt the same sort of intense infatuation toward another woman as I have with her, especially with so little knowledge about her life outside of the handful of days we’ve spent together.

“Close. My hometown is a few hours from here. I moved down here when I was seventeen.”

“What made you decide to come to New Orleans?”

Nova chuckles to herself and shakes her head. “I was in love ,” she answers before sipping her wine. “It was your typical high school romance. He wanted to get out of the little town we lived in and thought New Orleans would be where he could make his dreams come true or some shit.”

“I take it that it ended badly?”

Nova inhales a deep breath and lets it out in a long huff. “Would you consider walking in and catching him having sex with his merch girl badly?”

My eyes widen. “I…yeah, I’d consider that to be bad.” Who in their right mind would be stupid enough to destroy something with this gorgeous woman? His loss is my gain, I suppose.

“We were living here for about a year,” she continues. “He had a friend who swore it was easier to have their band discovered down here rather than moving to Nashville or LA. His friend’s cousin was a musician and was signed after playing local bars for six months or something, so he convinced my boyfriend this was where they needed to be, and I was all too happy to follow. My brother was fucking pissed when I dropped out of high school to follow him.”

This is the first time Nova has mentioned her brother since she told me he’d died. She didn’t open up to me about him when she first brought him up, and I certainly wasn’t going to pry. But if I’m going to convince her that she can trust me with her story and her heart, I have to nudge a little here and there.

“Were you and your brother close?”

“Yeah.” She wears a wistful smile on her face as she sips her wine and falls silent for a few moments. I recognize that look. It’s one I’ve worn many times when someone brings up my mom. It’s as though she’s reliving a memory, a fond one if her smile is any indication. “It was pretty much just the two of us growing up. Our dad was in and out of jail when we were kids, and my mom…well, she was in and out of relationships after they got divorced.”

“Where are your parents now?”

Nova shrugs. “Probably doing the same shit they were when I left. They didn't care enough about me and my brother to get their lives together, so I don’t care enough to talk to them.”

“What about when your brother passed? You didn’t talk to them then?”

“I called my mom when I found out he’d died, but I doubt she remembers. Or maybe she does, but she hasn’t called me since. She was wasted off her ass and bitching about how my dad was in jail again and she didn’t have any money, blah, blah, blah . I guess my brother’s friend had called her and told her what happened and she inquired about life insurance or some shit. Like Cooper’s line of work offered a benefits package.”

There’s a darkness that falls over her face, which is also one I recognize. It’s the same one I had when my mind would carry me back to that day my stepdad walked out on us after my mom’s cancer diagnosis. I remember the way she cried as she sat on the couch—not knowing if she was about to die and leave me alone in the world. It’s the devastation and pain of realizing that sometimes the people who are supposed to love us are selfish assholes—people we’ve entangled our lives with, only to be burned so harshly by them.

“So how did you end up doing what you do?” I ask to change the subject and hopefully see those clouds move out of her eyes.

“Being a thief?”

I nod and Nova laughs.

“It was a dare, actually.”

“What? What kind of person dares you to steal wallets?”

Nova raises her brows, and I remember the first night we met and our little competition.

“That was different,” I say. “It was already established what we’ve both done to make money.”

“Fair.” She sips her wine and smiles. “Harper and I were at a bar drunk off our asses—”

“As all good origin stories begin,” I interject and Nova smiles.

“Anyways, we were hanging out with a group of locals and not all of them were on the up-and-up, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m familiar.”

“Some of them had inventive ways to make money, and one of them was a pickpocket. Said it beat waitressing, which is what I was doing at the time. He dared me to try it, and I did. Best high in the world. I walked away with three hundred dollars from one bar. The rest of it, with the disguises and knowing where to target, were things I worked out on my own. And he was right. I make a lot more than I ever did waitressing.”

“And Harper? She bartends, right?”

“Yeah. She’s not exactly cut out for a life of crime, but doesn’t judge me for what I do.”

I raise my glass for a toast, and Nova mirrors my movement. “To drunken dares. If I could, I'd shake that guy's hand.” We clink glasses and down the last of our wine.

“Why?” she asks as she sets her glass on the table.

“Because if it wasn’t for his nefarious influence, I wouldn’t be sitting across from you tonight.”

Nova smiles but doesn’t comment. One of many things I’ve noticed about Nova is she’s uncomfortable with any sort of compliment or sweet words. Can’t say as I blame her. It’s hard to trust people mean what they say—especially because it seems as though she hasn’t heard very many nice things in her life. It sounds like she only really had her brother when she was growing up, and now that he’s gone, she’s only had herself to rely on. People can say all the pretty words they want, but are they actually going to stick around when the going gets tough? I can say, with the utmost certainty, that the family in my life will always be there, but can she say the same apart from Harper? I doubt it.

“Let’s head back to the hotel, yeah?” I say, throwing a couple hundred dollars into the check presenter the waiter dropped off.

“Sounds good.”

The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Me thinking about having to leave tomorrow and Nova thinking…well, I don’t know what she’s thinking about; the woman isn’t exactly an open book. But if I had to guess, her thoughts are probably somewhere with her brother. There’s a certain mood one feels when they’ve lost someone they love, and I’m feeling it in the small space of my car.

“Want to grab a drink in the bar?” I ask when we enter the hotel lobby.

For all the times I’ve stayed in this hotel, I’ve never stepped foot in the bar. Usually I take care of whatever business I have and maybe sleep a night or two here then fly back to Boston—like I have to do tomorrow afternoon. The thought brings a twinge of pain to my chest. I’ve never not wanted to leave New Orleans. I’m always ready to get back to Boston. To my apartment. To my family. To my life. But being here the last few days has done something to that part of me that was solely focused on the family business. Hell, since the night when I helped Liam take out the buyers at the little house in the middle of nowhere, New York. There was a certain restlessness I’d been feeling before then, though. I thought working with Liam would fill something inside me that I couldn’t put a name to. And it did. Until I met Nova a month ago, and that pit seemed to open back up. I’m not unhappy with my position inside the organization, but there’s an incessant little voice that keeps telling me there’s more to life. And it’s been quiet for the first time since I saw Nova at that bar a few days ago.

“Oh…sure,” she replies, probably confused about why I’m not rushing her back to the room so I can spend the rest of the night buried inside of her. I’m a little perplexed myself, to be honest. But I want to have a real conversation with her about where she sees this going. Jesus Christ, who am I right now? I’ve never had “the conversation” with any woman, let alone one I barely know. But I can’t escape this damn feeling in my chest, and I’m done denying it’s there. A few days with Nova simply aren’t enough.

Only a few patrons are in here as we have a seat at the bar. The bartender takes our drink order and when he returns, Nova raises her glass.

“ Sláinte .”

“ Sláinte ,” I reply, smiling at her use of the Irish term. I take a sip of my whiskey and set it next to her drink on the bar top. “I’m impressed.”

“That I can use Google?”

“That you thought to.”

Nova shrugs one shoulder. “Seemed appropriate with your line of work and all.”

“Speaking of work,” I begin. “I have to get back to Boston.”

“I figured you’d be on your way out at some point.” She looks at her glass on the bar then back to me. “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Nova blows out a long breath but doesn’t say anything. Though I never want to see this woman sad, I have to admit it gives me hope that she’s come to the same conclusion as I have.

“You know, just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean—” My phone vibrates against the bar, and I look down, seeing Finn’s name flash on the screen. “Shit. I have to take this.”

I pick up the phone and hit accept. “Yeah,” I say in an irritated tone. Leave it to fucking Finn to interrupt me.

“Is that any way to greet your boss?”

“Shut the hell up. What’s going on?”

“Do you want me to shut up or tell you why I called? I’m confused.”

“No, you’re an asshole who calls at the worst possible time.”

Finn’s laugh sounds through the phone, and I roll my eyes.

“Just making sure you were going to be here for the meeting with Ozzy. And that you weren’t sitting in a jail cell because of whatever you’ve been getting up to down there.”

“Nope. No jail cell. I’ll be flying back to Boston tomorrow, so I’ll be there the next morning for our meeting with Ozzy. Anything else? I’d like to enjoy my last evening here.”

I look at Nova and notice her shoulders have tightened. There’s some sort of emotion in her green eyes that wasn’t there moments ago. I guess the reality of my impending departure is sinking in. The last thing I want to do is sit on the phone with Finn when my girl looks like the weight of the world is on her shoulders right now.

Finn chuckles. “I just bet you do. Alright, talk tomorrow.”

“Bye.” I disconnect the call and toss my phone back on the bar. The last thing either of us needs is another reminder that it’s my last night with Nova and we have so much still unsettled.

“That was a little bit of a reality check, huh?” Nova says, looking at me as I take a sip of my drink. There's an uncharacteristic tension in her tone now. Maybe she hates the idea that real life is knocking, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Yeah. I have to be back for a meeting with an MC we do work with.” My entire body turns toward Nova, and I take in her long dark hair and green eyes. There’s no way I can leave town and not tell her I want more than the weekend we just had. It makes no sense with the distance between us, but fuck, the idea of never seeing her again sits like a lead weight on my chest. Sure, she could shoot me down, and I’d have to live with it, but if I don’t try, I’ll always wonder what if, and I’m not the kind of man who is willing to live with regrets or what-ifs.

“Listen, I want to talk to you about me coming back or—”

“Oh, shit. You know what? I think I left my phone upstairs. Harper was talking about wanting us all to get together for drinks with her boyfriend tonight and is supposed to text me.”

“Do you want to get out of here and go back to the suite?”

“No, I'll just run up real quick and grab it. Order us another round, yeah?”

I like the idea of Nova making plans with her best friend and including me. Like we’re already a real couple who does shit like that.

“Sure,” I say, reaching into my pocket to pull out the key card.

“I’ll be back.” Nova scoots off her stool and grabs her purse, rushing out of the bar to the elevators.

I order us another round and wait for her to get back.

And wait.

And wait.

What could possibly be taking so long? I try calling her phone, but it goes straight to voicemail. So I wait some more. It’s been about thirty minutes, and she still hasn’t come back down.

“Charge these to my room,” I tell the bartender and throw some cash on the bar for a tip.

Heading over to the reception desk, the attendant smiles at me when I approach.

“How can I help you, sir?”

“I think I left my key in my room. Would you mind making me another?”

“Of course.”

I give the woman my room number, and she hands me another key card to my suite. My jaw tics with apprehension that’s nearly ready to explode from my body. There’s a sinking feeling that when I walk into that suite, I’m not going to like what I find, or rather, what I don’t find. Do I have a reason to think Nova bolted? No. Call it a gut instinct, though. There was something about the way her mood shifted when I was on the phone with Finn. Through my years as Finn’s lieutenant, I’ve become adept at reading a room, and there was something in her entire demeanor that was off when she said she needed to run up to the room, but like a dumbass, I ignored it.

I unlock the door to the suite and walk in. The first thing I notice is how fucking quiet it is. We could have just missed each other. Maybe she took the other elevator, and she’s down there wondering where I ran off to.

Walking into the bedroom of the suite, any hope I hold is quickly dashed. Her bag is no longer sitting in the corner of the room. I check the closet. Her dresses are gone. I walk into the bathroom, and every bit of makeup has vanished from the counter. Lastly, I open the bottom drawer of the armoire where I’d stashed the bag that contained our haul from last night—including my computer.

The bag is gone. But the computer is sitting in the drawer.

Well, at least she left me that.

I stand in the middle of the room while thoughts race through my mind. It’s not as though Nova running isn’t on brand for her. Thieves aren’t exactly known for their trustworthiness. But I thought this was different. I wasn’t a mark. I was her partner. Though, it’s not like she screwed me out of anything. I told her I didn’t expect or want anything beyond helping her with her harebrained idea. We never made promises to each other or defined anything further than what it was in the moment. Logically, I have no reason to be angry.

And yet…

Fuck this.

Storming out of my room, I head down to the lobby and to the valet. When I hand him my ticket, he looks confused.

“What?” I snap.

“Um, sir, your girlfriend has your car. She came down about a half hour ago. Said she left the ticket upstairs. She said she didn't want to run back up because you were sleeping and didn't want to disturb you.”

I look at him, my mouth opening and closing without words coming out. I want to scream at him, but knowing how convincing Nova can be, I can hardly blame the kid.

“Oh, right,” I grit out, trying to reign in my anger. It’s not the kid’s fault he’s been had like I so obviously was, and I have at least fifteen years on the boy. “I forgot she said she was going to run some errands. I’ll call a service.”

The kid lets out a relieved breath, sure that he was about to get in trouble for handing my keys to someone who didn’t have a ticket. He probably should be, but fuck, getting a teenager fired isn’t on my to-do list at the moment. No, finding the thief who stole the damn thing in the first place is priority number one. I could call the rental company and have the car located through GPS, but I have a feeling I know where she went, and if I’m wrong, guess I’ll be scouring New Orleans to get the damn thing back.

When the car from the rideshare app parks in front of Nova and Harper’s little bungalow, the first thing I notice is my car parked in front of her house. Well, at least I know I’m on the right track.

I hand the driver a cash tip and get out, probably slamming the car door a bit more forcefully than necessary. I walk to the car, noticing how quiet the street is, particularly the house. Call it gut instinct, but I don’t get the impression anyone is home. I open the driver’s side door and find my keys sitting on the seat. Grabbing the keys, I close the door and head up her front steps. My fist connects with the front door three times. No answer. I attempt to peek in the window on her porch, but there’s no movement inside the house.

Walking to the side yard, I come across a low chain-link fence. It doesn’t take much to haul myself over, and I walk to her back door. I knock again and again, but there’s no answer. Unfortunately, I don’t have my lockpick set on me at the moment. I scan the yard and move a couple flower plants, hoping to find a key or something else I can use to pick the lock.

Nothing.

Alright, if she’s playing dirty then I suppose I have to as well. Grabbing a larger rock that lines the cement walkway to her back porch, I smash the window before putting my hand through the broken glass to unlock the door. I step into the small kitchen and walk through to the rest of the house. The pale-yellow kitchen opens into a hallway, and on the other side is a small living room with a worn red couch and a couple deep blue chairs in front of the window that faces the street. I listen for any movement in the house but I’m met with only silence.

The front door is to the right, and to the left, the hallway continues to the back of the house with two rooms to the left and one to the right. I make my way down the hall, stopping at the first closed door. Opening it, I can tell it’s a woman’s room. It’s distinctly feminine with the white eyelet quilt and gauzy curtains, but the scent is all wrong. Still, I walk in and take a look around. When I open the closet, I can tell at first glance it isn’t Nova’s. Everything has a much more girly and sweet feeling rather than the edgier tanks and dark clothes I’ve always seen Nova in, except for when she’s playing one of her roles. Then, an unnerving thought crosses my mind. What if Nova was a role to begin with? Was this whole thing one giant scam? But to what end? I shake my head, determined to find the girl and get some fucking answers.

Stepping back into the hallway, I pass the open door of the bathroom and keep walking, coming upon another closed door. This time, as soon as I open that door, Nova’s scent hits me in the face. It’s a rich sandalwood and mint that belongs to the tempting fucking thief I’m searching for.

I walk into her room, and it looks like a damn tornado tore through it.

Fitting .

Her closet is nearly empty, but I notice the more demure dresses she owns are still on the hangers. So she didn’t take her “work” clothes. Her drawers are open and empty as though she was in a hurry to disappear. She knew I would eventually come looking, and she didn’t want to waste even the second it would take to close her drawers. On her bed is a note and a pile of cash with only one word written on the paper.

Kumquat.

I grit my teeth as I read the word over and over. That was our word. A stupid word that I thought had no meaning. I suppose nothing between Nova and I ever had any real meaning—not to her, anyways. It was a different story for me. And doesn’t that just fucking figure.

I head out the back door and get in my car, slamming the door behind me as I sit in the driver’s seat and contemplate my next move. She stole my car and left me in a fucking hotel bar. How goddamn cliché is that? No goodbye—not even a fuck you . She just disappeared.

Starting the car, I pull away from her house and find myself at Geraldine’s about twenty minutes later. Harper wasn’t home, so I’m assuming she’s here. I park on the street and walk into the busy bar, spotting Harper by herself behind the bar. My gaze surveys the room, hoping to catch a flash of black hair and red lips, but no one stands out. When I sit at the end of the bar, Harper notices me right away and looks behind me as though she expects to see Nova. Her brow furrows as she makes her way to where I’m waiting and stewing.

“Hey. Where’s Nova?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

The lines between her eyebrows deepen with confusion. “I’m not following.”

“She took off. Left me waiting, and when I went to check, she was gone along with all of her things. Stopped by your place and all her shit is gone.”

Harper is still looking at me, but now her entire demeanor has become stiff.

“She left you a note,” I say. “Kumquat mean anything to you?”

Harper’s jaw works back and forth for a few moments before she answers. “She isn’t coming back.”

“Yeah, I figured as much when she left me with my dick in my hand. Any idea where she went?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

Harper doesn’t answer, just holds my stare.

I pull out my wallet and throw several hundred dollar bills on the bar.

“What’s that for?” Harper asks, glancing from the cash back to me.

I stand from the stool. “You’re going to need your back door replaced.”

Turning away from the bar, I head to the front door.

Fuck Nova.

And fuck New Orleans.