Page 3 of Gluttony (Seven Deadly Sins #4)

Chapter Three

Bowie

Present Day

“ N ervous?” Mickey’s question startles me as it interrupts my mental prep. Glancing over my shoulder, I throw a quick smile at him before returning my attention to the white board on our bedroom wall. Soon, we’ll be living in separate apartments. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Nah, just making sure I’ve got their information memorized.” As my gaze scans the board over and over again, following the blue yarn that connects the three men’s pictures to their bios, I wonder. “That Forbes article was months ago, how do we know the Abyss is still at their apartment?”

Also, why do these guys all live in the same condo? Sure, Manhattan has limited living space, but all three sharing an apartment? I bet it’s bachelor pad central over there with a revolving door of women coming in and out.

“That’s where you come in.” Mickey steps in front of me, blocking my view of the board.

“You’ll be the best executive assistant they’ve ever had, and if they want more, you give them more.

” I flinch just enough that Mickey notices.

“This is our last job, babe. We’ll be set for life after this.

You want that, right? I mean, you have expensive tastes, you know?

” He chuckles, cupping my cheek in his palm. “We stick together. Just you and me.”

“Yeah, just you and me. But…” Cocking his head to the side, his eyes narrow in on my bottom lip trapped between my teeth.

He knows I’m about to say something he won’t like.

“I don’t think I’ll need to sleep with them to get the job done.

” Last time they literally kicked me to the curb.

Okay, so maybe kicked is an exaggeration, but curbside at four in the morning is a next level walk of shame.

“I trust you’ll do what needs to be done, but remember, babe, when you’re on the job, it’s not cheating, okay? We’re solid and if sucking a cock or three gets you the combination to a safe filled with money, or in this case, the Abyss, then…pucker up, beautiful.”

He’s right. This is part of our deal because our marks can never come between us.

The end goal is the only thing that matters.

White sand beaches in the Caribbean, umbrella drinks and fine dining.

That’s the prize and if I have to use my body to get it, then so be it.

Not to mention that I’m happy when he’s happy.

I owe him so much, my life if I’m honest. If he hadn’t come to my foster home, who knows what I would’ve become.

It’s fine, I can do this…for him. For us.

Mickey has been dreaming of this his entire life and I want to make it happen for him. I’ll have to stock up on sunscreen because my freckled skin is almost paper white and there’s nothing sexy about blisters from sunburns. I learned my lesson when we lived in Miami for a couple of years.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll find a way.”

Mickey gives me a quick kiss on the lips, searches my eyes for a moment like he’s making sure I’m down with the plan, then nods.

“Good, let’s order in. Thai?”

“Yup, sounds good.” I sigh. It gives me heartburn.

It’s Mickey’s favorite, his comfort food ever since we aged out of the foster home two months before graduating high school. Because Mickey is a few months younger, he spent all his time at our tiny apartment while he waited to turn eighteen.

First thing we did was order Thai from the shop down the street to our tiny apartment.

That night, we sat cross-legged on the only rug in the place and just talked, candlelight all around us because the electric company hadn’t turned on the power yet.

For hours and hours, we created a new life where we wouldn’t have to scrounge for money.

A life where going on vacation wasn’t just a dream, it was a yearly occurrence.

After applying to colleges all over the country, we settled on Florida. Both Mickey and I got four year academic scholarships at almost all the schools we applied to, together. Where he majored in Computer Science, using his techy skills for our jobs, I chose English Lit with a minor in Business.

We could have gone to any number of schools; our high school transcripts were near perfect with me being valedictorian and him salutatorian. In the end, we agreed that Miami had better weather. Plus, we both needed a change of scenery.

While waiting for our dinner to arrive, I turn back to the board and cock my head to the side, squinting my eyes. There’s just something about these guys. Sure, they’re best friends, have been since elementary school, but it’s like they’re one entity.

The twins are impossible to tell apart, except for their clothes, and Orion shares the same mannerisms, like the smirk they seem to have down to perfection. I guess they teach you that kind of smugness in rich people schools.

“What are you thinking?”

I shrug at Mickey’s question, not really sure what, exactly, I’m thinking.

“So these three get everything handed to them on a silv—no, not even silver. Their platter is solid gold. They’ve got the looks, the money, and the smarts, supposedly.

While we have to fight for every penny we get.

” Okay I may be exaggerating again. Grifting isn’t exactly laborious.

It is time consuming, though, that’s for sure, and the risks are huge.

Not only are we in danger of getting the shit beat out of us from the wrong marks, or worse, ending up six feet under, but the threat of jail time is a constant fear hanging over our heads.

Hell, we’ve had one too many close calls, which is why we now plan our grifts to within an inch of their lives.

The perks though, they’re pretty fucking great.

Take this apartment, for example. The cost of living in Manhattan is near extortion.

Sure, if you’ve got old money or lots of new money, it’s easy enough, but for normal people, finding a decent sized apartment that doesn’t house a family of cockroaches is hard as fuck.

If you’re lucky, you find a place with a building superintendent.

They, we have learned, are the most valuable people to know in The City.

Our building is pretty fancy, located in Midtown just far enough from Times Square that we don’t need to deal with the hordes of tourists every day.

Sitting on the top floor, we even negotiated the rooftop terrace when we bought the place.

And here we are in a modern two bedroom overlooking the bay with nothing obstructing our view.

I guess you can say fucking other people over pays well.

“It’s the way of the world, babe. And what they’ve got is fair game.

” Well, I don’t know about that but I figure if you can’t protect what’s yours then you shouldn’t have the privilege of keeping it.

It’s not like we destitute them completely.

We take just enough to make our lives better.

When I choose our marks, they’re usually piece-of-shit humans. It makes my conscience feel better.

I turn back to the three pictures centered on the white board, making sure I’m not forgetting anything important.

I feel like a detective aiming to find the criminal—the irony is not lost on me—as my gaze traces the yarn from one man to the next.

I wonder if they always share their women. If it’s a packaged deal.

My thoughts rewind to that night in the limo when my ass and pussy were on display for the twins and Orion’s cock was two thrusts away from choking me to death.

It didn’t feel like a coincidence that they were all three leaving at the same time.

Sitting in the car in that specific way.

Positioning me just so. It felt staged, like a common occurrence. I wonder…

“Mickey?”

“Yeah, babe?” The clinking of dishes and utensils behind me doesn’t stop as I take a step back from the board as though needing a look at the bigger picture.

“The job application…who was it for? Which owner?” I already know the answer but I need to hear it again.

“Um, I told you, it’s for all three.” I don’t care that Mickey’s annoyed with me because I think I know how to make sure they hire me instead of any other number of applicants.

“Yeah, I know, just wanted to confirm.” His grunt has my eyes rolling. Mickey always gets like this before a big job. He’s nervous, not comfortable when he doesn’t have complete control.

“And by the way, their current executive assistant is out for the next three months.” The bomb that Mickey drops has my head snapping his way fast enough to almost give me whiplash.

“Three…months?” The plan was to drop a small amount of cocaine in her purse, which I did the other day as I walked past her.

Once that was done, I called Mickey, who put in an anonymous call to the tip line from a burner phone saying Abby Flemmings was in possession of drugs.

The plan was for her to be on probation while her case went to court.

Or maybe fired. From everything we learned about the three men, they do not tolerate bad behavior. Unless, of course, they’re the actors.

Hypocrites. The way of the rich.

“Yeah, the plan backfired so we had to improvise.” I frown as I watch him get our drinks and glasses out.

“Mickey! Can you stop moving for a minute and tell me what’s going on?” I don’t like it when he’s evasive, it means I’m going to hate what he says next.

With a sigh, he presses his palms to the counter and hangs his head between his shoulders, shaking it just enough to show his annoyance. I get it, I’m pushing, but shit, I need to know what’s going on.

“Those assholes bailed her out then got a fancy lawyer. Barely lost a day of work so I had to find another solution.” When he’s done, he raises his head and stares straight at me, unwavering. “Plan B.”

I frown at his words. “More like plan D at this point. What did you do? How do you know she’s out three months?” It’s oddly specific.