Page 5

I ’m taking a break from folding napkins to fan myself when Ciro hip checks me with a wry smile. Leaning in, he grumbles. “Enjoy your time off. Traitor.”

“I’ll be at work on Monday. Don’t act like I’m abandoning you.” I chuckle as I go back to folding. I was distracted today, probably the anticipation about tonight making me restless. Saturday mornings at The Antler were usually one of my favorite times of the week. It was my turn to help bake the pastries and cakes for the weekend's menus.

Back when I lived at The Warren, I was never allowed near the kitchens. That was a role reserved for the omega females. Everyone had their place, and you never stepped a toe out of line or tried to move from it. You never got to try new things. I hated it.

Growing up, I was given a very specific role and so my education was tailored to that. The Husk wanted to use me for a distinct role, and so I was taught physical skills, like gymnastics, running, sparring, and technical skills. I wasn’t anywhere near as talented as Tawny, but I wasn’t some clueless newbie when faced with code.

But coding wasn’t cake. I liked baking, it turns out. Learning to cook when I first left The Warren, I’d signed myself up for an online class to learn some basics. I’d never even boiled an egg before I left the compound in Russia. On jobs, there was never enough time to learn, and I’d lived off fast food or the food that had been given to me along with my kit. After my escape, when I moved a few times, I felt more comfortable booking an in-person class. Neither of those had covered cakes or pastries.

Shep had been extremely patient with me when I first started working here. He let me make lots of mistakes, and he taught me just as many things. I think that’s why I’ve stuck around as long as I have. Here, I’ve had the time and space to learn new things. To just be Blue Aubin, no questions asked. The townspeople welcomed me so easily, as if I’d always been a part of Aurora Pines.

“But you’re my work bestie! What am I going to do without you?” Ciro throws an arm around my neck and tries to bury his face in my shoulder, mock crying. Loud, fake sobs as the scent of saltwater and lilac washes over me in his embrace. The feeling of him against me is over stimulation and I try to shove him away.

“I heard that!” Maz yells as she wipes the bar down. “You can clean the lines on your own tomorrow.”

“Awh Maz, Mazieeeee. You know I'm just joking.” Dropping me like I’m a hot stone, burning through his flesh, Ciro tips his lips with his finger in speculation. “Well, with you gone, maybe the red-head with the big tiddies will finally look my way.”

Shep chooses the wrong moment to walk into The Antler, choking on his coffee. “The big what?”

His eyes narrow as he hands out the cups of takeout coffee he brought with him. We had a machine behind the bar, but nothing was ever as nice as Lachlan Dower’s coffee over at Little Bean, the only coffee shop in town.

“Have you seen his muscles?” Ciro leans on a nearby table, resting his chin in his hands and grinning at Shep mischievously. “He must work out. A lot. Maybe naked. Do you think he works out naked Blue? Those pecs look like they’d be a good place to rest my head.”

The appreciative sound he makes is echoed by Mazie, and both Shep and I stare at them. Had my colleagues lost their mind? A small feral part of my brain snarls, mine! But I ignore it. I had no right to Jonah.

“How would I know?” I roll my eyes, setting aside the napkins and moving onto the condiment bottles, keeping an eye on the time so I know when to check on my chocolate brownies. I have less than four minutes.

“Mazie, if Jonah comes in this weekend, keep Ciro away from him.” Shep gives Ciro a stern look, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say there’s just a hint of jealousy in that glare of his.

With a mock salute, Maz grins. “Yes, sir.”

“Spoilsport.” Ciro tuts. “I’m allowed to flirt and have a little fun if Blue’s out of the picture, aren’t I?”

Tossing my hands up, I abandon the ketchup and start heading into the kitchen, the smell of gooey brownies wafting out into the bar. “Why do I keep getting dragged into this conversation?”

Ciro snorts, crossing his arms and giving me a look that seems to say I’m stupid. “Because Mr. Smith comes in and only has eyes for you?”

“He does not.” I refuse to blush or let myself get caught up in silly fantasies. Sure, he asked me to dinner, but that meant nothing. Not really.

“He waits for you to serve him,” Ciro argues, pointing a finger at me, his other hand on his hip. Wasn’t he just full of sass today?

“He only talks to you.” Maz adds with a shrug as she cuts lemon slices. Today her dyed blue hair is braided, falling half way down her back.

Shep clears his throat before giving me an apologetic look. “He also stares at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.”

“Et tu, Shep?” Shaking my head, I rub my temples, even though there’s a small warmth blooming somewhere in my chest. A tendril of ‘what if’ that I’m ignoring until Tawny gets back to me with his background check. “You’re all delusional.”

*****

W hen I leave after the lunch shift with a few of the brownies I’d made today in a takeout carton, I’m feeling pretty good about this mission tonight. Jonah had stopped by for lunch, and did I maybe notice he took extra care to talk to me? Maybe. Was I more conscious of eyes on me than normal? Possibly. Did those thick thighs of his make me a little horny? Definitely.

Once I’m back at the cabin, I take a quick shower and get myself into the right frame of mind. Tonight might be an easy in-and-out mission, but I wasn’t about to get sloppy now.

Dressed in lightweight clothes, all black, I grab my bag and head out to the workshop. I keep all my tools and gear inside the vault in a black rucksack that can be left behind if anything goes awry. I’d learned that lesson the hard way over the years, after numerous scrapes and close calls where I thought I might never escape in one piece, let alone be able to grab my possessions. Belongings were replaceable. I was not.

I still remember my first job and what a disaster that had been. The Husk wasn’t known for being very caring or nurturing towards the young in The Warren, and my Warren had been no different. They left me outside of a jewelers in London with nothing more than a phone, a multi-tool, 50 pounds and a mask. My mission was to break in, steal a necklace, and find my way home back to Russia in less than three weeks. I was eight.

Did I get the job done?

Of course I did.

I was chosen for a very specific role for a specific reason. I was one of the best.

Using the phone to jam the alarm signal, I got in through a basement window. It was the exit that was the issue, and I triggered an alarm I didn't account for.

The noise had startled me and I panicked. I was eight. Police cars pulled up outside the shop, lights flashing as voices shouted in a language I didn't understand back then and I knew that I couldn’t go out the way I had come in. There was no hope of leaving via the front door either, not unless it was in handcuffs.

Instead, I found myself climbing out of an upstairs window, but the lock had been jammed, painted over repeatedly over the years. So, I’d smashed it, only I wasn’t thinking clearly and succeeded in slicing my forearm open as I scarpered out of the window and onto a flat roof. From there I’d run across the roofs, clambering and climbing over what must have been half of London until the sirens were quieter. Only then did I think about how to get down. I’d eventually shimmied down a drainpipe in someone’s garden, landing on their shed roof before jumping down and escaping the garden via a side gate.

I’d been worried about the DNA evidence left behind, but then I remembered I was part of The Warren. My birth was probably never registered anywhere. I was a no one in the world. I didn’t even know who my parents were, all the children born inside The Warren were surrendered to the nursery. Since we could move warrens, swapped and changed out like trading cards, there’s no way to know if I was even born in Russia.

All of this had been before I could fully control my shift, otherwise I might have turned into my hare form and hidden. Or maybe even darted out the front door since I was exceptionally fast, even at that age.

High Leap Abiel had been furious at my carelessness, and I was punished for an entire week when I eventually found my way back. They’d whipped me, leaving angry welts across my back and down my legs before confining me to my room with nothing more than bread and water. That was, if they remembered to feed me.

Did I mention that I was eight?

I feel like that’s an important fact to remember. It's what I pin my anger on every time I ever feel slightly nostalgic about the life I once had. I was a child and instead of taking care of me, they turned me into a tool. They were right in one regard. I never made the same mistakes again. I became the best jewel thief they had.

Swapping out my truck halfway to my destination, I leave it parked outside a rental apartment that I’m barely going to spend any time in. But it provides me with an alibi and a paper trail if I need one. Tawny also rustled up a few fake receipts to show that I went out for dinner at a restaurant down the street whose cameras are unfortunately off line for the evening.

When I pull up outside the hotel, I look up at the building and start trying to visualize how tonight will go. It’s an impressive building, seven floors, historic architecture and the cars that pull up to the valley at the front just scream money. It’s clearly a hotspot for the wealthy and the privileged. I’m not surprised the mayor and his wife are staying here this evening. After all, it’s not like they’re paying for their hotel room out of their own pockets.

Using the information Tawny provided, my plan is to find a back way into the building. Checking in as a guest was too risky, especially with my appearance. My white hair and dark eyes always stuck in people's memories, which was no good when you wanted to remain incognito.

I’d already spotted several kitchen staff smoking out by an alley and realized that this might be my best way in. The other option was to enter the office building next door, which stood higher than the hotel, and enter the room from the roof.

Usually, I’d be all for the dramatic flair. There was something about using ropes and spy maneuvers that made me feel more important and skilled, but tonight I really did just want to get in and out. Then I could crash back at the rental apartment. I made sure he’d booked one with a hot tub on the balcony, just in case I had time for a soak. Ideally, I wanted my own bed, but that might look suspicious if anyone in town saw me return early when I’d made a big song and dance about being out of town for the night.

After watching the alley door for two hours, making a mental note of who the regular smokers were and how often they seemed to take a break, I moved my borrowed car and parked a few blocks away. If I followed the two waiters who seemed to come out fairly regularly back inside, then I should be able to blend in with them in the busy kitchen.

With my bag slung over one shoulder, I briskly walked back to the hotel and chuckle to myself as everything goes to plan. It’s almost incredible how easy it is to slide into the kitchen without anybody batting an eyelid. They probably have a regular turnover of waiting staff, so they never bother remembering their faces, only seeing the black clothes before turning back to their tasks.

Using the back stairs that staff usually use for room service orders, I make my way up to the first floor and slip out into the corridor before getting into the elevator, blending in with a group of hotel guests. Pushing the button for the top floor, I stand at the back of the elevator, behind everyone else, and wait for the various stops.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes when we finally reach the top floor, because, of course, the mayor and his wife are staying in one of the penthouse suites.

As the doors open, I clock security. Only one lonely bodyguard standing outside of the door at the end of the hallway. The rest of the security measures must be at the swanky dinner with the couple.

Letting the doors close, I go down onto the floor below and get out. Once I’m outside the room directly under theirs, I slot in an earpiece and tap it twice.

“Hoo’s calling?” Tawny snickers.

“I swear your shitty owl jokes never get any better.”

“I’m an owl, I’m allowed to make shitty jokes.” He sounds cheery, clearly happy that the mayor’s wife was going to be down a very expensive diamond set by the time the sun rose tomorrow. “You’re cranky today.”

Swallowing, I ignore the statement. I’d been feeling a little off kilter this week, unable to regulate my temperature or my moods, but I'd been doing my best to hide it. It felt like ants crawling under my skin, like something needed to give, but I didn’t know what.

“Are you sure room 308 is clean?” I ask, keeping my voice low so as not to draw any attention from anyone in a nearby room who might be able to hear me.

“Of course it is.” My ever-confident friend scoffs. ‘Clean’ was our code word for empty, and Tawny may have done a little room rearrangement earlier to ensure that no one checked into 308 tonight. “Is your mating season due, is that it?”

“Maybe,” I reply noncommittally as I tug my gloves on, although I know that’s likely it. I’d been burying my head in the sand, in denial the last couple of days, but I was also taking suppressants like they were candy.

Once this job was done, I’d either need to find a willing alpha to burn off a little steam with, or spend a few days in the cabin with my favorite toys, just to take the edge off. The mating heat was always worse in the beginning and towards the end, like your body was demanding you breed and punishing you for not.

The peaks or episodes that I’d mentioned to Ciro were unpredictable, and similar to the heat he’d experience, except they wouldn’t last as long because they came more frequently. When people joke about people fucking like bunnies, they don’t realize how similar all Leporidae breeds are, including hares. The insane mating season is the reason why.

With my pocket toolkit, I pick the lock and let myself into the room. I didn’t want this to take any longer than it had to

Unlike Tuesday, I wasn’t naturally a climber, but I was good at leaping and bounding. It came in useful on nights like tonight where I’d need to free climb up to the floor above and sneak in through a window.

Sliding open the room window, I sit on the wide ledge and look up. The good thing about decorative old buildings as they often had lots of nooks and crannies where I could place my fingers and toes and pull myself up. The trickiest part would be opening the window from the outside while not falling seven floors to my death. Well, that might be a bit dramatic. But I wasn’t in a position to risk any broken bones, so falling wasn’t an option.

Leaving my backpack in 308 and only taking what I need, my pocket kit, some rope tied around my torso for the descent and a small black velvet bag for the jewelry, I climb out onto the ledge.

Tonight must be my lucky night. It turns out, Mayor Thornhill likes to leave his windows propped open. I’m able to get my fingers into the gap and push it open easily before climbing inside.

They’ve even kindly left a lamp turned on, making my job even easier. The suite itself is quite large, with a living room and several doors leading off on either side. Personally, I feel like the decor is a little dated, but I’m not a fifty-something politician.

Tapping my earpiece again, I contact Tawny, who’s waiting eagerly.

“T, I’m in. Where’s the room safe?” I ask as I open the door closest to me and find an empty room, no luggage. How many rooms did they even need for a one-night visit?

“Oh, she won’t have put them in there. When they travel, she brings along a special case with all her jewelry.” Tawny makes a huffing noise, as if the case somehow offends him.

Opening the next door, I find the main bedroom, suitcases stacked at the bottom of the open wardrobe, and there are clothes strewn on the bed. Makeup is scattered across the dressing table; they must have been running late earlier.

“It should be either in the wardrobe's bottom or you might find it under the bed.” I can hear the sound of keys clacking, and I know Tawny is working away on something else while he chats with me.

“I thought rich people were supposed to be paranoid, but it all seems obvious and easy?” I whisper, moving very quietly to the wardrobe but only finding empty cases. They have obvious sides of the bed, a range of skincare on the bedside table on the side closest to the window.

Tawny clicks his tongue as even talking about the mayor’s wife disgusts him. “Let’s just say, Clarice Thornhill isn’t the brightest crayon in the box.”

“Sounds personal, T.”

Dropping onto my hands and doing a quick sweep under the bed, I find it. A small black metal case, no longer than 10 inches by 6 if I had to guess. Dragging it out from under the bed, I grin.

It’s a combination lock. Too easy. If I have to use force to break it open, the bodyguard might hear me, so instead, I use a little trick I learned in The Warren. Pulling the shank so that there’s tension, I slowly rotate each dial, one digit at a time. The digit that feels loose with tension applied is the number I’m after. When I settle on 591, I press the button and the lock pops open.

“This is all going smoothly. I was expecting more than just the combination lock.”

“I told you. Not the brightest.”

The lid opens and there are a series of smaller black boxes, obviously for different jewelry.

“Was there anything you’d like me to take besides the diamond set?” I ask, opening the boxes to look inside. Besides the diamonds, there were sapphire earrings, an emerald ring, and gold bangles. Why would she travel with so much jewelry when they were only in town for one night?

“There should be an opal cross in a small box. It’s on a rose gold chain.” Tawny doesn’t hesitate, and my suspicion that this job means something to T solidifies.

It turns out to be the last box I open. The cross has a diamond center and a small row of inlaid stones around the edges. It’s pretty, the opal flecks all different colors but with an almost peachy undertone in this light. I’m not sure why Tawny wants it, but that’s also none of my business.

“Got it.”

I can hear him clap his hands with glee down the line. “Call me when you’re at the drop-off point, and I’ll make sure your charity gets the donation.”

“I know you will.” Tawny had been the one who gave me the idea of donating a share of my spoils to charities that supported omegas like me. Omegas who left behind their lives and had to start again with nothing, or who fought to be treated as equals. I always made sure I had a nest egg and a back-up plan, but these days, the profits from the jobs I did now went back to help others. No one deserves to be alone in the world.

A shudder goes through me, my stomach cramping as my skin breaks out in a sweat and I bury my hands into the plush rug with a groan.

“What’s happening? Are you okay?” Tawny hisses. “Blue? Answer me!”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” I wince as another shooting pain works its way up my spine and my stomach clenches. Clenching my teeth, I try to breathe through it. “It’s just my heat season.”

Tawny swears before murmuring. “That didn’t sound fine, Blue.”

Heats were unpredictable, especially if you were enduring them without an alpha to soothe the process. When an unmated omega experienced a heat or mating season, the urge was to breed but also to be somewhere safe. Familiar. In a few hours, I would be desperate to be back at my cabin. The thought of spending the night at the rental apartment makes me feel nauseous, as I take a few more deep breaths before running a hand through my hair and getting to my feet.

The clacking keys fill my ears as I pocket the jewels and prepare to climb out of the window and back into 308.

“Drop the jewelry off and then go straight home. Don’t bother hanging around, I’ll make sure there’s no trace of you anywhere near here.” Tawny has gone into bossy best friend mode, and I know there’ll be no persuading him otherwise. Not that I want to. My own bed sounds like heaven right now.

“Yes, sir.”