Page 33 of The Twilight Theft

“Drew, you’re in my personal space.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I don’t have the faintest idea why.”

Heat pooled low in my belly, threatening to drop lower. He was so… so… I stepped back, out of his reach, so he couldn’t do what he looked like he wanted to—either smack me, shove me, or kiss me.

Maybe that last one was what I wanted him to do.

Except I didn’t. Definitely didn’t.

“I need to talk to Scarlett about what I found here.”

He nodded, not moving closer. “I don’t agree with your approach, but it sounds like you accomplished your goal.”

All but the special one Scarlett had given me. “I can take a cab. Don’t worry about me.”

“We need to learn how to work together better.” He slid on his sunglasses and headed for the door as a woman with a clipboard entered, followed by a setup crew in yellow T-shirts. “I don’t like my partners wandering off without giving me a heads up. We can talk about it in the car.”

Chapter 14

Drew

Thursdaymorning,Irodethe elevator to my apartment, sweat rolling down my back after an aggressive workout in the building’s gym. I’d run too fast, too far, and lifted weights heavier than I should have.

Nothing was working.

Jayce and I hadn’t figured anything out on the car ride to her hotel yesterday. On the ten-minute drive, she ate two oat bars and a pain au chocolat, finished a bottle of water, and commented on fifteen different buildings we drove by. Every time I’d tried to start a real conversation, something else caught her eye.

She’d been avoiding me.

Now I was working out too hard, trying to forget about it. About the worry consuming me while she’d been climbing the building. What if she’d fallen?

A broken leg twelve years ago had ruined her life and still she took foolish risks like that? What would she do if she fell? A sprained ankle would put her out for this weekend’s job, but another broken leg? Paralysis? Fuck, death?

The elevator stopped at the tenth floor and I got out, walking past five doors before arriving at mine. I guzzled my recovery drink while unlocking the door.

Before it swung all the way open, movement inside the apartment caught my eye.

A blur of black.

I never brought my gun to the gym, but I—

The blur halted, transforming into my favorite black Imagine Dragons T-shirt, draped over full breasts. Sky-high black stilettos and bare legs that went on forever. Vanessa.

“Ooh,” she purred. “You’re still sweaty, just the way I like you.”

I closed the door behind me.

Her long blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders. She turned and leaned over the coffee table in the living room—far deeper than she needed to bend, but it revealed the thong she wore under the shirt—and picked up two glasses of red wine. After giving me a blatant once-over, she walked toward me, crossing her legs with each step. The woman knew how to use her—if I was being objective—jaw-dropping figure. “You’re normally only in the gym for an hour. I was starting to think you’d never come back.”

“What are you doing?” I took the glass she offered me, no doubt one of my special stock she chose at random. “It’s only ten a.m.”

“I need to get laid, stud muffin.” She took in an overdramatic breath, swelling her breasts intentionally.

Instead of drinking the wine, I sipped my tart lemon-lime recovery drink. “How’d you get in? You gave me your key when you left.”

She brought the glass to her nose and inhaled, batting her eyelashes over the rim. “I gave youakey. It’s possible I had another one.”

“I knew I should have changed the locks.”

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