Page 105 of The Love Bandits

We get out of the car, and Nicole claps her hands. “So…time to get drunk?”

The question is loud and asked for both Jake and me. He scratches his head and looks at me, his eyes deep and dark in the night. Then he shifts his gaze to her. “Nah, not right now. Lainey tells me I can trust you.”

“Yes, but you can’t trust my memory. If you’re about to spill your guts, we should wait until Damien gets here. He knew about your visit to Anthony’s house but not about your twin brother, so I’m guessing he’s in a hurry. We might as well have a drink or five while we wait.”

“Don’t you have a hangover?” I ask her, crossing the few feet that separate me from Jake and taking his hand. I’m claiming him, I guess, and my heart flutters like a trapped butterfly when he squeezes my hand, accepting the claim.

“Oh, hell yeah, this is the king daddy of hangovers,” she says with a whistle. “But when I meet my adversary again, I’m going to defeat her. I need to prepare for battle. Emma Rosings Smith will never outdrink me again, mark my words.”

Jake squeezes my hand and shoots me a look. “These are the people who are going to save me?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I think so. God help us both.”

We make a fire in the backyard and start passing around a bottle of bourbon from the kitchen—Nicole’s “good stuff.” The fire has barely roared into existence by the time we hear a car pull up out front. Damien circles the corner of the house half a minute later, moving fast. A look of…relief crosses his face when he sees Jake sitting with us.

“I’m guessing there’s a good reason he’s not tied up in the basement?” Damien asks. “Or is he torturing you with a good time?”

Laughter escapes me, and Jake leans his shoulder against mine, while Nicole gets up and takes a running jump at Damien.When he catches her, she wraps her legs around his waist, laughing in his ear. “I think they only do that when we’re not home. Speaking of which, you lost our bet, hot stuff.”

He kisses her and sets her down, grumbling under his breath, and I lift the bottle of bourbon. “Need a drink, Bronuts?”

He laughs as he sits in Nicole’s abandoned chair, pulling her onto his lap. “I’d apologize for the bet, but I’m obviously going to pay for it.” Then he takes the bottle from me and slugs back a long sip.

I feel Jake watching us, soaking everything in. I meet his gaze, and I can feel how big this is for him—to share all the things he’s kept hidden for most of his life. To trust not just me but the people I care about with the most important person in his life.

I reach for his hand, and my heart swells when he threads his fingers through mine, holding on to me like I’m his lifeline.

“So what was it?” Damien asks him, his gaze sharp. “Why’d you come back and take the watch from the old guy? Were you threatened?”

Jake tells him about Ryan, then shows the photos of his brother to both Damien and Nicole.

“And your last name?” Damien asks pointedly.

Jake sucks in a breath, decides—quite rightly—that they’re going to find out anyway, and besides, he’s come this far…

“Langston. Jake and Ryan Langston. Roark’s first name is Ed.”

We drink some more as Jake tells us everything he knows about Edmund Roark. Where his apartment in NYC is located, Tribeca. How long he’s been stealing high-price items from rich people, over forty years. How old he is—sixty or maybe older, but fit. He does it partly for fun. Because he doesn’t sell everything he takes or hires others to take. He has a fuckingmuseumof stolen things.

“You’ve seen this with your own eyes?” Damien asks with interest.

“No. But he’s the one who bragged about it. It’s not in his apartment; I’ve looked. But he has other real estate.”

I’ve never met this Roark guy, but I’m pretty sure I’d like to burn his fortress down to the ground, leaving only ash.He gets off on having power over people, from Jake and his brother to the owners of his stolen toys.

“Find the museum, we got him dead to rights,” Damien observes.

“I don’t want to ask for any trouble, especially not when he has Ryan.”

“We’ll get your brother out first,” Damien says, seeming pleased. He and Nicole exchange a glance, and it hits me that all four of us are adrenaline junkies—looking for our next fix and hoping it won’t bury us.

“Ryan might know,” Jake says, sounding tired. “The museum is where Roark would have kept the watch.” He stares into the fire for a moment, then says, “He’ll have proof that my brother and I worked for him.”

Nicole gives him a not-so-patient smile. “The powers that be give much less of a shit about Oliver Twist than they do about the guy who told him what to snatch. But, sure, we’re sympathetic to your point. And if they know you were involved, they’ll probably want to keep an eye on you. If we can do this without involving the authorities, that might be best all around.”

Jake picks up the bottle of bourbon and lifts it to the sky.

“I’ll drink to that.”

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