Page 71 of Pack of Crooks
Bristling, I look around. “Yeah? Well, you can buy your own tampons.”
She gasps. “Hazel! I need those.”
“Well that’s too bad. Guess it’s time for you to take care of yourself,” I tease.
“I can, you know, you don’t have to.”
My smile falls and pain stabs through my heart. “Lottie,” I murmur. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I love taking care of you.”
“Do you? You can’t even date normally because of me.” Her lower lip wobbles. I recognize that crushing self-criticism from a mile away.
“Oh, honey, please don’t worry about my love life, okay?” I wrap her in my arms.
Sighing, she nods and hugs me back, resting her head on my shoulder like she did when she was six and I was carrying her into the closet to hide from an argument Mom was having with one of her many boyfriends.
“Can I meet them?”
“If it works out, yeah, you can meet them.” Exhaling, I step back and search her face, hating that she’s already stressed out and that breaking the news of our impending eviction will only freak her out more. “Do you want to go see some movies?”
While I try to shield her from the worst of my thieving ways, I had to teach her how to spend the day in the movie theater, bouncing between movies while only paying for one ticket.
“You should probably shower,” she says.
“That bad?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Yup.”
Laughing, I concede and head to shower and get ready for a much needed lazy Saturday with my sister.
Monday comes around like a tornado siren. Loud and angry. Lottie and I dodge frustrated pedestrians on our way to the subway, trading worried looks. Something must be in the air, because everyone is either pissed off, frowning, or in such a big hurry, they don’t even pause to apologize when they nearly knock someone over.
We make it to the station, and I give her a hug, reminding her to text me once she makes it to school, then make my way toward my own train. The worst part about living the corporate work life is the early morning commute.
Maybe that’s why everyone is so pissed off this morning.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I take it out once I take my seat, grinning at the screen as butterflies take flight in my belly.
KILL
Morning, sunshine. I like that dress.
Red flag. Red flag. Red flag.
Cue internal screaming. Gah, he’s so cute.
So it was you I felt following us this morning.
Had to get a look at that ass. But I kind of like this view a little better.
My eyebrows scrunch at the message.
“Is this seat taken?” His voice rolls down my spine in deep, soothing tones.
Lifting my gaze, I look up at Killian Lennox. He’s wearing a Tom Ford suit that hugs his muscles, a grin that has me wondering what sort of trouble he’s planning, and hunger in his eyes that burns through me. And then his focus drifts to the valley between my breasts. The top of my dress isn’t that low cut, but from his vantage point, he can see straight down it.
Arching an eyebrow, I tip my head, drawing his attention back to my eyes. “You know, some omegas might file a restraining order.”
His smile widens. “Are you scared, pretty thief?”
