Page 2 of Pack of Crooks
What about a job, Hazel, have you thought of that?
Great question. The last one fired me when I had to go pick up a sick Lottie from school. The one before that wouldn’t give me the time off to see her spring chorus concert. As someonewho barely graduated high school, the type of jobs I qualify fordon’t even pretend to understand the concept of work-life balance. They just want to use and abuse.
Stealing is the onlyjobthat lets me take care of Lottie.
My eyes fall on a tall guy wearing sunglasses, a Brioni suit and Ferragamo shoes, and I inch closer on instinct. There’s a Rolex on his wrist. Designer shoes. Swagger like the world should bow at his feet. . . yeah. He can afford to replace whatever I take from him.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, probably Lottie letting me know she made it to school, but I ignore it since the crosswalk light is about to change. I pull up my hood, slip between a few people, and inhale cool spring air—a potent mix of scents from those surrounding me. Then I wait.
They say New York City has a pulse of its own, and that’s never felt more true as everything surrounding me comes into hyperfocus as it always does when I’m getting ready to slip my fingers into unsuspecting pockets. The collection of people around me and the man seem to breathe in and out in sync. Each of us anchored to whatever preternatural hold NYC has over us. On cue, the mass of people piled up next to me surges forward, and I follow, letting the flow of the city carry me toward the man, cutting around people with their eyes glued to their phones.
Technology is God’s greatest gift to thieves like me.
Endorphins flood through me, electrifying and a little addicting, but that’s a worry for a different day.
He’s three steps away.
My muscles tighten, ready to run if needed.
Two.
I wiggle my fingers, working fresh blood into them.
One.
Bam. I bump his shoulder, snag the Rolex, and mumble an apology. I take a step away from him, but he catches my wrist,tugging me around. Eyes wide, I look up at the alpha like a deer caught in headlights.
People grumble at the sudden obstruction, but no one really pays attention. They never do in the morning. That’s why it’s the perfect time of day, or at least, why it usually is.
The gorgeous man’s alpha mark, a boldα, is on full display now that I relieved him of his watch, and I swallow. Please don’t bark. Please don’t bark.
“The watch.” The command is soft, but the power of his compulsion hits me like a Mack truck. A lot of omegas hate an alpha’s bark because it means the loss of free will. His though? He only said two words, and that rich, deep baritone has me desperate to hear him say more. To hear him tell me to drop to my knees.
Hello, God? I’m ready to sin again.
Biting my cheek as my body responds to my intrigue, my subdued scent exploding in a metaphorical cloud around us, I step toward him. “I’m sorry,” I murmur right as someone knocks into him, pushing us together.
It’s fate, really. Who am I to deny her?
I shove the watch into his hand right as I snatch his wallet. But then I make a mistake and breathe in. Jesus fuck. He smells delicious. Tempting, like midnight sweets and sin. Bad decisions that beg to be repeated.
His gray eyes bore into mine, nostrils flaring as he breathes me in as well. My desire is so obvious I may as well have climbed him like a tree right in the middle of the street. I don’t go to great lengths to hide my scent unless it’s absolutely necessary. Today though, I wish I had because as his pupils dilate, I know he’ll remember me.
An omega’s scent is as unique as their thumbprint.
So much for being forgettable.
“Sunshine and strawberries.”
Whew, lord. That voice. Tell me what a naughty girl I’ve been, alpha daddy.
A chorus of horns blare around us, and the alpha wrenches his gaze from mine to glare at the approaching vehicles. If anyone could stop traffic with a single look, it would be him. Oxygen floods my lungs and the last brain cell with any sense screams at me to run. Now is not the time to fall into my omega ways. I still have his wallet for fuck’s sake.
He probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing that, and I can’t give him time to realize it.
My heart is jackhammering. I don’t hate the sensation. It’s always a rush when I’m close to being caught, but with him holding onto me? It’s damn near intoxicating. I’ve never felt more alive. Which makes me regret what I’m about to do even more. “I want you to know that I never apologize.”
He glances at me, eyebrows pinching together in question.
