Page 64 of Tempting Little Thief

It’s tiring, and sometimes, I just want to … let go.

People go out of their way to appease me; they listen and wait for direction. They don’t take charge and would never dare tell me what to do.

Bastian does and he expects me to listen, threatens me even, in a way my twisted mind finds entertaining. Adorable even.

“I can’t believe he got into The Enterprise without being seen.”

“It’s kind of badass.” This comes from Delta, and it makes us all laugh loud enough to gain the attention of the boys yards away.

Dom pushes to his feet from where he’s crouched in full-on training mode, now staring our way.

“Think he could take Dom?” Bronx wonders, cocking her head to the side.

It’s no secret Dom’s our strongest fighter, everyone knows it, but Bastian doesn’t.

I bet he’d see it as a challenge, and my money would be on him.

A wicked idea sparks and I look to my girls. “I have an idea, but we’ll need to dig a bit.”

Bronx kicks her legs in excitement—she’s all about the hunt; she wouldn’t be the daughter or Torin “The Tracker” Bandoni if she wasn’t. Owning and operating a national transport facility allows for eyes everywhere. She meets him once a month, if not more, and he gives her some crazy kind of code and challenges her to crack it.

It’s how they bond, daddy hacker teaching his daughter all he knows.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about Bastian sooner.”

“You wanted something for yourself. We get it. If I told you half the shit I hide,” Bronx jokes, but her eyes are gentle.

We love each other and we are happy to be in this together, but there’s not a lot in our world that’s ours and ours alone. We deserve something for ourselves. At least one thing, right?

I think I want mine to be him.

For now, anyway …

“So do I get free rein?” Bronx asks, meaning can she dig as deep as the file goes to find his secrets?

I want to say no, but this isn’t about what my gut tells me. This is about us and our future. This is bigger than me. I can recognize that.

So I nod, and it’s settled.

“Now, back to this idea of yours …” Delta finally finishes her first glass, tipping it forward to ask for another. “What is it?”

Bass

My leg bounces, my temples pounding the entire way back to Hayze’s crash pad. I snag my headphones from the back seat, hide the key in the broken gas cap and leave, sending him a quick text to let him know the car’s back in case he’d rather crash in the back of it. It’s colder than normal tonight.

Rocklin’s friends probably have fat mansions and vacation homes.

My man is sleeping in a fucking tent behind a crack house.

I’m walking back to one that ain’t mine but on loan, so long as I do as I’m fucking told, like the bitch boy I agreed to be when some rich prick in a suit dropped me here.

I’m grateful I’m not behind steel bars, but I’m also done.

For the hundredth time, Rocklin’s homegirls’ words spark in my brain like an engine misfire, popping and cracking and rustling awake parts of me that have lain dormant.

Professor.

Heir.

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