Page 97 of The San Marco Heist

“Sorry if I woke you, sis.”

“It’s barely dinnertime at home. And you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Always looking out for me, eh?” He sighed, barely audible over the laughter from a couple walking behind me.

“What’s going on?” I turned onto Fondamente Nove, a wide street leading to the water bus station.

“I don’t like this place,” Emmett said, his voice low and tight. “I don’t like them telling me I can’t do what I want.”

My stomach clenched. The hospital was far more comfortable than where he’d been for the last week and a bit, but he was practically a prisoner, all the same. “You’ll be out tomorrow. Promise. Then we can take you home.”

“Stopping in New York on the way or...” The twinkle in his eye was practically audible. “Any chance Mal’s coming home with us?”

“He can find his own way home.”

“Too bad. I usually want to hit men who look at you the way he did.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you probably want to do a lot more than hit him.”

“Why would I want to hit him?” Emmett groaned and my steps stuttered. He hadn’t let me see the extent of the damage they’d done, but when the doctors refused to release him, a fresh wave of rage pulsed through me.

“The asshole was working for Noah this whole time.”

“Bullshit,” he practically coughed.

“He admitted it, straight to my face.” My throat tightened as I remembered the bump on his head. His admission of guilt.

“Not a chance, Scar. He got in front of them when they started beating me. Did you know that? I bet he hid his bruises from you, didn’t he?”

“It was an act.” But the things he’d said to me. The panic in his eyes when he saw I was hurt. No, Malcolm was nothing more than a con man. “Noah hired him for the Codex heist at the Maguire mansion. He’s the one Jayce hit with the statue.”

“So he didn’t hire him for the kidnapping or the ring heist?”

“Noah said—”

“A load of shit, if it came out of his mouth. Don’t tell me for a second you trust that asshole.”

I was not trusting Noah. Despite the fact I was heading out to a tiny island in the middle of the lagoon to meet with him in the dead of night. And I wasn’t believing it just to get away from Malcolm and the look in his eyes when he first came into my room today. Or after we’d had sex—a look that made me think it could be more than that. “Malcolm’s a lone wolf. He said it himself. He doesn’t do teams.”

“You know what a lone wolf is, right?” Something creaked on his end, likely his hospital bed. He was no doubt sitting up, pointing a finger at me.

“That’s a stupid question.” One that was probably going to be followed with an even stupider answer.

“Wolves are pack animals, Scar. They don’t choose to live an entirely solitary life. When one’s out on his own, it’s because he’s looking for a mate or a new pack to join.”

“He doesn’t fit in with us.” I stopped short of the bus station, surrounded by outdoor restaurant seating, music, and too many voices. Lights strung from the building, over the walkway, around the patrons, reflecting in the lagoon next to me.

Emmett groaned, this time sounding more like frustration. “He practically hauled you out of the palazzo after you grabbed me. He was joking around with Declan and Jayce. Hell, even Rav likes him.”

“Rav does not like him.”

“Pfft. He likes him in the same way Rav likes people other than you. Controlled disdain.”

A boat piloted to the bus landing and several people stood from their restaurant seats. Two of them, hand in hand, smiled at each other. He looked like a shorter version of Malcolm, and my heart took another tumble. I hadn’t known the man long enough for any of these feelings.

It was loneliness. That’s all. I had to get back on the horse, go on some meaningless dates, so I wouldn’t fall for the first set of gorgeous blue eyes that drove me wild.

Emmett yawned. “Do you remember that painting I recovered in Miami last fall?”

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