“Well, well, well. Look what we found.”
I don’t turn right away at the familiar voice. I watch as my reflection softens, my smile growing as I pivot.
Gage stands a few feet away, sunglasses pushed up into messy hair. Cruz is just behind him, hands in his pockets, expression easy and unreadable in the way that’s already become familiar.
I raise a brow. “Are you stalking me now?”
Gage grins like I’ve given him a gift. “Maybe I just like you.”
It’s a callback from a different morning, a different parking lot, when I slid into his car and changed both our trajectories without meaning to.
I laugh because it lands exactly where it’s meant to. “You just saw me.”
His gaze flicks over me—slow, appreciative, unashamed. “Trust me,” he says lightly, “I won’t be forgetting that for a long time.”
“Is that right?” Cruz cuts in, head tilting as he studies us with open curiosity. Something tightens, almost imperceptibly, in the set of his jaw before he smooths it away. If I weren’t watching him already, I’d miss it.
“Hello to you too, Cruz,” I say.
“Bells.” He flashes a smile that could sell sunscreen in a thunderstorm. “You look positivelyrested.”
My gaze flicks to Gage, question sinking my brows low. He imperceptibly shakes his head, and I look back at Cruz.
“If getting up at four to surf meansrested, then sure.” I roll my eyes. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Coffee run,” Gage says.
“Looking for you,” Cruz replies at the same time.
The three of us freeze in a triangle of locked gazes. Cruz's eyebrow ticks up a fraction. Gage's lips twitch at thecorner before spreading into something knowing and sharp. He exhales, the sound cutting through the coffee shop's ambient noise, and jerks his chin toward the right. “Let's sit.”
We drift to a small table near the window. Gage's shoulder brushes mine as he pulls out the chair beside me, his knee settling against mine under the table. His cologne—something expensive and subtle—mingles with coffee in the air between us. Across the table, Cruz leans back in his chair, one arm draped over its back, his eyes flicking from my face to Gage's, then back again, the rhythm as steady as a ticking clock.
The barista calls my name. I grab my drink, feeling Gage's gaze lingering on my hips while Cruz's eyes track my face, calculating something behind that easy smile. Cruz shifts forward in his seat, elbows coming to rest on the wooden surface, shoulders squaring.
“We wanted to run something by you,” he says, voice dropping half an octave.
My pulse quickens. I lift the iced latte to my lips, and the first sip is sweet enough to anchor me in the moment. “I'm listening.”
Gage jumps in, eager. He talks about a town off the highway, about shipments and casino chips and an enormous take if it goes well. I listen, asking questions when I need clarity, pressing when something feels thin. He doesn’t falter. If anything, he brightens under scrutiny.
Cruz fills in the gaps. Confirms timelines. Adds a detail Gage didn’t mention, his gaze flicking to his brother like a quiet show of support.
When they finish, I’m halfway done with my latte.
I tap my finger against the condensation on my cup, studying their faces. “So let me get this straight. The job is intercepting an armored truck full of casino chips from a private security firm, which probably packs more heat than we’ve dealt with. And then—what? Take them to a casino and cash out?” I raise an eyebrow.
Cruz drums his fingers along the back of the chair next to him. “That’s where Beck comes in.”
“We need a hacker,” Gage says, his knee pressing into mine.
I look between them. “And everyone’s onboard with us pulling another job together? Coco? Bishop?”
“Whatever it takes to get the job done,” Cruz murmurs, pinning me to the seat with his hazel-eyed gaze.
I nod a few times. “Okay. I’ll bring it to Lola and Beckett,” I say. “If it’s unanimous, we’ll talk next steps.”
Gage's mouth curls at the edges, the tension in his shoulders visibly releasing as he leans back in his chair. Cruz's eyes narrow slightly, his head tilting a fraction of an inch as he taps his index finger once, twice against the wooden tabletop, the rhythm deliberate as he studies my face with newfound interest.
