“That was too close.” I hiss the whisper at him, feeling sick. “Do you think he actually heard us?”
“I have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. I’m going to check and make sure we’re alone. You stay here, alright?”
“Don’t leave me.” I grab his wrist, feeling that pulse of fear and panic again. He leans down and kisses me softly.
“We’re good. You’re good. Wait. I’ll be back.”
He slips from my grasp, listens at the door, peeks through the gap, and disappears.
Being a thief isn’t fun anymore.
I knew the risks and the stakes on an abstract level, but now that we’re here? Now that we nearly got caught in the act? I’m losing my nerve and starting to spiral. What the hell is worth this nightmare?
I close my eyes and picture a beach.
There’s nobody else around. I spread out my things and watch the waves. Nobody’s looking at me. Nobody’s expecting me anywhere. I can stay as long as I want, and it won’t matter if I don’t show up back home for hours. I’m free in a way I’ve never been free before.
And beside me is Brenden, smiling, whisperingI love you?—
My eyes snap open. He’s looking at me through the open closet door.
“Hey. You good? It’s all clear. Lena’s back at the party.”
The relief’s almost painful as I follow him into the bedroom. I pause to get my bearings, feeling like I’m betraying something awful.
“All these years,” I say to myself, looking around in pure astonishment.
“What’s that?”
“My cousins never talk much about themselves. I always had some vague ideas about their private lives, you know what Imean? But this—“ I pick up a ceramic cat statue. “This is soordinary.”
My nose wrinkles as I put it back down. The room is simple: big, neatly made bed, clean nightstands, a pair of women’s slippers, a nightgown hanging on the back of the door, a large mirror against one wall. Everything is tidy, almost obsessively, which isn’t a surprise. I never pictured Arsen as the type to have a messy room.
“What did you expect?” Brenden asks, pulling open a drawer. I almost tell him to stop but this is what we’re here for. Instead, I join in and start going through their things.
“I don’t know. Whips? Chains?”
“A dead body hanging from the corner?”
“More blood at least.”
“Turns out, even psychopaths like to have a pretty normal bedroom.” He grunts to himself as he checks underneath the mattress.
I don’t find anything interesting. Folded shirts, balled socks, an underwear drawer that’s shockingly organized. There’s at least two guns hidden beneath his clothes, but I leave those be. I try checking the backs for loose panels, run my fingers underneath the bottoms of the drawers and along the edges, but there’s nothing.
Brenden’s moving swiftly and carefully. He’s clearly done this before and I try to follow his lead. Top to bottom, every inch checked. His fingers are careful and precise, and I’m impressed by the way he moves around, making no noise. In contrast, I’m like a bumbling wildebeest stomping about the Serengeti.
“Here we go.” Brenden pulls something from an end table.
I hurry over. “You got it?”
He holds up a pair of handcuffs. “No, but you wanted something weird, right?”
“Brenden!”
“Just saying. There’s more in there. Silk ties, what looks like a really big silicone?—“
“Stop it and put that away.” I’m blushing like crazy. “That’s my cousin, you creep.”
