Page 111 of Stealing Blinds

They’re all lined up in a row at a long table. Some of them have s’mores. All of them have shot glasses in front of them. It’s exactly how I envisioned training with a team. Or not. Of course, I never envisioned working with others, so there’s that. But now that I’m surrounded by them and their brand of chaos, I’m so appreciative. I’ll gladly contribute to it today before we have to buckle down tomorrow.

“No, that is a stupid college game,” I drawl as if the comparison is ludicrous, which makes Tessa pin her lips and tip her glass to me. “This is training for a life-threatening job. And much like in a heist, if you fall, you lose.”

Cash flashes his dashing smile. “We’re all sitting, baby.”

“Nothing to worry about then,” I deadpan. “I need to evaluate what I’m working with, and it’s challenging to grab your attention. I thought this would be fun. You’ll answer questions, make decisions, and also be given occasional physical tasks.”

Axel thought this was a brilliant way to start when I told him I wanted this first day to be relaxed. We have our work cut out for us, but we need some time to simply be together. As a team. He’s kicked back in a chair with a scotch, observing the mayhem instead of participating. I think he’s earned it. And Cash is ogling me with pride and hunger, so I’ll call the plan a win so far.

“That’s way different,” Jax agrees, but his features are scrunched in mock deliberation that announces he’s trouble. “We could use the flamethrower for the physical tasks.”

“Take a shot, Jax.”

His head rears back like I blasted him with the fire. “Only … me?”

“Yep.” I hold up the whiskey bottle near me. “We’ll call this a penalty shot. The table is lined with alcohol, so the flamethrower is a precarious choice.”

Most of the room erupts in laughter, Axel applauds, and someone plays Aretha Franklin’s “Respect.” I would have pegged Maddox for that, but since I didn’t see anyone messing with their phone, my money’s on Cash.

“Sure.” Jax pouts, guzzles the alcohol, and slides the glass back to me, despite there being another bottle within his reach. “We can do it your way. Fill her up.”

After pouring him another shot and gliding it across the table like we’re at an old saloon, I glance at Ryker and Mercy, neither of whom will be going to France. “You’re playing with us, Merce?”

She rubs her belly. “I’m about to burst, but Bernard is watching Remy for us, so I can participate and lend moral support.”

“Happy to have you help me keep them in line. Water for you.” I turn back to the rest and get started with several basic hypotheticals to get them warmed up. “Flip-flops are good to wear for a heist.”

Maddox drinks, and I cannot imagine the six-five, tatted, dancing menace in flip-flops.

Tessa agrees, smacking his bicep. “Why are you drinking?”

“What if it’s a beach heist? I’m covering all my bases.”

That’s pretty much how it goes. Tessa, Zara, and Mercy do very few shots. And the guys, aside from Ryker, take turns twisting the simplest of questions until they’re laughing hysterically as they complete the physical tasks. None of them fall though. On the last one, the three of them decide that sex mid-heist is not only smart, but definitely worth the risk, so they’re standing on their heads while the rest of us converse about the layout of the resort. Ryker drank for that one, too, but he opted out of the headstand.

“All right, next,” I say, and they hop to their feet with outstanding agility before resuming their seats. “I would always carry a gun on a heist.”

Everyone but Maddox, Tessa, and Mercy drink. That’s actually helpful.

“I would always carry a weapon on a heist.”

That takes Maddox and Tessa out. Knives are their preference.

Mercy taps the side of her shot glass. “Define weapon.”

Ryker chuckles.

Considering that, I go with a lawyer-esque answer she’ll appreciate. “Intent to harm with something on your person.”

And down the hatch it goes.

I don’t even bother hiding my shock. “Really?”

She rolls her lips in, like she’s sharing a secret. “It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Ryker shakes his head. “No, it’s not, Viper.”

“That’s when things are really bad,” Tessa corrects.