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“What’ll it be?” Do my words sound strangled? Hoarse? “You gonna cut me or kiss me?”

It’s my challenge, but I swear, if he so much as twitches, it’ll be me who loses all self-composure, all willpower, all resistance. Me who closes that damn gap.

This close, I note the darker grey threads through the silver of his eyes. His lips curve hard like they’re fighting the play of the light, and he shaved this morning and the very faintest hint of blond stubble scrabbles over his cheeks.

And I think, I could kiss this man and forget everything else. Throw out my rules and my goals, my playbook, my mission for the night.

I could kiss this man—

“Neither,” he says, stepping back. Putting a few inches of fresh air between us, so I’m breathing in expensive potpourri and soft wood instead of, you know, him. l collapse against the wall as the rest of the world—the rest of the night—rushes back in like a salty, cold wave.

Am I panting? Is this how I normally breathe?

“Didn’t think so.” I definitely sound breathy and weird. “So, you’re letting me go?”

His jaw flexes again, but he’s obviously made up his mind. Doesn’t take a genius to read that kind of body language—since he’s not, you know, stabbing me.

He states the words with flat intent. “I’m letting you go.”

“You know,” I give him half a grin, “I like you. You’re fun.”

His brows lift high up over the top of his mask. “No one has ever called me fun before.”

“I can’t fathom why. Maybe I’m just fun enough for both of us, then.” I lift my fingers against my forehead in a mock salute. “Well, until next time, then, my friend.”

And I get the fuck out of there before he changes his mind.

eight

Chasing Shadows

I take the rear staircase up to the third floor, because that’s where the bedroom slash battleground is. That first off-limits room Jerry turned me away from, another piece of uncharted territory.

The room Nick’s most likely in the process of plundering.

My dress shoes fall silent onto sleek hardwood flooring as I crest the top stair to the third floor.

The final arena.

It’s plunged into pitch darkness, like someone’s set the most dramatic thriller stage for this epic showdown. I don’t dare slip my flashlight back out, force my eyes to adjust to the dark instead.

The map in my head guides me to the last bedroom on this floor.

It’s not a long walk.

The door’s barely more than a smudge of grey in front of me, so unassuming considering the mysterious wealth that’s gotta be housed inside.

My stomach thrills at the thought. What kind of unimaginable treasure trove might be big enough to lure an inexperienced thief all the way from New York City to plunder it?

He’s so inexperienced, he’s closed the door behind him. Rookie move. My fingers itch to turn that knob, but I know better than to burst in like an uninvited relative.

I set my ear to the door as my hand curves over the handle. Nothing from within, no sound as I ever so slowly spin—

Click.

The knob halts abruptly, jerking my hand to a halt too.

Locked. Locked? Has he locked himself inside? The fuck kind of thief locks themself into a third-floor bedroom? I chomp my lower lip between my teeth, thinking.