Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“When did you get out of prison?” my dad asks.
“About six months ago,” he replies.
“Back in the game?” I can hear the excitement in my father’s voice.
Saint’s lips curve upward. “Sin and I are working together on a few jobs.”
My dad, never one to tiptoe around what might be a touchy subject, asks Saint point-blank. “And how are things working out between you two? You know… since she, um…”
Saint cocks an eyebrow. “You mean since she sent me to prison?”
There is nothing but amusement in Saint’s voice, but I still feel a punch to my gut from his words. My dad gets flustered and starts mumbling.
Saint leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring directly at my dad. “We’re okay, George. Sin told me why she did what she did, and I understand it. I’ve forgiven your daughter.”
My dad’s sigh is long and audible. “Well, that’s good. Very good. Because… she loves you so much. Everything she did was from a position of pure love.”
I flush, feeling the heat creep up the back of my neck over my father’s unabashed use of the word “love”. It’s true, though. I did what I did out of love for Saint, and I’ve never once stopped loving him. Just because he was gone from my life didn’t mean the feelings were.
This is what sucks about us being together again. My feelings for him are as deep and as true as ever, and Saint, I am quite sure, could never feel deeply for me again. Not after what I did and took from him.
Saint doesn’t respond to my father’s proclamation of my love, and my dad doesn’t seem to notice. He jumps right into a conversation about what we are working on.
“What are you two planning? Is it a job I can help you on?”
A rush of sadness that my father is so hopeful he could go back to doing the only thing he’s ever loved besides me.
I step in, needing to shut this down before he gets too excited.
“It’s a job for Mercier, Dad.”
That’s all I need to say. My father’s face falls. “Oh… Well, never mind. He’s not happy with me now, is he? But hey… maybe we could work on something together one day.”
My dad has no clue the hold Mercier has on me. All he knows is he screwed up a job from the man and because he was recovering from his stroke—which took months—he had no clue of the fallout he’d left behind. Especially not about Mercier roping me into paying my dad’s debts for his screw-up.
My dad will never know, either.
I walk into the living area, leaving the kettle on the stove to boil, and bend over to kiss my father on the top of his head. “Sure, Dad. I would love to do a job with you again someday. Let Saint and I finish up some stuff with Mercier, then you and I will hit the town for old times’ sake. Sound good?”
My dad smiles brilliantly. “That would make this old man happy. Working with my daughter, I mean.”
My dad starts chattering about an idea he has involving a new jewelry store in the area. I turn back to the kitchen to start putting the tea service together, sad in the knowledge that, at some point, I’m going to have to have a truthful conversation with him to say that part of his life is over.
Which is ironic because that is all I want for my own life. To be out of this business and be normal.
CHAPTER 15
Saint
It’s been four days since Sin and I cased out Throb and visited with her dad. We had flown back to Paris and the next day, met with William to report on our observations. We then worked on ironing out a plan.
Unfortunately, Neal is on our team again. I don’t like it, but we do need a third person and William is calling the shots. At this point, I can’t rock the boat by refusing to work with Neal. I have to remain a solid person for Mercier to count on so he will involve me in whatever big heist he is planning. Besides, I get the feeling Mercier is narrowing down his favorites to the three of us for the big heist. If that means I have to work with Neal, so be it.
It doesn’t mean I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder, half expecting Neal to be lurking behind me with a switchblade in hand. I don’t discount the threat at all.
Now we’re back in London and tonight is the night we make our move on Throb. Neal and I had parked the car we’d rented several blocks away, and we’re walking toward the nightclub. Sin is already inside.
“What’s your real game, Bellinger?” Neal asks as he chews on a toothpick.