Mockingbird (A Stepbrother Romance #2)(5)



I enter her from behind and press her to the bed. She likes that, from the way she wriggles under me to meet my thrusts until she's a clenching, shivering mass under me. I was right, she's quite the little devil here. Now I'm in control, and I take her harder. She almost impresses me, urging me on, until I'm really cutting loose and I can feel her ready to explode. When she does she bucks up under me and her head almost hits my chin as I go rigid. I can't hold back anymore and collapse on top of her, throbbing as I finish. She holds my hand and wiggles under me, rubbing her ass against my stomach as I draw out of her.

I get up on shaky legs and she rolls on her back, then on her side.

The bag is still on the side table. I grab it, lock it in the bathroom with me, and wash up quickly. I can't strut out of here covered in sweat, this isn't that type of hotel. I make it fast, dry faster, even using the hair dryer to get there. Once I'm dressed I check that the goods are all in the bag and check on Brenda. She's lying on the bed, asleep. I must have tuckered her out.

I tuck the covers up around her neck and walk out of her life. I make sure the door is locked before I go.

It feels like tearing something off, leaving like this. Every time it's the same. It's just a job, get over it. She'll be fine. If she's not, it's her problem. She spent her whole life getting into trouble. I just tossed her a life preserver. If she doesn't swim to shore it's not my problem. I have the biggest score of my life in a bag slung over my shoulder. The little sting I feel when I withdraw from Brenda is muted by the heady feeling of carrying millions worth of stolen goods in my bag. The necklace makes up the bulk of that. There will be a few thousand in cash in the wallets, the watches worth maybe twenty grand all together. The rule is that Dad splits the proceeds of the sale of the target with me, but the incidentals I get to keep. Before I go out I duck into the bathroom off the lobby and into the big stall at the end, peel the cash out of the wallets and stick it in my pockets. Rough count comes to fifteen thousand, not bad. The wallets get wrapped up in toilet paper and go in the trash can. Goodbye, wallets.

It's dark by the time I walk outside. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but years of practice make me walk tall, focus my eyes on the distance and generally avoid looking like a victim. Wouldn't that be cute, I go through all that trouble and some tough with a gun steals the stolen goods. They'd probably sell it to a pawn shop. A guy comes at me with a knife or something, I can handle it, but I don't do guns. A man must have a code and all that. I'm a thief, not a killer.

Fortunately this is one of the better parts of town and when I hail a cab I get a ride easily. I think the cabbie is a little surprised by the tip I leave before slipping off to a corner store. I'm famished.

I grab a pack of cupcakes and a bottle of iced tea, and on the way out a little girl says, "Want to buy some cookies?"

I stop. They have a little table set up, the kid and the mom. I give the mom my trademark smile and I give the kid a wad of cash.

That's why I end up meeting my father with stolen goods and two big grocery bags full of Thin Mints. I bought the whole supply.

I like Thin Mints.

The hotel where we've holed up is not upscale. I'm not sure it's downscale. It might not even be on a scale. The rooms are adequate, though. Two beds that don't appear to have any critters and a bathroom and a fridge and microwave. Such is the luxurious, devil may care life of the master thief. I don't take two steps into the room before he looks up from the work he has spread out over the desk in front of him and shoots to his feet. I barely have the door closed before he grabs the bag.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah."

"The contact?"

"She's been well compensated."

He gives me a look but says nothing. With the specially prepared case spread open on the bed, he lays the necklace out on the yellowed white sheet. It loses a certain luster in this light. Such a small thing, for all this to do.

"Now what?"

"Now I take care of it. You stay here."

Oh. Great.

He packs up the goods, both the necklace and the other items I stole. I count the cash now-minus my cookies and snacks, it comes in at just under fourteen thousand, plus whatever the sale of the various baubles I stole brings me back. Dad has connections with dozens of fences; the necklace was a special job. A buyer approached him through an intermediary.

I kill the time showering, and eating the breakfast of champions-hot dogs and cupcakes, microwaved Pop Tarts and then a beer. Thievery works up quite an appetite.

It's after four in the morning when he gets back. My cut is in a brown paper bag. He tosses it to me and I count it out. Ten grand, not bad. I put the rest with it and hold it in my hand, staring at just shy of twenty-five thousand before I peel some off to fill my wallet and wrap up the rest in the paper back and stash it with my things.

"How much for the necklace?"

"Two point five, as the buyer promised. Minus the Frenchman's cut, that's two million, three hundred thousand dollars, wired to our accounts at Credit Suissie. Fifty percent is yours, of course.

I nod. I've been building quite a nest egg, working with my father. He's showed me the balances. For now the cash and sale of smaller goods is enough. I'm saving the rest, letting it grow. By the time I'm his age, I'll be retired, and living comfortably. I've been looking at Argentina. It seems like a really nice place, and more important, we've never worked there.

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