Chapter Nine
Kinney’s was just as dingy as Adam remembered from his last visit. Small, dark, and two miles off the Strip, few tourists made it in. Old school country and western music blared out of the jukebox in the corner, and a guy had been puking in the parking lot when his taxi dropped him off.
But it was worth it. Kinney’s was as off the grid as it was possible to be in Sin City.
In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined taking Jess there. Even when he’d suggested the partnership and invited her to Vegas, he never conceived of the two of them spending time together in a dive bar away from the security cameras. Now, he may have daydreamed about the two of them off the cameras and naked in her hotel room. But not this. This was more like a...date?
She walked in the bar and every single muscle in his body tensed. Dressed simply in cut-off jeans and a faded red shirt, she outshone every other woman in the city. Tonight was the first time he’d ever seen her with her hair down. Dark and long, it lay down her back, falling just below her shoulder blades. The ends had brushed his knees when he sat behind her in the auditorium. He’d literally sat on his hands to keep from touching it.
“You’re not wearing your disguise.” He liked how her eyes raked over his face and chest. He wondered how low her eyes would have gone if the bottom half of him hadn’t been hidden by the high-boy table.
“Nope.”
“Just Jess and Adam tonight then?” His breath caught at the simple intertwining of their names. Jess and Adam.
He cleared his throat. “It’s a novelty,” he agreed.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “There was a long cab line.”
He handed her a bourbon. “I’m good at waiting,” he said. “I do a lot of waiting in my line of work.” Ugh. He wanted to kick himself. She might have admitted to the physical attraction between them, but that didn’t mean she was ready for an open conversation about his day-to-day criminal activities.
She surprised him again. “Tell me about your work.” When he gave her a skeptical glance, she said, “Really. I promise to never repeat a word. I just want to know you a little.”
There was no guile in her gaze, and Adam’s chest started to ache. When was the last time he’d had an entirely honest conversation with a woman he was interested in? Never.
“Tell me about golf first,” he asked.
Jess rolled her eyes, but nodded. “Well, when you’re the only girl in a large family with no mom, you’ll do anything to get Daddy’s attention.” Her tone was bright and carefree, but her eyes looked sad. “My dad and most of my brothers were sports-crazy. They played baseball, soccer, basketball—everything. So, I did too, hoping that my dad would spend time with me after school or on weekends like he did with my older brothers. But I sucked at everything, so it didn’t work.”
She paused to take a gulp of bourbon, and Adam blinked away a mental picture of a skinny, brown-eyed little girl desperate for some attention.
“My dad has always loved golf. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but in Chicago there are a ton of park district courses that you can play for cheap. One Saturday, when I was about nine, my Dad and brothers were about to leave for the golf course when my babysitter canceled. They had no choice but to take me.”
Jess looked off in the distance with a small smile on her full lips. “I can still remember my first tee shot. I watched my Dad and brothers go...and then it was my turn. I wanted to hit the ball so well, so hard, so far. And I did. My first tee shot outdrove all of my brothers’. Honestly, I think I did it by sheer force of will. My dad turned around with his mouth wide open. It felt like the first time he ever really saw me.”
She shrugged, meeting his eyes again. “So, golf became my thing. I had finally found something my dad would pay attention to.”
“Did you even like it?”
She grinned. “I liked winning. And it’s how I got my scholarship to college. Plus, it was good for me. If I didn’t have golf, I probably would have spent my entire life in my bedroom playing on the computer. I spent plenty of time doing that already.”
Something about her combination of words here—her spark of competitive toughness along with the mention of computers—reminded him of the question he’d wanted to ask since reading the first newspaper article. “You’re such a fighter, Jess,” he said. “When Davies made those unfounded accusations against you, why didn’t you attack with a lawyer? Why didn’t you sue Ignatius for wrongful termination and slander?”
She jerked backward a little, almost as though he’d physically hit her. For a moment, he thought she would deflect. But instead, she looked at him straight in the eye and took a deep breath. “I started to. But... I told you about my dad and golf. That was one of two things that ever made him proud of me. The second was working at Ignatius.” She sighed. “My dad is a salt of the earth guy. He worked in construction for years and he’s a devout Catholic—goes to church twice a week. So when I was a rising star at the biggest Jesuit University in the country, he was as happy as I’ve seen him.”
Adam closed his eyes, briefly. “Your dad asked you to drop it.”
She squirmed on her chair before giving him such a sad smile he felt it in his chest. “I want to defend my father, but I’m just still so hurt. Yeah, he asked me to drop it. So I did.” She drained the small amount of bourbon still in her glass.
He hesitated, but then went ahead and said what was on his mind. “No mom?”
Jess gave a slow shake of the head. “She died when I was four. Right after she had Andrew, my younger brother. I don’t really remember her.”
“I don’t remember mine either.” The words just popped out. He couldn’t fucking believe it.
“Did you live with your uncle?” She asked. He froze. How the hell did she know about Tony? Oh, that’s right. She had found his arrest record and done a background check. His entire body tensed; this was enough of this line of questioning. He never discussed Tony. Not with anyone.
Which made it bewildering when his mouth opened and his lips moved. “My parents died when I was five, and after a few weeks in foster care, I went to live with my mother’s brother, Tony. I’d never even met him before.”
But he’d idolized him immediately. “He was so cool,” he said to Jess, smiling at her. “He didn’t care if I went to school. We ate McDonald’s whenever I wanted. He had the most interesting group of friends who came by the apartment at all hours of the night.” Plus, Tony was unexpectedly affectionate. “He hugged me, all the time,” he said softly. “For a traumatized orphan who’d seen what foster care was like, he was a godsend.”
Jess’s face went soft and her eyes blurred. Enough of that; he cleared his throat. “He wasn’t a saint, of course. I think the actual term for him is ‘career criminal.’”
He waited for Jess’s disapproving expression—but there wasn’t one. Her lips just curved into an encouraging smile.
“He had his hands in a lot of illegal pies. He was muscle-for-hire or anything anyone would pay for. But above all, he was a talented thief.” Adam glanced around the room. It felt so strange to talk about this. He’d never discussed his origin as a thief with anyone. “I started helping him with jobs when I was ten. By the time I was eighteen, I was a full-on partner, helping him find and plan jobs.” He sighed, remembering the urge to stretch his own wings. “When I was twenty-one, I started doing my own. I was more comfortable with the newer technology. I could do jobs that were more physically demanding.”
Jess’s eyes were wide, but she just nodded at him to go on. “We had some really good years then. We worked independently, but we got together on holidays and stuff. Like families do.” Shit, was that a catch in his voice? What the fuck?
“Then what happened?” she asked.
And...no. Nope. Sorry. Memory lane was closed. Maybe he’d broken a few of his personal rules for this woman, but he couldn’t discuss what happened next. A hurricane of images and emotions flashed through his mind: the look of excitement on Tony’s gnarled face when he talked about “the huge job,” the terror in his own gut when he realized his fuck-up, the cuffs around Tony’s wrists, the bewilderment when the DA told Adam he—alone—was free to go.
He hadn’t talked about it with anyone ever. As tempting as it might be to unburden himself to Jess, to soak in some of the sympathy he knew she’d offer, tonight was not going to be the exception.
“I’m going to get us another round.” He stood, tossed her a crafted, dazzling smile. “Then I’ll tell you about being a thief.”
* * *
An hour and two bourbons later, Jess said, “This is freaking fascinating. You literally have a ‘Five Step Process’ to successful thievery.”
Adam nodded. “Let’s see how close you were paying attention.” He raised his eyebrows in mock-sternness. “What is Step One, Ms. Hughes?”
She raised her hand like a school kid. “Ooh ooh! I know! Pay your hacker an obscene amount of money to infiltrate the databases of the world’s biggest insurance agencies. He finds policies on jewels worth over $100,000.”
“Well done,” he said, enjoying the role of school-master. “And how often is this step taken?”
She batted her eyelashes. “Annually.” She hiccupped and they both laughed.
We’re drunk, he realized from a distance. But he didn’t much care. “Step Two?”
She furrowed her forehead. “Oh! Narrowing down the list to suitable targets. The jewels have to be able to be...ah...”
“Fenced,” he supplied.
“Fenced,” she repeated. “You also look at the owners. They cannot be royalty or politicians or any other sort of over-protected individuals.”
“Correct.” He smiled at her over his drink. “Although exceptions to that rule can and have been made.”
Her eyes lit up, but before she could ask for details, he demanded, “Step Three?”
Now, her face went serious and sweet. “My favorite step. Researching the target to get a sense of the person. If the person is, as you so delightfully put it, an obvious asshole, move on to Step Four. If person seems genuinely okay, remove from target list.”
Her doe eyes were making him uncomfortable, even in his inebriated state. “Don’t go putting me on a pedestal, Blondie. I still steal things for a living, even if I do prefer to steal from jerks. Step Four?”
She matched his brisk tone. “Plan the job.”
“Which may include what activities?”
“Tailing to get a sense of routine. Procuring blueprints of the owner’s residence or workings of their security systems.” Hiccup. “May involve building a team. May involve bribery.” Hiccup.
He had to laugh. “You have a hell of a memory. And a case of the hiccups. We’re finally to Step Five. Also known as ‘The Fun.’”
Jess finished her drink with a long swallow. “Step Five is Executing the Job. May involve breaking and entering. May involve role-playing.”
“Hooray, you remembered everything.” He laughed again as she gave a tipsy little bow. A month ago, he couldn’t have dreamt up an evening like this. Sharing secrets with a beautiful woman. One that made him laugh, one that challenged him.
He knew the evening was a time-out. There was inevitably trouble ahead. As a couple, he and Jess weren’t made for happily ever after.
But was it so wrong to want a little happy right now?
Something in her mind had caught Jess’s attention. There was a line between her eyebrows as she rested her face on upturned palms and stared off into space. Just lean forward and kiss her.
But the woman was just too goddamn smart. Even after four bourbons, her brain was working well enough for her to say, “Wait. Adam, how does Maurice Knoll fit into your Five Step Process? You didn’t say anything about diamond smugglers. Or anything like this at all. This project is a complete anomaly for you, isn’t it?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Yes.”
She cocked her head. “So...why?”
He was suddenly angry at everything. Angry at himself that he’d told her too much. Angry at her for looking interested and sympathetic and so damn beautiful.
He stood and threw some cash on the table. “Because Knoll’s not the only one with debts to pay, okay, Blondie? Don’t ask me about it again.”
* * *
Jess woke up feeling hungover and sorry for herself. Another marathon shower in the fabulous Wynn bathroom and three Advil did wonders for the headache, but little for her bruised feelings and unsatisfied body. She pulled on the hotel’s white terry cloth robe and climbed back into bed.
Last night had not gone as she thought it would. After Adam tailed her to the tango show and they agreed to meet at the dive bar, she’d been ninety-five percent sure they’d end up in bed together. The 5% uncertainty was in case she chickened out. But he had been the one to walk away. After he’d snapped at her and thrown money on the table, he hadn’t spoken to her again. He watched to make sure she got a cab safely, but that was it.
The worst part was that it was her own fault. I pushed too hard. She wasn’t under any illusions here. She and Adam weren’t living in some sexy fairy tale. She just got carried away with all the sharing and laughing. She almost never talked about her family, and she doubted he routinely explained how he thrived as thief. Early on in the conversation, she realized that he didn’t want to discuss his uncle...but he did, at least a little. He seemed to need to connect as much as she did, if only briefly. Yet she’d still managed to kill their flirtatious fun a little later on. If she hadn’t been feeling so close to him, she never would have pried about his motivations for robbing Knoll. Damn it.
It wasn’t any of her business anyway...or was it? He knew why she was desperate to bust Knoll with the diamonds. If they were really partners, why shouldn’t she know why he was so desperate to take the diamonds from Knoll? Why this job when it was so different from his typical targets?
Sexually frustrated and wide awake, the question wouldn’t leave her mind. So, she did what she always did with a puzzle—she pulled out her laptop. It took her longer than usual because of the bourbon, but by 3:00 am, she was pretty sure she knew why Adam was so focused on Knoll. But finding the answer didn’t satisfy her like solving puzzles usually did. She had a feeling that only one particular activity would bring her satisfaction right now. A naked, sweaty activity. With one particular person. She huffed a breath and flopped back against her pillow.
Sleeping with him wouldn’t have been smart. But she would have bet everything in her pathetic bank account that it would have been good. Her life was sorely in need of a little good. What was the worst that could happen anyway? She’d never tell anyone about this interlude of her life. No one would believe it anyway.
Maybe she’d get another chance. Maybe they’d stay in Vegas another night. It wasn’t like either of them had a normal job to rush back to. The idea perked her up enough so that she brushed her teeth and blew dry her hair.
She was trying to decide what to wear when someone knocked on her door. Looking through the peephole, she saw Adam’s face under a gray hoodie. Just seeing him was the equivalent of someone giving her spirits a shot of adrenaline. Instead of feeling gray and hungover, she felt buoyant and fizzy.
She opened the door. “You’re the Unabomber today?”
He walked in and took a seat on the couch. “Don’t knock the classics. It’s low tech, yet strangely effective.”
Wondering why he hadn’t just let himself in as he had every other time, Jess fidgeted with the belt on her robe. “What’s up?”
“Knoll and Sedarno both left Vegas this morning, so our work here is done.” He put a small jump drive on the coffee table. “I made a copy of their golf cart conversation for you. Also got you a ticket on the first flight back to Chicago that had a first-class seat open, which unfortunately, isn’t until the red eye tonight.”
He shuffled on the seat, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ll call you in a week or so and we can talk about the recording.”
Jess sat on the bed, all fizziness gone. “You’re not on the flight with me?”
“No. I have a job in Nashville on Wednesday. I’m going to hang around here for another day or two and then fly straight there.” His voice was bland, like he was discussing travel with his dry cleaner.
Well now, this all felt very familiar. Painful, but familiar. She was entirely used to men not wanting her around. Her father, her brothers. Hell, her goddamn boss took money to get rid of her.
If she’d wanted to, she could have put her poker face up and said a cheery “Goodbye then!” And he’d never know how close she was to either crying or punching him. So—she didn’t. She didn’t say anything at all, but she let her face and her eyes do the talking.
He rose immediately and took a half step toward her. “What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad,” she snapped. “I’m disappointed.”
The pissy tone took him back a step. “Why are you disappointed?”
Oh please. She let her eyes wander over his legs, his mid-section, his chest, his mouth. When she finally got to his eyes, she was pleased to see them dilated. “Why do you think?” she bit out.
His nostrils flared. “I’m no good for you, Blondie.”
“Thank you for that shocking announcement,” she said, sarcasm coloring her voice so heavily it almost didn’t sound like hers.
She stalked over to the windows and turned her back to him. The surrounding hotels glittered in the morning sun. “For the record, I’m not looking for someone to be good with.” Under her breath—but still loud enough for him to hear—she said, “I was actually hoping to be rather bad.”
Then, louder, “I’m very clear on what we are and what we are not, Adam. We’re two people in a weird moment in our lives. There’s no future.”
She took a deep breath, dove into the humiliation. “But you simply walk in the room, and I get hot and wet. That’s never happened to me before.” She was grateful her voice didn’t shake. Why was she opening herself up like this? Risking rejection and humiliation? So not her. Especially not for what could only be a one-night stand.
But she couldn’t ignore the lingering closeness they’d discovered together the night before. Any woman would want him for his plain-as-day sexiness and charisma—and she was far from immune to that. But it was the way he looked so sick on her behalf when she talked about her dad. It was the fact that he truly only stole from people who deserved it.
He stared at her, open-mouthed, and she quickly cut off the thoughts that were probably painting tenderness all over her face. She lifted her chin. Might as well finish her angry little speech. “So forgive me if I’m disappointed in how last night ended. And for being disappointed that we don’t have another night here together to behave badly.”
He was so quiet she didn’t hear him walk across the room to her. Actually, he was there a millisecond after she finished talking, so he must have almost ran.
“Interesting thing about Vegas,” he said, his voice rough and guttural. He yanked the thick brocade drapes closed, and the room went entirely black. “It’s always night.”