Twenty-Nine

We reconvened later that afternoon at our warehouse, with twenty bikers standing guard outside the door.

“I like this place.” Axel gave the crumbling warehouse a nod of approval. “Cozy.”

“What the fuck?” Gage muttered quietly to Emma. “How are we supposed to keep a low profile with the Sons of fucking Anarchy parked outside?”

Emma hadn’t stopped smiling since Axel had killed five mafiosos and stormed the house to save us. “He’s the president,” she said. “Where he goes, they go.”

“And where you go, he goes.” My heart squeezed when Axel slung his arm around Emma’s shoulders. I’d never seen her so happy.

“Em got me up to speed,” Axel said. “Some bitch stole from you. Let’s get busy hunting her down and pumping her full of lead.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said. “First, we need her to give us a necklace she stole from a museum in India. Then we need her to give us the money to pay the interest. Then we have to take them both to Tony Angelini to pay off our debt. After that—”

“About the ‘pumping her full of lead’ part…” Chloe said, cutting me off. “I thought this was a ‘no guns’ heist.”

“I think we’re way past that. Guns, knives, handcuffs, explosives…anything goes.”

“I don’t understand why we’re still in the city,” Cristian whined. “We lost the diamond and the necklace. Angelini will be coming for us. We should already be on a plane and heading to a remote island where he’ll never find us.”

Tension curled in the air. We’d gone through a lot without Cristian, and after his betrayal, he no longer fit in with our tight-knit crew.

“We rescued you even though you abandoned us. We’re not leaving Anil just because he fell for the wrong woman,” I snapped. “Yes, he went over to the dark side, but he’s still on Angelini’s list and I have no faith that Clare will protect him. ‘No person gets left behind.’ That’s our new crew motto.”

“It’s a bit overused, darling. We’re not a platoon of soldiers facing enemy combatants in a made-for-the-Oscars movie. How about something fresh and new?” Simone pulled her ski mask over her head. “ ‘No job too big. No danger too great.’ ‘Together we’re stronger.’ ‘Teamwork is dreamwork.’ I could get everyone a ski mask, so we feel more cohesive.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell is that?” Axel recoiled in horror when Simone turned in his direction.

“Gucci 2018,” Emma said. “It’s almost vintage.”

Gage shook his head. “I’d rather be tortured by the mob than wear that piece of sh—”

“Thanks, Simone.” I cut Gage off with a glare. “Anil actually bought us black ski masks, so I think we’re good. I’ll consider those mottos—all great ideas—when this is all sorted out.”

Simone gave Gage a smug look. “She liked my ideas.”

“She doesn’t like that travesty of a hat,” he retorted. “Or did you not pick that up?”

“It’s not a hat; it’s a ski mask. Not that you would know given you seem to only have two items of clothing in your wardrobe. Was there a sale on jeans and black T-shirts at Target or are you really that lacking in style?”

“Simone…” Emma whistled in admiration. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“That’s not all I’ve got,” she said smugly. “I know this is terrible to say, but I suddenly feel free. Richard…his death was a tragedy, of course, but he wasn’t a good man.” She lifted her right arm and pulled back her sleeve to show us several long, jagged scars. “One time he threw me down the stairs and broke my arm and hand so badly, the bones had to be replaced with steel rods and pins. I lost my fine motor control and had to learn how to write with my left. Other than that, my right hand is mostly functional. There are just a few things I still can’t do.”

“Simone…” My throat tightened. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?” Axel said. “I can send my boys over…”

“He’s dead.” Simone pulled down her sleeve. “They found his body—well, parts of it. He’d been eaten by sharks. It’s unfortunate because it means we can’t have an open casket at the funeral.”

Cristian’s hand went to his mouth. “Jesus. What a terrible way to die.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said. “Sounds kind of fitting to me.”

“We need to have his funeral as soon as possible,” Simone continued. “Vera and I need to get away. There’s been too much tragedy. Too many deaths. My entire world has been turned upside down.”

“One thing at a time,” I said. “First, we need to find Clare and Anil and get the necklace. We know they’re in the city…” I looked to Jack for confirmation, and he nodded. “But the question is how to find them. Any ideas?”

“We like to flush our prey out,” Axel said. “Set fire to the building, shoot out all the windows…”

Chloe shook her head. “We’re not going to—”

I cut Chloe off abruptly. “Actually, he’s right. Why are we hunting for Clare? Why don’t we make her come to us?”

“You mean lure her,” Gage said. “What do we have that she would want? She’s got the jewels. She’s got the money…”

I looked around the circle of expectant faces, and the answer came to me in a heartbeat. “Jack.”

“You’re going to offer her Jack?” Chloe’s brow creased in a frown. “What’s she going to do with him?”

“I know you’re pissed at the way he left us on the road,” Emma said, “but don’t you think that’s taking it too far?”

“Before you came to the club to ‘save’ me”—Jack emphasized the word “save” with a sarcastic tone—“I was going to offer myself to Mr. X in exchange for the necklace and your freedom. Clare would be more than happy to bring me in.”

“Not happening,” I said. “We’re a team and we’ll stick together. This is now a ‘no self-sacrifices’ heist. I have a better idea. You’re going to be dead.” I’d come up with the idea when we’d passed a billboard on the way home from West Garfield advertising a community theater production of Romeo and Juliet. My romance-loving bestie had made me watch countless versions of the play over the years. She saw it as a love story. I thought it was a tragedy, especially at the end when everyone wound up dead.

“You’re going to kill me rather than let me offer myself up in exchange for the necklace?” Jack scratched his head. “I’m kinda liking the other plan.”

“You’re going to be fake dead,” I said. “Like in Romeo and Juliet. Clare still has feelings for you. If we kill you, she will come. We just need to make sure she knows. You’d better get your affairs in order while I plan your funeral. You’ve got one day left to live.”

---

Since our only connection with Clare was through Mr. X, I sent Simone back to the private members’ club the next morning to hand deliver a funeral announcement that would hopefully find its way into Mr. X’s hands.

“I don’t want my funeral to be in a church,” Jack said, sitting across my desk as I scrambled to put the event together. I’d done rush jobs before, but I’d never planned a funeral in one day. “I’m not religious.”

“We can have a short ceremony in the funeral home,” I assured him.

“No lilies. They’re a symbol of death. I want the room to be filled with exotic flowers: Passiflora caerulea—it’s a blue passionflower representing that I’m a passionate man. If you can arrange for a bowl of water or mud, I’d also like a few lotus flowers, and a bird-of-paradise flower. Amaryllis will brighten things up—I’m thinking a mix of salmon and orange. Maybe some hyacinths, calathea, and lilacs for the scent. Throw in some irises, dahlias…oh, and peonies, but not from Leo’s greenhouse because they’re suffering from a blight, azaleas, hydrangeas…” He trailed off when he noticed I wasn’t taking any notes. “Why aren’t you writing this down?”

“You’re supposed to be dead. I’m not decorating with brightly colored flowers. And most of the flowers you mentioned are either out of season, difficult to get, or very expensive.”

“Are you saying I’m not worth it?” He folded his arms with a huff. “I want to go out the way I came in: in a blaze of glory.”

“What blaze of glory brought you in?” I tapped on the computer screen, sending out emails to my usual contractors to see if they could help out on short notice.

“I was born in the back seat of my father’s 1968 Chevy Chevelle.”

“ ‘Blaze of glory’ is not the phrase I would use to describe having a baby in the back seat of a car.”

“It was the way my mom told it.” His face softened. “She was a good storyteller.”

It was hard to stay angry with Jack when he was sharing memories of his mother. “Do you have any mementos of her?”

“Just one,” he said. “I’ve been keeping it for a special day.”

My new bargain-basement burner phone rang with a call from the funeral home. I turned my screen around so Jack could pick his funeral flowers while I made the necessary arrangements. Keep the cost down, I mouthed at him. Jack sniffed, and for the rest of the call, all I heard were clicks.

“I’ve got the funeral home sorted,” I said after I was done. “I found one that doesn’t require embalming and has a chapel on-site for the service. I told them we want to keep your body at home until just before the service. They’ll pick you up and put you in a casket—”

“I want something nice,” Jack said. “Not a plywood box.”

“I’m not paying for an expensive casket when you’re not really dead.”

“Then it won’t be believable. You supposedly love me. Wouldn’t you want the best for me when I die?” He pointed to the screen, where he’d been searching for caskets and not flowers as I’d instructed. “I like this one. It’s oak. Polished. Very sturdy and finished with high-end details including a satin lining, tufted velvet interior, and lots of thoughtful design elements, including carved flowers.”

“Are you crazy? It’s $3,000.” I flipped through the screen. “The Eco Pine Box is only $1,000 and better for the environment. Cristian would approve.”

“Or we could go for stainless steel,” he said, flipping back. “I would last forever.”

“That one is $3,500. Absolutely not.”

“I’m beginning to feel unloved,” Jack said, sulking. “I might just come back to haunt you from my grave.”

I looked up, suddenly hit with the magnitude of what we were doing and the enormous risk of Jack taking a cocktail of medication that would make him look dead. “You’d better come back, or you’ll be sorry.”

A smile tipped his lips. “Does that mean you forgive me for trying to sacrifice myself to save your life, only to demand that I do it all again, but this time it’s okay because it was your idea?”

“You’re twisting the facts,” I muttered as he walked around the desk. “You abandoned me again. You left me at a truck stop. It was the one thing I told you is triggering for me. It’s the one thing that makes me feel…”

Unworthy. Unwanted. Unloved.

But I hadn’t felt that way. I’d been angry—angry that he would put himself at risk. Far from feeling like I wasn’t worthy of being loved, I felt his love like a warm, solid presence deep in my heart. He’d shown it to me again and again in the lengths he had gone to protect me, the small things he’d done to make me happy, and his faith in my ability to lead the crew out of this nightmare. Far from feeling unwanted, I could see his desire in the way he looked at me whenever we were together. Far from feeling unloved, I felt both loved and truly seen. And, I had my crew. They believed in me, supported me, and made me feel that even if Jack did walk away again, I wouldn’t lose what I’d finally found—validation, and a love I’d never had for myself.

“What do you feel?” His voice dropped to a sensual rumble as he pulled me out of my chair.

“I feel…” My breath caught as he reached out and ran a finger along my jaw, down my neck, and into my cleavage.

“Do you have any clients scheduled for the next hour?” The deep rasp of his voice and his simple touch undid me. I needed Jack in that moment like I needed air to breathe.

“No.”

His gaze followed his fingers as he unbuttoned my blouse. “What about Garcia? Do you think he might come by for a visit? Maybe a cup of coffee? Or a pair of handcuffs?”

“Garcia’s a good friend, but he’s not you,” I said. “You get me in a way he doesn’t. You understand the secret part of me that craves adventure. You push me to be better. You have faith in me. When you listen, you really listen. When you look at me, you really see me.”

“I’m the best.” He gave a satisfied growl and unbuttoned the rest of my shirt.

“Very best,” I agreed as he lifted me and propped me on the desk, facing the chair with my skirt bunched around my waist.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

He sat in the chair facing me and slowly slid my panties over my hips.

“What are you doing?” I could barely hear my own words for the pounding of my pulse in my ears as he eased me back on the desk.

“We’re going to play show-and-tell.” His hands found my thighs and he spread me wide. “It’s my dying wish.”

“Don’t say things like that.” I was trembling, suddenly overcome by the risk he was going to take. What if his friend mixed up the wrong cocktail? What if he didn’t wake up? I needed him in my arms. I needed to feel his body on mine. I needed his voice in my ear telling me it was all going to be okay. “There’s only one game I want to play right now, and it involves you taking off your clothes.”

Jack pulled his chair closer. “I love you, Simi.”

And then he showed me just how much.