Red Handed by Jessa Wilder

Rush insisted that I help with planning the job. Something about the person putting their neck on the line should be the one coming up with the ideas. It was a good thing too, because I would’ve murdered them all if they tried to mansplain my job to me. Well, more than Nico already had.

I had no clue what I was thinking, but I’d agreed to meet Rush in his room for dinner to strategize. Locked in a smallish space alone with Rush… I groaned. I should’ve strategized how not to jump his bones. Waiting for the last possible second to get ready, I threw on a pair of black gym shorts and another vintage band t-shirt, tying it in a knot at my hip. Not wanting to look like I put a ton of effort into my appearance, I tossed my hair up in a high messy ponytail, and swiped chapstick over my lips. This was strictly a strategizing mission. I wasn’t going to be derailed by the hot as hell literal boy next door. I hopped from foot to foot as the clock ticked five minutes past the hour. Stalling was not a good look for me. I sucked it the hell up, grabbed my phone with all my notes in it, and headed into the hall.

His room was on my left and luckily didn’t have an adjourning door between us, like Beck and I did. I knocked on his door and stumbled forward when it swung inward instantly. His gaze dropped to my feet, taking in my bare legs, and slowly worked its way up to mine. Intense heat darkened his eyes, and I swallowed hard, remembering every detail of what he and Beck had made me feel on the dance floor. A shiver ran through me, and Rush’s mouth tipped up in a wicked, knowing smile.

“You’re late, Firecracker.”

I titled my head and smirked in defiance. “It’s a good thing you aren’t Nico then.”

He laughed. “Sure, because you’ve ever actually listened to him. I’m pretty sure you show up fifteen minutes late every time he texts you to be somewhere.”

My grin broadened across my face. “True. Do you think I should extend it for twenty minutes? Doesn’t seem to be getting the point across.”

“And what’s the point, Firecracker?”

“That I’m not to be fucking summoned.”

He choked on a laugh, running a hand through his hair. We were still standing in his doorway. “Have you met Nico? He’s used to giving orders.”

I scoffed at that. “I think you boys forget exactly who I am. We may work together, but I’m never going to bow down to anyone. Especially not an Esposito.”

Rush’s eyes mismatched scanned mine, eyebrows pinched together. Did it bother him I wouldn’t bow down, or that I reminded him of who I was and what we were to each other: lifelong enemies with a tentative alliance. Rush took a step closer, and I had to tilt my head all the way back to maintain eye contact.

“I think I’m figuring out exactly who you are,” he said, no bite to his words.

A quick pain ran through me, knowing just how wrong he was. They saw me as a girl to be protected, coddled like Sophie, but I’ve been a trained killer for years. Would he still look at me with soft eyes if he knew the truth?

Rush looked at me one last time. A mischievous grin tipped his lip as he stepped back, opening the door wider for me to enter his room. “Welcome to my home.”

His room was the same layout as mine, except instead of neutral furnishing, designed in masculine tones and modern lines. A black couch sat in front of one of the biggest TVs I’d ever seen, flanked by two comfy looking club chairs. I had half a mind to curl up in one, but that seemed counterproductive to our work tonight.

Rush walked to his dining table that was already covered in printed off photos of people I didn’t know, and that’s when I noticed the boxes of Thai food. My stomach rumbled, and he smiled at me.

“I figured you’d be hungry.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You never remember to eat.”

Okay, sure, that wasn’t a completely wrong assessment, but Sophie was normally the one to notice and rectify that. I eyed Rush. He was entirely too perceptive. Which I guess made sense since he was the de facto head of the Gentlemen, but knowing that didn’t stop the warmth from filling my chest and taking over my face with a blush. He moved toward me, and I quickly grabbed a takeout box and started shoveling food in my mouth. I moaned when the taste hit my tongue, and Rush’s eyes darkened a fraction. An electric magnetism pinged between us and I had to fight against the pull. I wasn’t ready to figure out what the hell was happening with Rush, or with Beck for that matter, and God only knew what was up with Nico.

I gestured at the printed out images covering the table. “What’s all of this?” I asked, mumbling through a mouth full of delicious spicy noodles.

“These are the marks. We got a heads up of people we suspect are playing for the other side and need to clone their phones to track their movements.”

I nodded. “Hoping a sheep will lead you back to the shepherd?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, but there’s got to be at least eight people here. What’s your plan to clone each phone?”

He smirked at me and placed his hand on my neck, sending sparks down my spine. My resistance broke, and I leaned against his warmth. He hummed and his chest rumbled where he’d pressed into my back, looking over my shoulder at the printouts.

“That’s where you come in, Firecracker.”

“Wait…we’re going to lift all of these phones at one party?” He pressed his chest into my back and rested his chin on my head. His proximity made my brain feel like mush, and I had to struggle through the fog to think. “That’s nearly impossible.”

Rush stepped back, giving me room to breathe, and I turned to face him. His mismatched eyes met mine, and a flash ran through them. “I guess we’re lucky that’s your specialty.”

“That it fucking is.” I clapped my hands, effectively breaking the tension between us, and started to rattle off ideas. If we were going to pull this off, every second had to be planned out to the smallest detail.

* * *

I stared at myself in the mirror of my suite bathroom, one eye half open, trying to get my eyeliner to do that wing thing. I should have let Sophie help. I was usually more of a mascara and go kind of girl, or, if we were going out, smudged charcoal raccoon eyes. In addition to giving the impression I didn’t give a fuck, looking like early 2005 Avril Lavigne at all times was the easiest of all makeup trends. I had no time for nonsense, like liquid eyeliner or cat eyes. Except when we were going to a fancy party, and I couldn’t even hide behind a mask.

I’d finished my hair an hour ago—a simple low bun with curly bits—and the dress and shoes I’d borrowed from my sister were laid out across my unmade bed. Everything was too preppy for my taste, but whatever. I didn’t need to get dressed for another forty minutes or so.

A faint knock sounded at the door, and I jumped, smudging my eyeliner. Goddammit. Oh well, I looked more like me like that, anyway. I smudged the other side with my index finger and called it close enough.

The person on the other side of the door knocked again, this time with more insistence. Jesus Christ, if that was Connor, I was totally not in the mood. I glanced down at my non-outfit of a bra and panties. Fuck. “Just a second!”

Grabbing an oversized t-shirt off the floor, I tossed it over my head. It came down to mid-thigh. Eh, whatever.

“Coming!” I yelled. Skidding into the living room, I swung the door open and reeled back in surprise.

“I feel like we’ve discussed this, Raegan. When I tell you to come, you come. I don’t like waiting.” Nico brushed past me into my room, his eyes lingering for half a second on my lack of pants. He carried a gigantic white paper shopping bag in one hand and a black garment bag in the other.

“What’s that?” I asked as he laid the bags out on my couch.

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to wear another one of your identical t-shirts. Unless you plan to have another sparring match with my mother.” He seemed to consider that idea. “By all means go ahead, though. I’d probably enjoy the bloodbath.”

I furrowed my brow and decided to bypass the casual hatred Nico seemed to have for his mother. “I borrowed something from Sophie. She brought five suitcases worth of clothes.” I opened my mouth again to ask if he bought a dress for Sophie too, then closed it again. Not that Sophie would need a dress, but Nico was technically her date. According to the plan, I was posing as Beck’s date, while Rush would be with the security team. The safest place for Sophie was with Nico, and neither of them had seemed to care when I’d suggested it.

Now, Nico looked as awkward as I felt, which almost made me laugh. He was so rarely uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes narrowed further for a moment before he answered. “Do you think I enjoy having to hunt down and kill traitors in my organization, Raegan?”

I frowned. I guess that made sense. I was morbidly curious if Nico would kill them himself like the man outside the club or have them sent to whoever took care of interrogations. It would probably depend how much pain he wanted to inflict. Interrogators were always brutal.

Nico shoved the bags into my arms and I stumbled back with the force of it.

I sighed. This wasn’t worth the fight. “Wait there. You can help zip me up.”

He made a noise of protest in the back of his throat, but I ignored him as I retreated into my room and slammed the door. Laying the garment bag on the bed, I unzipped it and gasped. The dress was green silk, so dark it was nearly black. It had a high neck and from what I could tell, no back, reminiscent of my gala gown from several weeks ago. It was probably stupid to think that Nico remembered what I’d worn that night, right?

My eyes grew wide as I slipped it on. I’d never touched, let alone owned, anything so nice. What the fuck had Nico been thinking? I was bound to get blood on it. That was just how our life worked. Maybe he just didn’t have any concept of what it was like to buy cheap shit. Everything he owned was expensive, blood stains or not.

Now, I had to know if he got one for Sophie too, because if he was only shopping for me…ooph.

Holding the silky fabric to my chest, I opened the door with my elbow. Nico wasn’t looking at me. He stood facing the windows, hands in his pockets. He turned at the sound of the door and paused. I turned, showing him my back. “Can you zip it?”

I could practically feel the intensity of his eyes on every inch of me as he stepped forward and ran delicate fingers up my exposed skin. I shivered involuntarily, arching my neck. His breath caught in his throat and I didn’t breathe either, waiting an impossibly long second for something to happen.

“Downstairs in thirty minutes,” he snapped, stepping back sharply.

“Okay,” I replied, but my response was lost in the slam of my suite door.

* * *

“Damn, girl,” Sophie squealed. She stood outside my room, flanked by several men in suits I’d never seen before. At least Connor wasn’t among them. Nico must have put his foot down.

I laughed uncomfortably and did a little turn to show her the back of the dress…or lack thereof. “What do you think?”

“Shit, that must be expensive. What brand?”

I followed her down the hall, careful not to trip over my too-tall heels. “No idea. I think the whole point is just so I can hide guns in the skirt.” It was perfect for that: tight over my hips, then flaring just enough that I could hide a thigh holster.

She glanced down, assessing. “I guess…yeah, I could see that. Where’d you get it?”

I looked back at the guards for a second before answering. They were a few paces back and didn’t appear to be listening. “Nico.” I rolled my eyes.

She blanched as we got into the elevator. “Seriously? He’s dressing you now? That’s some romance novel shit, Rae.”

The back of my neck warmed. “Fuck off. It is not.”

The guards heard that last exchange, but dutifully stared at the ceiling. I appreciated that.

She grimaced, fingering the hem of her salmon pink cocktail dress. Faces aside, we couldn’t have looked more different—her in Vineyard Vines, me one step away from Cat Woman. I seriously wondered how we were related.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m going to start placing bets on who’s going to win this thing. It’s literally like watching the Triple Crown.”

“Can you not? It’s not like that.” I felt the heat from my neck creeping into my face.

“It is totally like that,” she replied. “I just can't decide if it’s going to turn into some bachelorette shit where you have to pick one in the finale, or maybe you can be like a whole reverse harem thing.”

One of the guards and I made very uncomfortable eye contact in the mirrored wall of the elevator, and I craved death. I coughed but didn’t reply to Sophie. She didn’t appear to notice.

“I’m thinking I’ll start a pool. People can bet on days or maybe combos? I don’t know, I’ll work on it.” She grinned at the guards. “What do you guys think? You want in?”

“Kay, you do that,” I huffed as the doors opened and we stepped into the lobby.

I felt a small amount of satisfaction as three sets of eyes focused on me, alerted by our heels clacking across the marble floor. Jesus, maybe Sophie was starting to get to me.

“Damn, Little Thief.” Beck bounded up to me, wrapping his arms around my waist like an eager golden retriever. Immediately I was glad I’d chosen to pose as his date for the evening. On top of looking like the star of a Netflix teen drama, Beck was undoubtedly going to be fun. The kind of guy I would have gone to prom with—if I’d been allowed to go, that was.

I made eye contact with Rush over Beck’s shoulder and his two-toned gaze bore into me, taking in every inch of my appearance and landing on my face. Rush had been working non-stop since our planning session the other day. If I was a paranoid woman, I’d say Nico was keeping him busy on purpose, but there was no reason to do that. In any case, it was probably good to keep a little distance or I’d be tearing his clothes off in public. Granted, Beck wasn’t the person to get that distance with. There was no lesser of two evils. Both these guys were a sin waiting to happen.

Beck released me and I landed back on my too-tall heels. I glanced over at Nico. He was standing stiffly next to Sophie and the pack of guards, staring at his phone. He hadn’t looked up again since the second we stepped out of the elevator, keeping his head bowed. “Let’s go,” he barked, still not making eye contact with me. Rush glared at Nico’s back as we all traipsed out of the lobby. I filed that away to ask about later. The group dynamic between the three guys was fascinating.

Beck insisted on walking me down to the parking garage like a real date. I felt Nico’s judgmental eyes on my back the whole way, but couldn’t decide who he was annoyed with, Beck or me. Probably both. I paused at Rush’s armored Range Rover, waiting for the beep of the lock, but Beck pulled me onward. “Not tonight, babe.”

“You have other cars?” I joked. “I’m shocked.”

He rolled his eyes. The garage was full of cars. Down the aisle I spotted a Tesla I was pretty sure hadn’t been released yet. Whoever said gangsters weren’t environmentalists.

“If we roll up in one of the tanks, Giovanna will get offended,” Rush said, grinning at me.

“Is that what you call them? Tanks?”

“If you can think of a better name, let me know. They’re basically bomb shelters.”

“So, what are we driving?” Sophie asked.

“The fun car.” Rush pointed at an Aston Martin DBX and Sophie raised an eyebrow.

“That is not the fun car,” Beck pouted, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That’s the car we can all fit in. I’ll show you the fun cars later, babe.”

“Whatever,” Rush snapped. “Sorry it’s not orange.”

I had always said the Espositos were flashy. My dress and this car were just proving that point. It sucked somewhat less when you were on this side of it, though.

We all piled into the car, and one of the guards took the wheel. For once, Rush wasn’t driving, although he was wearing a headset and his gun was on the outside of his jacket rather than hidden. All part of our plan, of course. He was working, not attending the event.

It took me fifteen minutes—longer than it should have—to realize we were leaving the city. I glanced out the window and watched the lights of the high-rise apartments and office buildings retreating in the distance as we drove along an overpass next to the harbor.

“Where are we going?” I asked Nico.

He looked up from his phone for the first time, his expression unreadable. He paused for a moment before answering, blinking slowly at me. “My mother’s house.”

“I thought she lived in the hotel on Washington Street. The one you don’t like.”

He looked surprised. “She does, but we have other properties. She negotiated this one away from me years ago, which is only mildly inconvenient.”

“Why?” Sophie asked.

Nico’s brow ticked up in annoyance, but it was Rush who answered. “It’s closest to the crematory.”

“Closest to the what now?” Sophie started to ask, but I cut her off with a look.

The crematory was also something I would file away to ask Beck or Rush about later. I tried to imagine a time when Nico would just freely share information like that with me, but obviously, that was insane. This was a weird temporary thing, and he was better at remembering that than I was.

The car pulled down a long driveway already packed with cars. Clearly, we were fashionably late. Or maybe just late. Maybe it was a power move, like the party couldn’t start until Nico arrived and said so.

Giovanna’s crematory adjacent house was far from the average suburban home. The huge white colonial style McMansion stood on a rocky cliff overlooking the harbor, with a vast lawn perfect for croquet. The house was white with a wide, wrap-around porch, where currently eighty or so people stood talking and drinking in suits and colorful cocktail dresses. Sophie and I glanced at each other. This was some rich people fuckery.

“Is this normal for you guys?” I hissed to Rush as we stepped out of the car.

His expression turned dark for a moment. “Normal for Giovanna, yes. For me? No. This whole property was bought with blood money long before Nico took over. I fucking hate it here.”

I furrowed my brow, unsure what that meant, but I didn’t have a chance to ask. Beck took my arm again as we ascended the walkway toward the house, following close behind Nico. I couldn’t help but notice the way some of the guests suddenly found somewhere else to be when they saw us coming, or tensed like they were about to be shot.

We stepped up to the front door and Nico entered without pausing to be let in. The interior of the house was large and bright, with vaulted ceilings and a huge crystal chandelier. Two twin stairwells met in the center of the foyer leading up to the upper levels, and below all the furniture was various shades of white and cream. My sick brain immediately wondered how they got all the blood stains out.

Across the vast living room, Giovanna stood next to a baby grand piano holding a drink in one hand and the end of some terrified looking man’s tie in the other. It was hard to say from this distance if she was flirting or threatening him. Both, probably.

“Should we say hello?” Sophie asked, quietly.

No one answered her. Rush immediately disappeared, presumably in the direction of the coat room as we’d planned. Nico grabbed Sophie by the elbow and hauled her away, shooting one indecipherable look back at Beck as he went.

“Come on, Little Thief,” Beck said happily. “Let’s go dance.”

“No, I can’t.” I laughed, pushing at his arm. “I have to find the guys on Rush’s list.”

“Exactly.” Beck winked. “What better way to do that than in plain sight?”

I sighed loudly but didn’t put up a fight as Beck led me on to the dance floor. Only later, would I realize I shouldn’t have let myself get distracted.