Red Handed by Jessa Wilder

Isat on the edge of my bed and threw my stress ball so it bounced off the floor, hit the wall, and returned to me. It was Wednesday evening, two days since Rush and I had gone to stake out the Trilogy. Even so, Nico had yet to say anything about why he wanted me here. I hadn’t seen the prick once since the night we arrived, and every day that I spent waiting to be summoned by his highness I got angrier. At least, any fear I’d felt about having to spend all my time around the literal embodiment of the gang that killed Marcus wasn’t really materializing.

I was growing really fucking tired of having nothing to do. Since I was a teenager, I’d spent basically every day totally immersed in the family business. Criminal empires didn’t just run themselves, there were lots of daily jobs to do—everything from big heists to just checking in on the clubs the gang ran. I wasn’t under any delusion that working for my dad meant I’d ever inherit Mount Summer. The organization had been started by my great-grandfather back during prohibition and was super sexist. It had been passed from father to son for the last several generations. But now, since my dad had no sons, it was going to go to Sophie’s husband. I was used to being busy, and just sitting around wasn’t going to work.

Throw, catch, throw, catch, throw. I groaned and pulled out my phone.

Me: I’m bored

Sophie: Go find something to do

Me: Come hang out with me.

Me: I’m going stir crazy locked in here.

Sophie: You’re out of luck. I have a date with a book, a glass of wine, and a bathtub.

Sophie: You’re cute and all, but you don’t compete.

Me: Liar

Sophie: Love you too *kissie face*

Sophie: Nico’s back.

Me: So?

Sophie: He’s been gone for a few days. Only comes around to pick up clothes.

Me: How do you know?

Sophie: I can hear through my wall. He’s back though. All the Gentlemen are in there. Why don’t you head over? I’m sure they’ll know how to occupy your time *winky face*

Me: Perv.

I tapped my fingers against the armrest of my couch in agitation. It was a sign of how desperate I was that I was even considering going up there. Nico was a total ass, and the shit I was subjecting myself to since showing up on his turf was absurd. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though, and I was nothing if not desperate.

I stripped off my pajamas I’ve been wearing all day and slid into my comfiest leggings. They were plain black, but made my ass look amazing. I dug through my suitcase—I hadn't bothered to unpack—and pulled out a clean shirt. The worn band tee engulfed me, so I tied it at the corner, and called that good enough.

Was I actually doing this? I guess I fucking was.

I questioned my sanity all the way down the hall and the entire time it took the elevator to go up one floor. This was a terrible fucking idea. We weren’t exactly friends. Beck was friendly enough—maybe a little too friendly. Rush seemed like he at least didn’t want to strangle me in my sleep, so that was something. Nico though, he had been pretty clear he hated everything about me from the moment I’d walked in.

I danced from foot to foot with nervous energy. Fuck it. I rapped on their door and was met with silence. After a few moments, I realized they weren’t in there.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

I turned back toward the elevator just as the door swung open. Nico stood there, gaping down at me in obvious confusion. Damn.

He wore a pair of those dark grey tapered joggers, and a fitted t-shirt that showed off all the work he did in the gym. If Nico in a suit was hot, comfy Nico was deadly. It shouldn’t be possible to make something that dangerous look that inviting.

“What are you doing here, Raegan?” he asked, more curious than angry for once.

“I wanted to… I wanted to get started…” Fuck, I had no idea what I was thinking coming here.

“You’re bored out of your fucking mind.” He looked bored as he spoke.

“Pretty much.”

He blinked down at me for a second, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth like he was thinking. My eyes immediately locked on his lip and I had to mentally kick myself. No, stop it, get a grip on yourself, Rae!

All the guys in this hotel were stupid attractive, but Nico looked almost unreal. He was like hot coals under a fire—they looked pretty but would burn you and crumble into nothingness if you touched them.

“Fine.” He opened the door wider and gestured for me to come inside. “Beck’s cooking. I’m sure if you ask nicely, he’d let you join in.”

The way he said it was half mocking, and I couldn’t totally blame him. I felt pretty pathetic coming up here. To be fair though, he was the one who made me come to stay at the hotel and then left me basically alone with nothing to do for the better part of a week. I stepped past Nico, careful not to brush into him. God knew I couldn’t afford to get burned.

I stepped into the room and almost gasped. If my room was big, Nico’s was enormous. My eyes widened as I looked around. Holy shit. Floor to ceiling windows lined one entire side of the space overlooking the park. The colors were deep moody grays with blue undertones, offset by tan leather couches. The kitchen was all modern lines and sleek cabinets done in exotic wood tones. It probably cost a fortune, but it had a relaxed men’s lounge vibe.

“Hey, Little Thief.” Beck popped up from behind the kitchen counter, holding a baking sheet. He gave me a wide smile “You staying for dinner?”

The smell of roasting chicken assaulted my senses, making my mouth water. “I am now. Smells delicious.”

Beck’s dimple showed in his smile. “Good. I always make too much.”

Rush sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him. He didn’t look up at me as he greeted me. “Rae.”

I crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder to see what was on his computer screen. He stiffened at my close proximity but didn’t tell me to move. It took a moment for my brain to connect the images on the screen to something familiar, but after a minute laughter bubbled up out of my chest.

“Are you still trying to figure out how I got in there?” I choked.

Rush glanced toward Nico, who had his back to us. “It’s been fucking killing him that he can’t figure it out.”

I glanced at Nico too, smirking. I hoped it was killing him. Slowly.

Ignoring the energy that pulsed up my arm when I accidentally grazed Rush, I pointed at one of the grainy security camera images from the hotel Esposito dated the night I had first met Beck. “Here’s a freebie. This one is pointless. It’s from entirely the wrong side of the building.”

Rush minimized that window. There were still at least ten separate camera angles he was pouring over.

“How many times have you gone over this?” I asked, leaning over to get a better look.

“Eight,” he replied darkly. “I know you cut our cams, but you came out of nowhere. The sensors don’t show a single exterior door open the entire time you were in there. Plus, where the fuck were your shoes?”

He looked reluctantly impressed, and the familiar buzz of his proximity heated my core. I pushed the feeling down and whispered. “I’ll tell you but only if you promise to keep it a secret.”

“Tell me,” Nico demanded, striding over. He stood across from me, arms crossed over his chest.

Rush wisely blocked Nico from my eyeline with his large body. “Tell us, Firecracker, or he’ll make me keep going over the footage for the rest of my life.”

I took pity on him. “I scaled the exterior wall.”

Beck dropped a pan. “Holy shit.”

“That’s five stories,” Nico said slowly.

I waited for him to qualify that statement with something—an insult maybe, or skepticism, but he didn’t. “Yes,” I agreed.

“You’re telling me you scaled five stories, in a leather dress and no shoes?” Nico asked. “With no equipment.”

“Yup.” I popped the P, playing it up for effect.

“Well, fuck. That explains that.” Rush stared at me and looked genuinely impressed.

“Who the fuck told you to do that?” Nico demanded, but Rush spoke over him.

“And I thought you were the risk taker, Beck. I think she may have you beat.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Beck thinks he’s a professional dirt biker,” Rush said with mock humor.

“Ignore him, I am a professional.”

“Uh, huh.”

“Rush, show her.”

Rush closed his laptop. “Not until after dinner, you’ll get distracted and burn it.”

Beck just shrugged, which I took to mean that was probably true.

We didn’t have to wait long. Within five minutes, Beck was putting a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans on the table and handing out plates.

I closed my eyes and savored the flavors. “Beck, this is so good. When did you learn to cook?”

“There’s no big story. I’ve always liked to cook. These two got to be my guinea pigs for years.”

“It was touch and go for a bit.” Rush laughed and even Nico smiled.

We cleaned up our plates and Beck grabbed a bottle of Lagavulin 25 and four tumblers. He poured us each a glass, and I took two large sips of the amber liquid. It warmed me everywhere it touched, and I felt myself relax. “So, what’s this about dirt biking?”

“It’s not just dirt biking. It’s racing. Motocross,” Beck replied.

“Uh, huh.” I grinned at him.

“Fuck. Rush, just show her.”

Rush placed his laptop in front of me and pulled up YouTube. He typed ‘Beck Bellamy’ into the search bar. The screen filled with videos of Beck: stunts, interviews, award ceremonies.

“Holy shit.”

Beck flashed a cocky smirk. “Show her 2020.”

“No one wants to see 2020,” Rush replied. “Here. This is from when he won the world's stunt riding competition in 2019.” He clicked play, and I was glued to the screen. It was clips of Beck doing stunts. Big fucking scary stunts. When the video ended, I clicked on the next one.

“That’s motocross. Racing is what Beck actually does. The stunt competition was just for fun,” Rush said.

“That was for fun? And you won worlds?” I looked at Beck, his blonde hair a mess, hazel eyes shining. “They must fucking hate you.” His lips curled into a grin.

“They really fucking do.”

Rush replaced my hand on the trackpad and his fingers clenched as they gently grazed mine. He pulled up a fails video. “I can’t have you getting star-crossed over dirt boy over here. Watch a few of these and it’ll clear that up.”

The video was crash upon crash. The guys all watched. Even Nico winced at appropriate times. It looked brutal.

“That’s me,” Beck pointed vaguely at the screen, picking himself out from all the identical looking helmeted riders.

The rider on the screen pulled up to the top of a ramp. The course was simple, go down the ramp, up over the gap, and down the ramp on the other side. A sinking feeling started in my stomach when, in the video, Beck lined up his bike. I felt the guys’ eyes on me, but kept my gaze fixed on the screen.

Even though I knew he was fine now, I couldn’t stop the fear and anxiety from building. I closed one eye and turned my face slightly away, but I was still watching as he shot into the sky, his bike flying in the opposite direction, and came down hard on the other side of the ramp. I made a squeak of a sound when I sucked in my breath.

I must have looked terrified, because Beck’s hands landed on mine and I uncurled my fingers from the table. “It’s okay. Look, I got this cool scar from it.”

He stood, lifting his shirt, his defined abs so close I could touch them. My eyes danced across his bright New School style tattoos and caught on the long scar across his sides. It looked like it hurt like a bitch, but it was also sexy as all hell. I took another long sip of my drink before I literally started drooling.

Beck met my gaze. “So, what’s your thing?”

“What do you mean?” I swished the ice in my glass.

“Like, what do you do in your free time?”

I snorted. “I don’t really have free time. I work for my family.”

Rush glanced at Nico. “Sounds familiar.”

I wasn’t sure I liked that familiarity or the implication that the Lord of Chaos and I had anything in common, so I quickly added, “I’m a thief. That’s what I do for the family.”

That was most of the truth. The part that was safe to discuss, since they sort of already knew, anyway.

“A thief of what?” Rush asked.

“Pretty much anything I can carry, but mostly jewelry…and information.”

Beck snorted. “Don’t forget paintings.”

“Have any scars to show us?” Beck’s voice was low and his eyes scanned me as if he could see beneath my clothes.

“None that you’ll ever see.”

“How about a demonstration?” Rush asked, interest piqued now that he was learning more about me.

“She’s not stealing any more of my shit,” Nico said flatly. It was hard to tell if he was actually angry. He didn’t seem that broken up about the painting specifically.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said with a wink.

Standing from the table, I carried my glass to the sink. I stumbled on the way, and Nico caught me around the waist. “Looks like you’re cut off.”

“That’s not fair,” Beck pouted.

Nico just looked away from me. “I thought you’d be able to hold your liquor better.”

“Oops.” I stepped out of his hold, letting his hands linger on my waist longer than I would have normally. Pick pocketing was all about diversion. Although, this diversion was maybe a little more fun than I had expected. My skin flushed and goosebumps erupted everywhere he’d touched me. See? I knew it. It burns. I shook my head to clear it, my devious smile pulling wide when I lifted Nico’s watch into the air like a trophy. Beck and Rush burst out laughing.

“Fuck, Nico. What are you, new?” Beck said through his laughter.

Nico spun, eyes wide, looking between me and his watch. I thought maybe he looked a little impressed. “Well played.”