Demming by Avril Ashton
Nine
This was the shortest time they’d ever taken to plan a job. Less than a week was a record. Demming’s crew had looked at him as if he’d lost his mind when he’d called them together and proposed this job and its short time frame.
Usually, they had months of planning and recon before they finally made their move.
This time, they had two days to do everything.
At least these people, unlike their usual targets, weren’t hardened criminals. It made it that much easier to watch their comings and goings. To ascertain their patterns and figure out what would be the best time to break into the villa.
The security was excellent, but it wasn’t the best Demming and the rest of the Freelancers had ever seen, so it took no time at all for Jesse to disable it. They all waited in the mail truck down the hill from a snowy, winding driveway, watching as the couple got into their chauffeured SUV and went off to dinner.
Aspen wasn’t the coldest place Demming had ever done a job, but he missed Brooklyn. And Hart, who he shouldn’t think about because that was a major distraction. Two days out here and he was already itching to go back home. That never happened. He’d kept in communication with Hart via text because Demming was afraid if he were to hear the other man’s voice, he’d cancel everything and run back to him.
He hadn’t known people could feel the way he did when he looked at Hart, when he thought about him. His friends who were in relationships hadn’t shared that.
“And we’re clear,” Jesse spoke into the earpiece.
Demming swallowed, gaze taking in every corner of the security monitors in front of him. “We’re ready?” he asked. Everyone responded immediately in the affirmative, so he nodded, checking the watch on his wrist. He only wore it during times like these. It was his father’s old watch. “Five minutes starts…Now.”
The time they spent actually retrieving what they came for always varied. And this time, with the couple out of the house, they had at least an hour and a half to play with. But Demming always set a shorter time frame. He preferred a quick in and out, and if anything went wrong they’d have a little leeway to pivot. They’d already gotten a layout of the space the day before when Demming went in under the guise of upgrading the security system.
His team had a hand-drawn map to work with and use of the feed from the cameras he’d placed in a few strategic spots. There were only so many places to look and they knew where to go and what they were looking for.
He drummed his fingers on the laptop in front of him as he watched each of his team’s feed.
More often than not, he’d be in there with them. They took turns being the one on the outside because he didn’t want them thinking any one of them was more important than the other. This was his turn to sit in the van and guide them, and he found himself resenting it.
The seconds ticked down as he kept one eye on the property’s security feed and the other on his men.
“Got it,” Henry said softly.
Demming pressed his lips together to hide his smile even though he was alone. “Good. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
In no time they were all piled into the mail van and driving off. The entire thing took under four minutes because his people were pros at what they did. The absolute best. He always felt the warmth of pride in his chest whenever they completed a successful mission, whether it be something on a huge scale or small like this one.
He glanced over at Henry, who had the painting standing between his legs. It was about forty inches by sixty inches, with a spattering of a multitude of colors: black, purple, gold, specks of silver, and gray. Demming couldn’t decipher if it had a meaning or not, but it wasn’t for him to figure out.
“Handle that carefully,” Demming told Henry. “It’s important.” Way more important than they’d ever know.
“Are you ready to tell us why this job was so important that we didn’t have more time to prepare?” Temple grumbled.
“Did you need more time?” Demming didn’t look at him.
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” Temple, always spoiling for a fight. “We don’t do close calls like this.”
“This wasn’t a close call. It was something that came up at the last minute. You’re not gone even a week this time.” He glanced at Henry. “Vik should be happy.”
Vik was Henry’s fiancé, who Demming knew wasn’t much of a fan of the jobs that kept them gone for long periods of time.
“Fuck you, Demming.” But Henry’s words didn’t really hold much of a bite. He was a mellow guy, unlike his best friend, Temple.
“As always, we’re getting paid for our work,” Demming told them, though it was a lie. He wasn’t being paid, they were. Out of his own pocket.
Roman, the youngest of all of them and who hardly ever spoke, just watched them bicker with his arms folded, eyelids lowered.
“Demming, you know the money is the last thing we care about,” Lilac spoke up from her position tucked up at Jesse’s side. They were joined at the hip, those two. They hadn’t been a couple when he brought either of them into the team, but they were by the end of the very first job. Lilac was diminutive, with hair the color of her name, and her clothes and makeup were reminiscent of a pin-up. And Jesse was tall and hulking, with brown skin and a shaved skull, but he looked at Lilac as if she was everything to him. As if nothing else mattered when his arms were around her.
Demming hadn’t realized he’d been jealous of what they had until he stared at them now, wishing he had Hart in his arms.
A few hours later, he was on his way back to Brooklyn, the others scattered to wherever they went once they disbanded after a job, their bank accounts even fatter. They weren’t friends in the traditional sense. They answered when he called, but they didn’t spend time around each other unless it had to do with a job.
They didn’t even know where each other lived. Though Demming did, because this team was his baby and he needed to know everything about his people. To their credit, they didn’t give too much of a fuck about knowing anything but the most important stuff about each other.
It was all about the job and he liked it that way.
Or he used to.
Hart and his kisses were all crammed into his head as he tried to respond to potential clients while on the plane. He found himself hesitating about saying yes and committing to anything because it meant he wouldn’t have much time to spend with Hart. He’d have to be away from him for months on end.
And it wasn’t appetizing. Not in the least.
The moment he landed at Kennedy, he called Hart. At least it was around the time he knew Hart would be arriving at the office.
“Sawyer.”
Behind the wheel of his car still in the parking lot, he leaned back and closed his eyes, smothering a sigh. Hart’s voice was like a cool fucking breeze, just…amazing. “Hey.”
“What’s up? Where are you? No, don’t answer that.” Hart’s words came at him furiously, but Demming only grinned. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Have dinner with me tonight.”
“You’re home?”
“I am. And there are some things I need to do, otherwise, I’d already be in your face by now.” Hart’s chuckle tightened his groin. “But I’d settle for dinner. I’ll cook.”
“Yes. I would like that.” He swore he heard the smile on Hart’s face. “Very much.”
“Then I’ll see you later.” He eyed the painting he’d placed on the passenger seat next to him. “And Hart?”
“Yeah?”
“I missed you. Terribly.” He hung up, tossing his phone onto the seat next to the painting as he pulled off. He had to see his mother. She was always the first person he saw after a job, though he’d been so damn tempted to go to Hart.
At his mother’s house, he lifted an eyebrow when he noted his brother’s car parked in the driveway. He hadn’t seen Bryce since the last time he’d had to hunt him down with help from Billy. He needed to have a serious talk with Bryce, but this morning wasn’t the time.
He found his mother in the kitchen where she sat every morning, drinking her coffee and reading a book. Her head lifted when he entered, eyes widening with surprised pleasure behind her glasses.
“Sawyer.” She got to her feet. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I wanted to see you.” He hugged her close, reveling in her familiar softness, her warmth, before releasing her and waiting for her to retake her seat before he did the same. “Everything alright?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you?”
He shrugged. “Everything’s good. What about Bryce? I see his car is here.”
His mother sighed. “Your brother is sleeping upstairs. He came over last night, he and that girl.” She whispered the last part with a wrinkle of her nose. “He didn’t say much, just disappeared into his bedroom with her.”
Demming cocked his head. “What do you think is going on with him?”
“I’m not sure.” His mother sighed again, staring down into her cup. “But I think whatever is on his mind he needs to talk it out.”
Which, knowing Bryce, wasn’t going to happen. “Your birthday is coming up.” Demming changed the subject. “What do you want to do? Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“Oh, Sawyer.” She cupped his chin. “I just want my boys at my side.” Her expression turned wary, hesitant. “Unless you have to be out of town?” He’d been gone for enough of her birthdays for her to ask.
“I’ll be here,” he promised. “No jobs planned right now.” He grasped her hand on his face and lowered it, keeping it sandwiched between his own as he asked, “If you were given the property at 1845 Larchmont, what would you do with it?”
She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “Why would I be given that property?”
“Dunno, just asking.”
“I would burn it to the ground. I want nothing to do with that place, Sawyer.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“Really,” she told him adamantly. “It’s a reminder of a bad time in my life. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“But you and Dad loved that place.”
“No.” She held up a finger. “We loved what we’d built—the business, not the property it sat on. We loved what we were doing. We loved what we created there, but that place was just a building, and I’d told your father—” She swallowed. “I’d told your father that many times. It was just a building. I don’t know why he fought so hard to hold on to it when we could have easily moved to another location.”
He shook his head. Why was this the first he was hearing of that? “But I thought you missed it.”
“I miss going to work with your father, you hanging out in the backroom, and your baby brother getting into everything. When I think of that time, I just miss that. I miss my husband. I want nothing to do with that property.” She eyed him curiously. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just…something that’s been on my mind.” All these years he’d been working toward purchasing the property for his mother—hell, the wheels were already in motion—and here she was telling him it was the very last thing she wanted.
Fuck.He rubbed the back of his neck as footsteps sounded behind him and his brother came into view, wearing pajama bottoms and a ragged t-shirt, hair mussed.
“Morning, Mom.” Bryce kissed the top of her head then went to the fridge, opening it and peeking inside.
“Aren’t you going to say hi to your brother?” their mother asked.
“Hmm?” Bryce glanced over his shoulder and tapped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand in clear fake remorse. “I’m so used to him not being around I guess I didn’t even notice his presence.” He glanced at Demming. “How long before you’re gone again?”
“Bryce!”
“What?” Bryce widened his eyes dramatically, glancing between them. “Did I say something wrong?”
Demming ignored him as he got to his feet. “I have to go.” He hugged his mother when she stood with a frown. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He nodded at his brother. “Bryce.”
“Yeah.” Bryce turned back to the fridge. “Later.”
Back at his place, he took a shower and didn’t even bother drying off. He stumbled into bed naked, skin still wet, lips curved in anticipation of seeing Hart later that day.
