Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

RILEY

"What do you mean you've changed your mind?"

Sighing loudly, my boyfriend Stephen perches himself at the end of our bed. "I'm sorry, babe. I've thought about it long and hard. This one just feels too risky."

"How? It's in the middle of nowhere. The guy has no neighbors and is supposed to be gone on a week-long work trip. We made sure of it."

Well, my friend Brick and I did, taking turns finding the perfect target. All Stephen ever did was be a good lookout. I handled the rest once inside. If there was a safe, I broke into it. I knew what was valuable and what was a waste of time. I've been stealing my whole life and perfected my craft over time, not repeating any of my past mistakes.

"I know." He looks away from me, scrubbing at his face. "You'll have Brick with you still. You pretty much do everything anyway, and I basically stand there in silent support, holding the bag open."

My jaw twitches and I clutch onto the strap of the empty duffle hanging over my shoulder. "You're really going to make me go into that house alone." It's a statement, not a question.

"I'm not making you do anything." Stephen rubs his knees, scooting closer to the edge. There's some odd look in his eyes as he stares at me, going too long without blinking. He's not telling me something. When you date someone long enough, you learn their nervous tics. Is he really scared of getting caught this time? He's been acting weird for a while now, and this uncomfortable space has spread between us. I can no longer get close enough to fully reach him.

"I have to do this, Stephen. The bills won't get paid if I don't. Neither of us has any other kind of income coming in."

"Not yet," he blurts. "Look, I've been wanting to tell you... My brother recently helped get me an interview at the place he works. I'd ask him to get you one too if you didn't have a record."

"I don't need your brother's connections," I huff out. "No nine-to-five crap was ever in the cards for me anyway. This is my life. The only one I know. What I'm good at."

"Then do whatever you want to do. I thought you'd at least be happy for me. You know, for landing a job and all. For doing what makes me happy. I've always supported you."

He's right, and now I feel like an asshole. His shoulders slump and he nibbles on his bottom lip. Fuck, I am an asshole.

Sitting beside him, I take his hand in mine and smile softly. "I am happy for you. I am. I just… I thought…It was nice to not have to do it alone. That was selfish of me and I'm sorry. You don't have to come if you don't want to." I can't stop myself hoping he'll change his mind anyway. We're so different in every way. When it comes to movie choices, hobbies, music, and even in the bedroom. Him robbing houses with me felt like the one thing holding us together.

We celebrated when it was over. Shared laughs and smiles that were hard to come by otherwise. We paid our bills and spent the money on new furniture for our apartment while enjoying romantic steak dinners. All these things only happened after a job was completed.

Will we find another common interest? Another way to connect and relate? No more of those shared rushes after getting away with something we shouldn't. No more of the hot, risky sex I convinced him to have with me in every place we stole from. No more being able to pretend I could get caught with my pants down at any moment before being cuffed and slammed into the floor.

A shudder runs through me, and when Stephen squeezes my hand, I remember the worries I should be having instead of getting aroused. I could lose him—no longer have someone to come home to or cook for. Is it weird for the list to be so short?

"I know, babe. I'm sorry too. I really didn't want to let you down today, but I didn't know how to tell you sooner. Last break-in really was my last one. I won't be able to do this forever and I need something more stable."

Safe, he means. I used to think that too when I started dating him. My life was full of danger and risk, but Stephen was the one consistent thing. Jobs could go wrong, but Stephen stayed the same, and I thought it would be good to have some balance. A little normality. But that feeling alone isn't enough. I need more... Something that's impossible to have in a relationship. Something I thought I was getting closer to with him.

Comfort and safety alone never got me anywhere in life. It was always temporary too, and then I ended right back in unfortunate circumstances. I thrive on fear. It's gotten me a lot further than anything else. It'll get me through this job alone too.

"I understand." I look at him, doing my best to keep my smile from breaking. "Be here waiting for me when I get back?"

"Of course," he says, his bottom lip twitching. Another nervous tic. His hand is clammy against mine, and I grow less convinced of his words the more I stay here.

"Good. Get the champagne and cheesecake ready."

"I will." His smile weakens, sweat breaking out along his brow. "I'll even set your good clothes out for our steak dinner tonight."

Leaning in closer, my lips brush over his, but a blaring horn has us jumping apart.

"Brick is already in the car. I'd hate for him to get his panties in a twist over me taking too long."

"Go. I'll be here waiting." Stephen sweeps a thumb across my face—a move I thought had everyone exploding with shivers. At least, that was what they taught me in all the movies I watched. Then again, most never show people like me having a happy ending, so there's that.

Another honk sounds around us and my ears ring from the aftershocks. "I'm going to have to remove that damn horn from his car and shove it up his ass soon if he doesn't stop."

Soft chuckles fall from Stephen's lips. "He sure does like to make a lot of noise before robbing a house."

"Always doing the damn most, I swear."

"He's your best friend," Stephen adds, smirking.

"And we're about to be enemies if I don't get out there soon. See ya on the other side."

After placing a chaste kiss to Stephen's lips, I quickly get to my feet, grabbing another empty bag on my way out. Brick is just about to lay his damn hand on the horn for the third time, until his eyes meet mine. "What the fuck," he mouths through the window.

Shaking my head, I flip him off as I slip into the passenger side. "Can you not draw so much damn attention to us when we're about to commit a crime?"

"Could you not take a million years kissing your boyfriend goodbye?"

My eyes widen and I pause while tugging on my seatbelt. "Wait... How'd you know he wasn't coming?"

Brick shifts in his seat, glancing out the window. "He might have told me a few days ago, asking for ways to break it to you gently."

"So, you've known this whole fucking time and didn't tell me? And why are you two suddenly chatting so much lately?"

Running a hand through his hair, he pulls onto the road. "We aren't. It was one time, and I wanted to tell you but thought it should come from him. I told him I didn't want to get in the middle but somehow ended up there anyway. It's not like you need him for this. You've been doing it since way before he started tagging along. Probably a lot faster too."

"I know, but I wanted?—"

"To be the next Bonnie and Clyde?" He quirks a brow and I sputter a laugh, elbowing him in the shoulder.

"Stop talking and fucking drive, won't you?"

"Don't you know better by now than to abuse your getaway man?"

"You're not planning on pulling another one of your stupid pranks on me again, are you?"

"I don't know." He shrugs, making a sharp turn. "They do keep you on your toes."

Music fills the car and I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes, replaying my own plan in my head. Brick sent me a floor plan of the house weeks ago and I memorized it like the back of my hand. No security system. No pets. Almost seems too easy. But no one purposely makes their house inviting to robbers. What would be their end game?

"You're overthinking shit again, aren't you?" Brick lowers the music, slowing down the car as we reach a narrow dirt road. "You spend too much damn time in that head of yours sometimes."

Uneasiness gnaws at my insides the closer we get to the house. "I don't know. Everything suddenly feels off today."

"Is this about your chickenshit boyfriend again?"

"No, it's more than that. I can't explain it. At least, not to where it makes sense." Brick has been more pushy about this job than any other we've done. He's the one who found this guy through some dating app, meeting him for coffee and then a drink at his place. Sometimes he'll work his magic and get close enough to clear out these fuckers' bank accounts without them realizing until it's too late. Not this time. He handed me this one. Said I needed my fix, and he could tell. He was right.

Lance Brighten is his name, and he's some rich surgeon who lives alone in a house bigger than what's required for one person. Greedy asshole. He asked for this, with his fancy car and clothes. It all made him an easy target and he stuck out like a sore thumb to men like us. Brick ghosted him after learning all the information he needed to get the job done seamlessly—when he'd be gone, whether there were cameras, and what kind of locks he had. He's right, I need to get out of my head.

"It's another day. Remember that. You're going to work for an hour and in no time, you'll be home for dinner. Can you hear that damn steak calling your name? Can you taste it?" His hand lands on my shoulder, voice shaking a little along with his fingers.

"Yeah. Another day at the office is all this is," I say in agreement, tugging at the seat belt as the road grows bumpier.

"We're almost there. You'll be in and out like always. Grab me one of those glass bottles of water from the fridge on your way out too."

My laughter is strained. "How much longer?" I look at the time the car reads, sitting up taller in my seat. What's wrong with me today? I was fine before I left the house. Stephen isn't acting differently, and neither is Brick. Why can't I fully convince my brain of that?

"Ten minutes. I told you it was over an hour away in the fucking sticks. This guy likes the quiet after a long day. Hates all the noises of the city."

"Must be nice to have the choice to disappear whenever the fuck you want."

"Says the man who's managed to avoid prison all these years without so much as a cop glancing your fucking way."

"That's different," I mutter. "I'm running because I have to in order to keep going. He's running because he can. Money is my problem and city noise is his." We are not the same. Life has probably always been handed to him while I've always had to work hard to get what I need."

"I guess you have a point there. Look, if you want to go back, we can. It's not too late to turn this car around."

I shake my head, taking in all the empty fields and the lone house resting on a hill behind a sea of trees. "No, we've already come all this way, and I'm looking forward to that steak dinner."