Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline) (2 page)

A soft chuckle came from behind her and warmth pooled in her belly. Even his condescension was sexy.

At the top of the stairs, a large foyer opened up in front of her. The man came around her and stopped as she peered around the space. She didn’t know much about architecture but the floor looked like marble—white and shiny with swirls of gray. Two tall columns stood at the double doors. A chandelier cast sparkles on the flawless surfaces.

“Wow,” was all she could manage to say. She glanced at him then remembered again that she didn’t even know who he was. “You never told me your name.”

“You’re right.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “You know mine. It’s not like I’m gonna report you or anything. I mean, that’d be pretty dumb considering what you caught me doing.”

He stared silently.

“At least give me a first name.”

Shifting uncomfortably, he answered, “Fox.”

She scrunched her nose. “Like the animal?”

Without a word, he gestured for her to follow and walked her across the room. Their footsteps echoed around the vast space.

“It’s cute,” she said, rushing to keep up with his long strides. “No, really. I like that. Foxes are adorable.”

His answering grunt made her chuckle. He opened a door on the other side of the foyer and she followed him through it into a dark room where the air felt hot and stale. A click came from beside her. then the lights turned on.

They were in a garage full of cars. It was huge—at least as wide as two double-car garages. The cement floor was as clean as the foyer despite the smell of oil and exhaust.

She counted the number of vehicles in her head. Four cars and two bikes in the farthest corner. Not just any cars—luxury and sports cars. She felt like a kid in a candy shop. The urge to smell them, run her fingers over them, hear the purr of the engines, was overwhelming.

Her gaze got stuck on the red Mustang convertible in the middle. She had a fantasy of fucking in a convertible on a deserted road. Was it normal for a garage full of expensive cars to be giving her a girl boner?

“Holy shit.” She spun to face him. “You’re like me!”

Fox shook his head. “No, I’m not like you.”

She couldn’t stop grinning. “You are. You’ve got a better set up, but you steal cars too.”

“No.”

With a hand perched on her hip, she cocked a brow. “Then how do you explain all this?” She gestured to the array of vehicles.

Face impassive, his gaze moved from her to the garage then back again. “I won the lottery.”

“Sure.” She laughed. “And that was my Lexus and I’m the Princess of fucking Wales.”

After glaring at her in irritation, he walked to the first car in the line—a small green hybrid that looked like it would suit a middle-aged store manager who wanted to save on gas.

She gave him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He opened the passenger door.

“Can’t we take the—”

“No.” He pointed to the car. “Get in.”

Her shoulders drooped in disappointment. “Killjoy.” An entire fleet of cars she’d give her right arm for, and he was going to drive her home in the old man mobile. Figured.

She tried not to sulk as she climbed into the passenger seat and he got in the driver’s side.

“What’s your address?” He reached toward the GPS on the dash.

“Just take me to my car. It’s parked behind the plaza on Sweeny Street.”

Abandoning the GPS, he leaned back and buckled his seatbelt. The irony of a high-end car thief putting on his safety belt in a sensible hybrid economy car made her laugh inside. He probably had a retirement fund. Not so different from her dad.

Ugh
.
Gross
. To clear that thought away, she pictured him speeding down the highway, outmaneuvering cops and dodging bullets. Doing badass things. Wrestling crocodiles. Anything.

He pulled the car out of the garage and into the driveway. As they meandered down the dark road, she paid careful attention to where they were so she could find her way back later.

Seeing the house from the outside, she’d confirmed it was as big as she’d predicted after having just stood in the foyer and garage. Clearly, car theft was working for Fox. Did he live there alone? Was he married? Did he have kids? None of those things had crossed her mind when she’d been lusting after his tattooed biceps.

A house that large wouldn’t fit in the city, obviously. As expected, he lived in the outskirts, closer to the developments in the desert. It wasn’t quite in one of the rich neighborhoods—those were more to the west—but it was far enough from civilization to stay inconspicuous and close enough to the wealthy area not to stand out.

Once they hit the freeway and she knew where she was, she turned in her seat and leaned her elbow casually on the center console. “So,” she started, “how do you do it?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

This was exactly what she needed to turn her mind-numbing career path into something fast and exciting. Money, hot guys, expensive cars . . . What could be better? Stealing cars by herself would never amount to much. Not only did she need someone to watch her back when shit got more serious, but she needed connections to people she could trust. Why build that from scratch when it was all right here in front of her? All she had to do was convince him he needed her. “I want in.”

Fox took his eyes off the road to give her such a condescending look she wondered if his cocky head would suddenly inflate and pop through the moonroof. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. I want in on your”—she gestured vaguely—“car stealing business thingy.” She realized how amateur she sounded after she’d already said it but excitement seemed to make her tongue-tied.

“First of all, no. Second of all, never call what I do a ‘car stealing business thingy.’ And thirdly, no.”

“Why not? I would be an asset.”

He snorted.

“You haven’t seen me at my best. I just made that hacking device on the fly. I was still trying it out when you found me.”

“You made that?”

“Yes.” She watched his lips twitch into an almost smile. “You’re impressed, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

She sat back in the seat, feeling victorious. Maybe if she showed him some of the other devices she’d made, he’d see how valuable she could be. Like the RFID app she’d been working on to hijack the NFC signal and emulate a car’s smart key.

“You’re obviously an intelligent girl,” he said. “Why don’t you do something important, and
legal
, with your life?”

“I’d rather do what you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m not taking applications right now.”

“Well, I won’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s cute that you think it’s up to you.”

She exhaled a long breath. Stubborn man. He didn’t know who he was dealing with. Her dad used to say, “Your stubborn streak is my punishment for my preteen years.” Her parents wished she’d use her determination for things like graduating with high honors and finding a nice boy to settle down with. If only they knew.

“I’ll find a way,” she warned him. “I’ll stalk you until you give in.”

Anger flashed in his eyes when he turned to look at her. A second later, his gaze moved back to the road. “You need to forget everything you saw tonight. Go back to your normal life.”

“But . . . I don’t want a normal life.” Two point five kids, a mortgage, and a tedious career . . . That wasn’t her future. It had never been what she wanted for herself.

Her parents had been married for twenty-five years. High school sweethearts. They’d worked the same jobs for the past twenty years. They literally graduated high school, got married, started their careers, and had a baby. That was their life. Doting on Addison, scrapbooking every moment, and watching game shows on the couch with their dog. It was perfect for them, because they were happy doing it, but even as a kid Addison had known it wasn’t for her.

“Fine,” he said. “Steal cars with your little gadgets, get caught and go to jail. But stay away from me or we’ll have a problem.”

“What? You’ll lock me in your basement again?”

“Worse,” he grumbled.

She didn’t believe that for a second. If he were a bad person, he’d have killed her by now. Or at least threatened her with more than some vague words that may or may not have implied violence. She’d always been a good judge of character. Fox may have been as dodgy as she was when it came to the interpretation of the laws of ownership, but he wouldn’t intentionally harm her. Just below the mask of intimidation he was trying to scare her with, there was a decent guy. She was sure of it. And even if he was as dangerous as he wanted her to believe, she still wasn’t afraid. Although maybe that just made her stupid.

“Over there.” She pointed to a lot behind the plaza where her junky Mazda sat. The white, dented-up beater ruined the image she wanted to project. Instead of saying “dangerous and important” like most of the cars in Fox’s garage, hers said “broke and underpaid.”

At the last minute, she pointed him toward a black Prius.

He parked two spots over then turned and glowered at her. “I’m serious, Addison. I don’t want you near me or my property again.”

“Yeahhhh. I don’t take orders from you so . . .”

Slowly, she opened the door, keeping her eyes on his. Once outside, she leaned down and smiled through the open window. “See you soon, Fox.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Something about pissing him off seriously turned her on. She straightened and backed away and he drove off without another word.

A Miata wasn’t one of Fox’s usual marks, but there’d been an order for one. Fox didn’t like to disappoint, even if it meant stealing a car he’d usually drive past. People who were willing to drive stolen cars usually wanted something more expensive.

He slunk through the suburban neighborhood. The silence of people confining themselves to their homes so early in the evening always gave him the creeps. They rolled up the sidewalk at ten
PM
in this part of town. It made his job easier, but where was the challenge when the worst he had to worry about was the occasional yapping shih tzu? Work like this always made him wonder why he hadn’t chosen a more exciting profession.

He was in the Miata and down the street in a matter of minutes. A light hadn’t even flicked on in the house.

Driving past the tidy yards and prim houses, he hit the radio button. No need to listen for sirens tonight. Music of the easy listening persuasion poured from the stock car speakers and he gritted his teeth, stabbing at the search button until a rock station replaced it. Even the rock station was boring.

A cop car cruised toward him, visible from several blocks away. As the cars passed each other, the officer didn’t even slant a glance his way.

Maybe it was best that it had turned out to be a boring job, considering his mind had been wandering for two days straight.

He made the drop and one of the guys drove him home. The road to his house was empty, as usual, and he had to admit he was disappointed.

After the girl’s threat, he’d been surprised she hadn’t staked the place out. Either she’d been scared off, or she was full of shit. Neither pleased him.

The gutsy little hellion had gotten his attention then fucked off. There was something about her that made his baser instincts sit up and take notice—or maybe it was just that he hadn’t gotten laid since they’d relocated to Vegas from Miami. The girl-next-door look and wide blue eyes gave the impression she was sweet and innocent, but her attitude made her a menace. Fucking adorable. How could he resist?

It was better that she was gone, but since their . . . encounter . . . he’d been feeling restless. Women like Addison didn’t drop into his lap every day. Unfortunately.

When his ride pulled into the long, circular driveway, the house, which was hidden from the road by brush and a steep hill, came into view. There were so many lights on he was pretty sure the electric company was on the verge of declaring a state of emergency.

Atlas and Luke were home. Finally.

He always thought he couldn’t wait to be alone, but they’d all lived together for so long that when the house was empty for more than a day he got antsy. Quiet was irritating unless he was working.

“How was Chicago?” he called as he walked into the foyer.

“Windy!” Atlas hollered back from upstairs.

Fox shook his head in exasperation. “Why is my brother such an idiot?”

“It’s genetic,” Luke replied from the kitchen.

“Accurate. But only because that would include you, fuckstick,” Fox said, smiling to himself, pleased to have things back to normal. Stashing his bag in the wall safe took no more than a minute, but by the time he was done his brother and cousin had already come into the room and sprawled out on their respective couches.

“Nah,” Luke disagreed, raking his fingers through his dark hair. His newest tattoo caught Fox’s eye again. He’d gotten it done just before he and Atlas had left to visit their family, leaving Fox behind to hold down the fort. It was good work, of course. Loke and the other guys at Fitte did the best tattoos he’d seen, and that was why they’d done most of Fox’s ink. “You get it from your mother’s side of the family. I’m a fucking genius.”

“Yeah? Well think fast, genius.” Atlas grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table and tossed it at Luke’s head.

Their cousin caught the remote and flipped on the television that dominated most of one wall. “I get to decide what we watch for once? It’s a fucking Christmas miracle.”

Atlas flipped Luke off and turned back to Fox. “Chicago was fine. If things with Marcel’s crew get too fucked up, Dad and Uncle Scott said we could hole up there until we decide where to go next.” Atlas opened a bag of chips and started stuffing his face, like usual. Considering the crap he ate it was a miracle he was all muscle. Fox was built, but Atlas looked like he made a living as a MMA fighter. Luke was made more like Fox.

“It would blow to get pushed out of town now though,” Luke grumbled, flipping through the channel guide. It was annoying starting over somewhere new if only because it meant all the channels were in the wrong place. “I like this house. The last place had no pool. It was like being in prison.”

Fox sat on his couch, leaning back into the cushions. “You’ve been rich too long. You want to see what really being in prison is like? Keep being slow.”

“Slow?” Luke barked a laugh. “I’m not the one who’s slow. That’d be Atlas, over there. Maybe it’s the fucking junk food.”

When Atlas completely ignored the insult and kept eating, Luke got bored of ribbing him and finally chose a channel. Zombie guts sprayed across the screen.
The Walking Dead
. There went his appetite.

“What did you do all weekend?” Luke asked.

“Stole some cars. Kidnapped a girl.” Fox shrugged. “You know, the usual.”

For a moment neither of them seemed to have heard what he’d said. Atlas’s blue gaze shifted over to him first. “Kidnapping? Isn’t that on your list of hard limits?”

“It probably should be. I punched her out, thinking she was one of Marcel’s guys trying to scoop my mark. I couldn’t just leave her there, unconscious in the garage.” He remembered the bump he’d left on her head and felt his skin crawl. Punching her had been an instinctual reaction stemming from the frustration of having to deal with Marcel’s idiot thugs for the past few months, but he still felt like an ass for not being able to stop the punch from landing. He’d pulled it at the last minute when he’d seen she was a woman, but even that hadn’t been enough. He half hoped his brother would deck him for it.

Luke swung into a sitting position and stared at him. “You punched a girl? Asshole.”

“It was an accident.”

“So you did what?” Luke frowned. “You brought her here?”

Okay, now that Luke put it that way, it sounded a little fucked up. But he’d been worried he’d done damage and wanted to monitor her for a concussion. “It made sense at the time. I didn’t have a chance to text you for advice.” They both glared at him. Like he’d had options? “What would you have done?”

“Uh . . . taken her to a hotel?” Atlas made a face that implied Fox was quite possibly the stupidest man alive.

“Yeah, excuse me, hotel staff, please avert your eyes while I carry this unconscious woman into my room,” he replied. “Oh, and I’ll tip well if you ignore the stolen Lexus in your parking lot.”

Atlas broke eye contact and stared thoughtfully into his bag of chips. “True.”

“I would have left her there.” Luke snorted and shook his head. “If you were that worried you could have dumped her off in a nicer neighborhood.”

“Where there are security cameras? Nosy neighbors? A neighborhood watch?” Fox rubbed his forehead, still no closer to figuring out what he should have done. They all sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Oh well.” Atlas shrugged. “It’s done now. You let her go, I assume?”

“No, she’s chained in the fucking basement.” Fox was on his feet and pacing before his brain knew he was going to get off the couch. “Of course I let her go!”

“Do you think she’s going to call the cops?” Luke asked.

“No. She wants to get into the automotive liberation business.” He chuckled. Her eagerness reminded him of when they’d been in their teens and learning from Luke’s father. Only their friend, Konstantin, had abandoned the work. He’d had other friends to begin with, though, and they’d pulled him back into the world of the honest buck. Boring.

“She wanted an internship?” Atlas smirked and opened the Coke he’d left on the table. “Was boosting the car you were already trying to steal part of the interview process?”

“No, she didn’t notice me until she woke up in my bed.”

“That’s not like you. Usually we have to set up velvet ropes to keep the line of girls hoping for your attention from getting unruly.” His brother smirked. “You’re losing your touch in your old age.”

“She didn’t even see me until then. Besides, she’s not interested in me like that. She just wants to pick my brain,” Fox said evenly. If they caught a whiff of unrequited interest, they’d ride him about it without mercy. Possibly for years.

“Your brain?” Luke smile derisively. “You should send her to me. I’m better at stealing cars than you are. Is she hot?”

“No. She’s a fucking dog,” he lied, aware it was ridiculous to be possessive about her considering she was a stranger. But stranger or no, if Luke or Atlas made a play for her, there’d be hell to pay.

***

Two nights in a row he’d dreamt of her. Not sex dreams—long, detailed dreams about things like the two of them killing giant bug aliens off-planet, or being part of a live action game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. He felt like he knew her, even though the only thing he knew about her was her name. It was like they’d been lovers years ago and he’d lost his memory, leaving only traces to make him obsess. He needed to get her out of his head before he botched a job and his ass ended up in jail.

After showering and throwing on some clothes, he stomped out of the house and into the crisp night air. Solitude meant not needing to explain his foul mood to anyone.

In a fit of immaturity, he took the hybrid, just to piss her off. It wasn’t like she’d know. He pulled out of the driveway and headed toward town. The stretch of road from the house was almost always empty, so it surprised him when someone started following close enough for their headlights to flash in his rearview. Asshole. Some people didn’t know how to enjoy a country road.

He slowed down to let them pass, but the driver backed off. Someone was tailing him and wasn’t being subtle about it.

The grille suggested an old white Mazda—far from the black Prius she’d pretended was hers. But it was her, and he knew it.

Unreasonable anger crept up on him. How dare she say she was going to stalk him then not turn up for days? Did that show any commitment or pride in workmanship? No. It didn’t bode well for her career as a car thief if she couldn’t even be trusted to show up. If she just wanted to do it for the rush, that was one thing, but if she wanted to get more serious she couldn’t make her buyer wait for days at a time.

Partway down the road, he turned off onto a smaller side road. The other car followed. What if it wasn’t her at all and it was Marcel’s people instead? It would figure if he got himself killed while just trying to freak out an irritating girl.

He rolled his eyes at himself, but kept going until the deserted road went behind a rise. There he stopped, leaving the car running. He got out and stared the other driver down. The gravel road was too narrow for two cars to pass unless one went almost into the ditch. The Mazda rolled to a stop several feet from him and parked. The door opened.

“Hello, Addison. Fancy meeting you in the middle of buttfuck nowhere.”

She stepped out of the car and slammed the door closed hard enough that he thought pieces of it might fall off. Especially the parts held on with duct tape.

“Hey, Fox . . . if that is your real name.” She smiled sweetly. “There’s no need to look so pissed. I warned you I’d be back.” The way she walked toward him drew every bit of his attention. She had a classic hourglass figure, and the sway of her hips made him drool. Jeans and an old band T-shirt had no right to look so good.

“Fox is my real name. I’m not the one who’s a pathological liar here.”

She stopped right in front of him, firmly inside his personal space. Either she had crappy social skills or she was flirting. With some people it was hard to tell the difference.

“A girl needs a hobby. Lying, stealing cars . . . My mother keeps trying to get me into scrapbooking and needlepoint, but I’m afraid I’m not very crafty.” She regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Besides, did you expect me to tell you my name right away, considering?”

“You steal cars. Was giving out your name that much more dangerous?”

“It could have been.” She cocked her head to the side. “Should I trust you?”

“I really don’t give a fuck if you trust me or not.” He moved closer and glared down at her, making her fall back a step so he didn’t bump into her. For a bizarre moment, it felt like they were dance partners in a tango competition. “You want things from me. You don’t have anything to offer me in return. It’s a little hard for me to give a shit.”

“What can I offer you to make this worth your while?”

The question was asked innocently enough, but the possibilities ricocheted around in his mind, wreaking havoc.

“You tell me.” Fuck, he was horny. Probably not the best time to be having this conversation. He knew exactly what he wanted from her, but he wasn’t enough of a creep to say so out loud.

“I’m better than you are.” She arched a brow. “Maybe I could teach you how to steal cars without having to wait for me to do all the work first.”

Arrogant little thing. His laugh was loud and short, and not at all polite. If she thought she was better at boosting cars than he was, she’d been smoking something. There was no way—not when she was four years younger than he was, and new at this. Fifteen years of experience would beat out anything college girl could have learned online, no matter how smart she was. “You couldn’t even steal a moped without your gadgets.”

When she took another step back, he knew that had stung. The blue eyes were wide. “Oh, you think so? Has anyone ever told you that you’re full of yourself?”

“My father calls it healthy self-esteem. Do you think that’s a euphemism for ‘asshole’?”

“If it isn’t, it should be. You are one.”

“True. It’s also true that you want me to shove you down on the hood of my car.” As soon as he’d said the words he regretted them, but only because the visual became very distracting.