His pupils were dilated. High on something. “Please don’t hurt me.” There, that was a pretty good impression of a terrified woman.
He looked away. Yes, that’s right. Just dismiss me as a hysterical woman.
“Give me the cash!”
I hiked my tight skirt up to my thighs, and moved. I landed a hard chop to the man’s arm. The knife hit the linoleum, and the thief yelped. I gave a hard front kick to his belly, my sharp heel digging into his gut.
Huh, they did come in handy after all. Who knew?
With a cry, the man flew backward into a display of cookies, sending packets spilling everywhere.
I grabbed some zip ties out of my handbag. A good investigator never left home without them. My Glock 43 was also tucked in there. I had a concealed-carry permit, and I tried to get to the firing range at least once a month, but I only pulled the weapon out if I really, really needed it.
I flipped the crying, struggling thief over and tied his hands behind his back.
“You’re lucky I didn’t punch you,” I said. “I’m tired, stressed, my feet hurt, and you got between me and my chocolate.”
The man made a strangled sound.
I straightened. “Mr. Cavonis, did you call 9-1-1?”
“Yes, Aspen.” The man’s voice was shaky. “They’re on their way. Thank you.”
I nabbed a Hershey’s bar, opened it, and took a large bite. Mmm. “What do I owe you for the chocolate?”
The storeowner managed a smile. “Nothing. They’re on the house.”
Well, at least one part of my day was looking up.
My burner phone beeped, and when I saw the message, my mood plummeted.
Be ready for instructions tomorrow. We’re ready to move on the target.
Love Pheromones
Liam
Liam Kensington rounded the corner and lengthened his stride. Ahead, he saw the end of the race, with banners flapping in the air. Either side of him, illuminated by bright lights, the crowds cheered.
Blood pumped through his veins and his chest heaved. He was almost at the end of the six-mile, evening charity run in Central Park. He’d already made a large donation and had sponsored the event—for Hope for the Warriors, a fantastic charity that supported wounded veterans.
The crowd’s cheers intensified and he glanced back.
His two best friends—Zane Roth and Maverick River—were gaining on him. Zane was pumping his arms, the same look on his face that he got when he was brokering a multi-million-dollar deal. Mav’s dark brows were drawn together, and he looked fierce as he powered through the final stretch.
Liam picked up the pace. He crossed the finish line, his friends just steps behind him.
“I almost caught you, Kensington,” Mav said. He was big and dark-haired, and was more often than not scowling. He had the personality of a bear. Liam had liked him from the first day they’d met. He’d been a refreshing change after growing up in the very proper, very posh London social scene.
Liam sucked in some deep breaths. “Almost doesn’t cut it, Rivera.”
Zane leaned over, hands on his thighs. “Hell, I need to get back on the treadmill.”
Mav snorted. “Because most of your exercise of late involves a certain sexy brunette.”
Zane grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
The three of them walked toward the water station. The crowd cheered, and near the temporary fence, several women were screaming at them.
“Marry me, Liam!”
“I’ll have your babies, Maverick.”
“Zane, I’m a better girlfriend!”
When the press had given the three of them the name the billionaire bachelors of New York, Liam had wanted to punch someone. He managed to dredge up a smile and waved.
They reached the water stand where race volunteers were handing out bottles. A perky blonde circled the table. “Here you go, Liam.”
He took the bottle and nodded. She grabbed his hand and turned the bottle so he could see where she’d written what he assumed was her phone number. She winked at him before returning to her work.
Liam stifled a sigh and cracked the lid off the bottle.
Next to him, Zane waggled his eyebrows. “She’s cute.”
Liam waved a hand and drank some water. That woman didn’t know anything about him, except for his net worth. He was…a little tired of it all.
“Mr. Kensington.”
Turning, he saw a tall, lean man in a Hope for the Warriors jacket waving at him. Tim was the charity race organizer.
“Well done on your run.” Tim pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then held out a hand.
Liam shook the man’s hand. “Thanks. The event’s been great. It looks like a great turn out.”
“All thanks to your sponsorship and support.” Tim’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “Thank you for your amazing donation.” He looked over Liam’s shoulder at the others. “And your friends as well.”
“Happy to help a charity that does such great work.” Once Tim left, Liam turned, just in time to see a black-haired woman in dark jeans and a red coat race toward Zane.
His friend’s face lit up. He snatched up the woman and hauled her off her feet for a kiss.
Monroe pressed her hands to Zane’s shoulders. “Hey, you’re all sweaty, Roth.”
“Don’t care, Wildcat. It’s been too long since I kissed you.”
“I gave you a kiss before the race.”
“Definitely too long.” After that, Zane got busy kissing the hell out of his girlfriend.
Monroe O’Connor had blasted into Zane’s life recently, and turned it upside down.
The locksmith—and daughter of a thief—had a wayward brother who’d landed himself in debt to the wrong people. Very wrong people. It’d set Zane and Monroe on a collision course.
The two had ended up saving each other—and her brother—and generated enough steam to power Long Island.
It was also clear that they were hopelessly in love.
Liam had no illusions about love. He’d watched his father blow through women his entire life. He’d watched his mother harden her heart after she’d had it broken more times than he could count, and then introduced him to her younger and younger boyfriends.
Since Liam had found success, women threw themselves at him so often it got tiring.
But as he stared at Zane and Monroe, he felt a sharp pang in his chest. Bloody hell. He was jealous.
Suddenly, standing there in the middle of Central Park, pulse still elevated and running gear soaked with sweat, he realized that he wanted a Monroe. He wanted a smart, funny woman who was totally in love with him the way Monroe loved Zane. And the woman did love Zane, not his wealth or the trappings of it.
“You okay, Kensington?”
Liam glanced at Mav. “Sure.” He took another swig of water.
He hadn’t had a relationship longer than a month or two in a long time. He loved women, in all their many shapes and varieties, and he’d indulged that. When he looked in the mirror, he was afraid he’d start to see his father.
The water curdled in his gut.
Rupert chased anything in a skirt. Since he’d separated from his third wife, there had been an endless parade of young women. Liam dragged in a breath. Hell, it had probably been going on since before his separation.