I nearly lost track of their conversation when she collided with the loud prick who’d been sitting a few stools down from her. I’d turned to give the woman my full attention when I saw her hand, whip fast and with all the grace of a coiled snake striking, slip into the asshole’s pocket and lift his wallet without him even realizing. Just as fast as she’d stolen it, she dropped it into the purse hanging on the back of her stool, getting rid of the evidence before the dude she’d just robbed even had a chance to notice it was missing.
It happened so fast I almost thought I’d imagined the whole damn thing. If I hadn’t been watching her so closely from the moment she first walked in, and if I hadn’t been trained a long damn time ago to spot such things, I might have missed it, just like everyone else in the bar.
She had to have been one of the best pickpockets I’d ever seen. Under the right circumstances, there was a possibility she could have bested one of my Alpha Omega brothers.
After sharing a few quick words with the woman behind the bar, she grabbed her purse and headed toward the back where the bathrooms were, no doubt to go through it and see how much she’d come away with.
Not long after she disappeared, the meeting I’d been recording ended. The dealer took off, but my mark stuck around and ordered another drink from the waitress. A second later, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, a flash of red that alerted me to her return to the bar from the restrooms, and just that brief glimpse set the blood roaring in my veins.
She did a cursory scan of the bar, as if she was looking for another target. Her gaze caught on the guy I’d been hired to surveil, or more to the point, the Patek Philippe on his wrist.
She smiled at him, and there was no doubt it was a beautiful smile, but there was a stiffness to it she was trying to hide behind a mask of seduction and confidence. A mask that easily fooled the dumbass I’d been spying on all damn night, because I saw the very moment he noticed her as well.
And I knew the shit was about to hit the fan.
Three
Stella
For the life of me, I didn’t have the first clue how to seduce a man. I was probably the furthest thing from a seductress that existed in the history of ever. When I stepped out of the bathroom and spotted the dude with the watch that cost more than a freaking car, I knew I needed to zero in on him.
Doing my best to channel Serenity, I smiled in his direction, hoping it looked coy and playful like my sister had attempted to teach me, and not, as she so lovingly put it, “constipated and crampy, like you’re on the first day of your period.”
I didn’t have a freaking clue how to do this, but this was an opportunity I couldn’t let pass me by. It wasn’t every day I saw a man with a sixty thousand dollar watch on his wrist. Hell, it wasn’t even every year, and when I spotted it, it was like a golden stream of sunlight shined down on the guy, and angels began harmonizing. This was it. He was the one. Well, not the one, the one, if you know what I mean. But I needed that freaking watch, and I was determined to get it. This could be a major win for my family.
He looked up at me, heat infusing his gaze as he did a scan of my body from top to toe before licking his lips. I fluttered my eyelashes, hoping it looked sexy instead of how it felt—like I had an eyelash stuck in there I was trying to work out by blinking a million time a second—and headed back toward my stool, keeping track of Mr. Patek Philippe on the periphery all the while before resuming my seat.
I still felt that uncomfortable itching between my shoulder blades, that sense of being watched, but I figured it was just because Fancy Watch Bro had spotted me too. I let out a sigh of relief when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. He rose from the stiff-looking leather sofa he’d been sitting on, picking up a glass of amber liquid from the glass-topped table in front of him, and started in my direction.
The trap had snapped shut with my prey inside, so, following the rules Serenity had hammered into my head in preparation for tonight, I turned my focus completely away from my new mark as he moved through the bar in my direction and smiled to the bartender.
I lifted the cocktail she’d just placed on the bar in front of me in cheers. “Thanks, babe.”
“Not a problem,” she said with a wink. “First one’s on the house. You know, for not being a dick.”
I let out a laugh before bringing the glass to my lips and taking a drink. It was the perfect vodka soda with just the right amount of lime. I’d barely finished that first sip when I felt him approach on my left. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling in triumph, I twisted my neck to see Mr. Patek Philippe standing only an inch or two outside the border of my personal space.
He wasn’t the type of man I’d usually go for. In fact, he was so far from my type—or more to the point, most women’s type—that I had to stifle my gut reaction to curl my upper lip in distaste. I mean, the dude was wearing a freaking pinky ring for Christ’s sake. With the shiny, slicked back hair and the three-piece suit in an unflattering shade of maroon, it looked like he was trying to pull off the whole mafia big-shot thing. But he didn’t quite pull it off. Instead, he came off more like a Jersey Shore reject.
I’d have rather taken a cheese grater to my skin than give this guy the illusion of actually having a chance with me, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And “desperate” was pretty much all we Ryans were at this point.
“Hi,” I said softly, attempting the sultry purr Serenity had tried to teach me.
He gave me an oily used-car-salesman smile as his gaze dropped down to my cleavage.
For the watch, I chanted inside my head. The watch is worth it.
“Hey, gorgeous. What’s a sexy little thing like you doin’ here all alone?”
Oh, blech. I didn’t know how Serenity did it. If I were her, I would buy stock in Brillo pads, I’d use them so often. Doing my best to hide my discomfort, I shifted on my stool to face him better, giving the watch a cursory look just to make sure it wasn’t a fake. Another one of my skills was being able to spot a fake without really trying.
A smile wreathed my face as I leaned in closer, ready to get this show on the road. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could get home and snuggle on my couch, watching raptly as Henry Cavill sauntered around on my television screen in leather pants that did amazing things for his ass.
However, before I could get a seductive word out, I felt a presence on my right a moment before a hand landed on the small of my back then slid around my waist.
I whipped around so fast it was a wonder I didn’t fall out of my seat. “What in the h—”
“Hey baby, sorry I’m late.” I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on when he leaned in and skimmed his lips against my cheek in a move that reeked of a familiarity he absolutely didn’t have any right to. Just as I was preparing to ball my fist and punch this dude right in the dick, his breath brushed against my ear as he whispered so low I had to strain to hear despite his proximity, “Just go with it. I’ll explain in a second.”
He pulled back, and all I could do was stare at him in frozen bewilderment as he tugged me against his side, held tight, looked up at Mobster Wannabe, and grinned. “Who’s this, sweetheart?”