I was out of breath and out of my mind as I pulled to a stop. I could hear the cars barreling up the front drive, and a single thought repeated in my head.
I was fucking doomed.
TWENTY-THREE
EMERY
I tried to decline the invite to the Vegas Vault show, but Vance insisted we go.
“Don’t you want to defend your title?” he asked.
I did, but I hadn’t practiced much during the last seven months. After everything that happened with Lambert, I’d needed a break. I’d resigned from Sovereign, but left my relationship with them open-ended, willing to freelance if a particularly tough open required someone like me.
I enjoyed the challenge, but I didn’t need the money from it—Macalister had seen to that. His father offered to personally manage my new wealth. I’d helped save him, his family, and his company, he’d said. It was the least he could do.
The only investment he wasn’t in charge of was the brand-new design label I owned, a little outfit in Aruba. Jillian was family, who’d given me the only piece of collateral she had, and then even more help when I asked if she’d call her father.
Funding her label was the least I could do, I’d told her.
It’d been Macalister who’d made sure the documents made it to the right people at the FBI, but we’d needed to warn Lambert about the raid to trigger his contingency plan. Our best chance at swiping the flash drive was if he moved it, and I’d been so relieved when he called for the armored truck.
Vance’s plan, refined by his father and executed by me, had worked perfectly.
During the drive away from Lambert’s house, I’d explained to the rest of the crew there wouldn’t be a bonus waiting for us at the dock, only FBI agents. I asked for ten minutes alone in the back of the truck. I’d give them five grand each to take a smoke break and look the other way, and all three of them agreed.
It’d taken me much less time than that to override the lock on the safe deposit box and get inside, which was ironic. I’d warned my boss more than once how easy the boxes were to crack. I’d grabbed the USB stick, tucked it in my pocket, and relocked the top so no one would know I’d been inside.
And as I’d predicted, there were agents at the marina, executing a search warrant on all three of the Lamberts’ boats. He’d been so good at getting away with things, he believed time made him invincible, when what it had really done was make him sloppy.
Two days after the raid, he was pulled over by the Coast Guard on a boat full of supplies and a passport and was arrested for trying to flee prosecution. He’d sit in prison until his trial, and likely a long time after that.
He deserved it, but rather than feel happiness or a sense of justice, all I felt was sadness for Tiffany. She’d carry the same shame Vance and I did, the guilt of being tied to someone else’s mistakes, for the rest of her life.
I stood at one of the roulette wheels in the casino and fiddled with the name badge slung around my neck. Vance had stepped away to use the restroom, but he’d been gone a while, and I was beginning to wonder if I should go look for him. My boyfriend had a habit of making friends with half the people he met, and while that was amusing to me, sometimes I wanted him all to myself.
I was nervous. I was giving a demonstration in fifteen minutes to the master safecrackers in attendance, and he’d offered to help. So, where was my partner to help calm me down?
“Hey,” he said in a rush, materializing out of thin air. “Sorry, I got sidetracked.”
He brushed a hand through his hair, making the ends wild, but it only added to his appeal. In the months since we’d erased the flash drive, we’d grown inseparable. With my goal completed, I would have been adrift without him.
There’d been so much I’d put off in my pursuit of taking Lambert down, but now I had time and money, and Vance encouraged me to live my life. He was teaching me how to sail, and we talked about sailing his yacht together to Monaco for this year’s Grand Prix.
Which meant we were talking about our future, and for the first time, I couldn’t wait to look forward. I had everything I wanted, especially because I had him.
“I bet on eighteen while you were gone,” I said, using his birthdate. “Turns out you’re still unlucky.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist. “I don’t know, Emery. I still feel pretty damn lucky.” He dropped a kiss on the side of my neck, sending warmth buzzing through my system. “How about you?”