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“Just so we’re clear.” I feel the need to reiterate this to her because Hannah’s never been in a single ounce of fucking trouble. “You know breaking and entering is a crime, right?” I don’t really care at this point. I’m as good as dead when they find out where she is, but Hannah wouldn’t make it in prison.
“Okay?” she challenges, brows furrowed in concentration as she stares at the wall in front of her. “So is jaywalking.”
Like a fucking spider monkey, she attempts—and fails— to jump up and climb the wall. She manages to reach the top, I’ll give her that, but halfway over, she gets stuck, perfect ass in the air.
“Can you give me a boost?”
I have half a mind to smack her ass, again.
Stepping up behind her, I put a hand on the back of her thigh and raise her up so she can climb on top of the wall.
“Here,” she whispers, holding out a hand.
I eye it for a moment because she’s fucking crazy if she thinks her little ass is pulling me up, and stride over to the gate flippingthe very noticeable lock on the top and pushing it open, striding into the backyard.
“Asshole,” Hannah grumbles, even though she lets me help her down from her perch on the wall. I’m careful not to hold her too long. Shit like that is how I got in this mess, but I can’t deny the possessiveness that washes through me with her in my arms.
I set her on her feet and move to the back door. The house is pitch black, obviously, but the curtains are drawn, blocking out any vantage of the inside.
“Are you expecting landmines?”
Hannah glares at me from across the yard. Finally, she swallows nervously, stepping down the path as if Melissa’s going to pop out of a bush at any moment with a knife.
At this point, it wouldn’t fucking surprise me.
“There’s going to be a security system,” I tell her quietly. The curtain is drawn over the window of the sliding glass door, but the cobwebs shining against the white fabric means no one’s been here for a long time. “Do you have any idea what the code might be?”
She winces. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Not very criminal of you.”
She shoots me a glare.
“Maybe our birthday.”
“Okay . . .” I wait. She doesn’t answer. “What the fuck is it?”
It’s surprising to me that I don’t know her birthday. I know everything else about her. At least, the shit I’ve made up in my head. The girl’s a fucking mystery to me.
Melissa Gaines was easy to figure out. Shit parents. Childhood trauma. Some big-time rich guy swoops in and promises her the world and she gets caught up in it. Liked the dark side of the moon a little too much.
Hannah, though?
It would take a thousand years to figure out what’s in her pretty little head and I don’t have that kind of time before she leaves, again.
“You’re awfully rude, tonight.” She pauses, cocking her head. “Every night, really.”
I let out a deep breath, willing my self-control to keep hanging on by a thread.
“Birthday, Hannah.”
“September fifteenth.”
“Good girl.”
Hannah’s eyes widen and her lips clamp shut, cheeks flaming even in the darkness. It has the effect I intended and shuts her up for once, while I try to figure out the back door.
Listen, I’m not a criminal. I do, however, have a lock picker’s tool kit. It can be useful if you really can’t get a car door open, but mostly, it sits on a shelf in my office.
