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Of course he hears me. I raise my eyes to meet his. “No. It’s just that they’re tied. I mean, your shirt is inside out. The top button of your jeans isn’t secured, but your boots are perfectly laced and tied tight.”
“In case I have to run,” he says by way of explanation.
“That does make sense.”
He frowns as if my focus on his boots is weird. Suddenly, I’m tired. Real tired. In real life, you don’t have tea with someone who breaks into your house and tries to steal your property. In real life, if that happened, you’d beat the shit out of the person and call the cops. This man and the rich one that left are jerking me around because, as Franklin said, rich people make the rules. Well, I’m tired of playing.
I’m done here. I get to my feet. “If you were going to call the cops, you would have done so by now. I’m tired. If there’s nothing more, I’m going to get gone.”
Griff whistles. “You got some balls accusing us of wrongdoing when you’re guilty of breaking and entering.”
“I didn’t break in. The door was unlocked.” That should’ve been my first clue. It’s obvious this was all a game and no one will be calling the police.
“We have you fiddling with the door. You’re dressed in all black, and you stole something.”
I roll my eyes. As if anyone could scare these folks. They’re treating my burglary like it’s a party. I start walking toward the exit, and to no one’s surprise, I’m not stopped. So I keep going down the steps to the street level and out the door.
The big man follows me.
I stop and turn. “Are you going to arrest me?”
“I’m not a cop.”
“Are you going to call the cops on me?”
“No.” He reaches into his back pocket and flicks something white into my palm.
I finger the heavy card stock. “What’s this for?”
“If you want to talk, my number’s there.”
I hand it back. “Keep it. I won’t be using it.”
He doesn’t take it.
With a frustrated sigh, I tuck it into my back pocket. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m a nobody in this city. Can you all let me go back to my nobody life?”
He stares at me and then shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
Chapter Three
GRIFF
“Iknow you’re bored, but I didn’t realize you were fuck a felon bored.” Weston Evers peers down over his glasses at me.
I don’t ask him how he knows what I’m thinking about. Evers has a weird sixth sense about things. It’s how we made billions—his intuition and my brawn. Ten years later and more money than we know what to do with, Weston Evers is running a private academy. He has a plan for it and not one that I entirely approve of. But the two of us have been watching each other’s backs since we were teens enlisting into the army to get away from a shit childhood. We kept each other alive. Now that our wallets are fat, I’m not going to abandon him.
I stretch my legs out and sink deeper into the camel-colored leather club chair. “We’re running a school for overprivileged teens whose idea of rebellion is stealing test results.” I tap the bottom of my cut crystal snifter onto the manila envelope.
“I think it was a mother who hired your sexy burglar, not a student.”
Myburglar is right. Glad he knows that. “If not a mother, who were you trying to catch with your bait? I hope not a student.”
Evers’ mouth twitches. “No, not a student.” He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push him. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. “Whatever you want to do with our intruder is fine with me. Police. No police. Just make sure that she stays out of the way. I’ve worked hard to set this mousetrap for one particular mouse.”
He drains his glass and gets up. I wait until he’s at the doorway before saying softly, “Notourintruder.”
Without looking behind me, I can sense he pauses before exiting. “So it’s that way, is it? You knew right away?”
