Page 42 of Entwined With You

Now, he asks if pulling Brax into the heist really made sense. “Seems dangerous. He knows you too well.”

“I want him there,” I say. “He tried to kill me. I want him to see that he failed. That I’m doing just fan-fucking-tastic without him. And whatever he thought he’d gain, doesn’t look like it happened. So all he did was flip a woman who loved him to a woman who hates him.” I say the words like I mean them, because when this all started, I did.

I tell myself that I’m not having doubts. But of course I am.

Right now, though, I don’t have the luxury of letting anyone know that.

Ramos studies my face. “All right, I get that. But no matter what personal baggage you two have, we all have to work together. This time, we really need to steal that stone. It can’t go back to Wolfe’s house. Not with those commandoes waiting to swoop in and take the sisters from him.”

I look between him and Lambert. “I can handle it,” I say. And I really hope that’s not a lie.

Chapter Twelve

Even though Jorge and I leave the Group Ultra office at the same time, I show up at the Santa Monica Pier fifteen minutes before he’s scheduled to arrive. We decided that he’d get “stuck in traffic” simply so that we wouldn’t arrive together. After all, we’re not supposed to have even seen each other since the botched heist fifteen years ago.

It’s doubtful that anyone would notice if we did, or even if they did notice that they’d think anything of it. But in this business, you learn to be overly careful.

That’s what keeps you alive.

The plan was to meet at seven, but I arrive five minutes early. The Pier is huge and crowded, and significantly busier, with way more rides than I remember from fifteen years ago.

Not that I’m surprised. Things change, after all. Fortunately for me, though, the old-timey carousel hasn’t changed much. It’s still there, and still as charming as ever. It’s also our designated meeting spot. I head that way, glancing around to see if Brax is here yet.

I don’t see him, though, so I pull out my phone and wander around taking a few pictures, just so I look like a tourist. I’m about to circle to the back of the carousel when I hear Brax’s laugh behind me. I turn and see him and Cami standing together near a refreshment booth watching a young kid doing crazy gymnastics to the delight of everyone standing around.

As I watch, Cami claps for the kid, then tosses a bill into the cap he’s put on the ground near his fast-moving feet. She backs away, bumping into Brax, he steadies her by hooking his arm around her waist.

I freeze, completely undone by the unexpected flood of pure, sharp jealousy that crashes over me. I suck in a breath, force myself to stay focused, and shove that jealousy straight out of my head.

I’d like to say that the skills I’ve learned in my time with Group Ultra make that easy, but that would be a lie. The skills make it possible. But it’s not easy. Because as much as I wish it weren’t true, this jealousy is real.

Leave it to me to still be in love with a man who may well have tried to kill me.

Except I’m not in love with him, I tell myself, though I can’t say that I’m terribly convincing.

More than that, I’m no longer convinced he did try to kill me. On the contrary, I’m a confused mess, which is not only an emotional pain in the ass but is also making it genuinely hard to remain objective during this mission.

I know I should tell Lambert about all this emotional goo that’s tumbling around inside of me. At the very least, I should tell Jorge.

But I know I’m not going to. They’d both say I need to be taken off this mission. More, that I need to go back to New York. They’d pull out all the evidence they have that he either planted the bomb or knew about it. The fact that Jorge saw him fiddling with a tire on the van, only later realizing that he must have been using the tire as a decoy to get up under the car. The “delay” text from me, so easily fabricated. And something I never saw—the record of Tim’s interrogation before he was shivved, wherein he said that he’d learned that Brax and Darrin had conspired to get rid of the other team members so they could keep the payout for themselves. But that record could be entirely made up. It’s not on video, after all. And Tim’s not alive to authenticate it.

“Sam!”

I turn toward Cami, who’s hurrying toward me.

“You looked lost in thought. Everything okay?”

“Oh, sure,” I lie. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since the last time I was here.” That, at least, is more or less true. And that, of course, is the secret for telling a good lie. Seed it with something true.

I look around. “Where’s Brax?”

“Got a text. I abandoned him to get a Coke.” She checks her watch. “Are we that early? Where are Darrin and Jorge?”

“I don’t know about Darrin, but Jorge texted that he’s stuck in traffic. Darrin probably is, too.”

As we talk, Cami leads us to the refreshment stand and orders a Coke. I get a Popsicle just for the nostalgia of it.

Once we have our snacks, we move aside. Cami has an empty water bottle hanging from her shoulder in one of those gizmos that goes around the neck so that the cap holds the strap in place. She tucks the soda under her arm, takes the lid off, then hands the metal water bottle to me.