Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
At one point, Falcon looked up at me and winked. It took me by surprise, happening in front of his team the way it did. I wasn’t sure anyone but me noticed it, but it still sent a shiver through me. Was he really willing to let his team see him flirting with me?
And what would they say if they knew their strict, gruff senior agent was hooking up with the notorious art thief their whole team had spent years pursuing? Suddenly, I felt guilty. Like I was responsible for putting him in this position. I didn’t want his team members to lose respect for him. Did that mean I needed to stay away from him?
I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t that selfless.
Falcon leaned over and spoke softly. “Are you okay? Is any of this bothering you?”
Those were questions Agent Falcon never would have asked me a week ago. I smiled at him. “I’m good. You know… you know you can trust me, right? I promise.”
Falcon smile dropped. Before he could answer me, I began to babble. “Wow, that sounded guilty? I only meant that with you and Mouse back at the house—now I’m rhyming for god’s sake—there won’t be as many eyes on me. And I didn’t want that to make you more nervous about the op.” His forehead had wrinkled even more in confusion, so I forged ahead. “Not that you were nervous about it, but… I’m in this. You know I want the crown out of his hands. Even if it’s not the real one. And so…”
His face broke into a grin again as he figured out what I was doing. “You’re nervous. Why?”
“Me? No,” I lied. “I just thought you needed some reassurance. You looked a little… unsure. That’s all.”
“I trust you, King.” His eyes had their typical gray-green intensity, and as much as I wanted to believe him, I still wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. And if he wasn’t, I couldn’t really blame him. He had absolutely no reason to trust me after all these years. Yes, I had signed a contract. Yes, I had to fulfill this operation in order to get my immunity. But I was also really good at making promises to him I didn’t keep. Like the time I told him I didn’t have anything to do with the Van Gogh job. And the time I told him I was just running to pack my things at the vineyard.
So, no. He had no reason to trust me. But I would try to show him that I could change, that I could follow through on my promises to him. Even if there was no future between an agent and a thief, I could still show him that a thief could change. And, hell, maybe that would help him give his targets the benefit of the doubt, at least long enough to look at the situation from all sides.
Ziv interrupted him to ask him some questions about surveillance equipment in the other room. When they came back into the kitchen a little while later, Falcon had news.
“Elek called. We’re on for tonight.”
I blinked up from where I’d been staring at the coffee maker, waiting for it to stop brewing so I could pour a refill. Falcon met my eyes as he resumed his spot at the kitchen table.
“Already? It’s not even eight o’clock.”
He shrugged. “Maybe he’s a morning person. He wanted to make sure I was free tonight since he was leaving town tomorrow.”
“Why don’t we wait till tomorrow, then? Won’t it be easier if he’s gone?”
“We can’t be sure he’s not going to take the crown with him. If he’s planning on staying at his place in Paris for a while, he might want to have it there,” Falcon explained. And he was right.
“Yeah. Okay. Tonight, then,” I agreed, glancing at the others working around the table. Mouse was busy working on the prosthetic fingerprints, Ziv was banging away at his keyboard programming the equipment he’d brought into the room, and Linney was sitting back eating toast with jam while watching Falcon and me.
I turned back to the coffee, mentally popping the little bubble hearts that were probably floating around my head whenever I looked at Falcon now.
The man wanted the white picket fence.
Why did that surprise me? And… it wasn’t like that was something I’d ever envisioned for myself. But when he described it… god. It made me feel a strange new mix of emotions. First and foremost, I wanted him to have his dream. More than anything, I wanted him to find someone who wanted what he wanted, someone who wanted more than anything to give him what he needed.
But more than that… I wanted it to be me.
And that was some ridiculous bullshit. Because I wasn’t picket fence material. I was solid metal bars material.