Extraits

“I’ve always wanted to rob a bank.”

Finnegan Lane, my foster brother, made that pronouncement in an exceptionally bold, gleeful tone. A wide grin stretched across his tan, handsome face, and a conspiratorial gleam brightened his green eyes, further indicating his interest in committing a serious felony.

“But you work at a bank,” I pointed out. “Why would you ever want to rob one?”

“Plotting an elaborate heist. Liberating trays of diamonds, stacks of gold bars, and piles of cash from a supposedly impenetrable vault right out from under the noses of our enemies. Executing a complicated, convoluted plan that goes completely off the rails but somehow still works out at the very last second.” Finn’s grin widened, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “C’mon, Gin. This is the stuff that dreams are made of.”

I snorted. “I think you need some different dreams. You know, ones that are a lot less dangerous and illegal.”

“And ruin all the fun? Absolutely not.” He winked at me. “Besides, we all know that Dangerous and Illegal is my middle name.”

“And here I thought it was Alexander,” I drawled.

Finn ignored my teasing and checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, making sure that his walnut-brown hair was still perfectly, artfully in place. Then he straightened his green tie and smoothed his silvery suit jacket, both of which were also still perfectly, artfully in place. Apparently, looking good was another key component of my foster brother’s bank-robbing fantasy.

Someone deliberately cleared his throat, and Finn and I both glanced over our shoulders at Owen Grayson, my significant other. With his blue-black hair, violet eyes, and tan skin, Owen was just as handsome as Finn was, albeit in a rougher, less polished way, especially given his slightly crooked nose and the thin white scar that slashed across his chin.

Still, my heart always skipped a beat at the sight of him, and my gaze roamed over the navy jacket that stretched across his broad shoulders before following the line of his gray tie down his chest. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Perhaps I’d been hanging around Finn too long, but few things appealed to me more than Owen Grayson in a snazzy suit. Or perhaps I just liked his buttoned-up look because I knew about all the hard, defined muscles that lay underneath the fine fabric, sort of like knowing what was hidden beneath the wrapping paper on a Christmas present. Well, unwrapping Owen out of one of his many suits was always a treat for me.

“Um, I hate to point out the obvious, Finn, but you’ve actually been in a bank robbery before,” Owen rumbled.

Finn kept his grin fixed on his face, but his jaw clenched, as though he were grinding his teeth to hold the happy expression in place.