“Oh, yeah?” Z asked, widening his smile. “If you’re thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, then count me in.”
A day off with RT—perhaps naked again—sounded like a damn fine plan.
“Well, I didn’t figure I could do it all by myself,” RT said, and Z’s dick instantly jumped to attention.
Breakfast first. Then on to the fun.
*
Two hours later
“This is definitely not what I had in mind,” Z told RT as they slipped around to the back of Jericho’s beach house, peering in windows in an attempt to make sure the place was empty.
“What did you have in mind?” RT asked, his attention elsewhere.
As soon as RT had finished breakfast, he’d been back in work mode. When Z had attempted to interrupt, RT would silence him with, “One minute.” That one minute turned into one hundred twenty, and now they were no longer spending a day off together, they were fucking working.
“I was thinkin’ that gettin’ you naked was a good plan,” Z admitted, keeping his voice low. “Not sneakin’ into Jericho’s beach house.”
Clearly RT wasn’t capable of taking a day off or they’d be back at their own beach house, lounging by the pool, or even better, Z would be flat on his back with RT—
“I don’t think anyone’s here,” RT said, interrupting Z’s wandering thoughts. “Dom’s about to disengage the alarm system.”
“Great.” Z hoped RT heard his lack of enthusiasm.
“Let’s get in and get out.”
“That was my plan,” Z mumbled under his breath, “but it involved you naked.”
“What?”
“Nothin’. Get in and get out. Good idea.”
Sticking close to RT, Z kept an eye on their surroundings, fighting the urge to retrieve his gun from its holster. They were the ones breaking and entering, not the other way around, so being armed wasn’t necessary. He just had to hope they weren’t busted, because the charges would likely be steeper than a simple B and E because they were carrying.
Resigning himself to getting this over with so hopefully he could show RT what it meant to work in an entirely different way, Z followed RT inside once RT had successfully picked the lock on the back door. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes while they crept through the house. Thankfully the place wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as Jericho’s mansion, but it wasn’t necessarily small, either.
Half an hour later, they’d come up empty. Well, except for seeing the other fake—just as ugly as the picture he’d seen on RT’s iPad—that Trace had already located last night, hanging right there in the living room. Although he wasn’t particularly fond of the painting, Z was still confused as to how everyone seemed to know that it wasn’t the real deal. One was just as ugly as the other, so he had to take RT’s word on it.
“Are we gonna take it?” Z inquired. “The painting?”
“No,” RT whispered. “Not yet.”
“So we’re done here?” He prayed RT said yes.
Unfortunately, just before RT could answer, the sound of a key in a lock alerted them that someone was there.
“Shit.” RT snuck down the hall that led to a bedroom. Z remained close behind.
Shit was right. The alarm system had been disengaged, which meant…
“I know, Fred. I heard you the first time. Don’t worry. No one knows where it’s at, and I plan to keep it that way until tomorrow night. Security’ll be in place, but even they don’t know. I only need them there to keep an eye on it for a little while.”
Waiting for another voice to respond, Z realized the man was on the phone when Jericho spoke again. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Amahn’s meeting me in a few minutes. I’ll call you tomorrow before the show.”
Jericho’s tone wasn’t as chipper as it had been the few times Z had spoken with him. In fact, he sounded stern and not at all happy. The distinct sound of an alarm code being entered echoed, making Z’s heart beat faster.
Figuring Jericho was about to realize the alarm was off, Z held his breath. Peering over at RT, Z raised his eyebrows in question. What the hell were they supposed to do now?
As though understanding the nonverbal question, RT shrugged, his back tight to the wall as he kept his gaze trained down the hall.
Z turned his head when he heard footsteps going up the stairs, then released his breath when he realized they weren’t going to need to make a run for it. Yet.
Glancing over at RT, he willed the man to come up with a plan to get them out of there without being seen. They couldn’t stand there forever. Who knew when Amahn would arrive. At that point, getting out undetected wouldn’t be quite so easy. Z waited for RT to give him a signal. He felt his eyes beginning to bulge from lack of oxygen to his brain, when he realized he’d been holding his breath again. By the time RT finally nodded toward the living room, the room that led to the back door they’d come in through, Z was feeling a tad light-headed.
With a quick nod, Z nudged RT forward. He didn’t need to wait around any longer. This was ridiculous. They’d broken into the home of their client. Explaining that would be damn near impossible, so they had to get out while the getting was good.
The creak of a door opening had Z ducking behind one of the oversized chairs, pulling RT down with him.
“Jeri? You here?” Amahn’s clipped tone rebounded through the downstairs, followed by the click of the front door closing.
“Up here, love.”
Z’s head darted over to RT. Seriously? Two minutes ago, Jericho sounded as though he was ready to string someone up and now…well, now he sounded like a man getting ready to romance his better half.
He internally shivered, trying to block the mental image of Jericho and Amahn because…that was not an appealing thought.
“Oh, before you come up here, can you grab the wine from the kitchen?” Jericho called out.
Definitely not what Z wanted to be witness to. They had to get the hell out of there.
“All right,” Amahn replied.
When Amahn made a detour, passing directly by the spot where Z and RT were hiding, Z practically plastered himself to the floor, praying Amahn didn’t glance their way. The chair they were using for cover wasn’t that damn big.
The sound of a drawer being opened and closed followed by returning footsteps had Z once again holding his breath. At this point, he was going to fry some brain cells from lack of oxygen.
Amahn suddenly stopped, his shoes the only thing Z could see from his hiding place. He was directly in front of the fake painting, which meant he was well aware of the fake. There went their theory that Amahn was the master thief.
The shoes that had paused started to move, followed by a creak in one of the stairs leading to the second floor. Thank God, they were alone again. Without waiting for RT to give him a signal, Z urged RT forward, climbing back to his feet and rushing them both out the door, closing it silently behind him.
They took the stairs down to the sand at a fast clip and didn’t stop until they were behind a row of plants that ran parallel with the house.
“Amahn knows about the fake painting,” RT told him when they were safely hidden from the house.
“Looks that way.” Z was still trying to calm down as they started toward the road they’d left the bikes parked on.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Amahn didn’t attempt to steal the painting,” Z told him. “Other than that, I don’t know what the hell it means.”
Neither of them said anything during the five-minute hike.
Once they reached the motorcycles, Z’s heart rate had resumed a steady pace.
“I think we need—”
Z immediately cut RT off. “I think it’s safe to say you’re not making any more decisions today.” Z pulled his helmet from the bike, not bothering to look directly at RT.
“No?”
“No. Someone should’ve taught you that a day off means no sneaking around and breaking into houses. It’s a day to do nothing.”