Honor Among Thieves

  Molly Miranda: Honor Among Thieves

  By Jillianne Hamilton

  © 2017 Jillianne Hamilton. All rights reserved.

  Jillianne-Hamilton.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9939870-5-2

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For the Hamilton clan.

  CHAPTER—WHOA, HOLD UP

  Where were we?

  Oh, right.

  Stan, a big-time mob boss villain-type dude, and Alistair Delacroix, a charming piece of shit, kept Rhys and I captive in a super creepy abandoned farmhouse outside of Amsterdam. I managed to persuade Alistair—not the brightest guy—to shoot Stan. Stan was wounded, not quite dead but absolutely close to it. He shot back, hitting Alistair in the forehead.

  Byyyye, Alistair. You won’t be missed.

  Rhys and I hightailed it out of there. I delivered a painting to a Parisian client while Rhys returned to London.

  Wait, what else? Oh, yeah.

  Carl, one of Stan’s goons, broke into my Brooklyn apartment and destroyed a lot of my stuff, just to send me a message. Later he’d hold my younger sister at knifepoint, but then my dad busted in all John McClane-like and shot Carl. So Dad’s now in hiding and I have no idea where he is.

  And then Rhys showed up at my door in the rain and told me he’s in love with me.

  I think that about brings us up to speed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I grabbed Rhys’s arm, yanking him inside my apartment. I slammed the door shut behind him and shoved him up against it with both hands.

  He smirked at me.

  “That was a bit rougher than I expected but alright, if that’s how we’re—”

  “Zip it!” I snapped, waving a finger in his face. “What the hell are you doing? What’s with … this?!”

  “A dramatic romantic gesture, obviously,” he said. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve never done that before. My romantic gestures are usually much more subtle and less—” He looked down at his soaked shirt “—damp.”

  I stared at him, a lot of different emotions bubbling up inside me. I considered slapping him.

  “You had to go and make things weird and awkward—”

  “It doesn’t have to be weird or awkward,” he said, “but your response is kind of not what I was expecting.”

  “No? What were you expecting, exactly?”

  Rhys considered his answer. “Uh, relief that one of us finally made a move after months of—” He made air quotes with his fingers “—will-they-won’t-they chemistry?”

  “So what if we have chemistry?” I blurted out, mostly because I couldn’t think of a better response. He was right about the chemistry. “It doesn’t change the fact that you and I can’t happen. It’s wrong. I can’t.”

  Rhys stepped closer to me, his face going still and serious. His voice went deeper as he spoke, all manly and sexy-like. “Give me one good reason.”

  My heart hammered in my chest, and I had a feeling my nips might be poking through my tank top.

  “What about Danika?” I shook my head at him. “Remember Danika? Your girlfriend? Don’t you care about her?”

  A sneaky, subtle smile slipped onto Rhys’s face. “I left you in Paris so I could go break up with Danika. She’s great, but I always felt like you and I had a better—wow, you just took your shirt off.” Rhys’s eyebrows went up as his gaze went down quickly to my bellybutton and back to my face, pausing momentarily at my bra in between.

  “You were saying?” I threw my tank top on the floor.

  Rhys grabbed me around the waist with one arm and pulled me tight to his chest. He studied my face for a moment before laying a tiny kiss on my lips. He kissed me again, this time just a little longer. Our third kiss made my face warm, followed by my whole body. I ran my fingers through his damp, dark hair as our kisses went from soft and tender to fiercely hungry.

  Whoa.

  He scooped me up in his arms, still kissing me deeply, the tips of my toes skimming the tile floor. His whiskers scratched my face. He smelled like goat’s milk soap you get from a farmer’s market.

  The whole scene was intense.

  His hands slid down to my butt, he lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He hoisted me onto the kitchen counter and laid soft, slow kisses down the side of my neck.

  “Your clothes are really wet,” I whispered, rubbing some of the stretchy T-shirt cotton between my fingers.

  “Uh-huh,” Rhys murmured, his lips still on my collarbone.

  “You should probably take them off.”

  * * *

  I woke up the next morning with Rhys’s arm draped over my waist, a tattered white sheet over the two of us. The curtains swayed in the soft summer breeze that came in the window a few feet from my bed. Rhys snored quietly beside me. I lifted the sheet carefully and peered under.

  Yup, we’re both naked. Yup, we slept together last night. Yup, the neighbors probably heard me.

  I put the sheet back down and closed my eyes, smiling into my pillowcase.

  A few minutes later, Rhys’s eyes slowly opened. He stretched, yawned and rolled over onto his back. He looked over at me, a mischievous smile sliding onto his face.

  He nodded and chuckled quietly. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good morning.” I smiled and stretched my arms up over my head.

  He kissed my cheek. “Good morning.” He slid out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I said quietly, pulling the sheet up to cover my chest, even though he’d obviously seen me nude.

  Rhys looked at me over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “I like your bum.”

  He smiled at me before noticing the sheet we’d slept under. “What the hell happened to the sheet?” His eyes widened. “Did we do that?”

  I laughed out loud. “You’re not that much of a stud.”

  Still alarmed, he looked around at the other damaged items around the apartment—several pieces of bedding were torn, and a ruined quilt lay on the floor. He looked over the side of the loft railing, his eyes running over all the broken dishes and scattered cutlery in the kitchen and the shredded sofa nearby.

  “Carl,” I said. “Carl wrecked this place. I just haven’t been home to clean up and replace my stuff.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.” He sleepily (and nakedly) headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  I rolled over in bed and plucked my shorts from the floor, slipping my phone from the back pocket. I texted Ruby.

  Molly: I slept with Rhys last night. Just thought you might want to know.

  Ruby: OHMYGODDDDDDD

  Ruby: I’m dying right now. I’m dead.

  Ruby: OMG HOW WAS IT?

  Molly: Real good. :)

  Ruby: omg Finally.

  Molly: oh hush

  I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door as I heard the shower turn on from inside. Biting the corner of my lip, I slid my phone onto the night table and slipped out from under the sheet, letting myself into the steamy bathroom.

  It was about to get even steamier in there.

  Ruby: Are you in NY? We need to talk.

  Ruby: I mean, about this AND other stuff. Can I come over tomorrow maybe?

  Ruby: Molly, you there?

  Ruby: Helloooooooo

  Ruby: Wow. Rude.

  Rub
y: Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh you’re being a dirty girl. K Txt me when you get thiiiiiiiis

  * * *

  “Thanks for breakfast, babe,” Rhys said, pulling a full spoon of Froot Loops straight from the box.

  “Babe?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t like ‘babe’?” He crunched the cereal. “Honey?”

  I cringed and shook my head, diving down into the cereal box with my own spoon.

  “Darling?” he tried, using the most pompous English accent he could muster.

  “Why do you have to call me anything?” I said with my mouth full of fruity-ish tasting loops of sugar.

  “I don’t know. ‘Molly’ just seems so formal now.”

  “Now? You mean now that you’d seen me in the buff?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  And the fact that he said, “I love you.” Just a guess.

  From my place on the bed, I could just see over the edge of the loft and down into the kitchen, where all my bowls were in pieces on the kitchen floor. Not that I’ve ever been one for keeping a lot of food in the house, but Froot Loops was honestly the best thing I could offer Rhys. Well, the best thing that didn’t involve a delivery menu. Because getting food delivered would involve putting pants on.

  Rhys spotted my shorts on the floor beside the bed. “I need to buy some clothes. I’m going to have to go shopping in damp jeans. Awesome.”

  I laughed. “Gross.” I surveyed the rest of the messy apartment I still hadn’t cleaned yet. “I’m going to have to get so much new stuff. I should just burn the place down and start over.”

  “You could move to England.”

  I laughed again and then looked at Rhys. It took me a moment to realize he was only half joking.

  “You’re there all the time anyway,” he added. “We’ve got … cool stuff.”

  I thought it was chicks who usually get clingy after boinking.

  “What kind of cool stuff?” I stuck my spoon in the Froot Loops box again.

  Rhys sat back on the bed as he considered this. “We’ve got castles. So many castles.”

  “Too many castles, let’s be honest.” I smirked.

  “Better gun control,” he added. “And our version of The Office was much better.”

  “Whoa now, hold up. No way—”

  “Mmm, agree to disagree. We’re really into football. Not the fake football you have here, but real footie.”

  “I have no interest in either,” I said.

  Rhys winced. “Well, with a statement like that, you might not be allowed back into Britain anyway.”

  He munched on one more spoonful of cereal and got up, back to walking around my place au naturel.

  He really does have an exquisite body.

  Rhys glanced around the bedroom. “Where did I put my clothes anyway?”

  I bit my lip, stifling a giggle. “They’re downstairs.”

  “Right. Yes.” He jogged downstairs. I could hear him struggling with the damp denim clinging to his legs. With his T-shirt in hand, he came back up to the bedroom.

  “Alright. I’m going to go buy some clothes and a few other essentials.” He pulled the T-shirt on over his head. “I assume you’ve got a few stores in this quaint little village.”

  “New York? Yes, we’ve got a few little shops. Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, that’s fine. I’ll be back soon.” He gave me a quick kiss on the lips and left, locking the door behind him.

  I sat under the sheet, looking at the door that had just been shut behind him, contemplating the last several hours.

  Sex twice in two days. Breakfast in bed. Cereal straight from the box. Cutesy nicknames?

  You offered to go clothes shopping with him.

  I shook my head, trying to avoid those weird thoughts. Hopping up from my bed, I grabbed the first jeans and T-shirt I reached in my dresser and wriggled into them.

  Maybe I’ll feel less icky if I’m not just hanging out with no clothes on. That’s not usually my jam.

  I leaned against the railing of the loft and once again made a mental running tally of the belongings I’d have to replace: dishes, sofa, armchair, TV, bedding. And that was just the stuff I’d discovered.

  I knew I shouldn’t have unpacked any of my things when I moved.

  This is what I get for showing some initiative.

  I started in the kitchen, sweeping up the shards of my dishware into a dustpan. The day was heating up quickly, and the sun was shining into the kitchen window behind me, warming my back as I worked. I dumped the pan’s contents into the garbage and frowned.

  I should probably just call that cleaning service and get it over with.

  I slid my phone from my back pocket and was about to check Amazon for dishes. Before I could, I got a text from Rhys.

  Rhys: I forgot I have an assignment in Scotland in two days. Want to come with?

  I looked around my home in tatters and hesitated for about half a second.

  Molly: Yes. Absolutely, yes.

  Rhys: Do you have a dress? It’s a fancy event, but I don’t think we’ll need Margot. It’s nothing major.

  Margot is a genius when it comes to disguises. She has made me look like a glamorous goddess more than once. I’m positive she is some kind of wizard.

  Molly: Yes, I think I have something of Ruby’s. Should I book our tickets back to the UK?

  Rhys: I knew you’d say yes so I already got them. ;P

  * * *

  Two days later, we arrived at the assignment location outside of Edinburgh. It was the second time Rhys and I had taken on an assignment in Scotland, the other being the first time we ever worked together. It was strange, thinking of all that had happened between us since then.

  A black cab had picked us up at the hotel earlier that day and driven us out to the country, pulling to a stop in front of, well, a friggin’ castle. Because Britain. That’s how they do. Rhys offered me his arm as we exited the car.

  He leaned over close to me. “You look stunning.”

  Rhys’s tailored suit made him look all sorts of yummy, and I was about to tell him so when something caught my eye. Two tall posts in the distance, closer to the castle, with a white banner in between. The banner read Simon + Jane in a fancy script. Beyond that, lines of white folding chairs were set up, an aisle in between, strewn with white rose petals.

  I clutched Rhys’s arm harder. He winced as my nails dug in.

  “Rhys, why the hell are we on an assignment at a fucking wedding?”

  A photographer popped out of nowhere. Was he hiding in the damn rose bushes or something?

  “Say cheese,” he said, snapping the photo before either of us could put on a believable smile, and he bolted away to bother some other poor, unsuspecting guests.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I whispered, keeping a safe distance from the wedding guests. “I take it you want us to go to prison. You told me this assignment was no big deal.”

  Rhys smiled weakly. “Did I ever tell you about my cousin Simon?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Going undercover and pretending to be someone else at fancy events seems to be regular thing in this business. But going to a fancy event and being myself? Well, I could really do without.

  Rhys held my hand so tight, it actually hurt a little bit. He led me to a pair of empty seats near the aisle, surrounded by his family and the other guests.

  Rhys waved to some guys in suits a few yards from the ceremony site who were grabbing a quick smoke before the main event.

  “The one on the left is my other cousin,” Rhys said. “And that’s his best mate John—”

  Like I give a fuck, Rhys.

  “We should probably talk after the wedding, darling,” I whispered, cutting him off. I kept my fake smile plastered on.

  Rhys wrinkled his nose. “Darling? You’re right, I don’t think ‘darling’ works for me either. How about ‘sexy’ or ‘hot stuff’ or ‘hunk’ or something?”

  I sat back in my chair, staring a
ngrily at the back of the chair in front of me. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by getting mad at him.

  Rhys put his arm over the back of my chair and looked around, smiling and nodding to several other guests. A few people, many of whom shared similar physical traits with Rhys, inspected me with curiosity.

  They’re all probably wondering what happened to Danika. “What happened to your super hot girlfriend, Rhys? Wow, you really took a demotion there. An irritated American? Jeez, what a catch, Rhys!”

  “Oh, don’t be cross with me,” he whispered. “I knew you wouldn’t come with me if I told you the truth.”

  I glanced around. “We’ll talk later, honey.” I gave him a threatening look.

  “No, no.” He shook his head. “Honey doesn’t work either. Maybe ‘sugar lips’?”

  I snickered, despite my annoyance with him. “Ew.”

  The guy I assumed was Simon stood at the altar, his hands folded in front of him. He looked a bit like Rhys, except a little older with a rounder face. He looked nervous, but he laughed as someone chatted with him from the front row.

  I can’t believe Rhys brought me to a wedding. What was he thinking? There are so many reasons this is a bad idea.

  The harpist off to the side began strumming as the ceremony began. The tiny flower girl and ring bearer walked down the aisle together, followed by the bridesmaids. The prettiest of the three bridesmaids spotted Rhys on her way down the aisle and smiled wide, giving him a little wave with a delicate gloved hand. Rhys nodded back and smiled as the bridesmaid glanced at me curiously before pulling her eyes back to the front of the ceremony. As she stood at the front, I could see her trying to subtly have a look at Rhys and me.

  I fought the urge to glare back at her.

  The guests stood as the blushing bride reached the ceremony site. She stopped for a moment while the photographer grabbed some shots. She took her father’s arm and walked slowly down the aisle toward her fiancé, her face glowing with happiness.