Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(40)

Lorenzo cuts his eyes my way. I know he’s got some choice words for me right now, but he stays on his best behavior.

Dinner is over quickly, and Lorenzo makes an excuse about having work to do in order to flee the house. Sarah draws me to her in a hug... a hug... before telling me to stop by anytime I’d like.

Seven walks us out, stalling near the potted plants as I head down onto the sidewalk to wait. So weird, their perfect little life. I didn’t expect it.

“I need that address,” Lorenzo tells Seven. “You got it for me yet?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Seven goes back inside, returning a moment later with a slip of scrap paper, something written on it. “Do you need me to—?”

“No, I got it,” Lorenzo says, fisting the paper. “Tell the missus we appreciate dinner.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Seven goes back inside, closing the door, visit over.

Lorenzo turns to me, slowly approaching, and says nothing, although I know there’s so much he could say at the moment.

“That totally didn’t top The Lion King,” I tell him.

“Yeah, well, you did that shit to yourself, Scarlet.”

He walks away.

Again, I follow.

I don’t know where we’re going, and he doesn’t ask me for ideas this time, so I’m pretty sure he’s got another destination in mind.

As we head deeper into Brooklyn, my nerves grow more frayed. We end up down in Manhattan Beach after sunset, in front of a decently sized gray house. Open and airy, modern architecture with massive windows and a second-story terrace. The lights are all off, nobody home that I can tell.

“You ever been here before?” Lorenzo asks.

“Uh, no.” I look at him with confusion. “Should I have?”

He shrugs.

Oh-kay.

Before I can question that, he scales the fence surrounding the place and heads for it. Shit.

I follow, not nearly as gracefully, keeping my head down. Lorenzo circles the outside, surveying the house, before focusing his attention on the terrace.

I’ve snuck into enough abandoned buildings in my life to know exactly what he’s doing.

“You want me to, like, give you a hand up?” I ask. “Maybe get down on my hands and knees and let you stand on my back?”

“Would you?” he asks.

I shrug. “Why not? Won’t be the first time a guy stepped all over me.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Actually, it might be easier if I helped you up there.”

“To do what, break in?”

“Yes.”

I sigh, staring up at the terrace. Fuck it. “Fine, let’s do this.”

He has the audacity to look surprised, like he doubted my commitment to delinquency (seriously?), but he kneels down, saying, “Climb on my shoulders.”

It’s awkward, but I do it, straddling his neck while wearing a dress, sitting on his shoulders like we’re playing a game of Chicken. I grip him tightly, holding on, as he stands up again, lifting me just high enough to reach the terrace.

Look, I’m not even going to pretend that swinging on poles day after day doesn’t have its benefits. As soon as I get my hands on the railing, I pull myself up, no problem. Climbing is a breeze. Getting down is usually a different story, though. Gravity can be a bitch.

I approach the terrace door, tugging on it.

Locked. Of course.

“Just wiggle it,” he calls up to me. “The locks on those are usually shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, reaching into my bra and pulling out my knife. What, you didn’t think I stopped carrying it, did you? Pffttt. I open the blade, sliding it in the crack, toying with it for a moment before it pops open. “Ha!”

“Good girl.”

I swing around, scowling at those words as I look down at him. “Seriously?”

He waves me off. “Just come let me in, woman.”

I mock salute him, slipping inside what turns out to be a bedroom. A very clean bedroom. Spotless. I tiptoe through the house, making my way downstairs where Lorenzo waits.

I unlock the back door, letting him in.

He locks it right behind him again.

Lorenzo starts searching the house. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I just roll with it, wandering through the kitchen and finding a stack of mail on the counter. I glance at the top envelope, freezing as my eyes gloss across the name on it.

Gabriel Jones.

“Seriously?” I hiss, turning to Lorenzo as he opens drawers, glancing inside of them. “We broke into a detective’s house? Do you want to get arrested?”

“Not sure,” he says. “Never been.”

“Never been arrested?”

“Nope.”

“How?”

He laughs.

He’s been laughing a lot tonight.

“Maybe I’m just good at what I do,” he says.

“That’s insane,” I say. “It’s like you cast some spell that makes you invincible. You’re a fucking wizard.”

He cuts his eyes at me. “Voodoo?”

“Yes!”

He laughs. Again.

“What are we looking for, anyway?”

He shrugs. “Figured I’d take a peek around while I was here, but really, I just wanted to fuck you in his bed.”