She didn't say anything else as they drove into Santa Cruz. "Almost there," he said.
Kylie took a wig from her bag and set about putting on her disguise, God help him.
"I know you think the disguises are silly," she said quietly, seriously. "I guess I just get into the excitement of it."
Here he'd been planning his route to getting her naked and she was thinking about the job. How times have changed, he thought ruefully and ordered himself to get his head in the game. "This isn't exciting," he said. "It's dangerous."
She nodded, though he was pretty sure she didn't get it. And why should she? She didn't wade knee-deep through the scum of the population for a living.
"So . . . a redhead?" he finally asked.
"You've got a problem with that?"
"No." She looked sexy as hell. He parked and got out of the truck. "Let's do this, Red."
She rolled her eyes, but followed him toward a gallery on a small narrow street with a bunch of other galleries and shops designed for foot traffic. It was a mix of business and residential, but at this time of year, the sidewalks rolled up early.
Everything was closed including the shades on the windows, so there was no checking out the interior. Joe led the way around back and down the alley, standing a few doors away behind an electrical unit so he could get a feel for things. But all he was getting a feeling for was Kylie in that pixie wig, which in the dark was like a beacon, both to anyone passing by and to his own libido.
"We going to break in and take a look at the inventory?" she whispered, staring at the gallery's back door.
"That's illegal."
She snorted. "Since when have you let that stop you?"
Good point. But they were more out in the open here and the buildings were all close together, the ones on either side of the gallery lit up. Which meant people were nearby. "I can't break in here with you. If we got caught-"
"You don't get caught. You're too good."
"Flattery will get you everywhere." He pulled out his tool kit. "You're going to do exactly as I say."
She nodded eagerly.
He didn't buy it. "If I say move," he told her, "you put it in high gear without question. You get the hell out of here and don't look back. You got me?"
She stopped nodding eagerly and changed to shaking her head. "I'm not going to leave you behind, Joe."
He looked down into her determined, fierce face and . . . felt his heart slowly roll over in his chest and expose its underbelly. "Yes, you will," he said. "You're going to have to trust me that I'll be fine."
"I'm not leaving you," she repeated in that firm rhino-tone that told him he'd have better luck shifting the moon out of its orbit.
He pulled her back into the shadows and did some recognizance, searching for cameras. There weren't any so he moved back to the door and . . . found it unlocked.
Kylie was right at his side. "That's never good when it happens on TV," she whispered.
"Stick to me," he said.
She nodded earnestly, her red bangs in her eyes.
"Like glue, Kylie."
She held up two fingers like she was making a Boy Scout oath, which cracked him up in spite of himself. He nudged the back door open and they looked into a very tiny kitchen. "Hello?" he called out, stepping inside-with Kylie right on his ass.
No one answered.
They moved to the interior door and found themselves in a hallway with several doors.
"That one goes to the retail area," he said, flicking his penlight directly in front of them. He opened that door and found . . . "Stained glass," he said in surprise.
The entire shop was stained glass. Doors, windows . . . everything was stained glass, including the furniture. This guy isn't our guy.
"It's not him," Kylie whispered just as he thought it. He started to tell her to turn around and go, but a sound came from behind them.
Someone was coming in the back door.
Adrenaline was second nature to Joe, but she had no training for this, no experience to get her through, and why would she? Criminal behavior wasn't exactly a skill that normal people acquired.
Oh my God, she mouthed to him, eyes wide.
Only one thing went through his mind. She trusted him. She probably wouldn't admit that, but she did. It was in the way she looked at him. It was in her kiss, and how she touched him. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was depending on him to keep her safe and there was no way in hell he was going to let her down. He opened one of the hallway doors to the left, hoping . . . Yes. A closet, although a very small one. He shoved Kylie into it ahead of him, followed her in and shut the door.
The space was small and messy, lined in the back with boxes. Clothing hung haphazardly down over the top of them, leaving just enough room to stand up against each other. Considering what their limited options had been and the far worse situations he'd found himself in over the years given his career choice, he couldn't have asked for much more.
But Kylie was making small, panicked noises in her throat and that's when he remembered-she was claustrophobic. "It's okay," he murmured, reaching for her. Not that he had far to reach.
"It's not okay!" she whispered. "I'm going to puke!"
Chapter 17
ETPhoneHome
Great, Kylie thought. She was in yet another tight space with Joe, in the dark, about to get caught for breaking and entering and go to jail, and she didn't look good in orange jumpsuits.
"Just breathe," Joe whispered. "You've got this, Red."
What the hell did that mean, she had this? She so didn't have this! "I'm not kidding about the puking," she whispered. "And I'm not a pretty puker either."
"You're not going to puke."
"Because it'll give us away?" she whispered.
"No, because these are new work boots I'm wearing and I like them. I've gotten them broken in just right."
She might've told him what she thought of his boots and where he could put them but since she was no longer speaking to him as of right this very moment, she settled for flipping him off. She then squeezed her eyes shut to concentrate on swallowing compulsively in order to keep the bile down. She'd had popcorn and wine for dinner à la Olivia Pope and that wasn't going to be pleasant. Be cool, she told herself. You are not going to throw up on the hot guy. But it was difficult to control herself while simultaneously trying to hyperventilate. Dammit. Damn him.
Except . . . this wasn't Joe's fault. She'd insisted on coming along. So damn her and her impulsiveness. And . . . dear God, were they running out of air in here? Yeah, they were. They were totally running out of air-
"Hey," Joe murmured softly, running his hands up and down her arms. "It's okay. I've got you."
"Yes, in a dark, teeny, tiny closet!" she hissed as panic gripped her, and oh perfect, now the walls were closing in on her as well.
"Shh," Joe breathed, holding her upright because apparently her legs were done working. She lifted her head to his and he set a finger against her lips.
Yeah. She got it. Don't make a sound. And preferably also don't get sick . . . But seriously, the closet really was getting smaller by the second.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," Joe whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe and making her shiver.
She really wanted to believe him, even tried to take solace in the fact that he hadn't yet made any promises he hadn't kept, but panic didn't care about logic.
"Good," he whispered against her ear. "You're doing great. Now I'm just going to-"
She clutched at him as he started to shift away. "No," she whispered.
"I have to take a look, Kylie, but I'm not leaving you. I wouldn't leave you behind either. Ever."
She met his gaze and nodded, and in the cramped space they had, he turned away from her to peek out the door.
Unable to refrain, she plastered herself up against him and dropped her forehead to his back as she held her breath. Next time she was going to listen to logic and consider staying in the truck.
Except she knew she wouldn't. She knew that she'd choose the exact same thing again, which meant she had a lot more of her mother in her than she would've liked to admit.
"Ok," Joe whispered. "Don't freak."
Oh, God. "Too late. What is it? What's happening?"
"Rafael's here."
Oh shit. She'd not known Rafael real well. She remembered him as being in his forties and a terminal bachelor due to his curmudgeonly personality. Mostly he'd avoided her like the plague. At the time she'd thought maybe girls weren't his thing, but it'd turned out that teenagers weren't his thing.
"Apparently he also lives here," Joe murmured. "He just opened the door at the end of the hallway and it's a converted bedroom." He paused and she didn't think it could be for anything good. "We're going to have hang here for a bit," he finally said.