Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
We hadn’t seen our dad in years at the time, and I wondered if my brother connected to the character’s longing for a paternal figure. He’s never been close to Everett Tinrock the way Nova has been.
“What do you mean by the dodgiest?” Jake asks Carter.
Oliver stretches out. “It means I’m the smartest.” He mimes a brain explosion, then speaks in another language.
Jake shakes his head. “I don’t know Dutch.”
He switches to French, which we all understand certain phrases of, but not whatever he’s saying now; then Spanish (don’t know), Mandarin (definitely don’t know), Portuguese, Turkish, Gaelic. Jake can’t keep up with my brother any more than the rest of us can.
“Show-off,” Trevor mutters into a mini bottle of tequila.
Rocky tears it out of his hand before he sips it.
“They call him the chameleon,” Carter outs him.
An irrepressible smile pulls at my lips.
Were we all dumb to share our monikers with Carter like we were cool-ass bandits and he was the ripper of our wanted posters? In hindsight, probably, but also, it feels strangely liberating to invite someone else into our group.
It’s been decades of secrecy. Trusting another person is exhilarating.
Oliver waggles his fingers at Jake. “I’d say at your service, but you’re going to be at mine.” He winks.
“Yeah.” Jake seems hopeful. “I can work with that.” He surveys each of us around the galley.
“The getaway.” Carter points out Nova, who hasn’t budged an inch. I’m fairly certain two handguns and a knife are underneath his black bomber jacket.
“Nova Graves,” he reintroduces himself. “And fuck you for lying to my sister.”
Rocky is smirking near the fridge. Probably loving the dig at Jake.
I cut in fast, “We went over this before we got here.” An awkward heat bathes me. I told Nova that Jake’s deception didn’t matter. We’re all liars, really. But my brother feels like Jake violated my trust, which is worse because he’s in a power position and I’m not. “We weren’t truthful from the start either. No one has to apologize.”
“I’m still sorry,” Jake says. “To you both.” His gaze stays intimately on Hailey.
She shies at the attention. “No sorrys. Like Phebs said. Really. It-it’s okay.”
I squeeze her hand. She squeezes mine back tighter.
“Fresh beginnings for everyone,” Carter says lightheartedly. “Beautiful, innit?” He has a megawatt flirty smile on Hailey.
Oliver shifts out of a relaxed position.
She blushes again but crawls farther back into the kitchenette alcove. Bumping into the sink. “I can’t do this,” she whispers again.
I’m not used to seeing her lack of confidence with guys. She’s the one who will full-on approach a man at a bar and say, “Want to fuck?”
Literally!
I have been envious and captivated by the blunt sexiness of my best friend. Behind her RBF, she can unknowingly smolder and make men weak at the knees. Sure, sometimes the men are experiencing fear. But when she asks to blow them, nine out of ten—it’s lust.
Is she freaking out now because she has real romantic feelings for Carter?
It’s not just sexual desire?
She’s spellbound by his forging skills and Louvre-worthy fakes, and her long-standing crush is in the flesh while she’s only clocked an hour of sleep. That’d throw anyone off their A game.
“You’re doing great,” I encourage. “We’re breathing. We’re the best of the best, and they know it.” I wave my hand at them, uncaring if they see us gossiping about them. I hope they do.
“Yeah.” She nods. “We’re cool. We’re the best.”
“You’re the best best. Can’t be beat.”
Her soft smile appears. “No, you are, Phebs.”
I smile back, and we do our handshake: two pinky hooks and fist-bump explosion. Our smiles fade fast because Jake asks, “Do you have a problem with me?” He’s talking to Nova.
“Keep your word and we won’t have one. Break your word and I’ll break your neck.”
“After me,” Rocky interjects.
“I promise to be honest from here on out,” Jake assures us, then focuses back on Hailey. “What do they call you?”
“Hailey.”
“The mastermind.” Carter grins.
She does a small up-nod, not looking out from the brim of her hat.
“Phoebe, you’re…?” Jake starts.
I let Carter answer. “The seductress,” he announces.
Now I’m burning up at the many eyes upon me. Even being exposed to one person feels enormous. “Phoebe Graves,” I tell him, more aware of how my slim, black, silky dress molds to my hips and breasts.
“I have so many questions,” Jake mutters.
“She’s not a prostitute,” Nova slices in protectively.
Oh my God.
“That we know of,” Trevor deadpans.
Rocky smacks the back of his head.
I’m over Trevor.
We bickered all the way from the loft to the marina, and he’s made me feel fourteen, not twenty-four. I have the urge to lower myself to his lame back-and-forth insults, and I’m taking a new, mature stand by staying silent.
Nova is still staring down Jake. “If this whole thing is about you getting your dick wet, you can fuck off.”