“Christ, Judd.” I held my hands up in surrender. “What the hell? You crazy fuck.”
“That’s right, keep insulting the guy with the gun. Real smart, Buffer.”
“You gonna shoot me for calling you crazy? That would kind of prove my point, wouldn’t it?” Part of me worried he might honestly be that crazy, but I tried not to let the panic I was feeling show in my face. There was nothing I could do about the thrumming heartbeat in my ears though.
“Try me and see.” Judd’s eyes glinted wildly. “I could have the book and a quick taste of that little slice of cherry pie and be on the road again before anyone found you.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter, but the gun at my neck kept me from doing anything more. “Okay, you’re right,” I forced myself to say. “I think we both just need to cool off. I admit I got a little distracted, but the game is back on track now. I’ll have what I came for by tonight. Just put that thing away.”
“You better.” Judd dropped the pistol from my chin but made sure it stayed where I could see it. “Or I’ll be more than happy to do it for you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I GLANCED AT the text from Spencer on my phone’s display, then frowned up at the imposing Main Line house. Set back from the road behind a long row of tall, thin hedges, the house was a huge gray stone construction spread out over what could’ve easily been an entire city block.
I double-checked the address on the unadorned black mailbox at the end of the driveway. I’d congratulated myself on finding the house so quickly after leaving the SEPTA station, but now that I saw the meandering driveway, I was pretty sure I’d made a mistake. When Spencer told me her father lived in the affluent neighborhood a couple miles from Balanova’s campus, I’d imagined a less gaudy version of Pop Sheedy’s house back home, but the word “large” hardly seemed to capture this monster. The area was home to some of Philadelphia’s wealthiest families, but this place put most of its neighbors to shame. I confirmed the address a final time, then started up the drive.
Once the house was in full view, I couldn’t stop from blowing out a low whistle. Tommy Costello had money—and way more than the five hundred large he’d stolen from my clan. The reality of just how successful he’d been since he’d taken off was just now starting to settle in. Spencer had told me Tommy was a venture capitalist, whatever that was, and it’s why he was so keen on her studying business instead of literature like she wanted. I had to admit, if this is what a business degree could get you, I’d be willing to take a few classes myself. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and I glanced around for a place to sit.
As the driveway approached the house, it circled around a low, stone wall that enclosed a perfectly landscaped section of the lawn. I walked over to it and sat behind a wide shrub that had been planted among the flowers and saplings. I leaned forward on my knees and breathed in through templed fingers.
There was no reason for nervousness, I told myself. Maggie was fond of telling me I was favored by the fairies, and maybe she was right. I didn’t believe her folktales any more now than I had when I was little, but I had to admit everything about this con had come pretty easily.
Well, almost everything.
I thought of Judd, sitting on the couch where I’d left him back at my apartment, and the gun he’d so casually laid on the coffee table. If I came back empty-handed tonight, there’d be no telling what he would do. Or who he would hurt to get what he wanted.
I shifted on the cold stone, my thoughts turning to Spencer. I’d made an enormous mistake in falling for her, but if I didn’t get what I’d come for, she’d be in danger of things a lot worse than a broken heart. Still, she was the first girl I’d ever let myself have feelings for, the only girl I could ever imagine feeling this way about, and now I was supposed to walk into her father’s house and steal from him.
I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts tumbling around inside it. It wasn’t my heart or Spencer’s I needed to be concerned with. The closer I’d gotten to Spencer, the less I’d thought about Rosie Sheedy. Marrying her had zero appeal, even up against the idea of one night with Spencer. But I needed to think about Maggie and Jimmy Boy. The way Judd talked about my family, it was pretty clear that if I didn’t get the book soon, I wasn’t the only one who would suffer for it.
It was what it was. I came to Balanova for one reason, and I couldn’t change things now. I balled my hands into fists and rubbed my knuckles hard against the top of my thighs. Falling for a mark was a stupid mistake—an unforgivable one—but only if I let it get in the way of the job.
Besides, it wasn’t Spencer I was there to con. Not really. It was Tommy, and he deserved it. It was his selfishness that had robbed Spencer of the chance to grow up around family and friends in the Village. And, of course, it was Tommy who’d betrayed my clan and my father. I needed to remember that.
I stood up and followed the stone wall around to its other side. The dark mahogany door greeted me, and I glanced down at myself before going up the steps to knock. I’d chosen a pair of gray slacks and a simple black button-down. Originally I’d worn a tie, too, but Judd’s mocking laughter had quickly convinced me to abandon it before leaving the carriage house. I brushed some lint from my shirt, then ran a palm down the front of my slacks to smooth out any wrinkles.
Satisfied with my appearance, I bounded up the stone stairway that led to the front door. I reached the porch and blew out a long breath before lifting the thick, iron doorknocker.
I held my breath as I waited for the door to open. Would Tommy answer? Would he somehow recognize me as a Traveler—or, worse yet, as Wiley Jim’s son—and slam the door in my face? Suddenly this dinner seemed like a terrible idea. I needed more time or at least a better plan. I needed a way into the house that wouldn’t involve meeting Tommy at all. I needed—
“Spencer.” I took a step back as the door swung open and grabbed the iron railing to steady myself.
“You found it.” She beamed at me and stepped down onto the porch to take my free hand in both of hers. “I was a little worried you might get lost.” She pulled me through the door and into the cool air inside the house.
The joy in her face made all my earlier nervousness vanish in an instant. Somehow, just being near her made me certain everything would work out the way it needed to. “It’s a little…bigger than I was expecting, but yeah, I found it okay.” I smiled down at her as I shut the door behind me.
She grinned sheepishly at the floor. “I may have understated the size a little bit. I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging or anything.”
I chuckled and slid my fingers along her jawline, tilting her face so she looked up at me. “Spence, you’re the most unassuming person I’ve ever met. You could tell me your father was the Pope, and it wouldn’t sound like you were bragging.” I leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.
Spencer’s smile grew, and she stood on tiptoes to throw her arms around my neck. I winced as she pressed into my bruised ribs but wrapped my own arms around her waist and found her lips with mine. I would’ve been content standing there kissing her in the hall all evening, but a voice at the back of my head—one that sounded a lot like Judd Sheedy—reminded me of why I’d accepted the invitation to dinner in the first place.
“Something smells amazing,” I said, using it as a convenient excuse to put a little distance between her mouth and mine.
“Dinner should be ready soon. I hope you like lasagna.”
She looked toward the kitchen. I took the opportunity to glance down at her while her attention was elsewhere. She wore a cream-colored skirt made of a gauzy material, and the neckline of her black sweater framed her delicate collarbone in a way that made me want to run my tongue over it and down to the hollow at the base of her throat.
“You look beautiful,” I managed.
Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks.” She held her hand out to me, and I laced my fingers in hers.
We walked toward the back of the house, passing a wide staircase that sat to the right of the hall and disappeared into darkness several feet over our heads. On the left, the French doors that served as the entrance to a sunken, formal living room stood open, giving the wall a sort of slack-jawed appearance. The room was dimly lit, and I only caught a glimpse of its contents before passing. The shadowy figures of several large pieces of
