Heist rule number two? Never fall for a lone wolf.
A blast from Tuck’s circus past draws Tuck and the charming lone-wolf hacker, Leo, into a dizzying web of passion, secrets, and betrayal.
When the circus comes calling, Tuck is helpless to the lure, and this time, his old troupe’s in trouble. Their attempt to leave Reynauld Industries ended with a hit on them, courtesy of the deadly mercenary group, the Stockyard. Tuck can’t sit idly by, and as the resident stealth operator for the Outlaws, he’s in a unique position to help.
Leo’s a lone wolf hacker, and no amount of his best friend’s pleading, Tuck’s flirty smiles, or interesting jobs will sway him into working with the Outlaws. At least, until they land this one. After growing up in the hellish Stockyard, he’s wanted to take them down for years, and this is the Holy Grail of opportunities. Only problem? The Outlaws can never know about his history with them.
When Leo and Tuck start working together, a chemistry emerges that neither of them can deny. Leo’s mantra of “one and done” falters the moment Tuck shows him a care and steadfastness he’s never experienced before, and the more time they spend with each other, the more he doesn’t want to give up the first man he’s started to fall for. However, if the Outlaws discover his past or the Stockyard finds him first, Leo will end up one of the bloated corpses they’ve left lining the Chicago River.
“When you’ve seen the elephant, son, there’s not much left to surprise you.”
Tuck crept along the pitch-black corridor, the scents of furniture cleaner, the crisp night air, and polished metal filling his nose.
One step, two step, one step, two.
His father’s words resurrected themselves at every job, as if the man himself were haunting him along the way. Dad had meant the mantra to carry the world-weariness of someone who’d seen too much. Except then he’d died of an embolism, which left the hollow tang of irony to his oft-repeated phrase.
Tuck liked to remember it for one reason alone. No matter how much you’d seen, no matter how perfect a plan you had—life was a fickle bitch, and she would always surprise you.
As he crept down the hallway, he didn’t make a sound. Instead, the hum of the air conditioning broke through the vacuum of noise, and he continued with an even tread. They’d spent a week casing this place that might as well be a history museum with how many rare and unusual artifacts littered the rooms. Because having gold diadems from the late Hellenistic period lying around on display was common. Royal Egyptian overseer statues? Pah, commoner fare.
Elijah Whittaker could go cry into his bags of money after they robbed him.
The asshole had been strong-arming people for years to get the collector’s items he wanted, and they were simply returning a rare Persian dagger to the rightful owner.
Scarlet’s voice sounded over the comms. “Who ate my beef and broccoli?”
Katherine McIntyre is a feisty chick with a big attitude despite her short stature. She writes stories featuring snarky women, ragtag crews, and men with bad attitudes—and there’s an equally high chance for a passionate speech thrown into the mix. As an eternal geek and tomboy who’s always stepped to her own beat, she’s made it her mission to write stories that represent the broad spectrum of people out there, from different cultures and races to all varieties of men and women.
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