her away the minute we get in there.”
“Or they could go off on us and she could get caught in the middle of it,” Rat adds.
“We’re gonna fucking sit on that house and see what happens,” I reply. “Something’s fucking off with that place, but even if there wasn’t, something’s got that girl scared. I wanna know what it is. Settle in, guys. We might have a wait ahead of us.”
Reaper grumbles, setting his helmet down, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Shit. I’m already sweating my balls off from sitting out here in the goddamned heat.”
“Suck it up, Reap. They’re not gonna fucking fall off. Let’s go.” I grab my sidebag and nod to the house beside them. “We can cool our asses off in there.”
“Thank fuck.”
Rat goes over to our bikes and grabs his sidebags. “Come on, Striker. You can put those B&E skills to good use.”
Striker rubs his hands together and follows us to a side door, taking his bag from Rat. He shoulders it and then pulls his lock-picking tools out of his cut. He looks around. “Is there a fucking alarm on this place?”
“No.” Rat shakes his head. “I looked into the houses around here. This house has been foreclosed. The alarm contract has been terminated.”
Reaper leans against the wall, pressing a button on his watch as he eyes Striker. “Let’s see how fast you can do it this time.”
Striker grins and bends over the lock. There’s a metallic rattling sound and then a click of the lock before he opens the door.
“Fifteen seconds.” Reaper claps him on the back as he pushes the door open. “You’re getting slower in your old age.”
“Fuck you.” Striker laughs and waits for us to go in before shutting the door. We’ve stepped into a large, open kitchen, spotless the way a house only looks when it’s on the market. “Make yourself useful and keep watch.”
Reaper leaves us, going to the front of the house to keep a lookout. It’s early morning, and we don’t want whoever’s showing this house to turn up with a buyer and call the cops on us.
Meanwhile, Rat takes water bottles from our bags and fills them all from the tap.
Leaving Reaper in the living room, Rat, Striker, and I head upstairs to a large bedroom at the front of the house. It’s empty of furniture or belongings, with only a nasty ass beige carpet just like the one in Rosie’s living room. I suddenly feel like I’ve been thrust into every stakeout movie I’ve ever seen.
I stand at the front window with Rat, who digs a pair of binoculars from inside his bag. From up here, we can see over the tops of the trees to the front of the rooming house. I can see part of the large backyard behind it, and the fence that runs along the rear and sides of the property. The street and that house lie eerily quiet. There’s no one around at all.
Rat stands close to the window with the binoculars pressed to his eyes. Time snails by. A neighbor pulls up to a house a little ways off and goes inside, and a FedEx guy drops a delivery off at another house, but otherwise, the area might as well be a ghost town.
I take out my phone, using the time to check my messages. When I open the live feed that’s monitoring my bedroom, of course the room is empty. I find old footage from the feed that’s stored on my phone. Opening the video file, I grin at the image of Emma and me tangled together on my bed while I pound into her like a man possessed. My cock turns to steel at the sight. Emma’s cries, half protest, half desire, blare out of the phone.
“What the fuck?” Striker turns from the window to me, brows raised.
I smirk unapologetically but turn the volume down so the others can barely hear it.
“Really, Spidy?” Rat says, glancing back at me. “You’re gonna stand there watching porn on your phone while we get to watch this boring ass street?”
“It’s not porn. It’s…” I trail off, unable to think of a suitable description. Watching Emma take my cock, head tossed back, eyes closed, with a look of utter rapture on her beautiful face as she comes apart? It’s a work of art.
“Let me see,” Striker says, grabbing for my phone. “That sounds hot as fuck.”
“Hands off. Keep your eyes on your business,” I growl, holding the phone out of