- OCTOBER 2ND— 7:30 PM -

Amelia West was quiet as the police surrounded her. She was quiet as she was led down the terminal, toward the exit, and she was quiet as Decker slid beside her in the back of the police vehicle and they pulled away from the airport.

Amelia West was the picture of silence. Alone in her thoughts, hands clasped in her lap, making no move to fight for her freedom. She smiled, the tug on her bright red lips vibrant against her pale face.

The sight of it gave Decker pause. She actually looked like she was exactly where she wanted to be. And the thought of her looking so utterly pleased by it, made Decker wondered what he had gotten himself into.

CHAPTER FIVE

- ONE YEAR EARLIER -

DECKER

Decker was moving before he could think twice, phone still clutched in his hand. The Heist King's game pulling his focus.

Five minutes to play. Five minutes to find the clue. Five minutes and the Heist King would be his.

He scanned the bridge, eyes flying across locks of all shapes and size.

"Where will you start? What will draw you in?" King asked.

Decker gave voice to his thoughts. "You may like to show off, but your work is hidden, unnoticed until you are safe..." Decker forced himself to ignore all of the locks that drew him in. His eyes narrowed as he walked along one side of the bridge, eyes scanning the locks, fingers brushing against the backs of the unremarkable ones and completely skipping over the bright ones.

"You aren't going to try and touch them all?"

"Not enough time. Rookie mistake. It's best to read the person who created the game and then stratetize against their natural inclinations."

"Good strategy. Unless you read me wrong," King challenged.

"I didn't," Decker replied, voice hard.

"I guess you'll find out in four minutes."

Decker ignored the time slipping away. He kept his pace, forcing himself to be meticulous and consistent. Eyes brushing over the unique and bright, fingers brushing across the mundane and ordinary.

"Tick Tock, James."

"You're attempts to distract me will not work, King."

"Distraction is unnecessary. You are down to two minutes, James."

"Again, distraction is beneath you."

"For a man who is deeply obsessed with catching me, a wanted thief, you have quite a high opinion of my game ethic."

"This isn't a game. And I am not obsessed. I am—"

"Consumed and plagued—"

"Driven and determined," Decker corrected."

"Either way, you are chasing me across the globe."

Decker's fingers continued to brush across locks, pausing for a beat before his focused snapped to King on the phone. "You are not what I expected."

"And you are exactly like I remember."

Decker froze, body caught in a current of shock. She knew his full name. Not the name he had given her, but his actual, real name. And now, she had claimed to have known him. From a time before this. "What—"

"One minute James."

Decker's hand clenched into a fist. "Come out, King."

"Not until—"

"I've had it for twenty seconds. Waiting for more tells and truths dressed up as lies." Decker scanned the shadows again, eyes narrow, tone hard. "You slipped."

"Did I?" King asked, tone revealing nothing, all amusement gone.

You called me James Decker... You know me. How?"

"Hold up the clue, James. I won't believe you have it until you show it to me."

Decker held up the note in a victory stance.

"Read it," she ordered.

Decker glanced at it, chest tightening. "My name is James Decker. I know the Heist King. I just don't remember."

"It's nice to see you again, James Decker." Decker spun, her voice not coming from the phone but from behind him, several feet away on the bridge. "It looks like you caught me."

...

HEIST KING

I tried not to look utterly amused by his surprise. But it was hard. Very hard. His brows scrunched up, jaw hardening, looking to all the world like he was a breath away from letting his jaw drop open in surprise.

He had expected me to lie. To string him along. And was currently trying very hard not to showcase it.

I made a mental note to surprise him— daily if possible.

"King." It wasn't a question. He knew what I looked like. He had seen me before.

"You can call me Harrow if you'd prefer."

"I'd prefer your real name. Not a stolen one."

"Shame. I've always enjoyed taking a name that wasn't mine. Harrow is a nice one. And while we are on the subject. Decker isn't your real last name either."

A muscle moved in his jaw again. Sending another wave of satisfaction over me.

Pants on fire hot.

"How do we know each other?"

"You're the detective. Figure it out."

Decker took a step toward me, testing my words. When I didn't bolt, he strode toward me, hands reaching into his coat pocket, silver flashing in his hands.

"Jewelry, how thoughtful," I said as he reached for my wrists. "I always thought rose gold was more my color, but it's the thought that counts."

He ignored my words, his hand wrapping around my wrist, skin hot against mine.

In spite of what I did with my time, the feeling of cuffs on my hands were foreign to me. I had practiced escaping before, but up until that moment, I had never had them placed on my hands by someone else.

I feigned a shiver, the cold cuffs sharp against my skin, James' dark blue eyes catching the movement. Then to my surprise, he slid off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders. And I was suddenly enveloped in the smell of him. The smell of whiskey and spice.

To my raised brow he said, "To hide the cuffs, King."

"Sensible, James." I replied quietly, our eyes clashing into each other's gazes, analyzing, caught in a dance of truth and lie as we took in what we saw. James Decker's gaze was all hard angles and clenched jaw. And from what I could tell from his reaction, eyes glancing away, I knew my gaze was softer, confusing him as his brows puckered.

He had come, ready to fight. To chase and I was just standing there, allowing him to click the cuffs into place.

He hesitated, hand hovering over my arm before he wrapped his fingers around my arm, his fingers hot on my bare skin, our contact hidden under his jacket like a secret, as he led me across the bridge.

He was quiet as we walked, tense, focused, determined to keep me from slipping away.

We walked onto a busy street, suddenly swallowed by a massive crowd. The streets were vibrantly lit with strings of lights, artists standing on the sidewalk, painting the world around them, sketching children sitting before them, performing music for coins. Food vendors were packed into the streets, the road blocked off from cars, leaving the world loud with noise and smells.

James's hand wrapped more tightly around my arm as we were swept up by the moving crowed, his body blocking several large men from jostling into me. If I wasn't in cuffs I would have taken it as a galant gesture. But I knew better. Girls in cuffs didn't get defended.

"What is this?" James muttered as the crowd grew thicker, voices growing louder.

"Festival d'Automne à Paris," I said.

James looked at me for the first time since we started moving, brow raised.

"It's an art festival. I've always wanted to see it. Lucky for us, it's just getting started."

James looked far less amused than I felt. "Don't think this will lead me to letting you go. It doesn't matter how many people try to push us apart. You are mine, King."

I fought a smile when James' eyes pulled away from my face, seeming to catch how territorial his words sounded.

"Noted, James. I'm yours."

A muscle worked in his jaw, making a smile spread across my face.

A group of men with glassy eyes shoved past James Decker, only to stop and turn around, brows raised. I recognized their police uniforms half a second before James Decker did. And their eyes fell to James' hip half a second before he could hide his once concealed weapon. The gun that had been hidden before I had shivered. Before I had made my first move.

I had spotted James Decker's gun when he placed the cuffs on my hands. Something I knew he wouldn't have had time to register in France before following me to the bridge. And now he was face to face with several drunk police officers, who would want proof that he was allowed to carry it around.

Fabulous.

An argument broke out, them demanding an explanation for the gun, while James answered in english, clearly not understanding their question.

"James I—"

"I don't need your help, King," James said, eyes never leaving the men.

Letting out a huff, I watched as their words circled each other, the drunk officers confused by James' english, and James not understanding their shouted questions in french.

Finally, one of officers reached for James' gun, and the sudden flash of anger across James' face was the only hint they received before James snapped the man's hand back, snapping a bone before shoving him back into the other officers. Then grabbing my hand, James pulled us into the crowd, his face pinched in frustration.

"That was—"

"Foolish," he said, his voice nearly swallowed by the noise of the celebrating crowd.

"I was going to say impressive."

He glanced at me, wary. "Unprofessional. They won't be far behind. And if they find us..."

"I'll be free," I said with a smirk.

James spun to face me, and I collided with him, his hand moving from my hand up to my arm, fingers hot against my skin. "No. Miss King. Once they know what I'm doing, what I have been hired to do, you'll be arrested right along with me." His eyes were hard, his smile dark. "How do you plan to escape from behind bars?"

I couldn't breathe, the world vanishing for a beat as his dark eyes enveloped my vision. The people were gone, the sounds blurred away, and there was nothing but James Decker, staring down at me with a dangerous, angry smile.

Pants on fire hot.

His hand squeezed my arm slightly in warning. "Out of magic tricks, King?"

A sudden commotion to our left had me smiling up at him. "Not yet, James." The police had spotted us.

He swore.

"Ready to run?"

As the officers jumped for us, James spun around, his hand taking up mine, pulling me into the crowd with him. Their shouts of protest were lost to the noise as James moved deeper into the chaos, bodies all pressed together, sights and smells loud and sharp in the cool night air.

Spotting a break in the crowd ahead, I tugged him to the left, bursting out of the throngs of people, my eyes on a small dark store front. Running into the ally, I shoved my arm against the side door and pulled us inside a small bakery, the smell of bread making my mouth water.

Then working in synchronized silence, we shoved several crates in front of the door, wove deeper into the shop and settled down into a small prep room. Decker closed the door, slid down in front of it and gestured for me to sit across the room so he could keep an eye on me.

We were both out of breath, hearts racing, faces glistening. We stared at each other, silent as we listened for the commotion of the police officers. James ran his hand down his face as he looked away.

My eyes fell on a box to my right, the words 'chocolate chips' written in enticing cursive, had my hands opening the box. "You want some chocolate chips?" I asked, scanning the ingredients list. "They're reduced fat. If you care about that sort of thing."

James looked at the small box in my hands with a raised brow. "That's written in french."

I placed a chocolate chip into my mouth. "Yes."

"You read french?"

"Correct."

James' eyes narrowed. "I assume that you speak it too?"

I smiled. "Also yes."

"Why didn't you say anything? When the police officers were yelling? You could have explained."

"If I recall correctly, you didn't want my help."

A muscle worked in James' jaw again, and I placed another chocolate chip on my tongue as I watched him. "So you've arrested me. Locked me up, fed me chocolate. What's next on your list?"

He didn't say anything for a long moment, finding no part of our current situation amusing.

I placed my cuffed hands into my jeans pocket before putting them deep back into the chocolate box. Then shaking the box like a rattle, I held it out to James again.

"Come on. We're going to be stuck in here for a while until the police move on. You might as well eat something."

When he made no move to take it, I shrugged and dropped the box on the ground.

His loss.

Glancing toward the small window in the storage room, James pulled out his phone and dialed a a number. Before he could say a word, someone was talking.

He paused, glancing at me. "I'm with her now."

There was more talking before James looked away, brow furrowed. "It's complicated. Is there another way out?"

He didn't like whatever the response was, and soon, he hung up with a string of expletives.

"Trouble?" I asked.

Ignoring me, he swiped up the chocolates and shoved several into his mouth. "We are stuck here for a while."

I knew better than to pretend to be shocked. And instead hid my hand behind my face, hoping to make my smile less obvious.

...

DECKER

Exhaustion clung to James Decker like a second skin. His body weary after the game on the bridge and the chase on the streets. He wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and crawl under a pair of sheets, but with the woman sitting across from him, completely untrustworthy, he knew better than to allow himself to get comfortable.

And yet, he was supposed to wait. Bex said it could take hours before the celebration died down and the police officers moved on. A broken wrist tended to insight revenge.

Decker knew he shouldn't have broken the man's hand. But the idea of having gotten what he came for, only to be thwarted by a drunken police officer had him moving before he could question himself.

He knew he shouldn't have lashed out. His baggage was clear and it had become a problem, the reason why he was hiding like a coward, a prisoner in cuffs sitting across from him, offering him chocolate like it was a regular day.

Running a hand through his hair, he plucked up another piece of chocolate, the taste bitter in his mouth. He glanced up at King as another wave of sleep tried to drag him down, and he noticed her fiddling with her cuffs.

"Don't even think... about it, King," he said, words tired and murky.

Something in the back of his mind was trying to grab his attention, an instinct that shouted that he was in danger, that something was wrong. But he was so tired, he could hardly think straight.

King dropped her hands with a self deprecating smile. "Worth a shot. You seemed distracted."

Decker tried to say something else, but his mouth suddenly felt dry, his eyelids heavy. He glanced at the box of chocolates, a new spike of energy corsing through him. His head snapped up and he glared at King.

"What did you do?" he asked, voice angry.

"Sleeping drought. Added the powder to the box before offering the chocolates to you." She stood up, her hands coming free of the cuffs so easily, it was like watching her remove a simple bracelet. "I have to admit. I was a bit surprised that you didn't check my pockets."

She ran her hands over Decker's jacket possessively, before shoving them through his sleeves, an amused grin taking up the corners of her red painted mouth.

"I think I'll keep your jacket. I'll wave to you with it on next time I'm on camera."

"You..." Decker couldn't stand. He couldn't move. He was trapped on the ground, watching King move toward the window with purpose.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I never said I'd stay, James Decker. I have something else to take while I'm here."

Decker's vision went dark as she climbed up through the window and vanished into the night without a word.

"Until next time, James."

Her use of his name sparked a memory. An old one that felt familiar and forgotten all in a single moment. Then it was gone as James Decker's head hit the floor, passing out in the darkened pastry shop.

---

Thank you for reading chapter five! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!

UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!

Will the police find Decker while he's passed out?

What is the Heist King planning on stealing?

Will Decker catch her before she strikes again?

CHAPTER QUESTION - Are you a person who can sleep anywhere, or only in your own room?