Con-Artist Read online

  Con-Artist

  Alexa Riley

  Contents

  HEA on the go

  Con-Artist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Coach

  Chapter 1

  Stalk the Author

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  To the men who thing they’re running the con…

  We got you.

  Con-Artist

  by Alexa Riley

  James Bryant is trying her best to quit her job as a thief, but she needs one more big job to get the money she needs. When she literally runs into a man on the street and takes his wallet, she never imagines that the muscled beast would come back to haunt her.

  Bennett Hughes lives a life of luxury and solitude. There’s nothing he can’t get if he wants it, but when a pickpocket catches his attention and gets away he finds it impossible to track her down. Luckily for him he knows people in all the wrong places, and as soon as he gets his hands on her, he’ll make sure she’s bound to him in every possible way.

  Warning: It’s the newest addition to our baby-making series and it’s filthier than ever before! If you loved Coach, Mechanic, Thief, Kingpin, and Judge, then this one is waiting for you to love it.

  Copyright © 2019 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Chapter 1

  James

  I roll over in bed and look at my watch. It’s sitting on the charging station and looking at me like I’m supposed to be up already. Bradford doesn’t care for being tardy, even if the jobs for him aren’t exactly legal. I’m pretty sure I’m his favorite girl right now and I need to keep it that way. Well, I’m his only girl, but there’s no reason to focus on that.

  I’ve never felt the wrath of Bradford, but I’ve seen others on the receiving end of it. For an old guy he can still pack a punch. That’s why I do what I’m told and walk a fine line between petty theft and odd jobs to make my cut. It’s nothing that could land me in the state prison for the rest of my life because I’d never make it on the inside. My best quality has always been that I’m small and quick, but in a prison there isn’t anywhere to go. Inside, a person is trapped and that thought has always made me panic. I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing. I always have an exit plan.

  If anyone knows what prison is like, it’s me. Both of my parents have been locked up since I was fifteen. Mom was in and out, but after the last time it looks like she won’t be coming out anytime soon. I think it might be for the best, at least for my sake. She was always trying to get me to do shit for her. Shit that would have landed me right next to her. I don’t touch drugs after I watched them destroy my parents. It was the most important thing to them, and I realized at a young age to stay far away from them. Before I ever worked for Bradford he told me to stay away from them, too, and it’s one of the reasons I work for him. He respects the lines someone draws for themselves as long as you respect his. Bradford was always around when I was growing up. He let me start doing small errands for him when I was around ten and back then it was just to get groceries for his mom or running errands.

  I grab my phone and swing my legs over the side of my twin-size bed. Like every morning I check my bank account and stare at the number. It’s slowly grown over time, but I need to get more ballsy and take on bigger jobs. It will get me out of here sooner rather than later, though I’m not sure what kind of job Bradford would give me if I asked for it. Sometimes it feels as if he treats me differently than some of the other people my age that work for him. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl and I don’t know if I should be thankful or pissed.

  I think it over as I look at the money, and I don’t know what the number in my bank account should be before I make a fresh start. I want to go somewhere new where I’m not the girl with two messed up parents and who is good at picking pockets. It’s the one skill that my dad taught me that actually helped me in life. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  An uneasy feeling settles over me. Something feels off today and I have a tingling at the base of my spine. I stand and stretch, thinking that maybe I need to go for a run, but I don’t have the time. I glance out the window of my tiny studio apartment, if you can even call it that. It’s maybe three hundred square feet and the window faces a brick wall. I think its original intent was meant to be a small office that sits over the bar, but Bradford helped me get the place and I get to pay my rent in cash weekly. It’s cheap and I feel somewhat safe since Bradford knows the owners. Plus, I don't let anyone know where I live.

  I put on tight black pants and sneakers and a simple black T-shirt before pulling on a hoodie over it. It’s the same thing I wear almost every day. I put my watch on and grab my phone then make my way out the door and down that stairs to the empty bar. I walk out the back and slip into the morning crowd. I pull my hood over my head before double-checking to make sure I have my phone tucked away. I know all too well how easy it is to lift one.

  Not paying attention, I slam into a hard body and gasp just as I start to fall backwards. Strong hands grip my shoulders and keep me from falling on my side. Fear races up my spine as I stare at a very expensive suit—one that is out of place on this side of town.

  My eyes travel up to see two bright piercing blue eyes staring down at me. He looks pissed off and he’s probably thinking I ruined his outfit that cost more than a car, but I’m sure he can afford another. My hood falls off as I lean back to look up at him and my hair comes tumbling out around me.

  His eyes widen for a moment and his nose flares, his jaw clenching. Then the hands on my shoulders tighten as he grips me harder.

  “Let go,” I snap in the most commanding voice I can. I say it loud enough that I know others will turn to look at a man holding on to a girl who is about half his size.

  He doesn’t let go, though, and instead a cocky half smile forms on his handsome face. I inwardly cringe at thinking he’s handsome.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?” I try again. I don’t attempt and get out of his hold…yet. A small tug wouldn’t work if he didn’t want to let me go and I’d need surprise on my side.

  “You are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He pulls me into him and presses my body against his. For a moment I’m
shocked as his eyes roam my face. “Or maybe not so feisty.”

  “Sir,” I hear someone say and the sound of someone next to us breaks into my mind.

  I glance over to a man about the same size as the one holding on to me. He’s in a suit, too, but it’s not as nice as the one holding me. The guy with the grip isn’t paying attention to the man who is trying to speak to him. When the stranger opens his mouth to speak again, I’ve had enough.

  With all my might I bring my knee up to try and break his hold, but he blocks me. I steal the moment to slip out of his grip and I take off at a sprint, moving as far and as fast as I can. I do the thing I know I’m not supposed to and I glance back. I can tell he must have tried to catch me because he’s a good block or two away but he’s stopped. He likely knew there was no catching me. Men that big can’t move this fast.

  I circle the block because I still need to get to Bradford’s shop. By the time I come back around I see the man is gone and I once again blend back into the crowd as I pull my hoodie over my head. A glance as my watch tells me I’ll still be on time, even with the asshole manhandler.

  When I’m a block away I take out the wallet I lifted from the suit and see a nice stack of cash inside. I tuck it away so I can go through it later, but I’m pleased that the encounter was worth it. I should pull the cash out now and toss the rest, but for some reason I want to have a better look at it.

  A few minutes later I walk into the shop and Josh is walking out. He’s got a good ten years on me, but unlike me, Josh enjoys being noticed. He’s tall and has always been lean, but over the past few months it looks like he’s been hitting the gym. Or the steroids.

  “Hey.” His hand comes down on the wall of the narrow hallway that leads to Bradford’s office and he blocks my way. He winks at me and I know he’s trying to be charming. “What’s got you all flushed, J?”

  He pushes my hood back from my head. I want to smack his hand, but I try not to poke the beast if I don’t have to. Especially ones I have to see and work with. I try and stay as under the radar as I can, and if I could be invisible I would.

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask as I dart under his arm towards Bradford’s office.

  He won’t follow me because Josh only gives me his shit when no one is around to see it. I hear him call me a little shit, then he follows it up with a muttered, “cunt,” right before I go into Bradford’s office. I don’t know what his deal is. He’s either trying to get in my pants or make me feel like shit.

  When I walk into Bradford’s office I close the door behind me and see he’s got his phone to his ear and an irritated look on his face. He points to an envelope sitting on the corner of his desk and I walk over to it.

  Chapter 2

  Bennett

  Money can get you anything, anytime, anywhere. There isn’t a door that won’t open for me and I don’t hear the word no. I wake up to a world of possibilities and sleep on thousand-dollar sheets every night. When you’re raised with this at your fingertips, as ridiculous as it sounds, life can get boring. Each day blends into the next and it’s all black and white. Or I guess in my case, it’s all gold and diamonds. The view is pretty, but I sometimes wonder if I wouldn’t savor it more if I were hungry.

  My family is a long line of railroad owners, and the Hughes family is one of the oldest in the country. We made our money at the turn of the century and it’s only been growing since then. My father is the sole heir to the estate and I’m the next in line to inherit. I live off a trust fund that could keep my great-great grandchildren dripping in rubies and there is still more to come later. It’s wealth that’s whispered about and keeps me surrounded in security. I didn’t ask for any of this, but what choice do I have as a Hughes?

  People say a lot of things about me and my life. I’ve been called the next John Kennedy Jr. because of my clean-cut look and the way I avoid the press, but I’m no nice guy. People that have actually met me don’t usually ask to do it again. I’ve been called as asshole to my face, which means it must be true. Normally people with my kind of money never hear a negative word about them, but the fact that people don’t whisper it behind my back speaks to my personality.

  I spend my days with my security guards, but I wouldn’t call us friends. My house is like a fucking museum with all the expensive shit in it, and it’s too goddamn big for one person. I don’t plan on ever sharing it with anyone, so it’s just all a waste of space.

  When I was sixteen, I found my mom in bed with my dad’s best friend Tom and I think it broke any romantic notion that I’d ever find love. I’ve had my share of one-night stands, but after seeing a few of them sell their stories to gossip sites I’ve given up women all together. Maybe the constant look of irritation on my face doesn't help, but I don’t care.

  Nothing in my life gives me passion and I’ve accepted that it’s the way things will be. I was born a success, so what else am I supposed to achieve? It takes a boulder rolling over me to spark any sort of emotion and that’s just what that little thief did.

  I didn’t realize she stole my wallet right away because I was too busy being distracted by her big doe eyes and the way her body felt against mine. I’ve never seen someone so beautiful and so fucking fast.

  “Find her,” I bark to the team of people around me as I get into the waiting car by the curb.

  I inwardly curse myself for doing weights instead of cardio as I reach in my pocket and grab my phone. I’m pretty sure I could train for a marathon and still not be able to catch up with her.

  A second car always follows us in case of an emergency and right now I’m having one. There’s only about a grand in the wallet, but it’s got my license and credit cards. It’s not like I can’t have them replaced, but it’s the principle of it. She stole it and I want it back.

  Her long dark hair spilling out behind her as she leaned back flashes into my mind. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted as I cradled her in my arms. I grip my phone tighter and continue to text the security team a description of what to look for.

  At first I thought it was a young boy with the way her hood was over her head. I thought the kid wasn’t watching where they were going and I tried to keep them from falling over when they ran into me. Then I had a look at her and all I could do was pull her closer to me.

  “Fuck!” I slam my fist into the side of the car as the other team says they’ve lost her. “Circle the block!” I yell to the front and feel the car take a turn.

  Her eyes were dark brown with flecks of gold in them and the thought makes my thighs tight. I bring my fist to my mouth and clench my jaw as I stare out the car window. I’m scanning the crowd, but it’s like she’s gone up in smoke.

  My cock swells with the memory of her mouth and what it would feel like to slide inside it. Would she fight me? She was skittish and ran the second she got the chance, but there was fire inside her. She tried to knee me in the balls and I can’t say that I blame her. There wasn’t a single pure thought in my mind as soon as I got a look at her, and if she hadn’t gotten away I would have thrown her in my car and no one would have ever seen her again.

  The thought of having her tied to my bed is almost enough to undo me. I reach down to adjust my throbbing cock, but instead I end up stroking it and thinking of the possibilities.

  My phone buzzes with a message saying that there’s still no sign of her and I want to break it in half. I tell them to keep looking and then lean my head back and close my eyes.

  All this happened right after seeing Bradford this morning, so no wonder I’m on edge. I hired Bradford to ruin Tom’s life after I found him with my mom. Bradford watched me pull out a wad of cash at sixteen years old and decided if he wasn’t going to do it I’d find someone that would. My own father wasn’t a bad guy, but Bradford knew how to survive. I envied that kind of knowledge and I kept in touch with him even after he did the job for me. He’s one of the few people I trust, and the fact that he’s a criminal is comical. If my security
team can’t locate her, then I know he can.

  I fire off a quick text to him saying I’m coming back to his office later tonight. I need to talk to him as soon as possible, but I’ve already been seen enough out here today and I don’t want anyone getting wind of it and photographing me around his spot. He likes his privacy almost as much as I do.

  I take a deep sigh and rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. I’ve got to be patient for a few more hours, and patience is not something I’ve ever acquired. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s that if I want something bad enough, it’s mine. And I’ll have that little pickpocket if it’s the last thing I do.

  Chapter 3

  James

  I chew on my bottom lip as I think about how to bring this up to Bradford and if it’s really something I want to do. Maybe I should take the small amount of money I already have and leave town. I’m always thinking that the next job I take is going to be the thing that gets me caught.

  The first time is only a slap on the wrist, right? I probably wouldn't get so lucky, or I’d end up spending every cent I’ve saved on a lawyer and then where would I be? The weird tingling I had since I woke up yesterday morning lingers. It also doesn't help that late last night I got a text from Bradford saying he wanted to talk to me about something.