Page 61 of Point Blank

“Both.”

Milo fell back a pace and gave her hand a squeeze. “Almost done.”

She snorted. Why did everyone keep saying that? “We haven’t started yet.”

“In an hour, we’ll be in the truck heading to the meeting point and all this will be behind us.”

She rolled her lips in and pinched the flesh between her teeth. Heat singed the corners of her eyes, and she exhaled through her nose to dam the rush of tears.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Serena,” he growled. The tone of his voice was harsher than it should have been, but it made some of her composure unravel.

Her gaze flew to Peyton, who passed her to walk a few steps ahead of Milo and her. “It’s just . . . what if the kidnapper doesn’t hold up their end of the deal? What if they don’t let her go? Or if . . . if . . .” Emotion choked her.

Milo’s arm slid around her waist, bringing her shoulder under the weight of his bicep. “Hang tight, babe. We’re doing everything we can.”

She nodded. She’d give the next couple of hours everything she had left in her. Dani would survive—she’d make sure of it. Her gaze landed on Brock’s form ahead of her. Muscles flexed under his gray T-shirt and his hands hung in tight mallets at his sides.

As much as Dani despised Brock, something had to be said for his willingness to help her. Serena burrowed closer to Milo and lifted her eyes to the hard line of his bristly jaw.

The same could be said about Milo . . .

“Brock, jump!” Serena said in a whisper, cupping her mouth. Brock teetered on the edge of the stone wall that surrounded Titus’s property.

Milo’s shoulders shook, and he couldn’t for the life of him speak any encouraging words without cracking up. “C’mon, man. I’ll catch you.”

Serena snorted, but her elbow caught him in the rib before he could take another jab at Brock.

Brock glowered at them. “Fuck you.”

Milo rubbed his hand over his neck.

“C’mon, Brock.” Peyton’s normally pleasant voice dripped with impatience. “You won’t bunch your panties, I promise.”

“It’s ten feet. Hang down and let go. We’ve got work to do.” Serena’s no-nonsense tone did the trick. The thump of Brock’s feet hitting the ground was cushioned by the thick, manicured grass.

He stood and stepped up to Milo. “For your information, I’ve got a bad knee.”

The corners of Milo’s mouth twitched, and he clapped Brock on the shoulder. The redness remained on Brock’s cheeks.

“How did you plan to get over the wall? Fly?”

Brock shrugged off Milo’s hand. “It’s higher than I thought.” He sounded slightly affronted, but his tone held a hint of humor.

“If you two are done, can we get the diamonds now?” Serena propped her hands on her hips.

“As long as Delicate Dorothy didn’t break a nail.”

Peyton threw her head back and hiccupped a laugh.

Brock smirked. “Ha ha. I see you two haven’t lost your sense of humor. You can stay here laughing at your own jokes while Serena and I do the real work.”

Brock nudged Serena and they moved toward the house, staying in the shadows. Milo followed Peyton but didn’t hide his chuckle. Memories of the four of them—five including Dani—working on heists flooded him. Brock had always been so easy to rib, Serena anxious to get the job done, Peyton optimistic, and Dani persistent, never backing down. As much as he’d wanted to forget this lifestyle, it was a part of him. The familiar buzz of adrenaline zapped in his veins, but it was different this time. This time, it wasn’t financial gain he was setting out for. He was doing this for Serena and Dani, but for himself too. To pay homage to the Milo he’d buried a long time ago, to prove to himself that he could dance with his past without repeating history.

Except his history with Serena.