Page 62 of Point Blank

Milo’s gaze fell to the sway of Serena’s hips. The material of her yoga pants highlighted every delicious contour of her ass. Desire ripped through his flesh. Dammit, he couldn’t think about that right now . . . couldn’t think about kissing her full, defiant mouth, couldn’t think about stripping her naked and fucking her on the Kentucky bluegrass.

“Milo, are you listening?” He jerked his stare away from her ass. Serena was looking at him over her shoulder, her brows pinched in a scowl.

He cleared his throat and stopped between Brock and her along the line of cedars behind the pool house, past the tennis court. “I’m listening.” Shit, he had no clue what she’d said. He focused his attention on the nine-thousand-square-foot mansion that loomed in front of them. He checked his watch. Just after 11:00 p.m.

“Let’s locate the cameras.”

Serena clasped her arms across her chest and leaned forward, squinting. “I see two. The other should be . . .”

Milo tilted his head back to look at the overhang of the pool house’s roof. He lifted his index finger. “Right here.”

Brock and Peyton took a step back, but they wouldn’t have been in view of the camera.

Milo’s gaze traveled over the pool, the outdoor kitchen, and the stacked stone wall beneath the second-story balcony.

He whistled. “That balcony looks a lot higher than fourteen feet.”

Serena fingered the strands of her ponytail. “I guess we’d better get started then.”

Milo blew a breath through his lips. She was right, they didn’t have time to come up with a new plan, and they sure as hell couldn’t gamble with Dani’s life. Brock peeled off his backpack and passed a bound-up cable to Serena. She fit it over her head and arm so it slung across her chest.

He watched the camera and timed its rotation. “We’ve got twelve seconds to get to the east side of the yard by the fountain. Ready?”

She gave one curt nod.

“Everyone put your earbuds in,” Peyton instructed. “If you have any problems, or if you get caught, remember, the code word is mayday.”

Milo pulled his out at the same time as Serena, and they inserted them.

“Got it.” Serena jammed her hands into her pockets. The moonlight outlined her profile as she stared at their target entrance.

“Try to update me on your location in the house so I can be prepared to move in,” Brock said.

Serena turned to Brock. “If something happens . . . if we don’t make it out . . .” Her throat bobbed on a swallow.

Brock gripped her shoulder. “I promise, I’ll find Dani.”

She nodded, let out a deep sigh, and sunk her fingertips into Milo’s sleeve. “I’m ready.”

He put his arm around her and watched the camera. As soon as it skimmed over their heads, he ushered her out from under the overhang. Their hurried footsteps kicked up the scent of wet grass, sending it wafting to his nostrils. Serena reached the stone fountain first and dropped to her knee out of the camera’s sight. Milo kneeled beside her and zeroed in on their next move. A flower bed, no more than two feet high, lined one side of the walkout patio.

“Can you see them?”

Serena’s ponytail bobbed on a nod. “Yeah, Peyton signaled to wait.”

Milo peered over her head and the edge of the fountain, locking his gaze on Brock’s form. His hand rose and waved to them. Milo brought his hand to Serena’s hip and together they rose and skirted across the lawn to the covered patio. He pressed his back against the stacked stone wall and Serena fell into place next to him. The twelve-foot cedar bushes that lined the flower bed along the side of the patio blocked the camera on the east side of the house.

Brock gave them a thumbs-up—they’d made it without being caught by the cameras.

Milo pushed away from the wall and tipped his head back. A low groan rumbled in his chest. Christ, it had been three years since he rock-climbed or did any strenuous activity of the sort. Lifting weights and doing cardio would in no way aid his guitar-string hamstrings for the ninety-degree angle that loomed before him.

Dammit to hell and back, he was probably going to throw his back out.

Chapter

Fourteen

If their circumstances weren’t so dire, Serena would have laughed at the expression on Milo’s twisted face. But time wasn’t something they had to throw around. She gripped the material on his arm and tugged.