Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
His creation only lived in idea, not reality. But the marks didn’t know that.
Wind tousled my hair, and I pulled my blazer tighter. My father stared at me with an earnest expression, wanting me to learn. To live up to him. Back then, I only wanted to make him proud.
Now, not so much.
He clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Because confidence is the most powerful tool in this world. Having confidence and gaining confidence from others is our job. It’s all you need to build a life. Never forget that.” He glanced at his Patek Philippe watch and then looked back down at me. “Ready?”
“For what?”
“The next job.”
His words ring in my head, and the memory sits heavier knowing I’m in a car on my way to fucking Connecticut and not on my bike heading toward Seattle.
This whole thing is such a colossally bad idea. My parents have been prepping for the Seattle gig for months and bailing on them isn’t as easy as Phoebe and Hailey are making it seem.
It’s unusual—the fact that my sister had zero plans in place to handle the fallout of ditching a job. To the point where I realize she had a plan.
Me.
She told Carter she’d be missing Seattle on purpose. She knew he’d tell me. She knew I’d show up to check on her . . . and Phoebe.
And she knew I’d be the best one to smooth things over with our parents, and I can’t deny, I am.
I’m probably the only one who could get our parents off their tracks. But not forever. If I could do that, I would’ve cut ties from my mom and dad a long time ago.
I hate road trips.
Memories flare in the quiet and as the landscapes change shape out the window.
The night of my eighteenth birthday, my father took me into his wine cellar and gave me an expensive bottle of Bordeaux.
“You know how much this is worth?” he asked.
I nodded. The six of us had been brought up to know the price tags of brands, cars, wines, liquors. Not just so we knew which to take, but which to flaunt.
“Say it,” he told me.
“Twenty-one grand.”
“And that worth is still lower than your family,” he reminded me. “No monetary value will ever be higher than your brother and your sister. You’re the oldest, and you’re eighteen now, which means you need to always protect them.”
Why was he telling me this? What was the motive? The questions churned in my head back then as much as they do now.
Really, he could’ve just been afraid of the consequences of what we do, and he needed me to be the protector in case shit blew up on him.
The risks of pulling the rope on a mark—they were always there. Always blinking in the background like highway reflectors in the night.
Phoebe’s dad was proof enough of the risks.
My father’s gaze cemented on me like a cinder block. “You need to promise me, Rocky.”
My stomach coiled. The older I got, the more I tried to speak less to my parents. It’d become more difficult not to spit acid and hide my curt, short tone.
“Rocky?” he implored.
I returned the wine bottle to my father.
The truth: I loved my brother and my sister. Hailey had always been smarter than me. Only a year younger. And Trevor—he could fabricate almost anything and make it look real. A month prior, he’d made a counterfeit gold coin and sold it for ten grand.
He was twelve.
“They’re smarter than I am,” I shot back.
“They have the brains, but you have the silver tongue.” He handed the bottle back to me. “Promise me.”
I stared at the bottle. Not at him. “I promise.”
At eighteen, I promised him that I’d keep my sister out of harm’s way. But I promised myself I’d protect her a long time before that, and I didn’t need him to drill it into my head.
And now I’m here, chaperoning this experiment under clear protest. At least, I hope it’s fucking clear I think “no more conning” is a bad idea.
I glare out the window as we slow down in a town that I don’t recognize. Didn’t do research before coming here. Don’t know who this landlord Jake guy is, but it won’t be the first time I’ve jumped into a job on the spot. Not advised or recommended, but sometimes shit happens.
You have to adapt.
Hailey rolls the Honda to a stop at a red light, and I pull up Google Maps on my phone.
Victoria, Connecticut.
Never heard of it, but we also haven’t spent a long time in Connecticut before. I can’t ever remember pulling a con in this state. I click into a Wiki page on the town, and I learn some quick facts.
Sixty thousand residents.
One of the wealthiest towns in the state.
Home to Caufield University.
It feels like a place that my parents would pick for a job, but my sister wouldn’t lie to me. She’d omit facts, sure, but she wouldn’t fabricate some elaborate story and trick me. Maybe they’re just subconsciously leaning into what’s familiar. A rich-as-fuck town with a mixture of townies and visitors.