Page 3 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“Obviously because of the watch.”

He is cute. Maybe. Marginally. But that is entirely beside the point.

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m going to do him a favor,” I tell her. “He’s clearly distracted. Someone less ethical than me could take advantage of that.”

“Someone exactly as ethical as you is about to take advantage of that.”

“Just get into position for the handoff.”

She steps left. I step right. And I go to work drifting back into the crowd toward the mark. Nothing to see here. I’m someone who just happens to be walking past.

He’s within arm’s reach now. I time the brush. Three seconds… I’ve got two fingers poised to liberate the clasp of his watch when his right hand closes around my wrist.

I freeze.

He’s looking down at me. Brown eyes, warm and thoroughly amused.

“Tsk, tsk.” His voice is low. “Sticky fingers.”

I look down at it. I look up at him.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.” The corner of his mouth moves.

“Did you need something?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I was just walking,” I say, the picture of serenity.

“You were just walking.”

“Through the park.” I gesture broadly at the park, as if he may not have noticed it. “It’s a nice day.”

He hums. He has not let go of my wrist. He does not appear to be planning to. “Yes, it is a nice day.”

“Cinco de Mayo.”

“Mm.”

“You’re still holding my wrist.”

“I am,” he agrees, unhurried, like we have all the time in the world, and he personally owns most of it.

I look at him. He looks at me. My heart does something embarrassing in my chest.

He is not going to look away first.

“You know,” he says. “Where I’m from, being faster than a pickpocket is a skill you learn… very, very young.” He tilts his head, easy as anything, eyes raking down to my shoes.

Every nerve ending I own relocates to the point where his fingers are still circled around my wrist. The skin-to-skin contact is hot and zingy and I am acutely aware that I am not usually this interested in being caught.

“And where might that be?”

“Mexico City.”