Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  “I was there a couple of weeks ago.” Jon said, sauntering towards his kitchen. “I posed as a cable repairman. That’s how I learned that he’d be away until Wednesday. He told me.”

  “Damn…” Tim whispered, standing over the kitchen table, looking down at the blueprint of the expensive mansion. “How many rooms does that house have?”

  “First of all, it’s on Actors Colony Road. It’s got fourteen rooms.” Jon said with a mischievous smile on his face. “Let’s hope you don’t have to visit them all.”

  “Why do you say that?” Tim asked, turning to him.

  “You don’t have enough time.” Jon’s smile was wiped off his face. “First of all, we’re doing this tomorrow night. I’ll come pick you up at midnight. There’s a power gate outside; you’ll have to climb and jump over it. The house is rigged with sensors. I can deactivate them, but there’s a backup system. It takes a while for it to kick in, though. You have two minutes to get in, blow the safe and get your ass out of there. This is the main entrance.” He went on, pointing at the lower right corner of the blueprint. “It’s too exposed; we can’t use that. What we need…” He paused and then pointed at the upper right corner “... Is the back door. It’s more than thirty yards away from the road and it’s dark. It’s ideal.”

  “What about the neighbors?” Tim had one more question.

  “The closest house is fifty yards away. The bedroom balcony overlooks Bradford’s rear garden. You’ll have to be careful. I doubt the neighbors will be out on the balcony in the middle of February, though.”

  “Alright,” Tim said with a sigh. “How do I get in?”

  “The back door is made of glass.” Jon informed. “You’ve used laser glass cutters before, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tim nodded. “So then what?”

  “The safe is in his bedroom, right above his bed.” Jon attempted a steady tone. “That’s what worries me.”

  “Why?”

  “Rich people are weird, big Tim.” A long sigh escaped him, as he scratched his chin with his index finger. “Who knows; maybe he keeps documents there and keeps the money somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, man.” Tim grumbled. “What about security outside?”

  “There’s just one van patrolling the area. Rich folks don’t pay much for security these days.” Jon remarked. “We’ll wait for it to leave the neighborhood; then, we’re going to make our move.”

  “Ok, last question.” Tim raised his tone, slightly. “How fast can cops get there?”

  “The police station’s on the other side of town.” Jon’s smile reappeared. “It’s going to take them at least ten minutes to drive there. We’ll be long gone by then.”

  “Good job.” Tim gave a satisfied nod.

  “I’m a pro, dude.” Jon laughed. “I just can’t be in two places at the same time.”

  “We’re really going to have to haul ass, if we want to avoid getting caught.” Tim said with a hint of skepticism in his voice. “How are we getting there?”

  “I like your Impala.” Jon winked at him. “But my Chevy is just as quick. It’s got an 8-litre V10.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Tim concluded.

  “It’s a great plan.” Jon corrected him. “See? It didn’t take that long. You could have stayed here last night, instead of storming out like that. You wouldn’t have to drive here all the way from Manhattan again.”

  “Trust me.” Tim said with a sigh. “I couldn’t.”

  “Well, one thing’s for certain.” Jon used a raised index finger. “You scared the shit out of Kirkland. He was shaking after you left.”

  “Who would want to take out a sixty-year old professor, Jonny?” Tim spoke with actual frustration in his voice. “Who would pay someone fifty grand to kill him?”

  “Fifty?” Jon’s gruff voice turned into a high-pitched shriek . “Kirkland got paid two hundred thousand to take out an Arab oil tycoon last year. Look, I don’t know who paid him to kill that professor, but whoever it was, she wasn’t rich.”

  “I’m done speculating, but thanks for the tip, man.” Tim gave him an appraising look, high-fiving him.

  “No problem.” Jon winked at him once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  22

  Tim barely slept that night. He even repelled Josephine’s advances and did not share his concerns with her. His conversation with Jon replayed numerous times in his mind. He was stressed about the burglary, but, unfortunately for him, he also had other things to worry about. Should he succeed, the loot from Bradford’s house would most likely be enough for him to buy her the necessary equipment, but, even so, he still had no idea about the person who had hired Kirkland. The only female scientist on her staff, Dr. Silver, was blonde and stood at an impressive 5’11”. As time went by, Tim believed less and less that Laura was responsible; she simply did not fit the profile. In his overwhelming confusion, it occurred to him that he still had not met her father. Burt Maddox was the only man who had a motive and a possible confrontation could provide him some answers. Nevertheless, he would not attempt such a thing, less than 24 hours before the burglary. He had to focus on the job; meeting with Maddox could only distract him.

  As promised, Jon picked him up at midnight. Tim had had to cope with an emotional Josephine; she could not hide her concern and kept hugging him, long before Jon even arrived. He tried to convince her that everything would go well, but he failed quite miserably. His girlfriend was way too upset to believe him.

  Ninety minutes later, Jon turned his massive Chevrolet pickup truck right, entering a grove, more than fifty yards away from the entrance of Actors Colony Road. As soon as it was brought to halt, he turned off the lights and lay back in his seat. Much to his surprise, Tim pulled a black uniform out of his backpack and started taking his clothes off.

  “Dude, a uniform?” He wondered, turning his head to the right to face him. “Really?”

  “The rain just stopped.” Tim muttered, removing his shoes. “It’s going to be muddy as hell out there. I’ll to have to crawl through a hole and run on the mud. I’ve brought an extra pair of shoes, too. I’ll get rid of everything as soon as we’re done. Imagine being pulled over by the cops. What’s a pair of muddy jeans going to look like?”

  “Smart thinking,” Jon remarked. “What are you going to do with the money?”

  “I haven’t thought about it yet.” Tim replied, putting his black, ski mask on. “What about you?”

  “Jamaica, baby!” He cheered. “I want to buy a house there.”

  “Just hack the damn thing.” Tim urged. “I’ll do the rest.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jon saluted him. Just when he finished his sentence, the two men noticed headlights in a distance. They belonged to a red van, with a large, ancient helmet mural on the side and a big, bright sign on the roof, in black letters:

  “Spartan Security”

  “Showtime…” Jon murmured, starting the massive engine of his truck. He then put it in reverse and backed out of the grove, before turning left. All four tires picked up mud and gravel from the road, as he put his foot hard down on the gas pedal. He climbed the uphill road and then turned right, into Actors Colony Road. Tim had never felt so stressed about a burglary. His heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it, as they passed by one luxurious mansion after another. Predictably, the expensive, suburban neighborhood was empty and quiet. Bradford’s house was located at the end of it and to the right. It was by far the largest and most extravagant in the neighborhood, featuring a huge, grey, iron fence gate. Jon eased up on the brakes, allowing his truck to roll slowly down the road.

  “Alright,” Jon started. “Get over there and wait. I’ll tell you when I’ve disabled those sensors. Bradford’s bedroom’s on the first floor, second door on the right. Remember: You got two minutes, before all hell breaks loose. Good luck.”

  Tim merely nodded to his friend, before opening the passenger door. Crouching low, he ran towards the gate, with a large sports
bag in his hand. He put his hands on the 4ft-tall, stone column, jumped over it and into the garden. The mud sank beneath his feet. He cast a furtive glance right; the lights were out in the house closest to Bradford’s. Bringing his gaze forward, he raced along the wide garden. Upon reaching the rear garden, he slowed down and stopped. He threw another glance right; fortunately, the neighboring house was completely dark.

  Turning around, he faced the glass, back door. Then, Tim sat on his knees, throwing the sports bag onto the ground in front of him. Anxiously waiting to hear Jon’s voice in the intercom, he unzipped it and pulled out a black, pistol-like, laser glass cutter. For the first time ever, his fingers trembled as he raised it at shoulder height. He shut his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. Josephine’s smiling face flashed through his mind.

  “I want to make you smile again.” He thought to himself, as his eyes snapped open. In a split second, his grip around the glass cutter handle grew immensely tighter.

  “All set.” Jon’s signal sent his adrenaline into the ozone layer. Tim pointed the device at the door and pressed the button. A tiny puff of smoke went up in the air, as the red beam made contact with the glass. Slowly and steadily, it began to cut out a glass circle, from left to right. He held out his left hand, as the cutter reached the top. The large chunk of glass fell outward and into his palm. Tim put the device back in his sports bag and used both hands to ease the piece of glass down onto the ground. He put his hand into his sports bag and pulled out his flashlight, before tossing it through the hole.

  “One minute and thirty seconds.” Jon spoke through the intercom, as he crawled through the hole. Using his left hand, Tim once more grabbed the sports bag and jumped up. He turned on the flashlight and pointed it across from him. There was a staircase, more than fifty feet away from him. He sprinted across the massive living room, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing back at the walls. Climbing the stairs, he pointed the flashlight right. The door to Bradford’s bedroom came into view, just when he reached the top landing. It lay at least thirty feet down the hall. Tim rushed towards it, a drop of sweat dripping down his brow. Stopping before the door, he threw the sports bag onto the floor and pointed the flashlight down at the doorknob, on the left side of the door. Much to his disappointment though, the door was locked.

  “Fuck!” He cried, his stentorian voice bouncing off the walls.

  “One minute.” Jon said, adding to his immense frustration. Tim raised his right leg and kicked at it. His first attempt failed. One more, even more violent kick sent the door more than ten feet across the bedroom. He picked up the sports bag and entered. Noticing Bradford’s bed, he went to the left. He pulled a small explosive charge and a detonator out of the bag and planted it on the door of the safe, just below the lock. Finally, he crouched low, covering his ears and pressed the button. The powerful blast rocked the bedroom. Hundreds of chunks of concrete and metal were ejected across it. His ears started buzzing, as he waved the smoke away.

  “Thirty seconds. Hurry up!” Jon’s spoke once more, as the smoke cleared. An unbelievable sight met Tim’s eyes. Numerous stacks of green bills were piled on top of one another. Without wasting any time, he brought the bag in front of him and reached out his right arm. Tim started throwing large stacks into it, feeling his heart ready to explode. The fact that he still held the flashlight did not help him, but he didn’t have much choice. Second by second, his sports bag became heavier.

  “Fifteen seconds. Get your ass out of there!” Jon’s last sentence forced him to stop. He turned his body left and jumped out of bed, holding the bag tightly in his hand. It was so heavy that he could barely lift it. Tim turned left and sprinted along the hall, as fast as he could. He was so stressed that he began to jump over the steps.

  “Ten, nine, eight…” Jon’s countdown began, as soon as he landed on the living room. He made a dash towards the back door, fixing his gaze on the hole. His friend’s voice quivered, as the he counted down the last few seconds.

  “Five, four, three…” Tim tossed the bag through the hole, before lunging through it. He landed flat and hard on his chest, just next to the sports bag, banging his head against his left forearm. His hands sank into the muddy soil, before he rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. Before he could address Jon though, his ears were filled with the loud, piercing sound of the alarm. Picking up the sports bag, he jumped up.

  “Jon, what the hell?” He spoke through the intercom, his voice riddled with tension. “Why did the goddamn alarm go off?”

  “You must have destroyed the touch sensor on that door.” Jon his voice filled with panic, yelled, “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way.” Tim replied, hurtling towards the gate. As he approached it, he realized that Jon’s truck was facing in the direction that they had come from. Tim quickly zipped the bag and tossed it over the gate. It landed on the sidewalk as he put his hands on the stone wall. Tim jumped over it and grabbed the bag. He moved around Jon’s truck and threw it inside, before opening the passenger door. Tim got in, but Jon didn’t give him enough time to close the door. Instead, he slammed his foot hard down on the gas pedal. The massive engine roared as Jon drove off, with both men casting frightened, furtive glances around them. The two friends had been lucky. Everything had happened very quickly and the alarm had not awakened any of Bradford’s neighbors. The house closest to his was still dark and the same could be said about the one across from it.

  “Man, what the hell happened out there?!” Tim protested, pulling and closing the passenger door.

  “The backup system kicked in and tried to get a signal from a touch sensor. It didn’t.” Jon explained, as his truck sped up the road. “How did it go?”

  “You were right.” Tim sighed in relief, tilting his head back. “If I had enough time, I’d need a wheelbarrow to carry all that money. I did take a lot, though.”

  “How much do you think?” Jon inquired, easing on the brakes, as they reached the end of the road.

  “I don’t know; I couldn’t see that well.” Tim claimed. “Just drive us out of here, will you?”

  “We made it, baby.” Jon positively affirmed, glancing at the dark road on the right, as a broad smile spread across his face. Tim ignored him; he couldn’t share his enthusiasm just yet. Yes, the security van was not there, but many things could still go wrong.

  “Take us back to New York,” Tim urged, still feeling the adrenaline in his veins. “I still have to ditch this uniform.” He added, pulling his mask up and over his head.

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious about how much money you stole?” Jon raised his tone, turning to him.

  “Sure. Pull over; let’s count it right here. We’ll tell the cops that we took it for a stroll around the park.” Tim’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “We’re going to your place. I don’t want to wake up my sister.”

  “Whatever you say, big Tim.” Jon smiled up at him, before turning his gaze to the road up ahead. “Whatever you say.”

  23

  The numerous wads of cash fell on Jon’s kitchen table with a thump, as Tim emptied his bag. Some of them even fell off the edges. They all had bank straps wrapped around them. Most of the wads were $100 or $50 bills. There were only three packs of $20’s on the left and two stacks of $10 on the right side of the massive pile.

  “Holy shit…” Jon whispered, opening his eyes wide. “There’s got to be more than a million here.”

  “Way more,” Tim spoke his mind, the sight of the money putting a smile of contentment on his face. “Let’s count it.”

  Jon did not speak. He picked up the wads from the floor and tossed them onto the pile, before they started separating them. By the time they finished counting the loot, the two friends were ecstatic. Tim could finally relax. Not only had they evaded arrest, but they seemed to have stolen more than enough money for his plan.

  “One million, two hundred and forty thousand bucks, baby!” Jon cheered, wrapping his chubby arms around Tim.


  “Damn…” Tim snorted. “I just love the smell of money. Thanks a lot for this, Jonny.”

  “Thank you!” Jon exclaimed, pulling back. “What the hell are you talking about? You did all the work!”

  “We did this together, man.” Tim winked at him.

  “I’d love to see the look on Bradford’s face.” Jon laughed. “That smug son of a bitch won’t even know what hit him.”

  “I got a favor to ask.” Tim assumed a firm tone.

  “Anything,” Jon responded.

  “We need to pay someone a visit,” Tim continued. “Burt Maddox, the CEO of ‘Maddox Pharmaceuticals’. Have you heard of him?”

  “Who hasn’t?” Jon shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you want to meet with him?”

  “He owns that compound in Vermont; the one where Jitter got killed,” Tim elaborated. “I want to lease it for a while; maybe buy it, if I can.”

  Jon’s smile fled his face. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Much to Tim’s frustration however, Jon quickly burst into loud laughter, clutching his stomach.

  “Oh, baby…” Jon chuckled. “That’s just sweet, you know that?”

  “Know what?” Tim grumbled.

  “You’re doing all this for a chick!” Jon laughed. “Who would have thought?”

  “Are you coming with or not?” Tim insisted.

  “Oh, I am.” Jon nodded. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I can’t blame you there. I saw her; she’s really hot. But what if he says ‘no’, Tim? What are you going to do then?”

  “He won’t.” Tim assured. “Who the hell would turn down six hundred grand, anyway?”

  “Six hundred?” Jon opened his eyes wide in disbelief. “That’s your cut from the job. You’re giving her everything you’ve got?”

  “Almost,” Tim sighed. “I’ll still have another twenty left.”

  “Big deal…” Jon mumbled. “You went through all this trouble…” He faltered, “For twenty thousand? Seriously?”