by Leah Holt
Her voice ricocheted around my brain, doing its best to sink in to every crevasse it could find. I knew if she was here, she'd flash those big doe eyes of hers, then pout her lower lip and blink ever so slowly.
And I'd probably give in, because she knew how to tug on my heart strings, and she was damn good at it.
I know what I said. But this. . . I can't pass this up.
This is it, I promise.
Last one and I'm done for good.
Batting away her whispered pleas, I focused on the driveway again. Resting my head against the back of the seat, I folded my hands in my lap and just watched. It wasn't going to matter how long I had to sit, or how many minutes or hours would pass before the time was just right for me to make my move.
I had the patience of a lion, and that's why no one had been able to catch me so far. Most people just make the knee-jerk decision to go for it, but I didn't work that way. That's how you get caught.
I didn't have to wait too long, the motor for the gate whirred to life, releasing the latch and opening after twenty minutes. A black Lincoln pulled to the end of the driveway, lighting up the vacant street.
Slinking down in my seat, I watched it take a left and drive in the opposite direction of where I was parked.
Lady luck hasn't left me yet.
Waiting until the taillights had faded into the distance, I carefully popped open my door and slipped out. Crouching down behind the hood, I scanned the tops of the bushes and everywhere in between.
Is that really the only camera?
I was trying to figure how stupid this guy was. I couldn't see any faint red light of any other camera lenses, no tiny glass surfaces peeked out or shimmered from any of the bushes.
Maybe he doesn't have any reason to be worried. The thought made me pause, a blip of second guessing what I was about to do fluttered through my head. But I pushed it away, ignoring my gut and letting my ego lead.
I've got this. There's no need for me to worry.
If he was a high profile man, someone with connections perhaps, then he'd have no reason to expect an asshole like me breaking in.
But I was an asshole, and in my eyes—this guy didn't know me and I didn't know him; there was nothing to fear.
The plan was simple; slip in, find the valuables, slip out. No one would see me, no one would know I was there. And if I was really lucky, no one would even notice anything was missing until I was long gone.
It would be easy as fuck to just take what I wanted. Especially since no one was expecting me to be there in the first place.
The guys inside, from what I could tell with their conversation, were only there as a decoy. They weren't allowed to go near the owner's shit, which meant it should be free for my itchy fingers.
Gripping the top of the wall, I pulled myself up and dropped onto the other side. Landing with a gentle thud, I stood motionless and listened.
No dogs, please no dogs.
As much as cameras and security systems were a bitch to deal with, dogs were by far the worst. I attempted to rob a hardware store once, a hardware store that called its alarm system “Kujo”.
Following the natural shadows of the lawn, I dipped and moved like a black panther in the night.
The front yard was long and wide, lights twinkled over a ridge, showing me where to go. Ducking low, I quickly darted across the pavement, tucking my body in close to a fountain in the center of the driveway.
Holy shit this place is fucking huge.
I was staring at a mansion. The front facing was made of white brick, two solid pillars held up an arched overhang above the double frosted glass doors. Broad steps fanned out from the front entrance like ripples in water. It was the biggest house I had ever laid eyes on.
Peeking my head over the basin, I checked the corners of the house near the roof, scanning the windows and front door, looking for more cameras or alarm triggers. There was nothing.
I should have taken that as a sign to turn around and go home. If I could have seen into the future, if I knew what the hell would happen after I entered that house, my life wouldn't have changed.
But I pressed on anyway.
With fast feet, I ran through the darkness and towards the back of the house. Following the subtle light from the moon, I stepped over a flower garden and looked into a window. The place was so quiet; no voices, no sounds from inside to show me where the guards might be perched.
Gripping the window frame, I gave it a push. I was hoping that luck was going to be extremely generous tonight. It didn't budge, the window was sealed shut, not moving an inch. But it didn't bother me, there were a number of windows and doors I could try.
And if that didn't work, there were other ways to get in.
Going from window to window, all of them were locked up tight. Reaching the back patio, I gripped the fancy gold handle in my hand and pushed down.
Pop.
The clasp broke free, door moving inward as I gave it a light push. Bingo. Stepping into a dinning room, I lowered my heels gently, being careful for the natural creaks that the floor might have.
Standing for a moment, I looked around. There was a double doorway that led to a hall, and a kitchen to my right. The nicest fucking kitchen I had ever seen.
Stainless steel appliances sparkled like silver from the faint glow of light seeping into the room. The blue veined marble floor looked crisp as water on a cold winter day. A long table was placed in the center of the room with a basket of fruit in the middle.
Quietly, I walked over to the bowl and lifted up an apple. Twisting it in my hand, the outside was smooth and stiff.
Plastic? Seriously?
Dropping it back in place, I cocked my head a hair, noticing that there was only one chair at the table. Walking to the counter, I pulled open a drawer and looked inside. One spoon, one fork, one butter knife. I found the same in the cupboard—one plate, one cup.
Weird. Does this guy live completely alone?
Doesn't he ever have parties or people over?
It was odd to see a house so big and wonder why the hell a single man would need all of this. What was the point?
This guy just wants to show his importance. . . And I thought my ego was big.
The man who owned this house, all he cared about was showing he had money and power.
A deep laugh echoed from the other side of the house, fading away into silence again. Glancing around, I spotted a set of stairs just outside the doorway of the kitchen.
Upstairs first, I'll start there.
Like a ghost in the night, I walked through the house, poking my head into rooms and quietly opening drawers and dressers. Pulling paintings away from the walls and feeling for seams on the drywall, I checked for any secret safes tucked out of sight.
Nothing.
Fuck. Where the hell would it be?
If someone was going to have something as valuable as those guys made it out to be in their home, it only made sense to keep it securely locked. I had seen enough movies to know rich guys had at least one wall safe.
Even the small time businesses I had taken from in the beginning had a safe inside. But this guy so far had nothing.
He had his expensive Egyptian cotton linens and fancy Iceland Eiderdown comforters. There were original hand paintings on the walls and cherry wood dressers. But no jewelry boxes, no small locked chests or sealed safe.
I couldn't find shit upstairs, except a bunch of rooms, all pristine as if no one had ever stepped foot inside.
Making my way back downstairs, I stopped midway and listened. It was still quiet, neither one of the men were talking.
Slipping around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I started down the hall.
“Val, you want a beer?”
“Yeah.”
Stopping short, I backed into the black shadows of the hall, pressing my back firmly against the wall. Heavy heels clicked closer and closer, passing right by me and going into the kitchen.
“What k
ind?”
“I don't fucking care, any kind,” Val called back from the distance.
The fridge door creaked open, and I could see the glow from the small bulb inside light up the room. Holding my breath, I heard Dominick shut the door and start back in my direction.
I knew that what I was doing was risky, I hadn't prepared for it at all. Normally I would take upwards of two weeks planning and plotting. I'd get blue prints of the layout inside, I'd study every door and exit; all the employees, all the security detail and shift changes, I knew everything.
I even went as far one time as to go in and pretend I was buying a diamond ring for my imaginary fiance. But this, this was spur of the moment, it landed in my lap like a surprise present.
The place was a mystery, the man who owned it was just a figment of a thought. I didn't know a name, I didn't now what he did or if he was good or bad.
He's bad. . . I know that much.
And I know he has something I want.
The darkness around me mimicked the darkness of my preparation. It was like the blind leading the blind. I was playing hide and seek with an item that I couldn't even describe.
I was going on gut instinct, hoping that I would know it the instant I laid my eyes on it.
The fridge door shut and I held my breath, hoping that I wouldn't be spotted as he walked back.
Keep going, just keep going.
Dominick didn't even stop as he passed back by me, my presence a mere microbe on his shoe. No one knew I was there, he didn't sense me in the dark hall, he didn't stop for a second and listen, noticing the extra heartbeat in the silence.
A cold sweat had started to trickle down my neck, scratching my skin and making me want to itch it. But I stayed still, waiting for the perfect moment to move on.
When I heard the hard pop and fizzle of the beers being opened, I continued on down the hall. This part of the house was a lot darker, the air was thicker, creating an intense weight on my shoulders.
It was plain in this part of the house. Nothing on the walls, no fancy decorations or top of the line flooring.
The hard marble transitioned into gray cement, smooth and clean, dull and lifeless. The paint on the walls was beige, covered in scuff marks and long scratches. It didn't make sense.
Why was this end of the home so dark and dirty? Why didn't the same house I was just in merge with this area?
Rounding a corner, I spotted a door against the far wall. Stopping short, I looked closer and noticed the locks were on the outside.
What the hell. . .
Taking a quick glance over my shoulder, I made sure that the two goons were still on the other side of the house and not creeping up on me.
Quietly, I walked to the door, and gently touched the dead bolt. It was strange to see a door like that, locked on the outside, with not one, not two, but three locks.
The top of the door had a slide lock, the middle of the door had a dead bolt, and right below that was a chain lock.
Why the fuck is it like this?
Who locks a fucking closet?
Maybe this is where it is. . . My chest buzzed at the idea, fingers tingling to get inside and snatch my prize.
A soft drag echoed out from underneath the door, making me take a small step back.
What the hell was that?
Pushing my ear against the wood, I listened. I thought I could hear breathing, but it was so faint, I questioned the sound.
Maybe that's a pipe hissing?
Maybe it's the hot water tank starting up?
I tried to rationalize the sound, thinking of anything and everything that could also be behind that door. Homes had systems, they had working parts tucked away inside to keep it running.
But that thought didn't last long, it crumbled to dust as another quiet noise slipped out, hitting the tips of my toes and piercing my ears.
What if it's a person?
This guy could be some mob boss and he's got some asshole inside who screwed him over.
Backing away, I decided I had enough. Whatever he had, I wasn't sure if I even wanted it anymore.
I should just go home. Get the fuck out now, before something happens to me.
I started to turn and leave, forcing one foot in front of the other. As much as I wanted to score something big, I wasn't going to risk my life over it. I had something to live for.
In the silence of the hall, a scratching noise from behind the door made me stop. It was delicate, like someone was scraping loose paint off a plastic surface.
Staring at the door over my shoulder, I felt drawn to open it up, to see what was inside. Turning on my heels, I walked back and placed my hand on the cold wood.
What if it is a man? What if he charges me and kills me thinking I'm one of them?
The scratching stopped as I stood outside and I heard a shuffle across the floor, moving away from the door.
Fuck it, just look.
Maybe they need your help.
Taking a deep breath, I slid the chain back and let it drop free. The metal swung back and forth like the hand of a grandfather clock, counting the seconds. Raising my hand to the top of the door, I slipped the rod free, letting all the air out of my lungs in one long whoosh.
Curling my fingers around the deadbolt, I kept my gaze on the shiny metal.
This is fucking stupid, you know it's fucking stupid.
Cocking my jaw, I bit the inside of my lip and turned the lock. But I didn't open it, I stood there, waiting for something to happen. I wasn't sure what I expected exactly; but I couldn't move as I froze in place, just staring at the doorknob.
Another soft shuffle rubbed against the floor. My gut told me to open the door, something deep inside, something that I couldn't control or even understand, screamed at me to just tear the fucker open.
Wrapping my hand around the handle, I twisted it slowly, doing my best to keep it as quiet as possible. I was still well aware of the other guys in the house, and I didn't want them to hear me.
Pulling the door open, I looked around an empty room. There were no shelves, no supplies, no boiler or hot water tank like I expected to see. Lowering my eyes to the floor, I gasped in shock.
Nothing could have prepared me for that.
No one could have warned me about what was hidden in that closet.
And now, now everything just changed.
Huge eyes, afraid and terrified, peered up at me. Scooting back hard and fast, a young woman curled into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest.
I stood there, unsure if what I was seeing was real.
Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath before opening them back up and looking down. I expected her to be gone, to have been a figment of my imagination.
But she wasn't.
She was still there, hugging herself with pure fear turning her face white.
Her lips parted, tongue tempting the opening as if she was about to speak. Holding out my hand, I lifted a finger to my mouth and stopped her from saying a word.
“Shh,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder then back down at her. Shaking my head no, I stretched out my hand for her take.
She was reluctant, shrinking into herself more as she balled up tighter. She looked so delicate, like if I moved too fast or squeezed too hard, I might break her.
A lump formed in the back of my throat as I kept shifting my eyes between her and the dark hall over my shoulder.
Come on! Take my hand!
Flipping my fingers, I arched my brows and softened the strain on my face, doing my best to show her that I wasn't going to hurt her.
Her thin arm stretched out, our fingers almost touching. My skin buzzed with need, eager and ready to snatch her up and toss her over my shoulder. Time was one thing we didn't have.
The longer I lingered in the hall, open and exposed, the less chance there was either of us would make it out of there.
The pads of our fingers brushed, her skin to my skin, my warmth to her cold, our pulses thuddin
g simultaneously in one quick beat. The feeling shocked my heart, careening through my muscles and forcing my lungs to lurch with one spastic breath.
I could see her fear, I could feel her fear. She passed all that pain through our touch, leaving me breathless and unnerved.
This woman is in danger, you need to get her out!
But our window of time had just closed as I heard the faint tap of heels on the ground behind me. The woman's eyes glistened and grew wider as she peered around my body and froze in place.
Lady luck had just left me alone and bare; what happened now was going to be all on me.
“Hey! Who the fuck are you!” Dominick's voice cut through my ears, the deep baritone harsh and fierce.
Jerking around, I held my arms out, waiting for him to react, expecting to see him tear a gun from his waist. But he didn't, his hands had balled into fists, lip curling up into an angry snarl.
“Why the fuck are you here?” he asked, stalking closer. “Who the hell sent you?”
“Look man, I don't want any trouble. No one sent me.”
“Then you don't belong here.” With long strides, he lurched in my direction, throwing a fist.
I reacted, I didn't think about what I was doing, or who I was doing it to. I just did what came natural. I protected her, I protected myself.
Ducking out of the way, I twisted on my feet and grabbed the back of his neck. Driving him head first into the beam of the doorway, he dropped to the ground like dead weight.
I heard his neck crack, I heard the bones as they snapped and crackled as his skull connected with the hard wood.
He groaned in pain, reaching slowly around his back as he tried to roll over. The shiny metal caught my eye, as he tugged a gun from his back pocket and tried to lift it.
Kicking it from his hand, it slid across the floor and stopped just before the girl's naked toes. Dominick's mouth opened wide, his voice scratchy and soft as he tried to yell to Val for help.
Instinct kicked in, taking over and controlling my hands. Dropping onto his chest, I straddled his ribs, curling my bare hands around his thick neck.
I squeezed; I squeezed so he couldn't yell, I squeezed so he wouldn't draw attention, I squeezed so I didn't have to hear his voice if he tried to beg me for mercy.