My father is sleeping with Audrey Fox. How in the… No, I don’t want to think about it. Ugh. And also ewwwwww.
Wide-eyed, she glared at me and frantically crossed her arms over her chest. I wasn’t sure if it was because her bikini was revealing or if she was annoyed to see me.
I raised my hand in a little wave.
Audrey avoided eye contact and stayed standing on the staircase. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Dad sat back down. “Audrey, I believe you and Molly know one another.”
I froze. She knew me as Betty.
“Oh, unclench, will you?” Audrey sat in the wicker chair across from the sofa, her arms still crossed. “I already know your real name is Molly.” She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in disgust.
Dammit, Rhys.
I had indeed interrupted something, probably a trip to the beach. I can’t imagine Audrey’s skin doing too well in this sun; she’s fairer than I am. She already had a light tan, though, so she must’ve been with Dad for a while.
I looked at Dad and back at Audrey.
“Audrey and I are … old friends?” He ended with an upward inflection.
“What your father is trying to say is that we occasionally visit one another for companionship.” Audrey looked at me with cold, dead eyes. “Drinks, social events, shagging. That sort of thing.”
Dad threw her a look.
I just stared at her. “Yeah, I got that from what he said. But thanks for clarifying.”
She is intentionally trying to make me uncomfortable. Friends with benefits. Good god. Isn’t fifty-something a bit old to have one of those?
“How did you guys even meet?” I said.
I knew Dad was an old acquaintance of Paul but I had no idea Audrey and Dad knew one another.
“It’s a small world,” Audrey said. “We know a lot of the same people.”
Small world, all right. Far too small for my taste.
“Is it … like … serious between you two?” I hated to even ask.
Audrey scoffed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to be your new mummy, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Oh god. I hadn’t even thought of that. As if two criminals in the Miranda family wasn’t enough. A third would just make for a bad sitcom.
Dad, who looked about ready to climb inside the sofa to hide from this conversation, turned back to me. “Anyway. You should get out of New York. Too many people, not enough sunshine.”
“But I’ve got the apartment now. And a roommate. And a … problem.”
I glanced at Audrey. She was staring intently at her perfect manicure.
I filled Dad in on the assignment with Rhys and the blackmail.
Dad’s face stiffened. “How much does he want?”
“Five hundred thousand.” I shrugged. “It’s done. I sent it to him.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I wish you would have called me first.”
“I’m okay without the money for a little while, as long as someone comes through with some work for me very soon.” I glanced at Audrey. She continued to avoid meeting my eyes.
“You should have called me first,” Dad repeated.
“What, so you could’ve put a hit out on him? I know nothing about this person and Audrey wouldn’t give me any information on him so I could track him down.”
Her eye twitched as she continued to glare at me. Dad turned to her and waited for her to explain. She uncrossed her arms and folded her hands in her lap.
“In order to keep his contact information private and away from you, Rhys also dug up information about me. If I tell you anything about him, I might as well hand myself over to the authorities right now.”
“Why did you hire this little prick in the first place?” Dad said, staring hard at Audrey. Frown lines appeared at the corners of his mouth as he clenched his jaw.
“How was I supposed to know he would go rogue so suddenly?” she blurted out. “He’d been a great employee until then and his record was clean.”
I almost laughed when she said “go rogue.” Somebody’s been watching too many spy movies.
He looked back at me. “Do you need money?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“That’s another thing.” She finally made eye contact with me. “Rhys wants me to hire someone else—someone of his choosing—for all upcoming assignments. He sees you as a threat. I’m not exactly in a position to say no.”
“What you’re saying is … I’ve been replaced.”
“You must know that I have no choice.” She paused. “It’s unfortunate but there’s no other way.”
We all have to do what we need to do to survive, I suppose.
I sat back and stared out the window, watching the curtains billowing. “Fantastic.”
“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.” Audrey cleared her throat. “Now, which hotel are you staying at while you’re here?”
She barely had the words out of her mouth when Dad said, “She’s staying here.”
He was obviously not terribly impressed with Audrey, given that she’d screwed over his daughter and hadn’t told him about it.
“Perhaps I’ll leave then,” she said.
Dad sighed. “Oh, come on—”
“No, no. That’s fine.” She was already up, heading back upstairs. “We wouldn’t want the house to get too crowded. I’ve got to meet someone in Miami tomorrow morning anyway.”
I smiled coolly. “Something related to your charity?”
Audrey adjusted the brim of her hat. “That is none of your concern but since you brought it up, how do you know about my charity?”
“It was on the news.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “You watch the news?”
“Yes,” I snapped. “I’m an adult. I’m a very worldly person.”
Audrey folded her slender arms in front of her and smiled smugly. “Where is Burkina Faso?”
France?
“Ladies, play nice.” Dad shook his head at Audrey.
She ignored him and continued up the stairs.
Dad looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Women.”
While she packed and prepared to leave, Dad made himself busy by pouring us orange juice. I’m not talkin’ the stuff you get out of a carton, but with actual oranges. My father, who used to live on burgers and Starbucks, had gone organic since moving to Florida.
It was kind of bizarre.
“So,” I said, “how long have you known I’ve been working for Audrey?”
My father and I have a long-standing agreement: he’ll stay out of my professional life if I stay out of his. Only seeing one another occasionally makes the agreement easy to keep.
“I was one of your references for the job.” He smiled weakly.
“And here I thought she hired me because I earned it.”
“Oh, you have. But she trusts my judgment.” He finished off his glass of juice. “I’m sure Paul could get you some work.”
“I don’t want to work so close to where I live. It doesn’t feel safe.”
Dad nodded. He, of all people, knows how precious security can be for a person in my career field. Once upon a time it was his career field, too. I had a feeling it still was.
“Ever think about … leaving the business?”
“And do what?” I sipped my orange juice. “Jobs aren’t exactly easy to find right now.”
“I told you to finish university,” he snapped.
“I know people who have master’s degrees who are flipping burgers—”
“I’m leaving.” Audrey stood by the door with a tiny black suitcase. She had changed from swimwear to a black dress—one could only assume Chanel. “Dean, I’m sure we’ll be talking at some point.”
Dad said goodbye to her at the door. They talked quietly just outside, kissed and she left, taking the black SUV with her.
Dad came back in. “I meant to ask about your mom. How is she?”
“Fine, I guess.
”
He grinned. “And Joe the plumber?”
“Joe is great. He’s nice and he’s good to Mom. He’s … present.”
Dad winced. Between his various job assignments and a couple stints in prison, he’d been away a lot. Mom got lonely. Before the divorce proceedings were final, she and Joe were already very much in love. Dad was obviously still feeling the sting.
“What about your sister?”
I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. We don’t talk.”
“The two of you never really got along. I thought you might grow out of it.”
“As far as I know, Haylee is enjoying a normal university experience.”
Dad smiled. “Hopefully she’ll actually finish.”
As if one parent telling me I should have finished college wasn’t enough.
“Did you say you have a roommate?”
“Yeah. I got tired of living by myself. He’s great but…” I looked at the floor. “He … found my Betty Bruce passport.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “You could just threaten to evict him if he says anything about it. I’m sure his rent is more than reasonable.”
“I’m not going to evict or threaten Nate. He’s a friend.”
And I love him.
“Your mother still doesn’t know you own the apartment, huh?”
I shook my head. He chuckled.
“What?”
“I was barely around when you were growing up,” he said. “Yet I’m the parent who knows more about you.”
I could never, ever tell Mom that I’d chosen a life of crime like Dad. It would break her heart. I couldn’t do that to her.
“Does this Nate fellow know what you do?”
“No. I left New York before we could have that little chat. I don’t know if I should tell him the truth or not—”
“Why the hell would you tell him the truth?”
“Because I don’t like lying to people I lo—live with.”
Dad took our glasses back to the kitchen and rinsed them in the sink. “I’m not exactly the best person to ask for advice there, punkin.”
No, Dad, you really aren’t.
* * *
We ordered Chinese for supper and ate it on his boat tied up at the marina at the end of his street. It was nice to catch up.
Dad took a bite of an egg roll. “Sell the apartment.”
I shook my head. “I’d really rather not.”
“Oh, come on. Sell it and move here. You can stay with me as long as you like or buy a house for the same as what you paid for that cupboard you call a home. You could start a new life, a new career. Or…” He lowered his voice. “…there is plenty of work for you here.”
I’m so lucky to have such an encouraging father—encouraging me to steal and whatnot.
As I sat on the boat, the sun dipping below the edge of the world, it was a tempting idea. A new life in sunny Florida. I could swim in the ocean any time I wanted.
Or get eaten by an alligator.
“I have a good thing going in New York,” I said. “I can make it work.”
My phone buzzed, notifying me of a new text message.
Nate: Should I be worried?
Molly: No. I’m just visiting my dad out of state.
Nate: We should probably talk when you get back.
At least it doesn’t sound like he hates my guts … as of this moment, anyway.
“Let me help you out financially.”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to take your money.”
“Alright.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Then would you care to take someone else’s money while you’re here?”
“Seriously?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “And don’t even try to tell me you don’t have your gear in the trunk of that car.”
Damn. He had me there.
CHAPTER NINE
We drove to Key West the next evening. The sky turned overcast but the ocean breeze felt wonderful as we cruised along the sea-lined highway. The drive from Key Largo to Key West seemed to take forever as Dad and I ran out of things to talk about pretty quickly.
“Seeing anyone?”
“Nope.”
He was silent for a few minutes. “What about your roommate?”
“There’s nothing going on there, okay? I thought there might be something but I went and fucked that up. So, just, never mind him.”
Dad stared ahead at the stretch of highway before us. “I was just going to ask if he may cause you trouble … but I guess I don’t know the whole story.”
Dammit.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” I stared out the window. “You should have let me drive.”
“But you don’t know where we’re going.”
“I would know if you’d just tell me.”
“What’s the fun in that?”
“I obviously take my job a lot more seriously than you,” I snapped.
We eventually arrived in Key West and drove along a narrow street, encircling an aboveground cemetery.
“This is Key West City Cemetery,” Dad said.
It was a creepy spot—a plot of land littered with white and blue-gray tombs, many of them stained with age and water spots. They appeared scattered randomly, some flat like slabs and others like miniature apartment buildings. Several were decorated much more lavishly than the plain ones right next to them. A black wrought iron fence surrounded the area. Homes bordered the cemetery, some right next to the fence—far too close for comfort. The setting sun vanished beneath the horizon, casting eerie shadows between the graves.
“Grave-robbing? You can’t be serious.”
Dad parked the car in the driveway of a small bungalow next to the fence. We watched as the shadows from the graves grew long and the sky slowly turned black.
“What if the people in the house see our car?” I whispered as we closed the car doors.
He shook his head. “They’re friends of a friend and away six months of the year. Don’t worry about it, punkin.”
I followed him to a tree in the back yard. Dad hopped from one low branch to the higher ones. He seemed way more limber than most fifty-somethings. He reached for a lower branch.
“We’re hopping the fence?” I whispered. “That’s so juvenile.”
“The lock on the front gate is huge.” He grabbed another sturdy limb and hoisted himself up. “This is faster.”
He found a branch hanging over the fence and dangled from it like a kid on the monkey bars. He shimmied across it and dropped down into the dark and empty (and probably haunted) cemetery. I copied his moves, step for step, and dropped in after him, checking over my shoulder every few seconds and listening carefully for nosey neighbors or pedestrians going for a late-night walk.
We ducked behind tall grave sites and monuments to avoid the spots of light dotting the cemetery from cars driving by and nearby houses. I followed him as we moved further into the cemetery and away from the fenced perimeter, staying low and in shadows. Dad wasn’t saying anything. He wouldn’t give me any specifics about what we were about to do, and it was driving me crazy.
But I guess I might be crazy, because I followed him without question.
Dad stopped at one of the less impressive gravestones. It was a flat, white stone slab that looked a hundred years old. The stone was cracked on one side and one of the corners had crumbled away.
“This is it.”
“You say that like I know what we’re doing here.”
It was dark but I could still see Dad smiling at me. He surveyed the edges and checked over his shoulder for any midnight marauders—besides us, obviously. He went around to the corner opposite the collapsed edge and nudged it with his foot. It moved.
“I’m really not in the mood for seeing a corpse today. Just saying.”
“Help me push this.” He lowered to his knees and gripped the edge with his fingers. Together, we slid it across the lower slab, making a low crunching sound as the two piece
s of stone were forced apart.
There was nobody inside—just an old set of stone stairs leading down into a pitch-black tunnel.
I looked at Dad. “Oh good. This just got scarier.”
He winked at me and did a Scooby-Doo voice. “Ga-ga-ga-ga-ghosts!”
I had a flashlight and climbing gear but nothing for mummy, zombie, werewolf, vampire, demon or ghost hunting. When packing for a burglary, you never think, Hmmm, do I need garlic cloves and a stake? Probably not. And then you get into a situation like this.
I followed him down, bracing a hand against the damp stone wall as I moved carefully from one step to the next. Bits of loose rubble crumbled beneath my feet.
I bet there are, like, a million spiders on me right now.
“How exactly did you find out about this particular job?” I said, scratching my arm like a junkie, thinking about the bugs in the dirt around us.
Dad looked over his shoulder. “Audrey. Does it matter?”
“Yes. She hates me. And if Rhys finds out she’s giving assignments to my father, he might do something idiotic, like ruin my life forever.”
“He won’t find out about me. I’m a little more careful about my real identity than you.”
I gripped the damp wall. “How so?”
“For one, I’m not on Facebook.” He stopped and considered for a second. “Actually, that alone makes up for a lot of it. You should be more careful.”
“Says the guy leading me through an underground tunnel below a graveyard,” I snapped.
“She just told me about this one because I live in the area and thought I could get to it before anyone else.”
“Is there a chance someone else could be looking for it?”
“Yes.”
“So, whatever it is that we’re looking for might be gone already?”
“Yes.”
“Oh good.”
The ground felt moister as we moved further into the tunnel. The tunnel passageway narrowed and we had to turn sideways to get through. Wood beams that looked even older than the grave at the entrance braced the dirt ceiling of the tunnel. My back, knees and shoulders were caked with mud. And probably my ass—I could just tell.
Molly Miranda: Thief for Hire (Book 1) Action Adventure Comedy Page 8