Role: Smokescreen/buying agent
Agent for: Unknown
Purchase categories: Primarily rare gems, jewelry, some paintings. For specific purchases, see ‘Acquired Items’ folder
Family: Wife—deceased. Daughter, Margaret Lizzy McKennla—whereabouts unknown.
Running my hands through my hair, I grabbed the back of my head and stared at the screen. My mind raced around thoughts faster than a race car zooming around a track. “No. No. This can’t be happening. It can’t be.”
“Maggie?” Greg was nearly awake.
“Yeah,” I said, taking one last look at my dad’s face before returning the screen back to the Shade file homepage. Quickly moving back over to my station, I started packing up my stuff, burying the remaining alcohol beneath my spare set of training clothes in my gym bag. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on acting normal. “Congratulations. You passed out. You can scratch getting drunk and passing out off your important rite of passage list.”
Greg rubbed his eyes and grinned. “I’m really groggy.”
“Drinking kinda does that to you. I’m going to dispose of the evidence in one of the garbage cans on the first floor,” I said, holding up the empty beer bottles and half-empty whiskey bottle.
“Hey, there’s still some stuff in there!”
“Yeah, well, you’ve had enough, and I need to be at least semi-sober for training.”
Greg thought for a moment. “Toss them in the garbage behind the lobby desk. The cleaning staff gets here early and empties that one first.”
“Got it.” I zoned for a moment, staring at the floor, unable to get the image of my dad in Blake’s Shade file out of my head.
“Maggie, are you okay?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little buzzed. Don’t forget to turn the hub cameras back on and work your techie magic on splicing things together…did I say that right?”
“Right enough,” Greg said with a smirk, tapping away on his computer. “Done. I’ll get the edits done and look into this necklace as well…although probably not tonight.” He signed out of the Shade file. “I’m really tired.”
“Go get some sleep. Lord knows you need it with the hours you work.”
“I hate leaving things unattended. Although I do have this place wired to wake me should anything major happen.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Didn’t surprise Ivy either. I rarely surprise anyone.”
“I guarantee you having a drinking night and passing out on the job would shock everyone. Hell, Ivy would probably be rendered completely speechless.”
An enormous smile stretched across Greg’s face. “You know, you’re right. I take perverse pride in that.”
“As well you should.” Swinging my bag over my shoulder, I stood up to leave.
“Have a good training session. And try to stay upright.”
“Will do,” I said, punching him in the arm.
*****
After dumping Greg’s bottles in the lobby, my mind consumed with my father’s face sitting in the Shade file, I headed to training. I opened the doors and saw Blake with his arms crossed standing in the middle of the room. He said nothing and didn’t move. Instantly, my antenna for weird crap starting going off.
“Blake? What’s happen—”
In barely a blink, Blake smiled mischievously and the room went completely dark.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, unloading my bag. The sound of bottles echoed through the room when my bag hit the floor, and I hoped Blake wouldn’t ask questions later.
I couldn’t see a damn thing. Clearly, this was a test of my senses. I knew to stay perfectly still and listen. Several minutes passed before I heard a shuffle to my right and a whoosh to my left. I quickly ducked down and swung my leg to the left, knocking someone off balance. I rolled forward. Whoever I kicked fell into Ivy—I knew it was her because she unleashed a loud string of expletives.
After another silent few minutes, I felt a warm breath on my neck. Before I could react, he had me in his arms—and I knew these arms. It was Blake. I smiled and effectively kicked his foot out from under him. It was such a predictable move that I wondered if he didn’t let it happen. He landed on his back with me on top of him. I flipped around to face him. Slowly, I straddled him. Though I couldn’t see him, I could feel his breath on my face; our lips were barely an inch apart. His hands traveled down my back, stopping on my hips. As I attempted to shift my position, my lips grazed his; his hands tightened on my hips in response, and, without thinking, I pushed down into him.
I was fairly certain that single hip thrust counted as dry-humping. Dear Mother of all that was unholy, what the hell were my hips thinking? I just dry-humped my boss. Thank heavens it was dark.
Before my brain could figure out a proper move before my hips engaged in any further simulated sex, a large pair of arms wrapped around my waist and yanked me off of Blake. Carrying me kicking and punching across the room, the strong arms tossed me sideways. I landed with a thud on something hard and cold. I heard what sounded like a locker door slam shut. Frantically feeling around me, my hands slapped against cold metal walls, floor and ceiling. I was locked inside something.
And then it happened.
Panic.
I fell to the floor, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. The sound of my heart pounding was all I heard. My mind wasn’t here anymore; it had traveled back…back to the day my parents died. Mom’s scream pierced my ears. I slapped my hands hard over my head. I could see my dad on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood; the talon tattooed man laughed while hovering over his body. The blood started seeping under the door of the pantry.
“Nooooo! NO! Stop! Please! STOP!” I screamed. “Blood. Blood. So much blood!”
“Maggie?” Blake’s voice was distant, as though he stood at the other end of a tunnel, calling for me.
“Stop the blood,” I shouted. “Stop it, please! It’s getting closer!”
“Jesus. Did we break her?” asked Ivy, also sounding far away.
“Maggie, there’s no blood. Find my eyes, Maggie,” said Blake, sounding closer. “Find me.” I felt his hands cup my face.
Slowly, my eyes found his beautiful, worry-filled eyes. “Blake?”
He exhaled, relieved. “I’m here, Maggie. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Staring in his eyes for a few moments, my breathing slowed. “I’m…so sorry.”
“No apologies, feisty one,” he said warmly, brushing the hair back from my face. Blake helped me up and led me to the sitting area of the facility.
I sat in one of the leather chairs while Blake kneeled down beside me, never taking his eyes off of me.
Ty brought me a bottle of water. “I didn’t mean to freak you out so much, Maggie.”
“I know. It’s okay,” I said, taking the water.
“It’s our standard senses test,” said Pike. “The storage trap is just to make sure you can, well—”
“Stay calm, not lose your sanity in small, dark places, and find a way out.” Ivy sat across from me, narrowed her eyes, and pointed. “What happened to you?”
Blake glared at Ivy. “She doesn’t have to answer that right now, Ivy.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said. “I’ve had some things happen in my past, when I was a child…”
“Things involving the dark?” growled Ivy.
I nodded. “And being forced in a closet…and blood, lots of blood.”
“Oh, damn,” said Ty, putting his hands on his head. “God, Maggie, I’m sorry. We didn’t know.”
“Of course we didn’t, because Mags, here, has never said anything,” Ivy sneered. “If it isn’t clear, I’m not sorry.”
“Ivy!” shouted Blake.
“She’s right, Blake,” I said.
“You trying to get on my good side?” she asked.
“You have a good side?” I snapped, smirking.
A subtle smile curled her lips. “On
occasion.”
“Ty, call Finn. Tell him to pull the car around. I’m going to take Maggie home,” said Blake.
“Wait. What? No! I can keep going!” The thought of going home made me sick. Both the guilt over tricking Greg and the vision of my father in the Shade file waited in the shadows of my mind until they could haunt me like an evil poltergeist when I was home alone. “Just maybe ax the ‘locking me in a dark closet’ thing, at least for now.”
Ty, Pike, and Blake chuckled. Ivy, on the other hand, offered this gem: “Your lady parts must be sad, lonely little places, given your fear of dark and confined spaces.”
Maybe it was my nerves, but I couldn’t help but laugh.
Blake rubbed his forehead, groaning.
*****
On the drive back to my apartment, I nearly fell asleep on Blake’s shoulder. It didn’t help that Blake caressed my hair the entire drive—then again, his soothing touch helped in other ways. All too soon, the car stopped. Blake offered me his hand, helping me out of the car.
“Here,” he said, reaching for my bag. “I’ll take that.”
“Thanks.”
Once inside my apartment, Blake headed to my bedroom and placed the bag in the nearest chair. Coming back to the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, he said, “Well, that was quite a night.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what my freak out was all about?”
He moved closer to me. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”
“That cocky, are you?”
“Confident…and concerned. Big difference.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I told you I never intend to talk about it again, so how can you be so confident?”
“I see that you will tell me…”
“In my eyes?” I said sarcastically.
“In your soul.” Well that shut me up. “Of course, my confidence could also be due to you dry-humping me tonight.” I stared at him blankly, my mouth opening and closing without purpose. “You can tell me everything over a beer or whatever kind of alcohol you have in that bag of yours. Sweet dreams, Maggie.”
He closed the door and left me staring like a clueless twit after him…a clueless, profoundly moved, immensely horny twit. Ah, the joyful emotional conflicts of being a loveless, sexless woman.
Chapter Nine
Upon walking into the hub the next day, I expected to hear the usual banter between Pike, Ty, Ivy, and even Greg. Whenever all of us were scheduled to be at the hub at the same time, it always made for a fun, if not underproductive day. However, the playful chitchat was absent. In fact, my cohorts were oddly silent…too silent.
Meandering across the absurdly quiet room, I noticed Pike and Ty huddled together, shuffling through some papers, ineffectively hiding amused expressions. Ivy glared at me, expressionless. Typical Ivy. I rounded Greg’s desk, heading for my own; as I did, Greg shot me a quick glance and grin. Soon, I understood the reason for the weirdness—an array of gifts filled my chair: a flashlight, glow necklace, and a brown paper bag filled with Lord-only-knows. Cautiously, I opened the bag and peeked inside. Dear heavens. Glow-in-the-dark condoms.
Cocking my head to one side, I removed a handful of the condoms and allowed a stubborn giggle to escape me. “Very funny, guys.”
Pike and Ty were the first to cave with loud guffaws and triumphant clapping. Pike even held his arms up as a referee would when signaling a touchdown during a football game. With a curious eye, Greg focused on the condoms. Poor guy just might be more sex-deprived than my sorry self.
“After what happened during your last training session, we figured you might appreciate some useful gag gifts, you know, in case you find yourself trapped in the dark again,” said Ty.
“And your offering would be which one?” I asked, waving a pointed finger at the group of gifts.
“The glow stick necklace,” replied Ty happily. “Figured it’d save your neck before you lost your head. Get it?”
“Strangely, kinda,” I said, giving him my best wonky eye. “That means the generic flashlight would be from Pike.”
“Yep,” Pike confirmed. “I like straightforward.”
Holding the condoms, I slowly shifted my attention to one blond British woman. “And that would mean the glow-in-the-dark condoms are from…”
“Me,” Ivy purred. “For an improved nightlife.”
“Improved?” I quizzed.
“Just trying to make sure you don’t have last night’s reaction the next time you’re in between someone’s sheets. There are many delicious responses you should have in the dark...that one wasn’t one of them, unless you want to scare the guy away.”
“Well, thanks, Ivy. That was very considerate of you,” I said, dropping the condoms back in the bag.
Ivy, flipping her hair, said airily, “Yes, I know.
Packing my gag gifts in my gym bag, I realized something wonderful: in gifting me with these silly things, my colleagues had accepted me, even Ivy.
Feeling more confident than I had since joining the team, I logged onto my computer and leaned over towards Greg. “Hey, how are you feeling today? You hurting too much?”
“Not too much,” he replied flatly.
“Do you regret it?”
“No.”
Something was off with Greg.
“You sure you’re okay?” I asked again. “You seem a little distant.”
Greg refused to make eye contact with me. “I engaged in frivolity and now it’s back to business. Simple as that.”
If I didn’t know better, I would think he knew I drugged him and snooped around the Shade file. Although it was probably just my guilty conscience talking, I couldn’t shake the growing paranoia.
“Hey, Greg?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
Greg flipped his head around and studied me with tentative eyes. “For what?”
I wanted to confess, to peel this guilt from my skin, set it on fire and burn it. I wanted Greg to hate me; I deserved nothing less. Funny, life…the way it presents you with immorally moral situations. You go into things with good intentions, yet end up hurting someone, betraying someone. Perhaps it was the price we pay. Sometimes I thought life was impossible to live, that we simply existed within its borders, hoping our maker was forgiving…that He takes into consideration all of the choppy, gray waters we have to muddle through.
Swallowing hard, I said, “I’m just sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for…do you?” asked Greg.
“One day, Greg, I’m going to tell you something. And on that day, I hope you’ll understand why I am the way I am and why I do the things I do.”
With a weak smile, I turned back to my computer and shifted into research mode. Greg, however, maintained a curious eye on me.
A few minutes later, he said, “Obviously, I heard what happened to you during training.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Anybody with a soul can see you’ve been through enough to really scramble your motherboard.” I grinned at his techie reference. “What I’m trying to say is…a person doesn’t have to know all the details of a story to understand it.” He reached over and squeezed my hand.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
We shared a smile before returning to our work. With that simple squeeze of my hand, an undeserving calm came over me. Though the guilt was still present, it was far less suffocating. Still, I wished there was a way I could do right without having to do wrong. Humans really were nothing but life’s bitches.
The work hours flew by as afternoon turned to evening. For over two months, I’d applied my so-called stellar eye and epic researching skills and come up dry. Oh, I’d spotted a few potential items, but nothing that sent the ‘zing’ through my gut. Scouring through various museum/auction house e-mails and internal memorandums—thanks, Greg—rumor sites and forums, newspaper sites, and other sources for items, both domestic and international, had turned up virtually not
hing. In order to entice Manx clients, in or out of the Shade file, the item had to be truly spectacular. It was frustrating. I knew heist-worthy items didn’t come too often, but I desperately wanted to discover the ‘big one’ for Blake.
“You know,” chirped Ivy, “I don’t remember the last time we were all in here together.”
“Aww, you getting sentimental, Ivy?” bellowed Pike.
“Sentimental? Hardly.” Ivy twirled her silky hair around one finger. “I dunno. Maybe I prefer it when it’s just Tip-tap and myself. Always the hope of a little against-the-wall action.”
Poor Greg. His face could not grow any redder…or maybe it could…huh…what do you know?
“Well, let me know if you need glow-in-the-dark protection,” I said to chuckles from Pike, Ty, and even Greg. Ivy purred…literally.
Growing increasingly agitated with another pointless day of researching, I decided to give the museum e-mail and internal memorandum file a second look. Scrolling down the list of recent messages, my head resting in the palm of my other hand, eyes glazing over, a sudden charge shot from my mind to my eyes and back again:
From: HHuntsleeMuseum
To: TomaTekradoze
Subject: Acquisition of the Cosmic Diamond
My stomach flipped; my heart lurched into my throat. I sat up tall in my seat, my head a little woozy. And with a click of the mouse and a scan of the e-mail, a giant, crap-eating grin slowly took over my face.
“This is it,” I said quietly. “This is IT!”
“What are you on about?” asked Ivy.
Slowly meeting their inquisitive expressions, I said, “I’ve found it. The big one. It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”
Ivy swiftly sauntered over to me with Pike and Ty close behind. Greg rolled his chair next to mine.
“By God. She did it…and before me,” said Ivy, a mix of jealousy and amusement in her tone.
“What did she do?” Blake had just walked into the hub.
Grinning up at him as he approached my desk, I said, “Found the next heist.”
“And it’s a bloody big one, Blake. It would be our biggest to date,” Ivy added, moving aside so Blake could have a look at my computer.
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