Foolish Games

by Lilliana Anderson

  Looking at him, my chest heaving, I asked the obvious questions. “Is that why you want me, Kristian? Because you like to fuck me, and because I’m a crook like you?”

  He lifted his head and looked at me quizzically. “That’s a massive oversimplification, doll. I like you. I like everything about you.”

  “Why? You might have looked into my past, but you don’t really know anything about me.”

  “What’s to know, doll? We’re the same, you and me. And this feels right. Are you tryin’ to tell me it doesn’t?”

  Running my hands over his impressive shoulders, I shook my head. “No. You’re not wrong. This does feel right. Inexplicably, nonsensically, a completely fucked-up kind of right.” His strong body was above mine and he was leaning up on his elbows.

  “Yeah,” he whispered, looking at me with a perplexed understanding in his eyes. “That’s exactly how it is.” And then he entered me in one hard thrust, and I was filled…in more ways than one.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Take It

  “Ready?” Kristian asked as I double-checked the contents of my bag.

  “Looks like it,” I said, tapping my jeans to make sure I had my phone. “I’m all good.”

  “No phones. Jazz will give us burners when we get in the car.”

  I dropped my phone back on the bed. Then I tightened my ponytail, and blew out my breath while hooking my bag over my shoulder. “I’m ready.” It had been ages since I’d boosted a car, so I was a little nervous, but mostly, I was excited.

  “Relax. You’re gonna do great,” he assured me, holding out his hand for me to take.

  “I just don’t want to mess this job up. You look amazing by the way,” I said, taking in the suit-sans-tie look he had going on. He was very businessman chic, and all I really wanted to do was find a tie and get him to tie me up and have his wicked way with me. But, we had a job to do: stealing cars from long-term parking at the airport. A contact there had given us the details and exit passes for two SUVs and one station wagon. These were the cars we’d be driving to Sydney so none of our personal vehicles were picked up by traffic cameras. And since no one would know these cars were gone, there was no one to report them stolen. We’d have them back in their designated spots before anyone even looked for them.

  “Here are your phones,” Jasmine said, handing us all ancient-looking Blackberrys as we got in her black Chrysler sedan where Abbot was already waiting. “The SIMs are activated, and the only numbers on there are each other’s. Anything goes wrong, you hit the home button three times and an alert goes out to everyone else, letting them know to dump and run.”

  “What happens if we need to dump and run?” I asked.

  Jasmine turned in her seat. “You get out. You go dark. Then you make your way home when it’s safe. No traceable calls, and no unnecessary risks. If you get caught, you say nothing.”

  “So basically, you’re on your own,” I said.

  “Only if you get caught,” Kristian said. “Otherwise, one could go down and we’d all go down too. On a job, emotion needs to be set aside.”

  “I get it,” I said, turning the phone over in my hands. “You know, I don’t even know how to use this.”

  “They’re new to us too,” Abbot said, showing me his screen as he pulled up contacts and made out like he was going to make a call then send a text, explaining as he went along. “We started using them when we began pulling riskier jobs. They’ve been modified and everything we send or say gets encrypted along the way so no one else can intercept it or track us.” He hit send on a message that scrambled on the screen then popped up on mine, still scrambled.

  “How do I read it?”

  Kristian pointed to the navigation buttons on the keypad. “No touch screen, just buttons.”

  Once I selected the message and hit the enter key, the message unscrambled, the words, ‘Don’t fuck this up’ popping up on my screen.

  “Thanks, arsehole,” I said to Abbot, rolling my eyes as I worked out how to send his message to the trashcan. “I’m probably better at stealing cars than you are, you know.” I patted the pack on my lap that had my handy tools inside it. I had some shanked keys, a slide hammer and a slim jim. As long as I wasn’t breaking into any luxury car, I could be in and on the road in thirty seconds.

  “Seems to me you’d be better off with one of these,” he said, pulling out a boxlike device from his inside jacket pocket. He was dressed in jeans, a button-up shirt and a blazer, a slight departure from the board shorts and T-shirts he normally wore.

  “Holy fuck. Where’d you get that?” I asked, reaching out to grab it so I could take a closer look. I’d heard about these magical little boxes, but I’d never seen one in real life before. They basically scanned for a car’s frequency and de-activated the locking system. He could take any modern car he wanted with that thing.

  Holding it out of my reach, he twitched and slid it back in his pocket. “It’s not a plaything. It’s serious tech.”

  Kristian laughed. “That’s the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said, brother. Here, doll, take a look at mine. When we get a chance, we’ll get you one of your own.”

  “Just don’t hit any of the buttons,” Jasmine said from the front seat. “I don’t want you messing with my car’s electronics.”

  Kristian rolled his eyes and mouthed, “It won’t do that.”

  I smiled and handed the device back to him. “It’s cool. But what happens if the car needs a key?”

  “That’s what this is for,” he said, pulling out a tool that looked kind of like an ice pick but had all these moving parts to the handle, reminding me of a bicycle lock. “Basically, you put this in the key slot and turn the dials until it forms the shape of the key and unlocks the door. It can be fiddly, but once you’ve got it, you can get in and put it straight in the ignition.”

  “Wow,” I said, taking it from him and twisting the dials. “You guys are impressively kitted out.”

  “It’s just smaller and faster than old-school methods. Both work just fine though.”

  Returning the tool, I hugged my pack against my chest, suddenly feeling like a school girl in a room full of university students. But after all the cars I’d stolen with Johno, I knew I could hold my own.

  Once at the airport, we went through the terminal and caught the shuttle out to the car park, pretending we didn’t know each other the entire time—which was really hard when Kristian kept pressing his dick up against my butt whenever the bus jostled. I shot him a warning look, but he just smirked and kept doing it.

  Our cars weren’t all in the same section, so Kristian got off the bus first, and Abbot and I got off second, splitting up as we headed for our individual cars. We already had everything we needed, so it was a matter of getting in and getting out while looking as natural as possible doing it.

  Walking along the massive rows of cars, I looked for spot number 435. In it, there was supposed to be a Ford station wagon. Instead, there was a Land Rover Defender, circa 1980s. I could take it, but I was worried about its ability to get us to Sydney, and the fact it was the wrong fucking car.

  Since Abbot was the closest to me, I called his number, marked with a simple ‘A’, and put the Blackberry to my ear. “Can’t get in?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “Of course I can,” I said in a low voice, “but this isn’t the car I was supposed to boost.”

  “What do you mean? Are you at the right spot?”

  “435. Right spot, wrong car. I can’t see a white station wagon anywhere here. Do I take this one, or do we leave it?”

  His loaded breath filled my ear, telling me he was trying to work out if we could pull this off with only two vehicles. “Take it,” he said finally. “He probably just wrote down the wrong car.”

  “OK,” I said before I hung up and took a quick look around the lot. The bus was approaching in the distance, so I made quick work of popping the lock and turning the ignition. The engine rumbled to life and I bre
athed a sigh of relief. It was in good nick. Actually, the whole car was pretty immaculate for something so old.

  Putting it into reverse, I grabbed my hat and sunglasses from my bag—cameras were mounted high and the brim obscured my face, putting most of it in shade. They wouldn’t be able to get a clear picture if they went looking.

  There were no issues getting out, and we all got through the exit gate and hit the Tullamarine Highway without a hitch. Now, we just needed to get to the rendezvous point to pick up the others. I gripped the wheel with both hands. It felt good after months of being straight. This was all going to be just fine.

  About fifteen minutes into the drive, the Blackberry started ringing, startling me a little. I hit the green answer key and held it to my ear. “It’s illegal to talk and drive, and I don’t know how to put this on speaker,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes peeled for cops.

  “You’re worried about talking on your phone while driving a stolen car?” Kristian’s warm voice rumbled in my ear.

  “Yeah. It’s the little things that get you busted, dude. What’s up?”

  “You aren’t in a station wagon?”

  “I know. I went to the spot and this was there instead. Abbot said to take it anyway. Do you think I should just dump it?”

  “Jesus. I don’t know… It should be fine. I’ll call our guy and get him to find out how long we have on that one. We’ll make a decision then.”

  We said a fast goodbye and hung up, the conversation doing very little for my nerves. After the damage control needed with Maree and Dazza, I really wanted this job to work out perfectly so they didn’t think I was a jinx. Come hell or high water, we were coming back from Sydney with a buttload of cash.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Born To Do This

  The rendezvous was the car park of a massive home improvement store in Craigieburn. Mixed in with all the DIYers, were a handful of criminals, getting the things needed to lift and secure a safe full of money.

  Minutes after we got there, Toby and Nate came out with trolleys loaded with chain, sledgehammers, a winch, and a concrete drill. Alesha walked along behind them eating a sausage sizzle.

  “Oh fuck,” she said when they reached the cars. “I got sauce on my shirt.” She lifted it and sucked the red dot, making the stain worse.

  “Where’s Sam?” Abbot asked as he opened the back of his SUV and started loading in the tools.

  “He’s right there,” Nate said, nodding towards Sam, who was walking over with everyone’s duffle bags in his arms.

  “We ready to get this trip on the road?” he asked, throwing the bags in the back of each car, knowing from our earlier planning which bags belonged where. “Why is this a Land Rover?”

  “I called Randy and he said the spot is booked for a month. He reckons they probably booked one car then used another. Said it happens a lot,” Kristian said, holding up his phone.

  “Me and Leesh were supposed to be in that station wagon. It was more believable turning up in that.”

  “I know, man,” Kristian said. “But I reckon take the Tucson. We’ll take this one. Plenty of couples drive them.”

  Sam pressed his lips together and looked at the other cars before releasing his breath. “All right. Just make sure Randy double-checks the cars next time. We don’t like surprises.”

  “Will do.”

  After loading up our bags and separating the tools between the three of us, we got on the road, Nate and Toby in one car, Sam and Alesha in the other, and the twins and me in the Land Rover. It was a ten-hour trip with stops and Kristian took first driving shift.

  “We should get fake IDs so we can fly places,” I said after the first hour of nothing but a radio to listen to.

  “Flying is too regulated. Plus, they’d still see our faces. Not worth it. Road is always safer,” Kristian said. “How about we play a game to pass the time? Remember those games we used to play as kids, Abs?” He glanced in the rear-view mirror to address his brother.

  “Dirty license plates?” Abbot said, a smile in his voice.

  Kristian laughed. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but sure.”

  Abbot chuckled. “Jasmine hated us playing that game. She was trying to raise decent men, she’d say, not twisted perverts.”

  Kristian laughed. “Ten points for tryin’.”

  “How does the game work? I’ve never played before,” I said, twisting in my seat so I could see both of them.

  “What?” Abbot said. “How are you even alive? You seem to have missed everything.”

  I looked down. I knew he was just joking, but the answer still cut me a little—I’d never done anything because I never had the opportunity. No family, no life, no money. I was born, I went to school, I learned how to surf, how to party, and how to steal shit to party harder, then I quit partying and still had nothing. That was me in a nutshell.

  “We didn’t all have caring families to go on road trips with, you know,” I said finally, and he at least had a moment where he seemed to feel bad for throwing that fact in my face.

  “OK. It’s really easy,” he said. “You take the letters from the number plates of the cars in front of us and make something dirty out of them. Like that one for instance, ALM can be Arse Licking Monkeys.”

  I smiled. “Or Anal Loving Mormons.”

  Kristian almost spat. “I think she’s got it,” he said, chuckling.

  “Kris, your fiancée has a filthy mind and is being culturally insensitive.”

  Kristian placed his hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze. “That’s what I like about her.”

  “All right, Ronnie, you win that round,” Abbot said. “What about that one there?”

  A car changed lanes in front of us with the number plate ESG-173.

  “Everybody Sucks Gonads,” I said.

  “Etching Sexy Geese,” Kristian said, laughing at the absurdity of his words.

  Then Abbot took his turn. “Eat Shit Gary,” he yelled, cracking us all up.

  The rest of the day went pretty much like that. When we got bored of one game, we started playing another—never have I ever, radio roulette, and would you rather. Between that, we told stories of our upbringing. The twins had lots of good ones about parties they attended, jobs that didn’t go quite right, and family adventures. Jasmine had tried really hard to give five boys with an absent father the best life she could manage.

  I contributed where I could, telling them a few stories about narrow escapes from the law and some of my surfing mishaps. I even trusted them with a few anecdotes about living life out of the back of your car and how McDonalds could always be counted on when I needed to pee—except that time I got locked inside one.

  There was something special about being trapped in a car for ten hours with people you didn’t really know a lot about. At the end of it, you felt a hell of a lot closer and a lot more like family.

  “This is where we rest,” Kristian said lifting his eyes to the crappy-looking motel on the Great Western Highway. It was basically a parking lot and a long white building with two levels that were populated with simple rooms.

  “I always thought Katoomba would be prettier,” I said, looking around at the concrete landscape, dotted with a few gnarly looking eucalypts. The sun seared hot against my bare shoulder even though it was late in the day. “And colder.”

  Abbot handed me my bag from the back of the Land Rover. “It is in winter,” he said. “Gets freezing up here, even snows sometimes.”

  “It’s pretty a little farther up, though,” Kristian assured me, taking the bag Abbot just handed me out of my hands. “But, we’re on the side of the highway, doll. Nothin’ can make the stench of exhaust fumes pretty. Maybe I’ll take you sightseeing if we get some spare time.”

  “No time, buttface,” Sam said as he walked over, slapping an envelope against Kristian’s chest. Then turning and doing the same to Abbot. “We’re here to work. Not to have fun. In there are your room keys and a little play money.”
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br />   Kristian grinned and stuck his tongue out. “Mate, you just said there was no time for fun. What are you giving me play money for?”

  “Food, fuckface,” Sam said, punching him in the shoulder. Kristian just laughed and pocketed the envelope.

  With a shake of his head, Sam turned to me and held up another envelope. “You’re sharing with Kris—unless of course you want to kill him after being in the car together ten hours?”

  I laughed. “I still like him enough,” I said, giving Kristian a sidelong glance. He made a show of putting his hand on his heart.

  “Good,” Sam said with a chuckle as he handed me the envelope. “This is some cash for you. Don’t use any cards while you’re here. Got it?”

  I nodded. “I left my cards at home,” I said.

  Sam smiled and gave my arm a squeeze. “Good work,” he said. “All right, people. Let’s get settled. Meeting in my room at eight.”

  We all bustled about, grabbing our things and finding our rooms while making small talk about being glad that long drive was over. The general consensus was that we were all desperate for a shower and something greasy to eat. I’d noticed a fish and chip shop in the nearby strip, so Kristian and Abbot decided to go gather food while I took a hot shower. Thank God the water pressure was good.

  Once refreshed, I headed into the motel room. All it contained was a double bed that would barely accommodate Kristian’s bulk, a fabric couch, two small chairs, and a table. The walls were a soft yellow colour, and the lone art print was an Aboriginal dreamtime scape. A small flat-screen TV was on the wall facing the end of the bed, and that was as extensive as the tour of our accommodation got.