I tuck my phone in my pocket, my gaze returning to the Charger for one last appreciative glance. The next song on my playlist fades when I hear, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” from behind me in a rumbling voice.
My body hits high alert. I pull the earbuds from my ears at the same time messages vibrate their delivery on my phone, one after the other. I shoot a glare to the security camera before turning around.
It’s him. Of course. Echo did warn me. Perhaps my feet remained rooted to the pavement because I wanted to see him for one last appreciative glance too. It’s well worth it. Up close, he’s overwhelming. My senses are operating at full capacity as I take in his scent, the warmth radiating from his body, and the enigmatic depth in his eyes. All I need now is to touch and taste and my sensory journey will be complete.
“Yeah, I guess she is,” I say in a manner that I hope exudes ignorance. I don’t want him knowing I was scoping out the Charger.
He takes a bite of the muffin in his hand. It’s oversized and thick with chunks of milk and white chocolate. It looks almost as delicious as he does, and after years of deprivation, I now suffer a powerful sweet tooth.
“You want a bite?”
My breath quickens. “Sorry?”
“A bite. Of the muffin.” The fluffy treat is thrust in my face. “You’re lookin’ at it like you wanna—” He cuts off as though he was about to say something crude.
I’m fascinated. He doesn’t talk like a high-class suit. And his voice is deep and smoky like a Cuban cigar. “Like I want to what?”
“Put your mouth on it.”
Sweet baby Jesus. My inner thighs clench, and I take the muffin. There’s something so oddly intimate about sharing food with a complete stranger. His nostrils flare when I take a bite.
“You got a name?” he asks, watching me chew. Never have I felt more self-conscious than I do in this moment.
I swallow. It’s good. Sweet and rich, but not sickly. “Arcadia.”
“Arcadia,” he mutters to himself as though tasting my name on his lips.
Another message dings as I offer back the muffin. Echo is getting antsy for me to leave. “What about you?” I ask as he takes it.
“Kelly.”
Kelly and Arcadia. Why did I automatically think that?
He takes a big bite, right next to where I took mine. A shiver of longing tickles my skin. I want that mouth biting me. His eyes heat as he watches me. Does he see through me so easily?
I try for a polite smile and gesture a thumb to the footpath behind me. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Kelly. I should get going.”
A frown wrinkles his brow. “You got a ride?”
Is that concern on Kelly’s face? It’s nice and oddly comforting to have a stranger looking out for my welfare in a world where everyone only looks out for themselves. The only problem is that my ride is three blocks down, waiting for liberation from her protected spot in a dealership garage. Echo infiltrated their computer system. The BMW is the five series M550i and brand new. The sexy lady was in getting her very first service today. But come tomorrow morning when her owner comes to collect, she’ll be long gone.
“I do.” A slow smile builds as I start walking backward. “Thanks though.”
He takes a step toward me like he doesn’t want me to leave. “You sure?” There’s a hint of suggestion in his tone. “Because I can give you one.”
Hell yes, baby, I bet you could give me the ride of my life. I take a deep breath, drawing in the strength to say no. I need this boost. “I’m sure.”
He nods. “Guess I’ll see you round then, Arcadia.”
I bite my bottom lip, drawing it inside my mouth. “See you.”
3
Kelly
Fuck me stupid. Arcadia has stirred a hunger inside me that demands to be fed. Pity she didn’t want that ride. Even though she’s not my type, I find myself staring after her. She looks studious, like a desk jockey of some sort, with her fancy pants and shoes, and those provocative reading glasses. Her eyes were focused on that economics text book inside the coffee house like her life depended on getting an A-plus.
Catching her gaze had been intense. Her eyes were a large bluish grey, and turbulent, like the seas of a wild storm lived inside them. Those eyes were framed with dark brows and even darker lashes. Sharp cheekbones gave her otherwise pretty features a powerful edge, as if she could turn from sweet to fierce in a single instant.
Fox slaps me on the back, his gaze on her retreating figure. “No dice, huh?”
I take a bite of my muffin and chew. I speak around my mouthful as the dark night swallows her up. “Not even with this stupid penguin suit on. I thought chicks dug this shit.”
“Demand a refund.”
“I should. The damn thing cost me my left nut.”
Romero reaches our huddle. I drag my eyes from the direction she disappeared in and look at him.
“So? What do you think?” he asks, referring to our discussion inside of Fix.
I fold my arms, conveying an unhappy stance. “What I think is that I want to see this place before I make a decision.”
Romero nods. “Fair enough.” He points down the street, the opposite direction to where Arcadia left. “It’s two blocks that way.”
“Let’s go,” I say.
We choose to walk, and ten minutes later we arrive in front of a huge garage in Darlinghurst. An impressed whistle escapes my lips as I stand back and take it in. “You two are buying this?” I ask, referring to him and my brother, Casey. I need to double-check because this building, in this location, would cost way more than the left nut I just handed over to Grace for my suit. It would cost your entire cock and balls, and even a kidney too.
“Hell yes, we are.”
It appears brand new, as if some poor bastard built it for the specific purpose of operating a garage and went bankrupt before he could get the business up and running. Two enormous black garage doors occupy the left side, the side where all the magic happens. The right clearly houses the office section. Romero walks over to the office entrance and pulls out a key.
“You got a key?” Fox asks, walking over to him while I hang back. My eyes are on the building but my mind is in the clouds. To have a legit business like this, with all the bells and whistles and fancy tools, is a dream, and it’s just typical my asshole brother gets to realise it for himself.
“Sure do,” Romero replies, unlocking the door. “You can get anything when you know the right people.”
Fox steps through the doorway. “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.”
Romero holds it open, looking at me. “You comin’?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I walk over, peeling off my jacket as I step inside. I toss it on the oversized reception counter as I inspect the space. It’s closed off to the garage area by large glass windows and an automatic sliding door. There are offices behind the counter but none of that interests me. My eyes are fixed on the cavernous space beyond the glass. The building extends right back, leaving enough room for several cars. Multiple restorations. And at the back is a large room, extending from one wall to the other, to house an area for all the spare parts. Racks of stainless steel shelving are already installed.
Fox steps up beside me while Romero goes off to flick on light switches. “What are you thinkin’?” he mutters.
“I’m thinkin’ there’s drool on my chin right about now. You?”
Fox sighs, his eyes on the cavernous space too. “I’m thinkin’ it’s makin’ my dick hard.”
His mention takes my mind to Arcadia and how she made my dick hard as I watched her lips wrap around that muffin. It’s barely deflated, even after that walk in the cold night air.
“So are you in?” Fox asks me.
“No fuckin’ way. If Romero and Casey think I’m going manage this little operation for them while they sit back and rake in a bunch of money, then they’ve got shit for brains.”
Romero’s voice is hard from behind me. �
��Is that so?”
I turn, folding my arms. “Yes, that’s so.”
“You know this is Grace’s idea,” he says, referring to Casey’s fiancée. “We’re looking for a manager who knows what he or she’s doing, and she suggested you.”
This doesn’t surprise me. Grace and her damn meddling. “And Casey went along with it because he likes to do whatever she wants?”
Romero holds up his hands as if surrendering. “I’m not here to argue. I’m just here to ask if you want the job. If you do, it’s yours. If you don’t, then we’ll find someone else.” He walks over to the automatic door and it whooshes open. He steps through, and Fox and I follow behind him. He stops but I keep walking beyond him, already smelling the thick scent of grease, hearing the clatter of tools, and seeing the beauty of scrap metal transform into works of art. It makes me hungry. Damn hungry. I want this. But I don’t want to be working this dream for someone else.
I stop and turn. “I’ll manage your operation.” Romero opens his mouth to speak and I hold up a palm, stopping him. “On one condition.”
He nods agreeably. “Shoot.”
“I buy in. Become a partner and own this with you.”
Fox’s brows fly high. “Brother, you got the money for this?”
“Yeah,” I reply, the singular word hard enough to shut down any further questions. It’s money I never wanted to touch, tainted with death thanks to my mother’s life insurance. My chest tightens and I turn away, pretending to inspect the space again while I gather composure. I don’t miss the slow grin that forms on Romero’s face before I turn. He likes the idea. I do too. It might mean having to put up with Casey’s bullshit more often, but for this I could put up with him and the entire Valentine crew he runs with. And that’s sayin’ a lot because I always manage to rub those assholes the wrong way.
* * *
Arcadia
Echo: Your lady is waiting
Her message is code for me to make my move. Echo has the cameras down and she’s on standby for potential emergencies. I’m already eyeing the dealership from across the street, hidden in a dark alleyway between two buildings. I can’t see her. She’ll be out back, detailed and serviced, waiting for just the right person to treat her right. I’m just hoping she’s in a position where I don’t have to move other cars to get her out.
Me: How does she look?
Echo: She looks bored but prime.
Anticipation heats my blood as I tuck my phone away. Prime is Echo’s code for ready to go. It means this boost should be a walk in the park. But now is not the time to get cocky. That kind of attitude can get you into trouble.
Head down, I make my way across the road, armed with security codes and ready to pick the lock from the side entry door. I’m inside within two minutes. The keys are kept nearby—it’s standard policy for most dealerships in case the cars have to be moved in an emergency, like a fire.
Prior research leads me straight to the box. “Damn smart keys,” I mutter, finding the BMW key without effort. It’s a tech gadget’s dream. With a digital screen, it even lets you set the interior temperature before you get in. It’s a dream car but give me old school any day.
After hitting the button by the side of the garage door to roll it up, I’m inside the car and driving it out onto the street, my heart pounding inside my chest. I’ve switched my reading glasses for oversized sunglasses, and with my hair hidden beneath the beanie, I’m unidentifiable to any street cameras I pass along the way. There’s no time to enjoy the ride. I reach my destination in a roundabout route without opening the car up to enjoy the powerful engine. It’s unfortunate, but it’s also smart. And I’ve always played it smart.
The Marchetti Brokers’ chop shop, already alerted to my imminent arrival, have the door rolling up. I’m grinning as I drive inside. The door rolls down behind me and the engine purrs for a moment before I hit the button and switch it off, sighing.
My car door opens. I look up from the driver’s seat. A girl is looking down at me. I put her age at about mid-twenties. She has wide dark brown eyes and layered brown hair to her shoulders, carefully constructed into messy waves. She’s wearing black leather pants and a leather vest, which heightens skin I can only describe as luminescent. How is skin like that even real? “Who are you?”
“I’m Murphy.” She grins, revealing even white teeth, and steps back so I can get out. “And this car is gorgeous.”
“Ace,” I reply, wondering when Tony Marchetti brought her on. It’s only been about six months since my last boost, so she must be new. “And it is. If you like this sort of thing.”
“This sort of thing?” she asks as I stand and shut the door behind me.
I pull the sunglasses from my eyes and tuck them in my bag. “Cars with no character.”
Murphy shrugs, her eyes falling to the car with admiration. “What does that even matter? She’s so sleek and powerful.”
Pity rises inside me. It’s this type of ignorant attitude that irks the crap out of me. “What does it matter?” I roll my shoulders, gearing up for a rant. “There’s no significance without character. Her beauty might capture attention, but character captures the heart.” I run my hand down the sleek black hood. “This girl here is loyal to no one, but a car with character…” I stop and turn, raising a brow at Murphy “…is loyal to the bone.”
She laughs, her gaze moving from the car to me. “You talk like cars have a real personality.”
The curious thing about Murphy’s comment is that most car enthusiasts believe they do. Why would Tony bring in someone so ignorant? I narrow my eyes, studying the new recruit. “Who hired you?”
“I did,” comes Tony’s booming voice as he walks out from the back door and toward us. Tony is a big guy with dark curly hair and blue eyes. His demeanour is sweeter than the icing on a cupcake, but falling on his bad side will land you in the fiery pits of Hell. The cops have never been able to put him out of business because he changes his location on a regular basis, leaving no trace behind.
Tony’s eyes fall on the sophisticated black beauty. “Any trouble?”
“None.”
His eyes gleam with satisfaction. “Because you’re the best.”
I place the smart key in his open palm. “I was the best.”
Tony’s eyebrows furrow into two sharp lines. “What do you mean was?” His fingers curl hard around the device, almost crushing it.
“The BMW is my last lady, Tony. I told you I wanted to retire.”
“Yeah, in forty years. You’re just a baby, Ace. You’ve got decades left in the business. And I’ve a got another job for you. A big one.”
The apprehension I’ve been supressing is realised. He isn’t going to let me go as easy as I’d hoped. Dammit. “Tony …” I shake my head as Murphy stands silent, following our exchange. “Thieves are like cats. We only have nine lives and mine are all used up. I can’t go to prison, and I can’t do your job. It’s time for me to move on.”
“Bullshit!” His nostrils flare. “It’s a lucrative one, and you’ll be damn grateful that I’m offering it to you. Do you know how many others would jump at this?”
“Let them jump.” I hold up my hands and start walking backward in the direction of the exit. “I’m out.”
Tony steps forward and grabs my bicep before I get too far. His fingers dig in painfully, and my stomach knots. “You’re not out, Ace,” he says through clenched teeth, yanking me back toward him. “You’re not out until I say you’re out.”
His response triggers bile in my throat. Was it naïve of me to believe he’d be cool with me walking away? “Don’t do this, Tony.”
“I don’t have a choice. My ass is on the line. And if mine is, so is yours.” He lets me go and I stumble. “Do you know what I’ll do if you don’t do this?” Tony’s shoulders are tight, his stance menacing, as he jabs a finger at me. “I’ll set fire to your house with your family inside it, and I’ll make you stand beside me as we watch it burn to the motherfuckin
g ground.”
The threat rocks me like an earthquake, leaving the ground unsteady beneath my feet. “You sonofabitch,” I hiss, both fury and fear churning inside me. “How dare you threaten my family.”
I know it’s not an idle one. Working with Tony has always been a double-edged sword. He feeds my addiction and pays me well, but deep down he’s the Devil. I broke all the rules and danced with him. Now I must pay the price.
“If you were a good girl, I wouldn’t have to.”
My lips press in a line as I stare at Tony. He rolls his shoulders, relaxing. Does he sense my acquiescence already? “I’ll do it.”
He nods, a smug smile forming. Cocky bastard. “You say that like you have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I say softly. Wearily. Because deep down in the darkest recess of my soul resides a hideous shame at the anticipation heating my blood. I live with this nefarious addiction. I know I have to quit. I promised myself and I promised Mason, yet my heart skips a beat at the thought of another job. Just one more. It’s lucrative and as long as I do it, I know my family will be safe. When I’m done I’ll pack up and move them all to another country. Starting a new life in this business is not uncommon. It’s what you do to survive. And I am a fucking survivor.
Tony steps forward, close enough for his chest to brush mine. I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze with defiance. He brushes his knuckles down my left cheek. “Then you made the right one, baby girl.”
“I’m not your baby girl, Tony.”
“Sure you’re not.” His lips quirk as he pulls an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and thrusts it between us. I shift back, taking it. It’s thick and heavy. “Open it.”
“I don’t need to.” He always pay the exact amount. No more, no less.
Tony’s eyes flicker with anticipation. “Your list is in there.”
“My list?”
I open the unsealed envelope. Inside, amongst a neat bound packet of hundred dollar notes, rests a folded piece of paper. My brows furrow as I pull it out and unfold it.
The Thief Page 3