by Lacey Alpha
Kira's laughter follows me. Nothing bothers that girl. Partly why I love her. Partly why I'm even angrier right now.
I slam the bathroom door with enough force to make the whole house tremble.
Dressed and ready to go to university, I find Kira snorting powder off of my bedside table.
“Blow, baby, blow.” She turns to me with a wild grin.
I wipe the cake off her nose with my thumb, claws scraping at my gut. “I can't baby, not today.”
“Why?” she mews like a cat, her lips pouting.
I lean down, licking those succulent lips. We're weird as fuck, but that's what I like about us. “I gotta study.”
And Logan's gonna beat my ass if I don't, I add in my head.
“Okay...”
“No lectures today?” I lift a brow. The girl's studying French History for fuck's sake. And she aces every exam she takes. Whether she's high or not.
“Not today. Can we hang out when you're done?” She hops to her feet, linking her arms around my neck and hanging her weight from me in her usual way. I catch her waist, sinking my tongue into her mouth and enjoying her for a few more seconds. When I lean away, she meows.
“Come on, kitty cat. I'll drop you home.” Crazy little thing.
I take her hand, quickly kissing the back of it, before guiding her out the door.
As we arrive at the front door, I find Logan there pulling his leather coat on. He says nothing, taking his keys from a hook and giving me an up and down glance. Assessing me for drugs, no doubt.
Kira slips on her pumps, her eyes pinned on me the whole time. “So many shoes,” she remarks, gazing at the mountain at her feet.
As Logan opens the door, she twirls out of it, her high evidently starting to kick in. I move to follow, but Logan smacks a hand flat to my chest, halting me. Rage pours through my veins, the very spot where he's touching me like acid scolding my skin.
“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Of. Me,” I snarl.
Logan's eyes narrow, his expression fierce. “Are you as fucked as she is?”
I roll my eyes. “I haven't done jack today.”
He takes a breath, dropping his palm. “Good.”
I glance down at his clothes: the usual ragged shit he wears to work on cars. Despite having overalls he's got oil, paint and god only knows what sticking to him.
“Why do you bother, man? How much d'you make off of that Merc, huh?”
Logan eyes me evenly. “If I didn't work, Mum would lose her shit. How would I explain where I make my money?”
“So go spend the day at a fucking casino or something. Why actually go to work?”
He looks like he's going to answer then thinks better of it, gesturing for me to go ahead of him. I shrug past him, taking Kira's hand as she moves dangerously close to drinking from Mum's bird bath.
“It would be cool to be a bird,” she coos.
“You were a cat a minute ago,” I comment, a smile pulling at my mouth.
“Yes but birds can fly.” She spreads her arms, looking like she could soar to the clouds then and there if only the universe would allow it.
A knife turns in my stomach, slow and painful. As I watch Kira, floating toward my Sedan, I start to wonder if Logan's right. Maybe we're getting too old for this shit. Maybe it's time we got clean.
I don't wanna be stuck in the place dreams go to die my whole life. I really do want to be an architect. And from the way Kira speaks about history, I know it's her passion.
Shooting a surreptitious glance at Logan, I make a conscious decision to try. Just to try. No promises.
¸.•*´♥`*•.¸
It's dark when I arrive home from Kira's place that evening. My balls are empty and I feel good. We spent an entire evening together without so much as sniffing a marker pen. And that's a win in my books.
As I step out of my car, I spot Logan lazing in the back of a convertible Jaguar E-type. A brunette is sitting on his lap in a tiny red dress, her tits nearly busting out of it.
Typical fucking Logan.
“Nice car,” I mock, leaning inside to get a look at the dashboard.
“Don't touch anything,” he snaps. “Do you wanna get your fingerprints all over my new car?” He emphasises the word, telling me it's stolen without needing to. I retract my hand, just in case. I don't need the fuzz sniffing around me if Logan gets caught for this.
“Mum will be back tomorrow morning,” I remind him, earning him a wrinkle-nosed look from his lay for the night.
“You live with your mother?” she asks Logan, extracting her hands from the inside of his shirt.
Logan's eyes slide to mine and I know I'm gonna regret this.
Seeing as I've already dug my grave, I decide to keep digging for the sake of my amusement.
“Yeah, he has to,” I say with sad inflections. “Seeing as he's not all quite there in the head, you know? Kind of unstable.”
Logan's jaw hardens to steel, his right eye twitching at me.
Adrenaline sweeps through me and I bounce on my heels.
One more and I'm done.
The girl is already crawling out of his lap into the seat beside him, filling me with satisfaction.
“Sad really, they say he's got the mind of a ten year old. So unless you wanna feel like a pedo, sweetie-”
Logan launches at me.
I run.
I make it into the house, fleeing upstairs at high speed. Logan catches my ankle and I trip, face-first onto the cream carpet. Top step, and all. Fuck.
He drags me backwards and I slide fast, reminding me of the mattress we rode down this staircase when we were kids. Mum went nuts.
His knee digs into my spine and he cracks my head against the lip of the step.
“Fuck off!” I bark as I scramble around, pushing him backwards.
He swings for my face and catches me across the cheekbone. I roar my fury, grabbing his shirt in fistfuls and ripping it. The second he's closer, I can get in a shot, swinging for his face.
He's too fast, rearing backwards and standing between my legs on the stairs. He pants, gazing down at me, shaking his head.
A laugh rolls up his throat and he throws his head back. The sound snatches the same reaction from me and suddenly we're both killing ourselves with laughter.
“Mind of a ten year old? You fucking prick.” He grabs my hand, tugging me to my feet.
I brush out the creases in my shirt, grinning. “She bought it?”
“I think she's long fucking gone, man.” His mouth creases at the corners and he claps me round the neck, guiding me downstairs after him.
We both glance out the front door but there's no sign of the busty brunette. Logan pushes it shut, heading to the tiny kitchen that barely has enough space for the two of us. It used to feel big, gazing up at Mum whilst she made us cheese sandwiches, me tugging on her skirt impatiently.
Logan swipes a bottle of rum from the top cupboard, making us a couple of cuba libres. I take one, sipping the sweet cola concoction with a grin. This is our drink.
Before I was eighteen, Logan used to mix it up in a coca-cola bottles for me to take to parties. He was a good brother, in ways. Except now I realise, the shit you shouldn't give little kids is what Logan gave me. I even smoked my first blunt with him when I was thirteen.
“You remember when Mum found us smoking weed in your room? And you told her it was medicinal.”
Logan splutters a laugh through his drink. “Yeah, she didn't take that one well. I seem to remember you got out of it just fine though.” He cocks a brow, mock-stern.
“Gift of the golden child and all.”
“I'm the bad influence.” He grins darkly but I know Logan's changed. He might still be a thief, but he doesn't piss around any more. I guess at some point, that shit has to stop.
“I only ever let you smoke with me because I knew you'd go try it anyway,” Logan reasons and I give him a save-me-the-shit stare.
“Plus I roll a mean joint,” he adds and I grin.
�
�Not for a while, I notice.”
He sinks onto a seat at the tiny two-person table by the door. I join him, knocking back the rest of my drink in one.
“Drugs are great until you realise how much they fuck you up.” He runs his thumb down the condensation on his glass. “Mum found me once, throwing up my guts in the downstairs toilet. Had to take me to hospital.”
“What? I didn't know that,” I say, trying to disguise my alarm.
He runs a hand down the back of his neck. “There's a lot shit you don't know, man. Mum has good reason to be pissed at me my whole damn life for the hell I caused her when I was a teenager.”
“Like what?” I cock a brow, unsure if he's just trying to seem the big man.
“Remember when she came home late one night and drove into the neighbour's car?”
“Yeah..?” I'd been told about it the next day, after Mum had had to fish out money to stop them from claiming on their insurance.
“That was me. High as fuck. I took her car to some chick's house, snorted coke like it was sugar and drove back here at 2am.”
“Dude.” I give him a disapproving look. Mum paid hell for that. The neighbours never spoke to us again. And I'm pretty sure it's their dog who shits in our garden every day.
“Yeah, I'm not proud of it, bro.” And he really doesn't look proud, his expression heavy with guilt.
I make a solid decision, nodding my head as I do so. “I'm gonna get clean. Me and Kira are.”
His expression doesn't change but a glint shines in his eyes. “Good.”
“I mean it.”
“Good,” he repeats simply. “I'll believe it when I see it.”
LOGAN
“Tell me about girls, Logan. How do I get girls?”
Weed stinging my eyes. Smoke filling my room.
I pass the joint to Adam.“You stop dressing like a pussy, for one.”
I manage to get my boner down to a semi by the time Darcy reappears from the bathroom. Her jeans and tank top suddenly seem a whole lot more appealing now I know what a little vixen she can be. Man, I'd like to let that hair of hers down. I bet she can actually be fun when she's not got a stick up her arse. That damn prick who made her this way needs a good beating.
This girl hasn't had any action in a long time and I'd love to see how much more relaxed she'd look after a good pounding. I'm pretty sure my chances are slim to none right now, though. She does not like me one bit.
But maybe I can change that. I know my mouth can run away with me, but I don't really want to hurt her, just to see how far I can push her. It's so much fun with her, most girls would be on their backs by now, taking it from me like a champion. She's such a challenge. And one, for once, I'm not sure I can conquer.
“So are you going to prepare me for tomorrow, or what?” She drops onto the sofa, tucking her legs up beneath her.
“Yep.” I stand, heading out of the room into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. Time to loosen this girl up.
I return to her with two glasses, placing them down and pouring the wine.
“Oh, I don't drink much,” she says vaguely.
“Then don't drink much,” I echo, passing her a glass and clinking mine to hers.
She shrugs, taking a sip and satisfaction spreads through me. Instead of returning to my seat, I drop down beside her on the sofa, kicking my shoes off.
“The guy we're targetting is called Ralph Heathcote. He's a rich toff that lives across the bridge in Chelsea.”
“How do you know about him?”
“My boss sends me the info.” It's sort of true. He sends the info on all the jobs he wants me to do. Names, addresses, security codes and which car he wants. But this is different. This job is completely planned by me. But I'm not going to let Darcy know how deep this shit goes.
“How?” She narrows her eyes at me.
I take out my phone, showing her one of the texts.
“Oh,” she says. “Simple as that?”
“Yep. I just pick up the car and drop it off at whatever location he gives me. He pays me according to how difficult a job is, how much the car's worth, that kind of shit.”
“You just 'pick up' the car?” She raises a brow, leaning in closer to me so I can smell the wine on her breath.
I drop my phone into my lap, giving her a cocky smile. “Well, there's a bit more to it than that, I guess.” I lean back in my seat, resting my elbows on the back of the sofa, broadening my chest.
“And what's the plan for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, Heathcote is having a very private party which you are going to be attending.”
Her expression becomes sceptical. “And how am I going to do that?”
I reach into my pocket, tugging out my wallet and pulling a piece of paper free. “With this.” I hold it out to her and she unfolds the invitation. “He gave out half his invites as prizes to people who work for McLaren.”
“And you won one?” she says incredulously.
I laugh, lifting my leg and resting my ankle on my knee. “No, sweetheart. I copied the design of one from someone who did win.”
“How did you manage that?” she asks, her grey eyes wide and glittering. Oh man, I like her looking at me like that.
“I'm not just a pretty face.” I grin, not elaborating. I don't think she'd approve knowing I fucked my way to getting just a glimpse of that invite. I had to snap a photo of it whilst I was several inches deep in a girl. I'm not sure why I care what Darcy would think about that. But I do.
“I guess not.” She smiles, taking a sip of her wine. “So is this party not enough of a distraction for you to steal a car?”
“Firstly, I'm not stealing just any car. I'm stealing his most prized vehicle. His 1997 Mclaren F1.”
She stares blankly at me, evidently knowing nothing about cars.
“It's worth two 2.5 mil.”
She gasps. “Woah.”
I grin smugly, taking a gulp of my wine.
“Wait a second. You're only paying me fifty grand for this. You're making fifty times that!”
I frown at her tone. “I get paid a set price. Not what the car costs.” The lie burns my tongue. This isn't one of my boss's jobs, I'll be keeping every last penny of this. Maybe I should up her cut a bit. But I guess I'll see how well tomorrow goes first.
“And back to your original question – no, the party is not enough of a distraction. I want this guy looking the other way, forgetting security, forgetting everything. And that's where you come in.”
She runs her hands up her arms. “What if he wants to touch me?”
I drop a palm onto her knee. “I'm going to have a camera on you, so please don't give me any close up visuals of his cock.”
She slaps my hand away and I relish the sting on my knuckles. “You're disgusting.”
I spit a laugh. “Seriously though, he touches you and you don't want it, I'll get you out of there, alright?”
“How?” she asks suspiciously.
“Just trust me.” I give her a pointed look, hoping for once she'll take me seriously. “You'll have an earpiece too so I can tell you what to do.”
“Oh. That's good,” she says, sounding relieved.
“Easy peasy, right?” I stand, grabbing the wine off the table and refilling both our glasses.
“Is drinking really a good idea tonight? Don't you want a fresh head for tomorrow?”
I sip my wine, the sharp liquid swilling over my tongue. “I've been doing this a long time, sweetheart. Trust me, I could walk in there pissed tomorrow and still drive off with his car.”
“You've got a lot of confidence for someone who needs my help.” She lifts a brow, giving me a mischievous grin. It makes my cock twitch.
“You should count yourself lucky, you're the first partner I've had.”
“Really?” She finishes her wine and I raise a brow at how fast she's drinking. “I better try my hardest then.”
DARCY
After a few glasses of w
ine, I'm feeling rather excited about tomorrow. I know it's crazy, but there's something so thrilling about this whole thing. My life has been mundane for a long time. Not that I'm condoning theft or anything, but hey, a girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere. I just didn't expect I'd be getting mine like this.
I laze my head back against the sofa, hearing the glug of the bottle emptying out as Logan tops up our glasses again.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I accuse, tilting my head back up, finding him watching me. He's very handsome. His jaw is rough with stubble, his eyes a heavenly blue. Problem is, he knows it.
“I wouldn't dream of it.” That cocky grin plays around his mouth.
“Drunk or not, I wouldn't touch you with a barge pole.” He may be pretty but that's all he is.
“Are you always this charming?”
“I try.”
He laughs, tipping his wine into his mouth. “Wanna see where you're sleeping tonight?”
“Sure.” I jump to my feet, feeling the perfect amount of tipsy. Not so much that I've lost any control, but enough to make the whole world seem brighter.
He takes my waist and I let him guide me to the next floor, spiralling up the wood and metal staircase.
“Wouldn't want to fall down these,” I remark, clinging to him.
His grip tightens on me and heat rushes up my spine. “No, that would hurt a lot. And I should know.”
I glance up at him, laughing. “You haven't?”
“Yeah, twice. And the second time I broke my wrist.”
My mouth drops open.
“I was drinking both times. So let's be extra careful tonight. No accidents before the big game.”
“Game?”
“The job. I like to think of it as a game.”
“Why?”
“I dunno, more fun I guess. You ask a lot of questions.”
“I'm curious about you,” I say thoughtfully, unsure if I should have said it.
“What would you like to know?” He leads me across the landing, opening a door and heading inside. We enter a vast bedroom with a bed made of bamboo, dressed in white sheets. Pictures are dotted around the walls featuring Chinese temples.
“Did you buy this house with the money you got from stealing cars?” I ask, turning to face him.
