Stealing Allie

by H S Russell

I call out for my parents as I walk down the hallway, but get no response. Then I head for the door with slow, slow steps.

  I wish I could say I don’t remember the next few hours or days or months, but I do. I remember falling apart in front of this complete stranger. I remember him asking me over and over who he can call until I finally scream that the only people he can call for me are dead. There is no other family. I’m the only child to parents who are only children. Were only children… God. There are no aunts or uncles or grandparents.

  And now there are no parents.

  The long months and year following the accident are a haze of grief and shock. Friends offer to take me in, but I end up staying with my elderly neighbors who’ve lived next door my whole life. I wanted to stay near my house, but not in it. The neighbors are kind enough to make sure I eat and study and graduate, but otherwise leave me alone to grieve.

  The money from my parents’ life insurance, the sale of our home, and the settlement from the trucking company allow me to go to a college out of state. I go as far away as I can—far from my memories, far from my life, far from the person I used to be.

  College helps me move forward, eventually. I have a few friends and after time, a boyfriend or two. Graduating with a degree in civil engineering, I find a job at a midsized city’s planning and zoning commission offices and settle into my new life.

  I’m never going to be the outgoing girl I was before, but I’m finally okay with that.

  Then everything changed.

  Chapter 2

  Allie - Now

  It’s Tuesday and I should be on my way to see my favorite grumpy general manager, but I stopped at a convenience store to gas up the car. The racks of junk food called my name, and now I’m having one of those hungry/not hungry moments. I settle on some unhealthy snacks I don’t need and decide to get a few extra items for the general manager, Dan. I’m going to be late, and I’m not above using savory treats as a way to apologize for my tardiness.

  Work takes me to different construction sites all around town. While it was way outside of my comfort zone when I started, I’ve finally settled into the job. I’ve learned that the men I interact with fall into three different categories: bitter old men, crude young men, and desperate middle-aged men. Dan falls in the bitter old men category, but he’s not nearly as bitter as some of the others I’ve worked with.

  Construction sites are either muddy quagmires or dusty tundras. Deep trenches made from the wheels of ginormous construction equipment make the area hard to walk through, and every site is dotted with a healthy dose of trash and building material debris. And the occasional condom or two. Yeah…

  I learned the hard way that steel-toed shoes really can be a girl’s best friend. I also learned that silk tops and pretty skirts do not work well in this environment either. Khaki pants and plain shirts make up the majority of my wardrobe.

  But the worst thing is the hard hat. Forced to wear it every day, my poor dishwater-brown hair has given up all its body and shine and now does nothing but lie flat against my scalp in abject submission to that cruel dome.

  So here I am, a thirty-one-years-old, five-five, and twenty-five-pounds-overweight girl with flat hair, blue eyes, straight teeth, pale skin, and a man’s wardrobe.

  The men are not exactly flocking to my door, unless it’s to borrow a shirt.

  Late for my appointment, I grab my peace offering of spicy cheese crackers and head in. Dan will be pissed that I’m late, but Dan is always pissed. He’ll appreciate the crackers though. As bribes go, they’re cheap but effective.

  “Hey, Dan, sorry I’m late. I got held up.” By purchasing snack foods neither of us needs.

  Dan is fifty-five going on terminally grumpy. Having worn a hard hat most of his life, his hair is perpetually flattened into hat hair.

  I have nightmares of this happening to me.

  His face is lined with wrinkles, and he’s got hair starting to grow out of his ears. His thick glasses are trifocals; I know this because he complains about them every time we have to go over paperwork.

  “You’re late, Allie. I’m too busy for you now.” Dan is also a grump who never has time for me. I take the dismissal as his way of saying hello. Both of us know I have no intentions of leaving.

  I fake a big sigh, because appearances. “I know, I’m sorry. But I brought you a bag of the spicy cheese crackers you like so much.”

  While the crackers could be construed as a bribe, which is against the rules, Dan and I have an unspoken understanding. When I’m late, I bring him treats as an apology. In return, he keeps my being late on the down-low. It’s a win-win.

  “Throw ’em here. What’cha got for me today?”

  “This is just your standard checkup to see how everything is going…”

  And this is how it goes. Dan and I talk about his worker who was injured on the job—tons of paperwork to be done for that one—and we discuss some issues he’s been having with his concrete vendor.

  I look over Dan’s paperwork, making notations and suggestions, and we talk about a few more things, some work-related, some not. I ask him about his grandkids, and he shares their latest adventures with me. He knows I don’t have family or a boyfriend or pets to chat about, so things are fairly one-sided between us.

  We’re finishing up when I mention my next appointment. It’s a brand-new federal building going up on Prentiss Street located at the city’s outskirts. The company working the job is one I’m not familiar with. I hate dealing with federal building general managers; they’re usually such snobs. But not knowing who’s working this one has me antsy.

  “Hey, do you know who’s in charge of Prentiss Street?”

  “The federal place? No. Why’re they sending you? You’re city.” As if I didn’t already know. He’s looking at the empty bag of crackers, probably wondering where they’ve all gone. I get it—the new spicy ones are really good.

  “We always have to make initial contact with them. It’s a stupid formality. But you should see the plans for this building. They’re taking security very seriously. Thick walls, deep supports, tunnels and cages for IT equipment… It’s a nightmare.” Dan just grunts, which is my cue to leave.

  “Should be interesting,” I tell him as I head out.

  “No clue, kid. But if anyone can wrangle them in, it’s you.”

  His comment makes me smile. That’s about as close to a compliment as I’ll ever get from Dan. “See ya. I’ll bring Ho Hos next time.” He humphs and waves a hand at me, his way of telling me goodbye and have a nice day.

  I have no idea my life is about to change.

  ✤ ✤ ✤

  The new federal building has been a big-fucking-deal for a while now. The whole city was up in arms about it, but the protests eventually shut down. I don’t want to inspect it, but my boss says we have to check it out since it’s inside city limits. Personally I think my boss wants to tweak the nose of whoever is in charge just because he can, and because he’s a dick.

  When I arrive at the site, I see two trailers, one of which should house the general manager. In the distance, a large crew—much larger than what I typically see—is hard at work. They look like a colony of ants, each one of them focused on their assigned tasks. The yard around the trailers is strangely quiet. Something about the whole thing makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  The first trailer has just a desk with some paperwork on it, so I set off for the other one. It’s a little set off from the first one, which is odd because most sites put their trailers close together to save time. The less walking, the faster things get done.

  I head up the stairs, making sure my shoes clomp loud enough for someone to hear me coming. I give my typical double-knock and try to open the door, but the handle doesn’t turn. These trailer doors are notorious for sticking, so a locked door doesn’t mean anything. With a little pressure and a push, it pops right open.

  “Hi,” I call out, looking at my tablet as I walk in. “I’m A
llie Jenson from the city planning and zoning commi…”

  As I look up, I stop talking.

  This trailer…this is… I’ve never seen anything like this before. I stare, taking everything in. Almost three entire walls are lined from floor to ceiling with black server racks with smoky glass doors. The hum of ozone is so strong, I can’t believe I didn’t feel it or smell it outside.

  This is nothing like anything I’ve ever seen at a construction site. Most general managers want nothing to do with computers, so this…this just doesn’t belong. And this is not a general manager’s office.

  Lost in my awe and confusion, one of the men clears his throat, drawing my attention back to them. And once again, I’m stropped in my tracks, made speechless as my gaze sweeps over them.

  There are three of them, and they’re all staring at me and look angry that I’m here. Two of the guys are standing, and they’re complete opposites. One has coal-black hair, and the other has much lighter blond hair. You can tell that both of them hit the gym on a regular basis.

  Then the man who was squatting stands up, and when I look at him, everything in me goes still. Because he’s perfect.

  He’s tall and muscled, and his black Henley molds to his body, showing off his shoulders. His stare is so forceful, it makes me take a step back.

  When he stops right in front of me, I can’t help but stare at him. He’s…perfect.

  His hazel eyes, green and gold and brown, glare into mine—into me—pinning me where I stand. His dark brown hair is thick and straight with slight waves at the ends. He probably runs his hands through it after his shower and calls it done. He’s got the kind of scruff that make my palms want to touch it, and his jawline, nose, and brows are the finishing touches that make his face a masterpiece.

  Plus he smells good.

  My gaze darts between the men—still staring at me—and I’m suddenly conscious of the way I look. Unfeminine. Unpretty. And now I’m being stared at by the football, baseball, and soccer team captains, all at once. A disconcerting flush races through me.

  But I don’t have time to feel self-conscious when the man in front of me barks out a question. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  He looks angry, making me take a step back. “Uh, I’m Allie Jenson. I’m from the city planning and zoning office,” I tell him, my voice professional despite his unfriendly greeting. “I need to meet with the general manager. Is that you?” I have no idea why he’s so pissed at my being here.

  “I’m not the general manager. I’m afraid he’s a little tied up at the moment.” He has a deep, smooth voice.

  The guy with light brown hair starts coughing, which earns him a glare from the man before me.

  “Okay. Will he be available soon?” I try for a smile in hopes it’ll help his temperament. “I just need five minutes, then I’m gone.” Forever.

  “No. You need to leave.”

  Wow. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow if that’s a better time.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow will be much better for you,” scoffs the coughing guy. This earns him another glare from the man in front of me and a hit upside the back of his head from the man with black hair.

  With the men’s attention elsewhere, I notice the mini power tools around the guys. They’re using them to detach some of the servers from the racks, allowing them access to the backports. Lots of small black boxes—portable hard drives probably—are connected to the servers. But that can’t be right…you can’t just transfer data like this.

  Those hazel eyes back on mine, I can tell that he wants me out of the trailer. Yesterday.

  But something isn’t right, and my engineer brain can’t let it go. “Are you extracting data with hard drives? That’s not even possible.”

  The atmosphere in the room changes immediately. I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. Glancing at the equipment again, it hits me. They’re stealing data—governmental, classified information—from the government.

  The federal government.

  As my head swims with the ramifications, he takes a step closer to me. I breathe in his scent and wonder how a bad guy can smell so good.

  “I’ll go,” I tell him, backing away, hoping he doesn’t see that I know what’s going on.

  The black-haired man is shaking his head and saying how I can’t be allowed to leave, that I’ve seen their faces…

  Just as the words penetrate my brain, I turn to run. I don’t even get one step before muscular arms wrap around me and hold me against a hard, warm body. He slaps a hand over my mouth, blocking my pleas and cries.

  “You’re too fucking late, Allie. Too fucking late.”

  I struggle to get free, but it’s no use. Whoever they are, they’ve got me.

  Chapter 3

  Lucas

  The fucking door wasn’t secured well enough, and none of us realized it. Everything was going perfectly, and then she shows up out of fucking nowhere.

  We knew every schedule of everyone associated with this job. There was no scheduled visit from the city, yet here she is. And now she can describe us to the authorities, pick us out of a book of suspects. She holds our freedom—our lives—in her hands.

  Goddammit.

  I look down at her, furious at what she’s done, as she tries to pull away. She’s a handful of soft curves and soft hair flattened by the hard hat. She’s actually more than a handful, but she’s all woman. The way she struggles makes her wiggle against my cock. It feels her ass. Feels it and likes it.

  I squeeze her a little harder until she calms down. “If I pull my hand away, are you going to scream?” I ask her, ignoring Adam when he mutters something about being a cliché under his breath. I’ll deal with him later.

  She shakes her head no, so I lift my hand a little, ready to shut her mouth again if anything more than a breath escapes.

  “I don’t understand,” she whimpers.

  “We’re going to keep it that way too, Allie. Who knows you’re here? Coworkers? Husband?” I squeeze her again when she doesn’t answer fast enough. “Tell me. Now.”

  “Work,” she hiccups. “They have my schedule.”

  Dammit. “They know you’re here right this moment?” I ask, fearing the worse.

  “No. They know it’s on my afternoon schedule, but there’s no set time.”

  “What about a friend? A husband, a girlfriend? Were you talking to someone on the drive over? Someone that knows you’re here right now?”

  “Just the manager at my last stop. I told him I was coming here next.”

  Goddammit. “Who?”

  “Dan Burns. He’s over on Main and Third, working on the hospital expansion.”

  The manager at the last stop; we can work around that. “Will he be checking in on you?” She shakes her head no. “And there’s nobody else checking on you?”

  “No,” she squeaks out, “there’s nobody.”

  Adam clears his throat, then nods to an empty chair in the corner. I have to finish up my own tasks and can’t do that with her in my arms. I spin her around, enjoying the little yelp she makes at my sudden move. “Sit down and don’t watch or speak,” I rasp. She buries her face in her hands.

  Smart girl.

  Adam reattaches his servers and begins gathering his tools. I go over to José, who’s still finishing up. His voice is quiet when he speaks. “You need to get her phone and tablet. If she hasn’t gotten any calls or texts, she might not be triangulated here yet.”

  “Good thinking.” He doesn’t say anything about how I should have thought of this already. We’re all a little off-center with her appearance.

  She still has her head buried in her hands. “Give me your cell phone and tablet,” I tell her, startling her.

  She looks up at me, her face red and blotchy. “What?” she asks, confused.

  “Don’t make me say everything twice,” I tell her. “Give me your stuff.”

  She pulls her phone from a fucking belt clip, making me shake my head at her. She’s m
ore manly than some men I know.

  “Shut them down.” When she’s done, I push down on her shoulder. She takes the hint, turning around and burying her face in her hands again. I take her phone, but just before I start to destroy it, José stops me.

  “We might need something off of there.. Turn off her location finder and GPS until we decide what we’re going to do.”

  Adam looks over at José. “Smart thinking.”

  After wrapping everything up, we huddle as far away from Allie as we can get. “I don’t need to remind you of this, but no names out loud. And keep your voices down so she can’t hear.”

  All three of us look at her, then at each other. Adam’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

  I glance between the two of them. “Any ideas?” I have one, but it’s not a good one. I’m hoping one of them have something better.

  José speaks first. “She’s scared of her own shadow. Tell her if she talks we’ll hurt her family, then we’ll watch her for a while.”

  Adam shakes his head. “Just let her go? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” I ask.

  “Tranq her and cause her to have an ‘accident.’ She won’t remember anything when she wakes up. If she wakes up.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Adam fucking scares me sometimes. We may be a lot of things, but killers we’re not.

  I look over at Allie’s huddled form, noticing the pale skin of her neck as she’s hunched over. I want to touch that skin. Shaking my head to quiet the thought, I sigh. “We tranq her, then I take her with me.”

  Both of the guys look at me like I’m insane. I know they’re right, but there’s nothing else we can do. “I’ll keep her at my place until we make sure our tracks are covered here.”

  “Then what?” asks José. “She’ll know even more about you if you do that.”

  I shake my head, but I have no answers. “I’ll fucking figure it out later, José. It’s now that we have to worry about.”

  “That’s kidnapping and imprisonment.” José balks.

  “I fucking realize that, but she’ll go to the FBI as soon as we leave. She can ID us…” I let the implication of that sink in. “We can’t risk letting her go.” I shoot Adam a glare. “And ‘tragic accident’ is off the table.”