This thought made me drive even faster. I slowed down as soon as I saw headlights from other vehicles and then sped back up again when they disappeared from my rear-view mirror.
I never thought I’d be so happy to see that dingy motel again. I parked the car, unlocked the room door and looked over my shoulder. Luckily for me, the place was a ghost town. I went inside and closed the curtains.
I raced to the bathroom and heaved into the toilet, my fingers gripping the seat. My whole body lurched and spasmed with every wave of sickness that crashed into me.
Once my stomach had emptied, I stood up and washed my face. Beneath that black makeup, my face was snow white. I washed away all black smudges of face paint from the sink. A hard, tight ball formed in my throat.
I cannot fucking cry right now. Not now. No way. Stop being such a pussy.
I stood by the window for an hour, peeking out from behind the curtain. I eventually sat down on the floor and watched as a few cars drove by. The same thoughts kept running through my head.
Someone tried to shoot me. Someone wants me dead. Who would want that? Who knew I would be at that location tonight?
I fell asleep on the floor by the window when the sun was just rising up over the hill. It wasn’t what you’d call a restful sleep.
When I woke up I checked the local news and listened to the radio. There was no mention of the shooting or the break-in. I booked a flight back to New York and left the motel before six in the morning. I drove by a cop car on the way to the highway but just avoided eye contact and kept driving. I found a park in a suburb of Tulsa and sat in my car for a few minutes, just staring at a pay phone near the parking lot.
Oh my god. Pay phones are still a thing?
I slid my hands into a pair of thick latex gloves, pulled on a baseball cap and walked over to the pay phone. I looked over my shoulder. It was early but a few people were milling around the park in the distance. I lifted the receiver, slid a coin into the slot and dialed 9-1-1. I looked over my shoulder again.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
I lowered my voice. “Man shot in a houseboat on Lake Virginia near Agnes.”
I hung up as fast as I could and got back in my car. I threw the baseball cap on the passenger seat and drove away before anyone saw me.
Why did I just do that? That dude was not my problem.
But I couldn’t help but feel like he would still be alive if it weren’t for me. That man had a family. What if they showed up at the houseboat in a few days? What if one of his kids discovered his bloody, rotting body instead of the police? What if animals snacked on his body and his kids saw? His family didn’t deserve that.
I was still incredibly stressed out and twitchy when I arrived at the airport. I forced myself to stop tapping my foot as I waited for my flight. Nobody gave me a second glance or asked me any questions when I went through security. Nothing.
I checked the news sites on my phone again, even checking the local police Twitter feed. Again, there was no mention of a murder or a break-in. It didn’t calm me down in the least.
The empty waiting area started to fill as the departure time drew near. Someone dropped a black backpack into the seat next to me. The owner of the backpack sat down on the other side.
“It’s funny how we keep running into one another,” said a man with a Scottish accent.
I slowly moved my eyes to the right, just to confirm my suspicions.
It was Rhys.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I flopped down into the seat by the window.
“That’s actually my seat by the window.” Rhys sat in the seat beside me on the plane. “But you can have it. I’m just that thoughtful.”
“You’re a saint,” I said flatly.
Rhys ignored my comment and looked around the plane. “Where’s the stewardess? I need a drink.”
“Flight attendant. Can’t you wait until we’re in the air?”
“I could.” He shrugged. “But I don’t want to.”
“How is it that you managed to be on the exact same flight as me?” I kept my voice low.
“I get a notification on my phone whenever you book a flight online.” Rhys was still peering anxiously around the plane. “I was just in California, as you may have known, so I made sure to get a connecting flight in Tulsa to New York on my way back home.”
Dad would be disappointed to hear Rhys hadn’t been killed and buried in a ditch somewhere.
“You couldn’t afford a direct flight from L.A.?”
“Oh, I absolutely could. But where’s the fun in that?”
Rhys fixed his flights just so he could be at the airport in Tulsa to see me? I call bullshit. He must have another reason for being here…
Oh my god.
It was Rhys. Rhys was the one who shot that guy last night! And then he tried to shoot me!
I swallowed hard and stared out the window, my stomach aching. My hands shook so I slipped them into the front pocket of my hoodie before he could see.
Once the plane was in the air, I got a tiny bottle of liquor and downed it fast. Rhys sipped a glass of whiskey, looking as cool as a cucumber. He eyed the tiny, empty bottle and glanced at me.
“Since when are you a nervous flyer?”
“The last time I saw you, you pointed a gun at me,” I whispered.
Rhys rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a real gun.”
The gun was definitely real. It broke a window. An innocent man is dead. I saw it!
“Your dad’s little wild goose chase was so much fun, by the way. Some thugs laughed at me when I asked to speak with Stan. But then I hung out on the beach and fucked a surfer girl, so it wasn’t a total loss.”
He’s not talking about last night. He’s talking about what happened in the tunnel in Key West.
“It certainly felt real,” I said.
“I hope you know I would never actually shoot you. I just wanted—” He lowered his voice “—the item. It’s not a big deal.” He finished off his whiskey.
“You’re lucky my dad didn’t put out a hit on you.”
That may have been the tiny bottle talking.
“He has that kind of power, huh?” He nodded, looking impressed. “It’s cute that you’re trying to follow in his footsteps.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
Rhys tilted his glass back and forth so the ice slid from one side to the other. He was slouched low in his seat so our faces were at the same height. It was a little more intimate than I would prefer. I took out a novel I bought at the airport and pretended to be interested in reading it.
“Don’t you want to know why I would never kill you?”
“Because then you wouldn’t have me to stalk online or torment on long plane trips.”
“No. Although, now that you mention it, that is an added bonus.” He grinned and winked. “No, I’ve decided you could be useful.”
I rolled my eyes. “What?”
“I want to start my own agency. And I want you to work for me.”
“No thanks.”
“You’re really good at this. It comes naturally to you. I mean that in the most complimentary way. And I promise, I would pay better than Paul.”
Of course he knows I’m working for Paul. Is there anything about me he doesn’t already know?
“Working for Paul is fine. I sure wish Audrey was allowed to hire me, though.” I glared at him.
“Ah, yes. That.” He frowned. “Well, Casey is proving to be … not a great fit.”
I avoided making conversation for the next half hour. Instead, I drank. After several tiny bottles of alcohol, I became chattier.
“I’ve been thinking about quitting.”
Rhys, now on his third whiskey, shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, it’s true. Nate knows what I do and now he hates me.”
“Ah yes. Your roommate? Is he your—” Rhys closed his eyes for dramatic effect “—lover?”
“
Former roommate. I guess I can’t really blame him. He’s too good for me.” I shrugged and leaned up against Rhys’s shoulder, my head resting against his head.
Why did I start drinking? I cannot be so familiar with someone who tried to kill me last night. Now, where is that flight attendant? I need another tiny bottle of alcohol.
“He’s obviously a fool,” he mumbled.
“You don’t even know him,” I mumbled back.
Rhys pointed at me, his finger hovering uncomfortably close to my boob. “If he cannot accept who you are as a person, who you are inside, then fuck ‘im.”
“I already did that.” I paused. “Oh, you mean forget him. I can’t do that. Quitting is easier than just giving up on him.”
“Have you even ever had a normal job?”
I snorted. “No.”
“Well, good luck with that. Let me know how that goes. He must be pretty special.”
“Things have been shitty recently,” I said. “I mean, last night was just a mess.”
“Yeah, what were you doing in Tulsa anyway?”
I looked straight at Rhys’s face. He seemed genuinely interested. Even if my sober self hadn’t come to terms with it, my drunk brain knew it—Rhys wasn’t at the houseboat the night before. He hadn’t tried to kill me. In fact, he honestly seemed to know nothing about the incident.
Plus, Rhys is an inch shy of six feet tall. The gunman from the night before was closer to five eight.
“Visiting a friend.” I glanced at him, suddenly a bit sleepy.
I stared out the window, contemplating how my life had turned out this way. Some of my friends in high school had gone on to become functioning members of society. They all seemed generally happy for choosing that path. Why wasn’t that good enough for me?
“What was your first job assignment?” I said, still staring out the window.
“My old boss sent me to Wales to acquire a letter from an old lady’s home. She lived all alone in this big old house in the country. She had no security system whatsoever and didn’t even lock her windows at night.” He stared ahead as he recalled the memory. “I just walked right in while she was asleep in her chair, found the letter and walked out. I don’t even know if she knows it’s missing to this day.”
“What was in the letter?”
“A rather risqué piece of mail from a woman who is now married to a Member of Parliament. Turns out she and this old lady used to be lovers.” He smiled. “The letter was very sweet… A little more explicit than I expected but kind of funny, really.”
I giggled quietly and wiped my weary eyes.
“What about you? What was your first assignment?”
“Another time maybe,” I whispered. “I’m sleepy.”
I fell asleep on Rhys’s shoulder, only waking up when we reached New York. I sat up quickly and pretended I hadn’t just been drooling on his collar. A throbbing headache had planted itself firmly on my left temple.
I got off the plane without a word to Rhys and was quickly heading for the exit when he caught up to me and grabbed my hand.
“Wait,” he said. “I have a few hours before my connection to Glasgow. Why don’t we get a drink at the bar?”
“I think I’ve had enough for today. My head is killing me. I gotta get home.”
“Can I come?”
“Excuse me?” I stared at him.
Rhys shrugged. “I have some time to kill.”
“You’re not coming to my house.”
“I thought we had nice talk—”
“I was drunk. I don’t even remember most of what I said.”
Liar.
“Besides,” I said. “You and me? We are not friends.”
“What? Why not?”
My eyes widened. “Oh, I don’t know! How about the—” I lowered my voice “—blackmail? How about putting a gun to my head and threatening to kill me in Florida? Ring any bells?”
Rhys frowned and furrowed his brow. I didn’t wait for him to think of a response and continued towards the exit.
“Alright. I guess this is goodbye then,” he said loudly.
I looked back at him.
“You’re quitting. Remember?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Booze makes me overdramatic. I don’t know what I’m doing yet. Except leaving this airport and going home.”
Rhys opened his arms up to hug me.
“What are you doing?”
“Come ‘ere.”
“No.”
“Molly. Come here.”
“No! Put your goddamn arms down!” I hissed.
“Please don’t make a scene.”
I glanced around. People were starting to stare at us. I glared at him, put my suitcase down and quickly patted him on the back, my arms around his ribs.
“See, was that so hard?”
“Don’t talk to me. You smell like whiskey.”
He laughed and headed back into the airport. “I’ll see you ‘round, kid.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh, yes I will!” he shouted before disappearing down a hallway.
I really hate that guy.
* * *
Paul folded his hands on his desk and stared at the window.
“I’m so sorry I let you down.”
He waved his hand. “It’s alright. You coulda been killed. I mean, obviously, I’m not thrilled at how this turned out but I’m glad you didn’t get hurt.” He slurped his coffee. “And you’re sure you didn’t see the guy’s face?”
I shook my head. “It all happened so fast.”
“That artifact is basically useless now. Not a lot of people want to suspiciously acquire an item when the original owner has recently been murdered,” Paul mumbled. “What a waste.”
“What happened? Why would another thief have even been there?”
He sighed. “It sounds like it was a double booking.”
I stared at him. “You think that’s what happened here?”
Sometimes a client will hire a second consultant because they want to make sure the job gets done. Whichever consultant gets the item first gets the reward money. I hate when clients do that. It’s a shitty thing to do. That’s how people get hurt.
“Your competition broke the rules. I know this wasn’t your fault, missy. Just let me sit on this for a while. For all we know, someone is still looking for you. Might be too early to send you back into the wilds just yet.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“I’ll give you a call in a few weeks. We’ll see where we are then.”
Paul patted me on the shoulder and smiled as I left the pawnshop.
Great. I’m losing out on even more money.
I messed up. I should have scoped the place out more before I went in. I should have been more careful.
Maybe I’m not cut out for this.
* * *
Ruby, wine glass in hand, stretched out her legs and rested her bare feet on her coffee table, wiggling her toes as she sipped.
“What’d Paul say?”
“He’s disappointed. It’d be better if he just got angry with me.”
Ruby handed me the wine glass and I took a gulp.
“This wine is terrible.” I took a second gulp and handed it back to her.
“It does the trick, though, doesn’t it?”
I shrugged. “I guess.” I burped and slouched down into the couch cushions. All I wanted was to put on pajamas and watch TV for the rest of my life. Instead I was wearing sparkly flats and a black party dress that Ruby told me to put on. She was wearing a pink dress thing that could probably pass for lingerie. She made it look like couture.
“I can’t believe you’re dragging me out when I’m feeling this shitty.”
“This place is fantastic. You will have an awesome time, I promise.”
I fucking doubt it.
We finished getting ready and took a cab to a club in Brooklyn. It just looked like an abandoned warehouse on the outside, a line of smartly dressed
ladies and gents waiting to get inside. The bouncer at the entrance looked about six feet wide at the shoulders. As soon as he saw us, Ruby kissed him on the cheek and he raised the barrier rope for us.
I looked at Ruby, my eyebrows up.
“His boss is a client.” She winked, grabbed my hand and we went inside.
I’ve never been one of those girls who enjoy clubbing. I knew immediately this place wasn’t for me when I heard a dance remix of a Rihanna song blasting. There were flashing lights and glow sticks and so many sweaty people and drinks being spilled on the dance floor.
I looked at Ruby. “Can I go home now?”
“Don’t be such a baby.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me further in. We pushed past people dancing and got a couple drinks, then went upstairs to the balcony and found an empty spot next to a few people.
One of them grabbed Ruby, screamed like a teenage girl and hugged her tight. “Ohmygawd, you made it!”
A guy in the same group hugged Ruby and kissed her on the cheek. “What the fuck are you wearing? It’s disgusting. I fucking love it!” He hugged her again and spotted me. “Oh, hi. Who’s this?”
Ruby, the social butterfly, was in her element. “This is Molly. She’s my bestie. Molly, this is Silas.” She pointed to the other two in the group. “And that’s Fawn and that’s Tegan.”
Silas, Fawn and Tegan. Where do these people even come from?
Her friends were so hip. I waved awkwardly and tugged at the bottom of my dress to cover more thigh. I felt naked, even though there were lots of people here less covered.
The song changed and the whole group, except me, screamed and jumped up.
“This is my jam!” Fawn shouted.
I can’t believe she just said that.
Ruby leaned in close to me. “We’re gonna go dance. Do you want to come with us?”
I shook my head and nodded to my cocktail. “Maybe later.”
Ruby, Fawn and Silas rushed downstairs. I watched them over the guardrail of the balcony. This was so not my scene.
“I love your freckles,” Tegan said, sliding over on the couch. “What did you say your name was?”
Molly Miranda: Thief for Hire (Book 1) Action Adventure Comedy Page 11
