Shadow Thief (Flirting with Monsters Book 1)
Page 22
His mouth tightened, but he nodded. I thought the reminder of his responsibilities would be enough to keep him patrolling where he shouldn’t be in the line of fire. If I did my job right, there’d be no alarm and no reinforcements for him to do battle with.
He vanished, and I eased out of the car, shutting the door as softly as I could. We’d parked in a lot outside a kitchen supply outlet store where the nearest security lamp was burnt out. In the thickening dusk, I’d barely be visible in my black clothes against the black car.
I stared toward Fun Station Depot, watching for Thorn’s go-ahead. The cooling breeze tickled across my cheeks. Just to pass the time, I touched each piece of my gear in turn to confirm I had it where I expected it to be.
A light flashed in the distance, there and gone. Thorn and the mini flashlight he’d helped himself to inside the store. All clear.
I gave the guys in the car a wave good-bye, unable to see through the tint if they returned it, and loped off. The soles of my sneakers made only the faintest rasp against the pavement. I veered around to the back of the kitchen supply building and crossed the street there, dashing through the lamplight.
My pulse thumped brisk but steady. I indulged in a brief spurt of song under my breath. “I can steal it, coming to your lair tonight, oh horde.” The smile that came with the mangled lyric spurred me on.
As I reached the parking lot behind the toy store, I slowed. Thorn had given me a hand in one other way: he’d surreptitiously unlocked a door at the back of the store. I still had to make it through the stockroom, across the main retail floor, and into the office at the east end, but then I’d only have one lock to disable. The way in is iron. It didn’t matter what kind of key that special room normally took—my picks would do the trick.
The parking lot was empty other than a charity donations bin the size of a small trailer in one corner. Clothes for the Recently Deceased. Now there was a cause if I’d ever heard one. Wouldn’t want any corpses to have to wander around naked.
I slunk around the pools of security light, eased open the back door, and peeked into the dark stockroom with ears pricked. No sound reached my ears except the distant whir of traffic from somewhere behind me. Even two guards were overkill for nighttime security in a discount toy shop—reflecting the fact that the management had more they wanted to protect than just the merchandise—but neither of them hung out back here. That worked for me.
I crept between the high shelving units stacked with boxes of plushies, action figures, and Lego. Only the faintest streak of light showed beneath the door at the other end that led to the main retail area. I stopped by it, holding myself still and silent.
After a few minutes, footsteps tapped by. The guards weren’t making any effort to conceal their movements—very helpful of them. How many months, even years, had they been on the job without ever actually needing to guard anything in here?
I smiled. Complacency was a thief’s best friend.
When the footsteps had tapped away, I nudged the door open an inch to take a lay of the land. Packed shelves of playthings loomed on either side of an aisle right across from me. More stood at regular intervals to my left, but to my right, when I dared to fully emerge, I saw a cluster blocking my straight path to the spot where Thorn had said the office was.
I kept close to the end displays, peering down each aisle and then darting across the open space to make my way across the store. When footsteps tapped my way again, I ducked behind a cardboard stand of foil trading card packages. Catch ‘em all—but no one would be catching me.
Slinking onward, I was feeling particularly confident for about five seconds. I slipped past the next display—and with a whir of mechanized parts, an electronic barking sound spewed out from the nearest shelf.
I flinched and barely restrained myself from smacking the thing. A little robotic puppy was stomping its feet and emitting that awful sound right by my shoulder. Because what could anyone want more than a yappy dog that couldn’t even cuddle with you? Brilliant design.
Two sets of footsteps headed toward me, thudding rather than tapping now. I dashed for the nearest shelter: a life-size statue of a fashion doll poised next to rows of pink boxes containing her smaller counterpart. Thankfully, her ample chest and hips were more than wide enough to disguise my dark form behind them.
I held myself rigidly still, eyeing those curves. It’d better be true that these dolls were made in impossible proportions, because otherwise I definitely fell short.
The guards came to a stop by the yappy toy, which finally shut up. One of the men sighed. “Stupid dog. I swear all it takes is a tiny draft to set it off. I hope one of them haunts the asshole who designed those things.”
“No kidding,” the other said with a weary chuckle.
They poked around a bit, one ambling down my aisle, but Miss Giant Bosoms remained my savior. As I groped her butt while squashing myself farther out of view, I thought a silent Sorry! at her.
When the coast was clear, I edged out from behind her and headed for the cluster of shelves between me and my goal. They turned out to circle a play area with a ball pit, train table, and a few kiddie ride-on cars. Just beyond that spot, I caught sight of the door that must lead to the office. Bingo!
Approaching it, my heart sank. Snap had said Meriden had left a strong impression that the way into this place was iron. How could that be anything other than a key—one many shadowkind couldn’t even touch, so very convenient? But maybe that had been for the outer door? The one in front of me had no keyhole at all, nothing for me to pick or even pop an explosive into, just a flat unbroken panel next to a keypad to enter a code.
Shit. I had a code breaker device that might have gotten me in if I’d had the time, but it could take hours depending on the model—if it would even connect with this one. I couldn’t hang around with the not-so-deadly duo that long. Even if the guards didn’t pose any more of a threat than they’d presented so far, they had plenty of friends who could pick up that slack.
Standing tensed, I glared at the door. Why the hell had Meriden been obsessing about iron coming in here? It being in the walls was a way to keep shadowkind out, not let anyone in. It was too late to go back and ask Snap if he’d happened to also pick up on a sequence of four numbers or—
Wait a second.
My pulse kicked up a notch as I bent over the lock. Sweet kit and caboodle, let this work. I-R-O-N: 4766.
The lock beeped faintly, making my pulse hiccup, and the deadbolt slid over. Yes!
I held back a fist pump of victory and pushed the door. It swung open to admit me without a squeak. Just like that, I walked inside, met with stillness crisp with an air conditioner’s artificial chill.
Not knowing whether the overhead lights would show under the door, I opted for the smaller glow of my flashlight. It caught on a steel desk mounted with a computer and monitor, a leather office chair, a couple of filing cabinets, and a bulletin board pinned with a calendar and various sales announcements.
The computer would probably contain the motherlode. I took a quick skim through the filing cabinets just in case, but they were all filled with order forms and sales reports. Sinking into the leather chair, I tapped the mouse.
The monitor blinked on—to a password request screen.
Son of a basket weaver. Of course it’d be protected, and I wasn’t any hacker. I’d never had to steal data during any burglar-ing mission before.
I typed in IRON, but that luck was only good for one point of access. The password window shuddered and informed me I needed to try again. I grimaced at it. How many tries would I get before it set off some kind of alarm or locked me out completely?
The odds of me guessing the password belonging to some people I knew zilch about was about five million to one. I could gamble with the best of them, but I knew when a bet wasn’t worth taking.
So… I guessed I’d better take the whole damn computer until I could find someone better at this part than I was.
Ooof, yeah, time to start doing more push-ups. My bicep was aching before I’d even taken two steps. The corner of the heavy metal block dug into my hip.
As I moved around the desk, I spotted a clear plastic box with a stack of CDs labeled in sharpie. What if some of the necessary data was on those? I shoved the box under my arm on top of the computer. Now I had sharp corners digging into my armpit too—wonderful.
I snuck out the door again and closed it with the softest of clicks. All I had to do was schlep this haul outside, and I was home free. Still a piece of cake.
I’d only crossed a few feet of floor when the damned dog burst out yapping again.
That wasn’t enough to throw me off. No, I had better nerves than that. But as I dashed for cover at the sound of approaching feet, the disc case that had already been wedged precariously against my side jostled out. It hit the floor with a clatter no one could possibly mistake for a tiny draft. As I swore to myself, one of the guards yelled.
Forget cake; forget stealth. It was time to run.
30
Sorsha
I snatched up the box of CDs, jammed it back into my armpit, and bolted for the back door. Unfortunately, one of the guards came charging around the play area’s shelves at the same moment, blocking my way.
What could I do but make use of what was in front of me? Clutching my loot against my body, I dove for the ball pit.
As I shoved my free arm in, the plastic spheres rattled against each other and bounced over the walls. I snatched up one and then another to pelt the guard in the face as hard as I could. He stumbled backward in a mix of pain and—probably mostly, since they were kiddie balls—shock.
The other guard was pounding toward me from somewhere behind. In a matter of seconds, they’d have me cornered. I hurled one more ball, crashed straight through the pit, and braced a foot inside one of the ride-on cars: a rather stylish red convertible.
Pushing off with my other foot as if it were a scooter, I careened past the guard down the nearest aisle, smacking him aside with my elbow for good measure. He let out an oof and then hurtled after me.
The hiss of the car’s wheels against the tiled floor must have tipped off the other guard, because those footsteps skidded and spun to follow in the neighboring aisle. I rammed my sneaker against the floor harder, pushing the toy car as fast as its wheels would go.
“Is it one of them?” the second guard hollered to his colleague, in a horrified tone that told me they knew what business their employers were really in—and they weren’t any more fond of the shadowkind than the rest of the sword-star bunch.
“I don’t know—doesn’t matter. Just stop her!” the other shouted back.
Forget that. I whipped out into the wider space between the shelves and the checkout counters. The plastic wheels made an ear-splitting squeal as I swerved sharply with a jerk of my foot. I raced the car three aisles over, wrenched it around again to zoom down the one that would lead to the store-room door—and two of the wheels popped right off.
Clearly that ride wasn’t built to stand up to a proper car chase. I flung myself off it, wobbling as I caught my balance with the weight of my cargo and wincing when the edge of the computer jabbed me harder. This machine had better contain what we needed, or I was going to shove it up its owner’s ass. Assuming I got the chance to find out what it contained in the first place.
As I righted myself, my own ass bumped into a display of dark-cloaked action figures at the head of the aisle. “Intruder detected!” a host of them cried out in their tinny digital voices. “Fire when ready!”
For the love of gravy, the whole store was out to get me. But as I sprinted down the aisle, it occurred to me that their suggestion wasn’t such a bad one. With my free hand, I snatched a dart blaster toy off the shelves. Already loaded with five foam darts—my lucky day.
A guard had reached the end of the aisle. I glanced back just long enough to take a couple of shots behind me. One of the foam bolts bounced off his shoulder, but the other hit the edge of his glasses, knocking them askew. Score!
I was almost in good spirits again when a second set of footsteps rounded the corner. I didn’t look back, firing blind as I ran on, but the click of a safety releasing reached my ears clear as anything.
These guys were taking the whole “fire when ready” idea to a much more serious level.
With a lurch of my gut, I threw myself forward even faster. My feet slammed against the tiles, the impact radiating through the soles with an expanding ache. My arm holding the computer was outright throbbing now.
“Stop right there!” one of the guards yelled as they pelted after me—as if I were going to play nice now. I veered back and forth in an attempt to make myself a more difficult target, and I’d like to think that inspired maneuver was what saved me.
A bang split the air, and an instant later, a deeper agony than anything I’d experienced so far seared through my shoulder. On my right side, thank fluffy puppies, because if it’d been the left, I’d have dropped my sole reason for being here. As it was, my arm jerked with the impact, my fingers spasming with the rush of pain, and the toy gun tumbled to the floor.
Gritting my teeth, I tore onward. The door was in sight. I could make it—but I wasn’t sure any more that simply leaving the building was going to guarantee my freedom.
I forced my fingers around the knob and yanked, a cry I couldn’t contain breaking from my throat at the fiery sensation that stabbed through my shoulder at the effort. My head reeled, but I managed to stumble into the stockroom just as another shot rang out. The door vibrated with it.
Shit, shit, shit. My shoulder was on fire, tears prickling at my eyes. I dashed across the room for the outer door. The guards barged after me with a volley of shouts.
As I heaved the outer door open with a smack of my good shoulder that echoed into the wounded one with another flare of pain, a sharp little impulse shot up inside me.
Burn them. Burn the two of them down, right to the fucking ground. I didn’t have my lighter in my hand, but the heat that pulsed through me with the frantic thrum of my heartbeat felt potent enough to leap straight from my fingers in a burst of flame.
The thought gripped me for a moment, and then I recoiled from it with a jolt of horror and the wash of the outside air over my face. Even if I could have done it—which obviously I couldn’t have; how crazy would that have been?—burning people alive was a little beyond what I could stomach, even if they seemed intent on murdering me.
I choked down a sob at the pain now splintering right through my chest and raced into the parking lot with all the speed my legs could produce.
I could run pretty fast, even lugging heavy computer equipment under one arm, even in a haze of agony. But it was a big parking lot with no cover at all except for the Clothes for the Recently Deceased donation box way too far across that open stretch of asphalt. As the guards barreled out after me, it was only a matter of seconds before I became one of the intended recipients of the charity.
Pumping my legs even faster, I made for that one bit of shelter. Another gunshot crackled behind me, missing me but close enough that the tremble in the air crossed my cheek. Twenty feet left to go, my breath rasping in my throat... Fifteen… Ten…
Bang. A bullet I was instantly certain would mean my doom exploded from the gun—and a huge, speeding body crashed into me out of nowhere, slamming me off my feet and hurling us both the last short distance to the donations box.
The burly arms that had caught me managed to turn me as we whipped through the air and around the bin. I hit the ground on my back rather than face first, although the pain that lanced through my shoulder at the impact wasn’t anything to celebrate. I choked on a groan and found myself staring up into Thorn’s face.
I knew it was his face because of the scars that dec
orated it and the white-blond hair falling in disarray on either side, not to mention the hulking body looming over me. But the planes of his features had turned even harder than before, and amid them, the eyes that stared back at me smoldered as if they were made of dying embers—no pupils, no whites, just pure, dark red.
And then there was the fact that two immense, black-feathered wings had sprouted from his brawny back, arcing over us like a shield. Holy mother of mothballs. Of all the forms he could have revealed, I’d never have expected that.
The first inane words that fell out of my mouth were, “They could have shot you.”
“They were going to shoot you,” Thorn said. His voice had the same low gravelly rumble, but with a sort of reverb to it as if it were resonating through a majestic cavern. His eyes flashed an even starker red, and his lips curled back to bare his teeth. “They already did. They would have killed you.”
Was there something wrong with me that I was abruptly all kinds of heated up myself with those bulging muscles just inches from my prone body and that kind of vehemence lighting his gaze? Maybe it was just the adrenaline messing with my head.
My next words weren’t all that much more sensible than the first. “And here I thought you saw me as just a nuisance.”
I felt the warrior’s glower as much as saw it, washing over me in another hot wave, but a touch of gentleness came through the defiance in his tone. “You are irritatingly irreverent and infuriatingly obstinate, m’lady, but I’m finding that the thought of someone hurting you makes me want to rip out their entrails and choke them with their own intestines.”
It wasn’t heat but warmth that fluttered inside me then. He’d practically composed a poem for me. I beamed up at him, slightly delirious from the pain, and said, “Right back at you.”
Something flickered in his expression, and I half expected him to lean in and kiss me. Then thudding footsteps reached my ears over the roar of blood rushing through my head. The guards hadn’t given up the chase. Had they even seen what had dragged me to safety?