“You don’t know it’s ugly.”
“Come on. Safety orange? Is there any chance it’s anything else?”
She laughed. “I want to meet with him. Get all the details.”
“He’ll love that. But this is such a big one, he won’t mind.”
And we got down to business. This was it. The last job. I wouldn’t have to be a thief ever again. We’d get the hell out of here and live like normal people. Get a house. A laptop. An address.
I just needed to do this, and not screw it up.
Not that I ever did. I was the best. Everyone knew it, even that shitbag Caleb.
And I was going to prove it to him again. Steal it right out from under his fat, sloppy ass.
The thought made me grin. I think that was just as good as the payday.
She and I worked things out for the rest of the night, and after Margrite walked me through it three times, we went to bed.
Tomorrow we’d meet with Luke to get the final details. Then we would put the plan into action after we decided what night would be best.
Tomorrow our new life started. Just one more hurdle, and we were on our way.
2
Present Day
On a beam
Wanting to sneeze
The wall of light and the strange abusive man had disappeared, leaving behind a tiny pinpoint like a flame that winked out in a puff of dust and cobwebs.
Shit.
No one was supposed to be here. What the hell was that light show? Was this a trap? Shit, shit, shit.
I crouched low on the beam again. I was spending more time on the beam than anywhere else. This late at night, there shouldn’t be this much noise. Sure, it was quiet now, but with the light show and the poster boy for domestic violence beating up a woman, there had been a lot of noise. To me, it sounded like a herd of elephants. I could be a little sensitive about the whole thing. But noise made people come and take a look. I didn’t want to bring any attention in here right now.
That might be a moot point. It was always other people who screwed things up. But I had time. I could wait.
I still needed to sneeze. Maybe I could sneeze quietly? I covered my mouth and nose with my hands, and let out a sneeze, immediately looking around. Thank god. I wouldn’t have been able to hold it in much longer.
Holy… I couldn’t even swear as I looked down on the warehouse floor. The pinpoint of light was back. It hung in the middle of the aisle a couple of rows over from me. It was small—but as I watched, it got larger. And kept growing. It was getting really bright—I was getting worried that I was going to be spotted. I still couldn’t see anyone with the light. Was light boy coming back?
What the hell was going on? I did my best to push myself into the wood of the beam. Whatever this was, it made me really, really nervous.
Wide-eyed, holding my breath, I watched as a shadow appeared in the light.
It was the same guy as before. This time, there’s no woman, and he’s not flailing all over the place. He puts himself half in and half out of the light. It’s clear he’s looking for something.
But what?
I send a prayer to my new BFF Dismas that he’s not looking for me. I don’t know why he would be—I’ve never seen the guy before—but tonight has gone so far sideways, anything is possible.
He throws up his hands, and shouts in some weird language I can’t understand.
Great. It’s guaranteed Caleb’s muscle guys heard that. They weren’t nearby when I snuck in, but too much is happening here. It’s going to draw their attention.
Streaks of red light fly out of his hands—there’s no other way to put it. I shrank back—I couldn’t get any flatter on the beam. Please don’t let him see me. No sooner had I thought that, it felt like he turned and looked right at me. Creepy. He waved his hands and said something else I couldn’t understand. I pressed myself so hard against the beam that I could feel the splinters digging into my skin. I couldn’t let him see me. Even though I felt guilty as hell for leaving that poor woman on the ground at his mercy, the fact that he came back and she wasn’t around made me feel even worse.
As I ignored the pain of the wood digging into me, and the feeling of my muscles beginning to cramp, I felt a spark run through me from head to foot. It surprised me so much I nearly let go and clutched the beam at the last minute before falling on my ass to the boxes below.
That would have blown my operation for sure.
I blinked once, and then again—and the man and the light disappeared. I blinked rapidly, still seeing the blotches from the light circle again. My night vision was going to be ruined if this continued.
Where did he—they—go?
I also didn’t know how the noise hadn’t gotten the attention of anyone else outside the warehouse. The guy hadn’t been trying to sneak around.
I waited, breathing shallowly, and listening so hard that my ears ought to hurt. I could feel all the hair on my body stand up from the electric jolt that had run through me.
Tonight was getting weirder by the minute.
As I exhaled, my nose burned and a puff of smoke drifted across my hands.
What the…?
I inhaled deeply, and exhaled again, ignoring the slight burn in my throat and down into my chest. Smoke rolled out from my nose.
From. My. Nose.
I repeated this exercise a few more times, and the smoke got denser. It felt like there was a small fire in my throat, and I wanted a drink of water in the worst way.
At least I didn’t need to sneeze anymore.
Now I could officially say that I was freaked out. Completely and utterly freaked out.
I didn’t smoke. Not cigarettes, not weed, nothing. I saw too many people wasting money and life on that crap.
So why was I smoking like a barbeque?
I shook my head, causing dust to flare up around me. I rubbed at my nose, not wanting to sneeze. Although the smoke wasn’t making my nose itchy. That was another tick mark on the weird side of things.
Knock it off, I told myself. Concentrate! Get the bag and get the hell out of here! Then you can focus on your own shit.
I inhaled again, trying to focus. I did have a job to do. I ignored the fact that when I exhaled, dark smoke blew out in front of me. Can’t help that at the moment.
The bag. Get the damned bag.
“That’s if you get your ass out of here without screwing it up,” I muttered. When I’d planned this job, it had seemed a lot easier. No weird guys, no smoke… I stopped myself. Later. I could rehash this later. Bag, then payday.
How had the bag gotten here? I still didn’t know what the connection was. This was Luke’s gig. He didn’t work with Caleb. Thought as little of the guy as I did.
But somehow, Caleb had discovered the job. I’d gone into the local bar, and Caleb had been trash talking, like he does. Normally, I don’t listen. But after learning from Luke that he’d gotten to something I needed to acquire, I listened hard.
And I have exceptionally good hearing. Freakishly good. Even in the dive bar I was standing in, nursing a beer.
“So I heard, from a source,” Caleb said to one of the flunkies that hung around him like flies on a zapper, “That there was something special coming in. Something that held a lot of interest for…” he looked around, deliberately over my head than at my eyes, and continued. “For a lot of people. Which means an easy sell,” Caleb shrugged. “Boss is paying really well for this.”
That shrug made me want to rip his head off his shoulders. Even as I noted he referenced his boss. The scary badass or badasses that no one messed with.
I didn’t know how he’d heard. Worse, I didn’t know how he’d gotten to it first. Along with the juicy payday.
I knew him well enough to know that his trash talk was letting me know he’d beaten me.
Yeah.
He was a jerk. And outside the payday, I didn’t care what it was that I was stealing. Luke did right by me, no matter what Margrite tho
ught of him. He’d said I needed to get a box that was in a grubby backpack. I had pictures of both of them. The backpack was raggedy. The box was pretty, but nothing special. What I cared about was that I’d been given the job, and someone snaked it from me.
I grinned, picturing Caleb as a snake in the road.
That I ran over with my bike.
“Speaking of which, your bike is missing you, jerk,” I whispered to myself.. Another concern on my already long list. I found that a plain old bike was the easiest way to get around. No records, as I’d need with a car, or a motorcycle, and no one paid attention to a kid on a bike.
I talk to myself. It’s a habit. Maybe a bad one.
I eased along the beam in the warehouse. Now that strange angry guys who made the get-off-my-lawn guy look like a picnic had stopped showing up with a light show, I might be able to sneak over to where I knew Caleb stashed his goods. Everyone knew it was here although they didn’t know the exact location.
Although I did now.
But he also kept a pack of goons that would beat you down first, and never ask questions, so it didn’t really matter that everyone knew.
No one would try to steal from him, that bastard.
Except me. Not only for the payday, but because I liked to steal from him. And because after this was over, I’d never have to see his stupid face again.
It was a satisfying thought. However, none of all the glory or the riches would rain down upon me until I got the box.
As I inched along the beam, heading for the other side of the warehouse, I tried hard not to picture the small metal box that held my cash. I hid it in a floorboard of the house that I squatted in. It was the picture of urban decay. Not even the junkies would go there to hide out.
Perfect for me.
The box was getting pretty light, even with my frugal living. I kept only what I needed, what we needed, to get by. Everything else went to our escape plan.
That last bit made me laugh. Frugal living was all I knew. And it—
Wait.
I flattened myself on the beam, willing myself as invisible as possible. There was something making noise—had the light thing returned? I’d be picking the splinters out of me for days with all the quality time I was getting up here.
A thin, golden glow came to life on my left as a door opened. A shadow, and then another, and another entered through the light, casting large monsters on the wall to my right.
Great.
Now someone else was here. What the hell? No one was supposed to be here this time of day. This was the third time in what seemed like less than five minutes. I’d cased the place for the last two days. The goons hung around outside, burning up Caleb’s money with smokes, and weed, and forties—sure.
Not in the warehouse.
I held my breath as I heard footsteps coming closer.
“Boss said there might be someone trying to get in,” a low voice rumbled.
Great. It was one of the goons. I’d rarely heard them speak, but when they did, they all seemed to have this deep bass voice that was barely domesticated.
A laugh, and then another.
“Who’d be that stupid?”
“Someone looking to make a score,” the first goon sounded bored. “Doesn’t matter. Just look around, let’s get this done. I don’t need him breathing down my neck!”
The guy sounded annoyed. It was nice to know that someone else found Caleb annoying.
“There’s no one here,” a third voice said. “Come on.”
Good. Be lazy. Perfect. And yes, get out.
I could feel an itch developing in my leg, and felt the need to cough, all at once.
The twin desires made me tense up, and I heard the drag of my coat on the beam.
Not a lot of noise, but enough to make the trio of guards stop twenty feet away from where I was clinging on for dear life above them.
“What was that?” One said.
They all stayed silent. Listening.
I held my breath. I could feel my ears getting hot, and then my forehead. I wanted to cough. My cheeks puffed out, and I pursed my lips together.
Don’t, don’t, I told myself.
The spot on my calf felt like spiders were dancing on it.
Jeesh. Couldn’t I get a break here? Sneezing, smoke that I couldn’t even think about, and now an itch?
“It’s nothing,” one of the guys said. I couldn’t tell them apart at this point. “Probably just a rat.”
“Hate the friggen rats,” said another.
“There’s no one here. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, we’ll be back here in an hour,” I heard as they walked by my hiding spot and towards the right side of the warehouse.
Laughter, and then words, but I couldn’t understand them. They’d gotten too far away.
I let out the breath I was holding. It was safe to breathe, at least. I reached down and scratched the back of my leg.
They stopped again.
Damn it. Come on, I thought. Get out!
Finally they opened a door on the right, and the light shone in and then it went dark once more. The door closed firmly behind them and the warehouse was quiet again.
It could be a trap. They weren’t entirely stupid, appearances notwithstanding.
I stayed where I was, counting to five hundred. That might be pushing it, but since they were suspicious, no need to add to that.
When I felt I was safe, I continued slinking along the beam. I got to the other side, and swung down, landing softly on a crate.
Convenient. Thankfully, I was able to be quiet as I dropped. I crouched down, looking around.
According to all I’d heard, there was a safe, or storage box of some kind on this side. Caleb had trust issues like I did and hid his stash accordingly.
But ever since he’d stolen the backpack with info he’d weaseled from somewhere that was meant for me, I’d made it my business to find out how he did business. I hoped that no one had lied to me along the way.
This was going to hurt otherwise.
I jumped down from the crate to another box and nearly fell on my ass. It made more noise than I liked, and I crouched in a seriously uncomfortable position while I waited to see if someone would come rushing in.
No one did.
I carefully eased down onto a third box, and then onto the floor.
Excellent. I was near the wall with the small storage door in it. I’d talked to a former girlfriend of Caleb’s who said she’d dumped him after he locked her in one time. She had said that it was more comfortable than she’d thought because there were big laundry bags of stuff. She hadn’t bothered to look, being too mad and screaming her head off.
Made sense to me that was where he hid his stuff.
I got to the door, and there was a big Master lock on it.
What an ass. Like any thief on the street couldn’t handle this. Size wasn’t everything.
Something a short guy like Caleb wouldn’t get.
I pulled out my tools and picked the lock. Took a little longer in the dark, but I’d been doing this since before I was ten. The skills you learned in foster care.
The lock clicked open, a sound that echoed in the warehouse. I paused and then tucked it in my pocket. I’d be sure to lock the door when I left.
I ducked into the room and pulled out my flashlight. Just like Melinda the ex had said—there were a bunch of dirty white canvas bags that looked like big laundry bags.
So where would he hide the backpack?
I kept the light low, holding it in my mouth. Methodically, I went through the bags. He had some good stuff in here.
When I opened up a box that held jewelry, I found a black pouch. That could only be loose stones.
I opened the bag and shook some stones into my hand. They sparkled in the light, and I pulled a plastic baggie from my pocket and put the stones into it. Then I shoved them into the pocket of my jeans. I closed the black pouch and put it back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice a thi
ng until I was long gone.
“Payment for my troubles, jerk,” I mumbled around the flashlight.
There were only four bags left. What if my hunch was wrong? What if the damn backpack wasn’t here?
I opened the next bag. “Bingo, sucker,” I said.
Carefully, I went through the backpack. There was nothing in any of the outside pockets. I opened it up, and I could see a wooden box. Pretty fancy one, too, with metal edges and some crystals or some kind of thing on top. It looked like the one in the picture.
I reached in to grab it. I’d leave the backpack here and—
“Ouch!” I snatched my hand away. I looked down at my hand and I could see a scorch mark. I must be in some kind of shock because this should hurt.
But it’s not hurting.
As I’m assessing how bad this latest issue is, I’m thinking, Why is this not hurting?
I shine the light on my hand, and it doesn’t look burned, but something burned it when I touched the box. Nothing’s burning now, and nothing is hurting, and I don’t see any burns on me, but—I shook my head. What is going on? Things are not what they should be. I’m getting a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and that’s never a good sign.
As though someone snapped their fingers in front of me, I shook my head. Snap out of it, jackass, I thought. Kind of on the clock here.
Ignoring the pain that flares up as soon as I’m ready to get going, I shoved the box into my backpack, and zipped it shut. Hopefully the shirts in my pack would muffle any rattling from the box. I’d already been here too long. Much longer, and I would be caught. Interesting that the strong box I’d heard about was not here at all. I made another note that ex-girlfriends probably had the best intel even if they might be a little nutty.
I crouched down, looking to make sure that I could get out the way I’d planned. You know, when this job was risky, but simple.
A burned hand made it risky, and potentially complex. And I didn’t do complex. Complex just made everything tangled. As one of my many foster fathers—I use that term loosely—used to say, Keep it simple, stupid. That was usually accompanied by a slap to the head or shoulder region, so there’s no way to forget it.
Dragon Lost Page 2
