Alvin shook his head miserably.
“Of course,” he murmured. “I could never ask you to endanger yourself for me.”
He was on the verge of tears and Danica exhaled slowly and loudly.
“Alvin, there is one hope for you but I cannot guarantee anything.”
His eyes bulged.
“What is it? I will try anything, Danica! Anything at all!”
She held up a beautifully manicured hand.
“There is a root which grows in the jungles of Africa, a plant which has very powerful healing qualities. It was used in the very early days of vodou to stave off evil when used in proper concoctions. I know some of these spell reversals, but again – “
“Get it! Get some and do some of that voodoo shit!” Alvin begged. “Please, Danica! If you won’t help me, who will? I am at your mercy!”
She stared at him pityingly.
“It is not so simple, Alvin. And it’s vodou! Not voodoo. Vodou is a much more powerful discipline. The root itself is very difficult to find and if I were to find some, it is more expensive than pure French perfume. I could not afford to buy it, ship it – “
“Money” Alvin almost screamed. “You’re worried about money? Get it! Find it and remove this damned curse from my head!”
“But Alvin, it is very – “
“Just do it! I don’t care how much it costs. Just bill me for it.”
He grunted and spun to leave but suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, averting his gaze. “I am under a lot of stress right now.”
“I understand,” she told him softly. “Please know I will do everything I can to release you from your troubles, Alvin. Go in peace now.”
She watched as Alvin fled the house, leaning up against the wall to fold her arms over her chest, shaking her head sympathetically.
“Good God, I thought he would never leave,” Twila laughed, throwing back the beaded curtain and stepping into the front room. “What was he going on about now?”
“Sister-in-law again. I think he has a hard on for her. She’s all he ever talks about.”
“I kind of feel sorry for him, you know? He’s pathetic,” Twila commented. “Like, I’m shocked he hasn’t killed himself by now.”
“Shh!” Danica snapped. “What a terrible thing to say, Twila!”
Her roommate had the decency to look contrite but only until the smaller woman finished her thought.
“We haven’t even tapped into his savings account yet. He can’t kill himself yet. We have work to do.”
Danica turned away.
“I have to take these damned colored contacts out of my eyes. They’re burning my retinas. I mean, how do these idiots not know that real people don’t have purple eyes?” she muttered, blinking against the smoky incense. “It’s like they want to be played for fools, you know?”
But her roommate didn’t seem to hear her as she drew closer to the posterior of the house.
“Hey, look who it is,” Twila said, pointing out the front window.
Danica followed her hand and cocked her head to the side.
“Him again?”
“I wonder why he always stops and stares at the house,” Twila said. “He makes me nervous.”
“Not me,” Danica replied. “Not in the least.”
She had seen the darkly clad stranger several times over the past few weeks, pausing to stare at the house she shared with Twila.
At first, she had dismissed him as a curious passerby; she had seen many in the six months since she and Twila had set up shop on the sleepy street.
Soon, however, it became apparent that something continued to drive the man there, as if guided by an unseen hand.
“Check the security footage and get a clear picture of him,” she instructed Twila as the man ambled away. “I want to know who he is.”
“He gives me the creeps,” Twila grumbled. “I’m going to confront him the next time he comes by.”
“No!”
The order was louder than Danica had intended but there was something about the man which intrigued her.
“No,” she said again, turning to face her roommate. “He might be a mark after all.”
She didn’t believe it but she needed to ensure Twila did not approach him.
Despite her fraudulent claims of psychic ability and sorcery, Danica did possess a well-honed sixth sense about people, something which had served her well over the years.
She had not always been a drifter, but years of abuse had turned her from a scared girl into a street-wise woman.
No, Danica could see there was something special about this man, something that she needed to explore.
“I’ll check the cameras,” Twila sighed, her reluctance clear but Danica dismissed it.
Twila was the tech intelligence behind their operation. The two had been working together for the better part of a decade.
They had found each other in a homeless shelter in Beaumont, a chance encounter which had almost cost Twila her life.
Twila had claimed one of the stinking, stained mattresses inside the overcrowded hostel but when she had turned her head, Danica had slipped in, stealing it from underneath the unsuspecting teenager.
They were the same age, barely eighteen and roughly the same height at five feet five inches but Twila outweighed Danica by twenty-five pounds.
It should have been an easy fight, resulting in Twila recouping her loss but the chunky blonde had not anticipated Danica’s cunning.
The sly brunette stabbed Twila in the leg with her trusty switchblade and then slept dreamlessly on the mattress she had stolen while Twila was sent to the hospital for stitches.
She was still sleeping when Twila returned during the wee hours of the morning. When Danica woke, her only pair of shoes has been stolen and her hair had been shorn to the skull.
Danica never found her shoes nor did she see Twila again for another year.
This time, they met in a marketplace outside of Austin and the outcome was much different.
Twila was selling herbal remedies and Danica was selling brown sugar in small baggies to the local junkies.
It was the fastest way Danica knew to make a buck and she was trying to make her way west to California to try her hand at acting.
She would sell the fake smack throughout the city for a day, collecting as much cash as she could and disappear before anyone could hold her accountable. It was dangerous but Danica had always prided herself on her acute sense of timing. She would be gone before she was discovered.
Danica had plied the same scam all throughout western Texas and it seemed to be working for her still, as she moved toward her destination.
It was only one of several cons she had going, all with victims who would never go to the police.
She lounged in the alleyway, watching the vendors selling their wares when suddenly, she noticed Twila in her makeshift booth.
That wretched bitch! Danica thought, instantly recognizing Twila despite the blonde having lost a great deal of weight. She maintained her calm, not wanting to draw attention to herself as her hand automatically flew to her still growing hair.
There had not been a day that Danica had not thought about Twila.
I’ll bide my time and wait, she decided but it was proving difficult to do when all she wanted was to run up to the girl and pummel her face relentlessly.
Danica made some more sales, laying low and away from the spots she had sold from, knowing the junkies were sure to return, screaming bloody murder, but no matter how far she ventured she returned to watch Twila.
In the late evening, the neighboring vendors began to pack up shop and Danica knew that the opportunity to exact her revenge was close – finally!
It never occurred to her that they might be “even” in their bad deeds. In Danica’s eyes, Twila had opened the floodgates of hell by retaliating against her.
As she crouched in the shadows, she grew excited, noting t
he thinning of the crowd until there was no one left but the pale blonde in her lemonade stand booth.
Danica sprung from her spot but before she could take one step, she heard voices approaching.
“…fuck that, motherfucker! I ain’t doin’ nothin’ like that!” one grating, obnoxious voice snapped. “You’re fucked if you think…”
He trailed off and Danica sank back into the darkness, watching as three thugs walked into view.
“Hey, hey!” another skinny boy cooed, approaching Twila. “How you doin’, babe?”
Danica strained forward to listen, the hairs on her arms beginning to rise as she watched the three young men surround the girl.
“What? You too good for us, bitch? You ain’t gonna say hi?” The third man was the most aggressive but the other two seemed to follow suit easily.
“She ain’t bitchy, are you, baby?” the original boy purred, reaching over to touch Twila’s face. “Show us you’re friendly.”
She jerked back from his touch and leapt to her feet.
“I’ve gotta go,” she muttered. “My boyfriend’s waiting for me.”
“Your man lets you come out here by yourself at night?” the thin one asked, shaking his head. “That ain’t right, is it?”
The other two grunted in consensus, closing in on her.
“Nah, baby, that ain’t right at all. Let us show you how a man should treat you.”
Danica watched, her teeth clenched as Twila tried to slip through them, but there were three pairs of hands on her body, preventing her from escaping.
“Stop it!” Twila screamed. “I’ll kill you all if you don’t let me go.”
They seemed to freeze at the absurdity of the threat and Twila took the opportunity to bolt. She wrenched free of the hands groping at her breasts and crotch, scurrying out of Danica’s view.
Shit, girl, run! Danica thought, horrified at what she was witnessing.
The men bolted after her and Danica knew she couldn’t leave the blonde to fend for herself.
“You dumb bitch!” one of the men roared. Danica sprinted to keep up with them. Her heart stopped as she realized that the scariest of the group had a knife in his hand.
Oh no you don’t!
Twila disappeared beneath the pile of them as they lunged on her like a linebacker at a football game.
Without hesitation, Danica whipped her own switchblade from her back pocket, flying toward the group without hesitation.
She pounced, grabbing the slender one by the nape of his neck and pulling him back, slashing his cheek open in the process.
He stared at her, dumbfounded and she quickly jabbed him again in the arm with the knife.
Twila was squealing, trying to kick the other two off.
No one on the ground had clued into Danica’s presence yet and the dark-haired girl stared penetratingly at the wounded man.
She challenged him to fight her but whatever he saw did not inspire any confidence in himself.
He turned and fled down the alleyway, his unharmed arm up as he pressed his hand to his gushing cheek.
Danica turned her attention back to the others.
They had managed to rip Twila’s pants from her, the bigger boy, struggling to pry her legs apart.
Fury turned Danica’s line of sight red and she screamed like a rabid monkey, stabbing the blade into the boy’s neck.
The one who held Twila down stared up in shock, his eyes not understanding why his buddy was suddenly a sea of crimson.
Twila seized her chance, lunging forward and sending him toppling backward.
As the blonde girl beat her fists into the thug’s face, Danica jammed the blade again, watching in grim satisfaction as the second asshole crumbled to the ground on his knees.
His lips mouthed “help me” but he made no sound.
Twila had gotten to her feet and was bent over, gasping for breath. There was an almost deafening silence in the street and the women stood, back to back, staring at their handiwork.
“Are you hurt?” Danica asked when she was sure the men were not rising. She spun and looked at the girl whom she had wanted to beat to a pulp not half an hour earlier.
Suddenly, it seemed her safety was the only importance.
“No,” Twila muttered, stepping back from Danica’s reach. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“I was waiting to kill you,” Danica replied.
“Why didn’t you just let them rape me?” Twila snapped, scrambling for her pants. “They probably would have killed me afterward.”
Danica could read the shame on her face and she tried to will herself to be calm. She was certain she had never felt as much rage as she did in that moment.
“Because that’s not a fair fight, is it? Three on one?”
Twila eyed her suspiciously.
“We have to get out of here before the cops come.”
“I know,” Danica agreed. “Where should we go?”
“I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”
And they had gone, far away from there but remaining together, developing a begrudging respect for one another.
Their psychic scam was one of the better ones they had developed. It truly was like taking candy from a baby, especially in this age of technology.
It began with the unsuspecting mark entering their modest establishment, a place where Twila never showed her face.
“You don’t scream Roma people, Twila. Leave the mystic stuff to me,” Danica told her. “If anyone happens to see you, I’ll tell them you’re my dim witted, deaf and mute sister.”
Twila had grunted but her role in the game was just as important.
Once the spiritually deprived souls entered their lair, Twila went to work on a profile, searching them out, learning about their families, their jobs, their weaknesses.
While Twila worked social media and Google, Danica won their trust with her fake purple eyes and soothing tones.
Danica played the marks like a fiddle, exploiting each one of their insecurities to her advantage. She never scammed anyone who couldn’t afford it though. Memories of living on the streets and in foster care wouldn’t allow her to take from those who also struggled to survive.
But right now, the money simply rolled in and for the first time in their lives, the girls who had lived in poverty understood the luxuries that riches could afford.
Naturally, they kept their finances well hidden so as to not arouse suspicion.
“He’s handsome in a psycho sexy kind of way,” Twila called from the back of the house. “Come and see.”
Danica turned away from the window, not realizing she had been so lost in thought. She joined her roommate in the AV room situated off the kitchen.
The small area boasted footage from every aspect of the house, inside and out, where there were hidden cameras set in abundance.
Their purpose was to examine every possible angle of the mark, including whatever they might be driving, the contents of their bags and the type of shoes they wore.
Every detail could help in the scam and they took the small things seriously.
Danica was proud of the work they had invested in their scheme. It had served them well all over Texas, although it was still Danica’s dream to leave the Lone Star State and move to California.
“Why?” Twila laughed. “You’re not still thinking about being an actress, are you?”
Danica snorted. “Of course not. But there’s got to be more to life than Texas, don’t you think?”
Twila scoffed.
“I didn’t used to think there was more to life than my next meal,” she replied. “I’m already living my dream.”
Danica peered at the screen where Twila had enlarged the image of the mysterious stranger.
Why does he seem so familiar? She wondered, wracking her brain.
Had he been a mark somewhere else? Not that it mattered; there were no complaints filed against her and Twila as far as she knew. Their scam was so foolproof that the “vict
ims” had no idea they were being conned.
“He is handsome,” Danica agreed, pulling her face inches from his digital picture.
“Don’t get any ideas, Dan. I have no intention of settling in Amarillo. I feel like there’s dust in my pores already.”
Danica chuckled lightly.
“You don’t need to worry about that, my dear. Women like us do not fall in love.”
“Love?” Twila choked, whirling her head like whiplash. “Who said anything about love?”
Danica glanced at her.
“You did!”
“No way,” Twila grunted. “I meant don’t take on more than we can handle. I don’t want to be in Amarillo for months wrapping up the grifts.”
“Oh.”
Color painted Danica’s cheeks but she turned her head away to avoid Twila’s dubious expression.
Love. What an asinine concept. Of course I wouldn’t fall in love. Women like us don’t fall in love.
Chapter Three
Sacramento, California
They stared at each other from across the table, a deep quiet overtaking the aftermath of their meal.
The staff hovered close by, clearing the dishes but little could be heard above the clink of the dishes.
It was obvious to Drake that Elise was uncomfortable but he couldn’t leave, not yet.
“I told you, there is nothing I can do to help you,” she finally said as the last of the servants cleared the giant dining room, leaving them alone in their silence. “Vance would not have told me anything, Drake. You know that better than anyone.”
“I know that Vance trusted you more than anyone,” he replied firmly. “You know something, you just don’t know what you know.”
He had never been more certain, and after what had happened in Chicago, he could not go until he was certain he had exhausted every attempt, every lead in finding his missing sons.
If that means camping out at the Berkley home with Elise until she gives me a sliver of information, so be it. Where else do I have to go?
“Drake, the girls will begin to wonder about you if you stay much longer. I have managed to keep your presence here a secret but it’s only a matter of time before they stop by unexpectedly or suspect something is amiss.”
Hard Time: A thief and a con artist - who will come out on top? (Hard Series Book 2) Page 3
