by Martha Carr
Spun right from dating to looking for enemies.
The tomb raider forced down the laugh that wanted to erupt. Chatting with her friends and being personal without giving them the truth had become easier as the months had passed. Compartmentalizing her life had become normal.
Could I have had friends even back as a killer? Maybe not. I’m not going to kid myself. The edge is still there, but it’s not as sharp, and that’s why I can even be around normal people.
Kara’s face set in determination. “You know what we should do? We should all run those stairs again. That was tough, but fun.”
Bella grimaced. “I was sore for days after that. I don’t know if I want to inflict that kind of pain on my legs again for a while. What about you, Shay?”
She shrugged. “I agree with Kara. It was fun. I think we should. I’ve also been kind of thinking of taking up parkour. It looks useful. Uh, I mean it looks like it could be a good workout.”
Janelle gave Shay a suspicious look. “Parkour? Isn’t that all that running and jumping off buildings stuff?”
“There’s some of that, but it’s not about being a daredevil, really. It’s about using the environment and momentum to your maximum advantage. It’s great, because not only do you get a good workout, it teaches you to be very aware of your surroundings.”
Her friend shrugged and picked up her wine glass. “Sounds like a lot of work. I think I’ll stick with the stairs.”
The other women nodded their agreement.
Shay shrugged. “Whatever works.”
She’d need to find a parkour group. Annoyance lingered in the back of her mind over how the cat burglar had eluded her. While ego had played a role, the practical implications of parkour-enhanced mobility weren’t lost on her. As her most recent trip to Paris had demonstrated, being a tomb raider often took her away from blasted deserts or arctic wastelands to urban population centers.
Shay frowned. Training in parkour would mean having to deal with a whole new group of people and even more lies, but it’d be easier than when she’d first befriended this trio.
Lying had always been easy, and it’d served her well in her old career. Lying to people she planned to see again had been a new experience, though, and all her practice made the whole process smoother. Fucked up, perhaps, but she wouldn’t ignore the truth.
“Something wrong, Shay?” Bella inquired. “You were making a face for a second.”
The tomb raider shook her head. “Just was thinking about this asshole I ran into the other day. Real cocky bastard. I really wanted to punch him in his smug face.”
Bella laughed. “I think you just described half of LA.”
“Just need to work out some of that nervous energy.” Kara put her fork down on her empty plate. “I think we might need some parkour or a bunch of stairs after dessert, but if we ran those stairs every couple of days, I bet we could eat whatever we wanted.”
Shay smiled to herself. She might have deviated from her life plan, but she still had a life. It was a compartmentalized and complicated threading of multiple identities, obligations, and goals, but it was still a life.
I’m living now, not just existing.
16
The morning sun was still climbing into the sky, with more than a few of the taller buildings in the east eclipsing the glowing orb.
Shay stretched her arms above her head as she looked at the other people gathered atop the roof in the business district that morning. Everyone had a vaguely similar look: lithe, and wearing loose-fitting shirts and pants.
Her own tank and sweatpants matched everyone’s else style, but she’d gone for dark colors, whereas everyone else was wearing something brighter. She had no idea if that said something about her or the group.
The Free-to-Move website didn’t say anything about a dress code, but I didn’t look that hard.
A tall, lanky man with bushy brown hair walked her way and extended his hand. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Aaron.”
Shay looked him up and down. He stood with a relaxed air. There wasn’t a hint of tension around him, despite the fact he was about to go running and jumping through half of LA.
“I’m Shay. You in charge?”
He shrugged. “We don’t really do hierarchy or ranks. We feel it goes against the spirit of parkour. Freedom, you know? That’s the way I look at it. I want to have maximum freedom, in my life and my movement.”
“I’ve been…toying with the idea of parkour, but I feel like if I really want to learn it, I’ll need to be around people who are proficient, if only to observe people better than me. I don’t know about all the freedom sh…stuff, though.”
Aaron smiled. “Yeah, watching others can help at first, but you’ll soon realize how natural this all is and start improving your moves without even thinking about it. Just got to practice, practice, practice.”
Shay had already taken to that mantra. She’d set up some walls, stairs, and platforms inside Warehouse One so she could at least train in parkour without drawing attention to her secret building. Her movements were still inelegant and her thought processes too direct, but at least it was a start.
Seeking out a group of experienced practitioners was the next natural step. At a minimum, they’d know parkour routes that wouldn’t have too many issues with trespassing or official disapproval.
Aaron waved and turned. “Just try and keep up. If not, no shame.”
A pony-tailed Asian woman sauntered up to Shay. “It’s good to get a new girl in the group. These guys aren’t super-full of testosterone, but it’s still nice to up the chick balance.” She extended her hand. “Lana.”
“Shay.” The woman had a firm shake.
“We don’t do judgment here, but we also don’t hold your hand. So don’t feel bad if you can’t keep up.”
Shay chuckled. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Aaron raised his arm. “Okay, everyone, time to get going. As a reminder, we’re having our post meal at the Great Sandwich Hut this week. Go to the forum and vote if you want to eat somewhere else next time. Other than that, see you soon.” He spun and sprinted toward the edge of the building.
Lana winked at Shay and jogged after him. Shay took a deep breath and followed.
Let’s see if any of that practice has paid off.
The traceurs and traceuses leapt from the building at an angle, bright smiles on their faces. Shay was the last person to make the jump. Everyone landed with a smooth roll, even Shay.
So far, so good. I can do this.
Aaron and Lana were the first two up and running again. Shay managed to get to her feet before some of the others, but everyone else was moving forward before her.
They approached another ledge, but this time the next roof was higher rather than lower. The athletes all leapt and caught the edge, pulling themselves up, and jumping to their feet.
The light morning traffic flowed on the roads below them, the walkers never looking up and spotting the half-dozen people leaping from building to building as if gravity were a mere inconvenience.
Lana took the lead, leaping off the side of the building onto a metal staircase and flipping backward over the railing to a narrow alley. Aaron and the others followed.
Shay knew her limitations. She didn’t go for the flip, instead pushing off the railing. The split second of consideration cost her a few yards as the group sprinted down the alley.
Her heart galloped in her chest and sweat beaded on her face, but she smiled.
She didn’t mind that she was pulling up the rear. Her parkour experience was limited, and the morning wasn’t about catching an arrogant asshole, but training and expanding her skills.
The cat burglar had escaped because she hadn’t been prepared, and this group would help ensure that never happened again.
For now, keeping up was impressive enough.
At last, a real challenge—one that makes me better and doesn’t just piss me off.
Aaron and Lana vaulted over a trash bin in perfect sync. The woman landed with a roll, then burst into the air grabbing a windowsill and swinging, her toned arms taut, over to the next window. Aaron and then everyone else followed. Shay didn’t pay attention to where they were going, instead concentrating on following the men and women in front of her.
There was a ledge at the end of the windows. Lana leapt to it and pulled herself up, followed by Aaron.
The minutes flowed together, and Shay’s focus centered on the people in front of her. She grinned, the pain in her legs and lungs as distant as if it were happening to someone else entirely.
Rooftops and stairs gave way to the street, then a park. Shay pulled ahead of a few members, but she couldn’t close on Aaron and Lana.
Aaron rushed into an empty playground. He leapt into the air and grabbed the top bar of a swing set, only releasing when he had a perfect 45-degree angle. He sailed over a fence with ease. Lana repeated the move, then everyone else.
Shay fell into the rear again, but she executed the fence jump, missing the top by mere inches. She let out a laugh.
I could have hurt myself there, but I just don’t give a damn.
The group pounded down a sidewalk, rushing past a frowning businessman chattering on his phone. Shay resisted the urge to comment.
Aaron led the swift procession into a path between two buildings. Not an alley, really, since it was barely large enough for a motorcycle to fit through. He launched himself from the top of a metal FedEx box toward the wall, then alternated pushing off from the walls on either side until he arrived at a balcony. He grabbed the balcony and launched himself into the street.
Several seconds passed until Shay’s brain recognized the danger, but Aaron didn’t plummet to his death. Instead, he caught the edge of another balcony and used his new handhold to swing to yet another.
These look like apartments. Would probably annoy someone if they noticed. So much for my theory that these guys would avoid routes that might attract attention. Still don’t give a damn, though.
They dropped from balcony to balcony until they reached the ground again, and broke into a sprint. Miles now separated the group from their starting point.
The group avoided vaulting anyone’s cars. Shay could appreciate their desire to avoid property damage, since that was far more likely to attract police attention than being on someone’s balcony for a second. The next minutes blurred together, her body and concentration pushed to the limit.
A vault, roll, and abrupt stop by Aaron in a parking lot caught her by surprise. She stumbled but didn’t fall.
Shay bent over, taking several deep breaths. It’d been a long time since she’d been so challenged. Even the asshole cat burglar’s little escape game hadn’t pushed her as hard as Free-to-Move.
The others exchanged high-fives.
Lana walked over to Shay, sweat coating her face. “Not bad, newbie.”
“Thanks.” Shay just breathed for a moment. A deep intake of air helped, and she wiped her face. “That was damned hard.”
“You impressed me. We get a lot of wannabes, and I like I said, we don’t judge, but I feel bad because almost no one can complete an entire course the first time.”
Shay shrugged. “I might not have done much parkour, but I exercise a lot, and I’ve got my own obstacle course I train on. At least the muscle strength carries over.”
Aaron stepped over to the women. “Congrats. You’ll have to run another course with us at our next meeting. We have to get you past the beginner course.”
“Beginner course? Fuck me!” Shay laughed. “Not that I won’t try.”
Aaron and Lana both clapped her on the shoulder.
The ache in Shay’s body didn’t bother her. It was a badge of accomplishment and told her where she needed to direct her physical training. The obstacle course and the boxing gym were useful, but she still had holes in her training—and unlike James, she couldn’t depend on an alien amulet or alien strength.
Plus, I still need to show up that asshole from the other night. Huh. Maybe they’ve heard of him.
Shay cleared her throat. “Hey, when I was looking some stuff up on local parkour groups, I saw some shit on a forum about a cat burglar who uses parkour. Do you think that’s real, or is it just some sort of urban legend?”
Aaron and Lana’s smiles vanished, and for the first time that morning they tensed.
Yeah, looks like they know him, all right.
Lana looked at Aaron.
He gave her a slow nod. “I’ll catch up with you. I’m going to go get our table.”
Shay spotted the yellow sign declaring they were at the Great Sandwich Hut.
“Don’t worry about it.” Aaron nodded toward Lana. “She’ll answer your questions.”
Shay blinked as the other members of Free-to-Move made their way into the restaurant.
She frowned. “What’s the big deal? Why is everyone so spooked?”
“Marcus,” Lana declared.
“Huh?”
“That’s his name. The cat burglar. Marcus.” She averted her eyes. “We knew him. He used to run with us.”
“Shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah. Gifted. One of the best ever. He makes even a young David Belle look slow and clumsy when he’s really trying.”
Really trying? Was that fucker just toying with me the other night, then? Asshole.
Shay nodded. “What happened?”
“Nobody knows. Marcus was always an easy-going guy. A while back, he started talking about a string of robberies in unusual places, high apartments that had been broken into and buildings that had been entered from the roof. He was talking about how weird that was. Some people even said there might be magic involved.”
“I remember reading about that.”
“We thought he was just obsessed with it until at one point he admitted it was him. He talked about how rich we could become using our skills. He gave a big speech about how the people he robbed deserved it.”
“Fuck. What happened? What did you do?”
Lana shrugged. “What could we do? We called the cops, but they could never find him. He’s still in LA, but he’s running with a very rough crowd. You shouldn’t even try to go looking for him. He’s dangerous.”
Shay resisted a snort.
I doubt he’s more dangerous to me. He might have gotten away, but if I’d wanted to kill him, I could have.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lana managed a smile. “No problem.” She nodded toward the restaurant. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Shay’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out. Peyton. “You go on ahead. This might be important.”
“Sure thing.” Lana waved and headed inside, a troubled look lingering on her face.
“What’s up?” Shay answered.
“There’s a job on the table.”
“So? We can talk about it later this afternoon.”
“No can do.”
“Why?”
“It’s a time-sensitive job that’s in Russia and out of this world.”
Shay rolled her eyes at the pride in the man’s voice over his wordplay. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Fuck. Guess I’ll call an Uber to take me back to my car.
17
Shay snapped her head around at a foghorn blast from the bay. A small fishing vessel puttered along, but a blue speedboat rushed past them, missing them by feet.
What an asshole.
She narrowed her eyes, not liking being back in Russia and near water, even if she had no reason to believe that vodyanoy or rusalka were waiting to drag her into the bay. Vladivostok might not be LA, but it also wasn’t some pissant village in the hinterlands.
That rusalka bitch had delusions of grandeur, though. Who knows where she might end up?
Shay shook her head. She needed to concentrate on the current job.
A few chatting dockworkers pointed toward
the fishing boat and rattled off something in Russian. Even though they weren’t talking to her, the lack of understanding annoyed her.
I can’t depend on translation software. I keep coming back here, so maybe I should look into studying Russian.
Shay made her way down the road, sparing looks for the workers, trucks, cranes, and forklifts scattered up and down the docks.
If Peyton’s information was correct, the old woman holding the artifact Shay was interested in ran a small bait shop in the area. After locating the artifact, the tomb raider could figure out how to best acquire it with minimum attention from the local authorities.
A few dockworkers eyed her as she passed them. She had elected to wear a brown wig and a simple dress to attract less attention, but she wasn’t fading into the background enough.
Would jeans and a leather jacket have worked better?
Shay chuckled, still not sure about the job. Her thoughts drifted back to Peyton’s briefing.
“What’s the big rush?” Shay asked as she stepped into the office of Warehouse Two. “I didn’t stop to take a shower because you were whining about me getting here, so this better damn well be as time-sensitive as you claimed.”
“Sure is. The rush is that we’ve got a job, and it pays well. Not only does the client want a real quick turnaround, someone’s already on the way to collect the artifact.”
“Did the client hire them?”
“Nope. I stumbled onto them when I was doing some background research.” He grinned. “You’re going to love this.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. “Who is it?”
“Guess.”
She scrubbed her face with her hand. “Francois-fucking-Durand?”
Peyton clicked a few times on his computer and a fuzzy picture of Francois Durand appeared on the screen. He was an athletic middle-aged man with close-cropped blond hair. Attractive enough, but he lacked James’ solid build or the handsome face of many of the local Hollywood stars.
