by A. J. Norris
“Aw.”
“Hang on a minute. I left it on the kitchen counter.” His voice faded in and out as if he were getting up and moving around his apartment. I heard a bang and the cellophane crinkling. “You do know some guy at the factory makes this shit up, right?”
“Just read it.”
“Even heroes walk the plank.”
“Must have been nautical theme day at the factory when our cookies were manufactured.”
“Why, what does yours say?”
“Ships with holes never float. Any idea what it means?”
“Metaphors aren’t my thing. What I think it means might be different from what you think.”
“True.” I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. “My life’s that Swiss cheese of a ship.”
“Are you equating the holes in your ship to missing pieces in your life?”
“You already know that I lost my parents. My brother passed away a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. How did he die?”
I sighed. There were only a few things I could share with Lincoln without lying, unless you counted omission as lies. “I don’t really know. Someone shot him.”
“He was murdered, then.”
“Yes. The crappy part is the police know who did it. But they won’t make an arrest. His case is listed as unsolved.”
“That sucks. Was this in Hermosa?”
“Yeah. Well, technically it was in Redondo.”
“Oh, man, why can’t they make an arrest?”
“Lack of evidence, or so I was told.”
“Is there anything you can do?”
“I tried. No one will listen to me. I’m like, ‘Josh was all I had.’ Nobody cared. It kills me that his killer is still out there living his life. How is this possible?”
“I’m so sorry. I have no idea why some people get away killing someone. Happens all the time. Someone makes a choice, and bam, the result is the loss of someone close to you. And you hope and pray they didn’t suffer, because if they did—if they hurt for even one second—oh god, it’s unbearable to think about.”
“Is that why you can’t sleep? Did you lose someone you loved?”
“You were right. Why I freaked out before. I was engaged once.”
His ex. Things didn’t just not work out...she’d been killed. “Jennifer died, didn’t she?”
“Yeah. Sorry I lied.”
“That’s okay. You didn’t want to talk about it. I get it.” Although I wanted to know how she died, I stopped asking him questions. He’d already opened up to me more than I thought he ever would. If he wanted to fill me in on the details, then I would leave the choice to him. Now I wished I’d never tried prying into his personal business. I’d been an intrusive pest.
He cleared his throat like talking about her had been difficult, had choked him up. “Thanks.”
“Aren’t we a pair.”
“Yeah, a pair of insomniacs.”
“Does anything help you sleep?”
“Pure and total exhaustion.” He chuckled. “I tried self-medicating for a while but that felt like a cliché. Man loses love of his life and turns to the bottle and pills.”
Love of his life? I had no right to the twinging in my gut. Nonetheless, the words stung. Criminal or not, I still wanted him. And I was no better than him, anyway.
“How about you? Anything help?”
“Same. Pure exhaustion. And sex. Maybe. Sometimes. Well, a lot of great sex.”
“Aha! The real reason you called.”
“What? No, I’m totally not booty calling you.”
“Too bad. I could’ve used the company.”
“Well, I could be persuaded.”
“Nope. Too late. See you tomorrow, Nora.”
And he hung up.
Deflated about our conversation about Derrick, I tossed my phone on the carpet. If Lincoln didn’t think the guy was capable of coldblooded murder, then who took my brother’s life? I had trouble believing it was Rico, although Josh had mentioned the name before. Could it have been him?
I was never going to sleep again.
* * *
Lincoln
I was going to get some sleep after all.
I hung up the phone before I invited her over. I had to at least try resisting the urge to see her.
Although, in truth, talking about Jennifer dying squashed my libido, anyway. Lying in bed at night was when the pain was the worst. Yet, the perpetual elephant on my chest lost some of its weight. I breathed a little easier. Telling someone other than Bandit and his wife helped me let go some of the ache. For tonight, at least.
Melanie was a mysterious creature. Her fixation on murder, although understandable, given what happened to her brother, left me with a fuck load more questions I hoped to have answered soon.
Setting my phone on the charge pad, I beat my pillow into the shape I preferred and lay on my side. I concentrated on the dim traffic noises of cars whipping past the building, the sound as soothing to me as rain hitting a roof or ocean waves lapping the shore. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 19
Lincoln
Bandit met me outside Flynn’s house at 7:45 PM. We let ourselves in past the gate and stalled out on the pathway to the door. The narrow three-story sat between two houses of almost equal size and dimension. Tall and narrow. A block from the ocean, real estate was scarce. Developers crammed houses on tiny strips of land any way they could.
“This is it,” Bandit said. “The road is winding down.”
“Yeah, maybe. Not holding my breath. He abandoned the last rodeo right before the main event. Left us in the ring with the charging bull and no clown in sight.”
“Nobody was working the gate either.”
“Really chapped my ass, too.”
My best friend and I chuckled. Our running joke were rodeo analogies—we were all about keeping with the cowboy theme. Flynn pulled the last job because he got a feeling. However, if you asked me, he was hitting the dab rig too hard. Paranoid much?
Derrick walked up from out of the shadows. “Whassup?” he asked with a stiff nod.
“Hey, man,” Bandit said. “Here for the meeting. Same as you.”
The recent arrival went for the door and we followed him inside. We were greeted by marble floors in the foyer. A set of stairs to the right led down to the garage and a another set directly ahead of us went up.
When we reached the third floor, I heard voices, particularly Melanie’s mixed in with Flynn’s Texan accent, Rico, and at least one voice I didn’t recognize. Rico had a distinct pattern to his speech where almost everything he said sounded like a question.
“We’re up here,” Rico yelled from the steps leading to the rooftop patio. From my vantage point, all I saw were his boots.
“Are you sure?” I mumbled. Man, the guy needed a confidence injection. How he earned a place within the Syndicate I’d never know. Melanie’s laughter drifted down from above. I jogged up the steps. She was sitting across from Flynn and next to some fucker I recognized from Mr. Crowley’s party. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
Rico headed for the edge of the roof and lit a cigarette. He’d shaved his head and looked like he had clean clothes on, which was a change for once. Bandit sat in the only chair, and I took a seat next to Flynn so I could keep my eyes on Mr. Crowley’s party friend.
The Cowboy spat some chew into a red plastic cup, because apparently, he cared about the cleanliness of his home as opposed to his workplace. “Now that we’re all here, we can get to discussin’ business. I think we all know each other by now, except some of you may not have been formally introduced to Max. He’ll be joinin’ ya’ll since Jerry’s unfortunate accident.”
Max ran a hand through his shoulder-length dirty blond hair. His jaw was covered in at least a week’s worth of beard.
Bandit glanced at me sideways. I was betting that he and I were thinking the same thing: This shit for brains was going to be trouble. And wouldn’t this be better discussed i
nside?
“What’s your read on J-Zen?” Flynn said, directing his question to me.
I pulled a drawing out of my pocket and laid it flat on the coffee table between all of us. Flynn motioned Rico over, who put his cigarette out on the sole of his boot and pocketed the butt. “There are seven IP cameras.” I pointed to where each camera was mounted on my drawing. “Glass top jewelry display counters are here, here, here, and here.” I indicated the where on the paper. “The glass on these cases is a ball buster. Getting into them will be nearly impossible without the keys.”
“Don’t worry about the cameras or the keys, I got it covered. Anything else?” Flynn prompted.
“All right. Then the real issue is the keypad entry to a metal door leading to the back.”
Flynn stroked his eyebrow. “Where my intel says the safe is located. Gonna be a problem.”
“I can take care of the pad,” Derrick said.
“I know the code,” Melanie blurted.
Everyone collectively turned their head toward her. “You do?” Flynn asked. “How ’bout that. She’s provin’ to be more useful that I thought.”
“How do you know the code?” Rico asked.
“I watched the owner enter it on the keypad.”
“What is it?” Max asked.
With a smug smile, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Good for her. I wouldn’t tell anyone, either. This meant she was nonexpendable, provided the code hadn’t been changed.
Flynn chuckled. “Shrewd. I like it. Never give up any leverage you have, my dear. Good for you. Hear that, gents? She has the code.” He laid a finger beside his nose, his eyes seemingly focused on Max. “If she can’t get the code to work, Derrick, you cover.”
“Yeah, sure thing.”
Dread crawled under my skin. I looked at Bandit without turning my head toward him. He shook his head ever so minutely. Trusting your fellow crew members was a thing. Introducing this Max asshole last minute, not cool. How would we know if he had our backs?
“Did your source happen to mention the type of safe that’s behind the metal door?” Rico asked. “It’d be nice to know what I’m up against.”
“Maverick.”
Rico whistled, the tone descending. “Fort Knox.”
“This going to be a problem?” Flynn asked.
“No?”
“Is that a question? Do you have this or not?”
“I got it?” He presented his statement as a question.
I rolled my eyes. The guy really projected a sense of confidence. And I would be concerned if I wasn’t undercover and the job wasn’t going to be raided by the FBI SWAT. However, Rico had previously been in prison for cracking safes successfully.
Flynn went on to discuss more details and how the logistics were going to work. All the while, it was clear everyone wanted to know when the heist was going down. As far as I was concerned, this conversation was just conversation—words without any true meaning until Flynn set a date. Fluff for the sake of it.
Rico stepped back for a smoke. Wanting to stretch my legs, I joined him away from the rest of the group. “So, ah, do you really have this or are you full of shit?”
“It’s a tough safe to crack but I can handle it.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause you don’t sound too convincing.”
“Positive. If it was out of my wheelhouse, I would’ve said so.”
“All right, man.”
“Trust me?”
And there it was again—that damn uptalk of his. Was he asking or telling me?
Rico took drags on his cigarette as we stood looking out at the ocean.
“Nice house,” he said.
“Yeah, and killer view.” The two of us made small talk about nothing important until Flynn called us back to the group.
Melanie now sat next to him. He put his hand on her knee and kept it there. What the shit was this? I gritted my teeth. My blood simmered below the surface. She lifted her eyes to mine, pressed her lips together, and looked to the sky. Clearly, the fucker’s hand bothered her too.
“Nora has brought it my attention that you all want to know when this little party is happening.” The group collectively voiced their agreement. “Ideally, this weekend some time. Could be Saturday or Sunday. I don’t know. Leave your phones on.”
Bandit and I exchanged glances. We were on standby? This was just fucking terrific. SWAT was going to love me. Wait until I called Miller with the news.
The Cowboy released us thirty minutes later and I headed down the stairs ahead of everyone else. Since I drove myself, I kept going until I was out the door and into the night. I smelled the salty air. As I lifted the latch on the gate, Melanie called my name. I pivoted and waited for her to catch up before I passed through the wood slatted opening.
“Going anywhere after this?” she asked at the end of the driveway.
Pursing my lips, I shook my head. “Home. That’s about it. Why, you got something in mind?” I caught Bandit glaring at me in my peripheral vision. Yeah, well, he was going home to his wife now, wasn’t he? Me? Oh, I was a sorry sack of shit who hadn’t had any decent prospects until Nora—er, Melanie. And she was a suspect. What is my problem? Better yet, why didn’t I care?
“Mind some company?”
I shrugged like I was nonchalant; however I was anything but. “Why not? You remember how to get to my place?”
“Yep. I’ll be right behind you?”
* * *
Melanie
Lincoln waited for me inside his garage. The door trundled shut behind us and we entered his studio apartment. He tossed his keys on the kitchen table along with his wallet. The smashed fortune cookie and cellophane wrapper lay on the faux wood-grained top. I smiled. “Is that the cookie? Or what’s left of it?”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot that was there. Would you like a drink?” he asked, bringing over the wastebasket from under the sink and scrapping the cookie remains.
“Bottle of water, if you have it?”
Opening the fridge, he grabbed a water and underhanded the bottle to me, which I caught. “Nice reflexes.” His gaze traveled down my body and back up to my face. Well, not my face, my breasts. Close enough.
“Wanna watch a little TV or—”
“Sure. Do you have Netflix?”
He smirked. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Ah, whatever,” I said, waving dismissively. “We’ll find something to watch.” I really had zero interest in TV but didn’t want it to seem as if I was in a hurry to get naked with him. “Maybe there’s a movie on.”
He followed me to the couch and grabbed the remote from the coffee table before he sat next to me. Disappointed that he chose the opposite end of the couch, I sighed and propped by feet up on the low table. While he flipped the channels, I kicked my shoes off.
“What are you in the mood for?”
“I dunno, something funny, I guess. I could use a good laugh.”
“Me too. Been a long week.”
“Long year.” I stretched my neck. “I think I slept all wrong last night. I got a kink.” Massaging the crook of my neck, I closed my eyes.
Lincoln slid closer to me and pushed my hand away. “Turn around.”
My belly fluttered at his touch. I obliged and he swooped my hair to the side, the tresses spilling forward over my chest. His fingers kneaded my shoulders. I moaned. “Ooh, you have no idea how good that feels.” He worked his hands up my neck then he rubbed the nape and between my shoulder blades. Glancing sideways, I saw Crazy, Stupid, Love playing on the TV. The volume was turned down low. “I love this movie.” I practically had all the dialogue memorized.
“I’m not familiar with it. What is it?”
“Crazy, Stupid, Love.” A shirtless Ryan Gosling appeared on the screen. Emma Stone said the line about him being Photoshopped.
“You hold a lot of tension in your shoulders.” He spoke close to my ear, his exhales warming the back of my neck. Heat pooled between my legs. Reaching be
hind me, my hands met with his ridged abs.
“Uh!” He jerked his torso back.
“Sorry. Did I tickle you?”
Easing his body back toward me, he said, “Not yet. Preemptive move.”
Ah.
“Does the tension in your shoulders have anything to do with Flynn’s hand on your knee?”
“Ha, knew you were going to ask me about that.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I don’t know what that was about.” I shrugged. “Maybe he likes me.”
“Or maybe he’s taking liberties he shouldn’t.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Then why did you let him do that?”
“What was I supposed to do? He’s the boss.” God, Lincoln was right. I had already compromised so much of who I was to fit into the Syndicate. Except, Flynn held all the aces. If he kicked me out, I would be letting my brother down.
“Tell him that you want to keep things professional.”
“Yeah, well, as good as that sounds in theory, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You want me to talk to him?”
A sliver of fear went through me. I faced him. “Please don’t. I need this gig. He already thinks I’m a screw-up.”
“Where did you get that idea? You are part of the crew, aren’t you?”
“Barely.” Lincoln’s eyes locked onto my face. I stared at his lips so I didn’t have to look him in the eye. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve done this before. Right?”
I nodded, too afraid the sound of my voice would scream fraud. All I had done so far were odd jobs for Flynn. One of which was going to a gala at some mansion and snapping a few photos pretending I was taking selfies. I didn’t know who’s house it was, either. Although, the intention of the pictures was plainly reconnaissance. The other jobs had been stealing little things from various stores, which Flynn referred to as “warm-up.” Some of the items had been expensive and the guilt I felt upon leaving without paying for them knotted my stomach. The first couple of times, I had trouble making my legs move. And then when I did manage, I ran-walked through the exit. God, I must have appeared culpable as hell. Shut your brain off, Melanie.
The words from the fortune cookie resurfaced. Ships with holes never float. Was I the ship or one of the holes? Sitting against the back of the couch, I chewed my lip. “Do you ever feel like you think too much?”
