The Thief

by Kate McCarthy

  I would be happy to just sit and stare at her, letting my eyes linger on her profile and allowing myself to wonder why every part of her, from the tips of her eyelashes to the dark plum polish on her toes, appeals to me so very much.

  Arcadia Jones is a magnet, and I’m a rusty piece of old iron. It’s the easiest way to explain this sudden feeling of attachment to someone I’ve known for such a short period of time.

  “Who is she?”

  Lee’s question pulls me from the trancelike stare at my drink and back to reality. I blink at Lee, wondering how the hell he can see inside my head. “Who’s who?”

  He rolls his eyes. “The girl. You’re brooding all over your whiskey.”

  “I’m not brooding.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Yes he is,” Fox adds, flopping into the chair on the other side of me. He sets his own beer down on the table and reaches his arms over his head, popping joints and stretching tired muscles.

  “How was your shift?” Lee asks from across the table.

  Fox grunts.

  “Why don’t the both of you just quit?” I ask, picking up my whiskey with determination. Brooding my ass. I swallow a decent mouthful. The burn of it tastes like disappointment. Fuckin’ awesome. She’s ruined me for alcohol.

  Lee turns his head in my direction, his brow arching. “Why don’t you just quit your tinkering with cars?”

  “Point taken,” I mutter, setting my glass down.

  “Ace,” Fox says to Lee.

  His eyes crinkle in puzzlement. “What?”

  “The girl. Her name is Ace.”

  “Christ,” I mutter, rising to my feet. I’m not going to sit around gossiping about some bitch I have the urge to fuck until my cock falls off from exhaustion. “She’s just a piece of pussy.” I jab a finger at Lee. “And I’m not brooding over it.”

  Fox nods. “He likes her.”

  Amusement sparks in Lee’s eyes. “Oh really?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake.” I hold my palm out toward Lee. I’m going to deal with this right the hell now. “Give me your keys. I’m gonna pay her a visit.”

  He leans back in his seat, casual and relaxed. I’m not fooled. Lee is planning torment. “Tell me about this piece and maybe I will.”

  “She’s not a piece,” I bite out.

  “You’re the one that just called her that.” Lee cocks his head, studying me for a moment as he thinks. Then he reaches his conclusion as he rises. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll drive you. I want to get a look at the…” he pauses to grin “…piece that’s got your dick twisted in knots.”

  My jaw sets. It sets motherfuckin’ hard.

  Lee chuckles and Fox lets out a snort as he stands. “You idiots are not leavin’ me behind.”

  And that’s how I find the three of us in Lee’s car, Fox riding front, me in the centre back, and Lee at the wheel, driving to Ace’s house so we could all check her out like a bunch of school boys. Truth is, if she doesn’t know I’m a Sentinel, I’m not ready for her to know. Rolling up on my bike, she’d likely see the paintwork this time, or her brother would hear me. I peel off my cut and dump it on the floor of the car as we roll up to the kerb near her house.

  Fox twists in the front passenger seat. “You gonna peel off your tatt as well?” he asks, referring to the club tattoo covering my back.

  “If I fuck her good enough, she’s not going to notice anything except how big my dick is.”

  Lee eyes me from the rear-view mirror, his eyes curious over his younger brother’s taunt. “What’s going on?”

  Fox flaps his gums. “She’s got class. Doesn’t know he’s a Sentinel. Recent events imply she won’t like knowing.”

  Lee twists in his seat. Now they’re both looking at me. “If she thinks she’s all that, then she ain’t worth knowin’, Shade.”

  Shade. He’s used the name purposefully because mostly he calls me Daniels, same as Fox and Hammer do. He doesn’t use the name in a bad way, but in a factual way. A reminder. Of where I came from. What I did. Who I am.

  “I’m just here to get some. That’s all.”

  Lee nods at the car door. “Then get out and go get it.”

  Bad timing. That’s what she said. I’m bad timing. Well, hell. I’m just bad all round, aren’t I? It shouldn’t stop us from getting what we both want before parting ways.

  I’m reaching for the door handle when one of the Fox brothers, I’m not sure which as I’m not looking at either of them and they both sound alike, mutters, “Holy mother of all hot women.”

  My eyes flick up. A woman is exiting Ace’s house. Her hair is short in the back and sides but sits high and thick on top. The cut is bold and dramatic, yet the pale pink colour, like fairy floss, adds an element of sweet and pretty. Her pants are black leather and fitted, her top black with long sleeves. Her collarbone peeks out, sharp, resting below a graceful neck.

  “That’s Ace?” I’m asked in an oddly tight voice. This time I know it’s Lee because Fox knows who Ace is. This girl, I’ve never seen before. Her eyes are dark, dark brown, and even in the waning light I can see intelligence and a hint of derision inside them, as though the whole world is a joke.

  “No.”

  Another woman follows behind, closing the front door behind her. Same outfit. Her hair pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, usually full of cheek and spark, are severe. There’s resolution in her stride as she trots down the porch steps like a woman on a mission. My body tightens into a coil of need. A need that has me remembering the way she looked at me over the bite of that muffin. A need that pulls at me when I think of how warm and soft her lips were. A need that has me wanting to pull down those pants, bend her over the bonnet of the car, rip her panties to the side, and fuck her hard.

  “That’s Ace,” I say, my voice thick with frustration, but it’s not my Ace. This one is entirely different to the one that emitted a gentle snore beside me last night. That Ace was cute and sexy, someone I could fuck into submission until I’d eventually had my fill before moving on. This Ace is intense and fierce, someone who would rather have her fill of me before moving on to conquer whomever dared cross her path next.

  They climb into a Ford that sits in the driveway. A beautiful piece of machinery. The car lights flick on, illuminating the closed garage door as the engine roars to life. After approximately two minutes, where they appear to be conducting an argument, one we all watch with fascination even though we can’t hear a word being said, the car reverses out of the driveway with wild abandon and tears off down the street as if Satan himself is hunting them down.

  Lee starts his car and takes off, following the apparent dynamic duo.

  Fox shoots him a glance. “What are you doin’?”

  “Followin’.”

  I swipe a hand down my face, muttering a curse beneath my breath. “So, we’re stalkers now? Because this is borderin’ on ridiculous.” My voice rises as we take a sharp corner. “No, scratch that. It isn’t borderin’ on ridiculous. It is ridiculous.”

  Lee flicks me a glance in the mirror. “You’d rather go back to brooding in your whiskey?”

  “Yes!” My voice is sharp. “No. Yes.” My face fixes in a scowl. “I wasn’t brooding.”

  “You were brooding,” they both say in unison.

  “Fuck you,” is my witty response to the backs of their heads.

  “It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do tonight other than drink beer. Besides, it looks like they’re up to somethin’. I want to know what that somethin’ is.”

  Lee is right. They were dressed for mischief. “I want to know too, but I draw the line at stalking. Stalking is for creeps, and Ace—”

  I stop my rant, assuming Lee has decided to listen to me because we’ve pulled off to the kerb of a leafy street somewhere in the suburb of Bellevue Hill, one of Sydney’s premier suburbs. After taking in my fill of the street—imposing, stately houses, neat and vibrant
shrubbery, and a deep awareness of heritage—my eyes fall on the red taillights of the Ford parked several houses down from us.

  “Dammit, Lee.”

  “Does your girl come from old money?”

  “I wouldn’t know. It’s not the kind of thing you bring into casual conversation when you’re busy tryin’ to get laid,” I reply with sarcasm as we watch them alight from the car. I’m choosing to ignore his reference to Ace being my girl. He’s baiting me, and I’ve realised why. It’s because I never brood. Not once. So he wants to know how much Ace means to me. I’m not sure why he wants to know. Lee and I are friends, but we aren’t the deep and meaningful kind. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “You know what.”

  There’s a deep silence in the car that lasts several moments. During that time, we watch both girls duck quickly across the road and start jogging toward us. “You don’t know this, Daniels, but you and I have somethin’ in common. And while we aren’t bosom buddies like you and Little Fox are—”

  Fox snorts with indignation “We aren’t bosom buddies.”

  “—it’d be nice for at least one of us to find some kind of peace.”

  There’s no time to contemplate his statement. Ace and her friend are two houses away from us now, both of them pulling black beanies down over their heads. Ace reaches up, tugging the long strands of her hair beneath the woolly head covering. Yet instead of getting closer, their jog tails off to a sudden stop beside a long low hedge of green shrubs.

  We watch with open-mouthed amazement when Ace reaches down and plucks an elderly man from the bushy leaves. He, too, is dressed all in black. “What in the fucking hell …” I breathe. She starts yelling at him. Not in a loud way, but in a hissing kind of way that indicates a battle to keep her fury leashed. Ace is pissed.

  The old man draws himself up, shoulders broadening under her barrage and features setting into deep grooves of censure. He begins to whisper-yell back.

  “It’s like a silent movie,” Fox mutters from the front passenger seat. “So entertaining yet completely unsatisfying, all at the same time.”

  Ace’s friend appears to be muttering something while tapping into her phone. Then the old dude puts his hand on Ace’s shoulder. It’s an aggressive gesture. All I see is his fingers digging in to her skin and a red haze infiltrates my vision. I lose all sense of rationality and grab for the handle, swinging open the door.

  “Daniels.” Fox reaches around, trying to stop me from blowing our cover while Lee simply grins from his position behind the wheel.

  My words come out between gritted teeth. “Between this and the fact that her Mustang somehow got destroyed by fire last night, I’m starting to think there’s a bigger picture, and I’m not going to sit in a car like a stalker and watch it all play out any longer. That old guy has his hands on her, and I don’t care if he’s one breath away from the grave, I’m taking him down.”

  “Her Mustang burned—” I slam the car door closed behind me, cutting off the rest of Fox’s question. In my haste, I forgot I hadn’t told him about her car.

  I stalk toward the arguing trio, my footfalls anything but quiet. Ace sees me first, her eyes cutting my way and her face blanching white. Her words die off. Fairy Floss glances up from the illuminated screen of her phone and stills as she sees me, something like unholy glee lighting her eyes.

  “I have every right,” the elderly man is saying, not seeming to realise the argument he’s still participating in has died a quick death.

  My eyes are on his hand, the hand still attached to Ace’s shoulder. “You have no right,” I say, my voice a low growl.

  On closer inspection, he’s not hurting her. His hand is simply resting there, an action designed to capture attention rather than cause intimidation or pain.

  “Excuse me?” The old man turns, his hand falling away before I get the chance to rip it away—regardless of the reason for touching her. His eyes are a dark stormy blue. They fix on me with an imposing glare. One that an ordinary person would perhaps cower beneath. I, of course, don’t cower beneath shit. “Have no right to what?” he asks.

  “To put your hand on Arcadia.”

  “Is that so?” He eyes me carefully, taking me in with imperial curiosity. I’m not sure if I’m found lacking or not, when he’s finished his inspection. His expression gives me nothing more. “And you are?”

  Ace finds her voice. “Kelly. What are you …” She trails off, taking a step forward and then changing her mind. My presence has thrown her completely. I can see why that would be. My best bet, besides flat-out admitting we were stalking her fine ass, is to deflect.

  “What the hell is going on here?” I fold my arms, staring all three of them down like they’re a pack of naughty kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar. “The three of you all dressed in black, outfitted for mischief and skulking about the neighbourhood. You think you’re all Ocean’s Three or something?”

  The old man draws himself up to his full height, outrage his expression of choice. “Skulking? Young man, whomever you are, this is a private matter. Your…” he pauses, as though searching for the right word “…defence of my granddaughter is admirable, however it is unwarranted. And although she seems to have your acquaintance, I do not. You may now get back to whatever it was you were out doing in this neighbourhood on this delightful evening, resting assured that her safety in my care is more than adequate.”

  Christ. Her grandfather. And he knows how to deflect better than I do. A master. Fairy Floss turns her head, failing to hide a snicker. His eyes narrow in her direction. “Echo,” he chastises.

  “Sorry, Mr. Racer,” she mutters.

  My brows rise. Fairy Floss is Echo? And Grandpops goes by Racer? Who are these people that orbit Ace’s inner circle? My eyes find hers. She shrugs, indicating she’s at a complete and utter loss.

  I hold out my hand to her grandfather. “Kelly Daniels. I’m a friend of Arcadia’s.”

  He takes it, his grip firm as we shake, eyes still narrowed. “Racer Jones.” He lets go, eyeballing me while he talks to Fairy Floss. “This the one, Echo?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Racer, it is.”

  Ace lets out an audible gasp. “You two are a pack of gossiping galahs!”

  Racer assesses the width of my shoulders, ignoring the outrage from his granddaughter. “He’s a biggun.”

  Echo smothers a laugh. “That’s how she likes them.”

  “Would you both stop it?” Ace hisses, and if her face was blanched white before, it’s now pinker than her friend’s hair.

  My brow arches in her direction. “You have a type?”

  “I do not! Don’t let them drag you down to their level, Kelly, because once you’re there, there’s no climbing back out.”

  I want to pursue the topic, but her embarrassment is high. I make note to question her later. I’m not sure I like being her type. It doesn’t sit well, as if I’m one of many. I don’t want to be one of many. I want to be—

  You want to be what, dickhead? Her one and only? Don’t be stupid. You’re lucky to get her into bed at all now, after materialising out of nowhere, making it more than obvious you were following her. You’re on her list of crazed lunatics to avoid from now on.

  I decide for the cool, cocky approach to hide my idiocy. “There’s no level deep enough I can’t climb back out of, babe.”

  Her mouth opens and closes, seeming at a loss to my response.

  “We should talk,” I add.

  She shakes her head, not even pretending to hesitate. “I don’t think—”

  I take a step a forward and grab her hand. “No thinking.”

  She has no choice but to follow me, stumbling behind as I drag her away from the huddle and in the opposite direction of the car holding Lee and Fox. I hear her huffing sharply behind me, revealing her irritation. At me.

  We arrive at a spot I deem acceptable enough to be outside of hearing distance and turn to face her. Her cheeks are pink from the c
old. Honey-coloured strands of hair have escaped the edges of her beanie and blow across her face. She swipes them away with an impatient gesture, her stormy eyes dark in the shadows of the night. I want to stare and just gulp her in, like she’s fresh air after being trapped below ground, but something akin to hurt is rising. No, not hurt. Because that would make me a baby. Offence. I’m offended. I’m damn good in bed. I want to know what the fuck she has going on in her life because no female in their right mind would ditch all of this.

  “This is why you blew me off tonight? This…” I wave a hand to encompass the outfit that’s so wonderfully tight she may as well be naked “…is your bad timing? What the hell are you up to?”

  Her brows snap together. “We barely know each other, so whatever it is I’m up to, it’s none of your business. Or your friends,” she mutters, glancing across at the car.

  I look over. Lee and Fox have eyes on us, their car windows down to hear us better. My gaze shifts to the left. Racer and Fairy Floss are watching too, with what appears to be utter fascination. We’re like bugs beneath a microscope. I roll my shoulders to disperse the discomfort. Fuck this.

  I take Ace’s arm and lead her over to the car. She stumbles slightly behind and to the side of me, muttering more curses. We come to a halt beside the open window, and Fox grins at Ace. “So lovely to see you—”

  I cut through his flirty pleasantries. “Ace and I need to talk.”

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Lee interjects, his voice mild and amused.

  Ace leans down to better see him through the window. “You’re a funny guy.”

  His lips twitch. “I’m a lot of things.”

  My breath escapes in an exasperated huff. “Get out.”

  Both pair of eyes hit me. “What?” Fox asks.

  “Get out of the car,” I enunciate slowly.