The Thief

by Kate McCarthy

  Kelly’s voice is raspy. He’s lived through violence, almost as if it’s all he’s ever known, yet he got himself involved to help a friend because that’s just the type of man he is.

  “You saved his life,” I say, slowly putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

  He doesn’t respond.

  “And now he owes you one.”

  Kelly pulls to a stop as the traffic light turns from orange to red. He puts the gear in neutral and turns his head to look at me. “It’s not a marker I would ever cash in, Ace. Not with what happened to Gabriella. He was in the hospital for months recovering. But it’s you, Ace. It’s you. And for you I’d …”

  He trails off and the light turns green. We don’t move as he stares at me. The car behind us honks.

  Kelly changes into first gear, eyes returning to the road as he accelerates.

  My heart is in my throat. “You’d what?” I push, because that’s what I do. I need to know. I need to know if I can trust him. I need to know if I’m worth the truth.

  “Mitch and I have a deal,” he answers indirectly. “We hand over Tony and they give you full immunity. He’s shipping these cars to the Middle East. He’s stripping them and shipping the parts inside containers filled with parts from cars they purchased from legitimate auctions, only to reassemble them when they arrive. He’s making millions, and not just on the exports. He’s buying cars at a greater price than he’s selling the parts for. It’s money laundering. They’re basically a cashed-up organised crime group. The AFP aren’t interested in you. You’re just a tiny cog in the Marchetti wheel. But you’re the tiny cog that can bring down their whole operation.”

  My chest tightens. This thing is bigger than me. This whole thing is so much bigger than me. And while his explanation makes sense, there’s a question that still needs answering. “Then why keep it from me? If the AFP need me so much, then why not tell me?”

  Kelly shakes his head, and after checking his phone and getting the all clear from god knows who that it’s safe to deliver me home, he pulls into the drive of my house. “Tony won’t let you go. There will always be another car. Another list. He will hold everything you love over your fuckin’ head for the rest of your life. Even now, he has eyes on you. Watching. Listening.” He switches off the engine and twists in his seat to look at me. “All it takes is one word, one action, one little slip to ruin everything. And if that happens, Tony will take you the fuck out.”

  “I’m not stupid, Kelly. I wouldn’t—”

  “Ace! Dammit!” He slams his fist against the steering wheel. “Your life is not worth that kind of risk!”

  My lips press together, the air between us wired.

  “How do you think I feel havin’ to sit on my fuckin’ hands after what he did to you?” Kelly’s jaw ticks with bridled anger. “I’ll tell you something, Ace. I got friends on the inside.” His blue eyes harden into cold dark steel. “The day he walks inside that prison is the day true justice will be served.” Shivers trickle down my spine. The smile forming on his lips is downright sinister. It makes my blood run hot and cold all at the same time. It makes me glad Kelly is on my side. “And I can’t wait.” He takes my hand and pulls me close, until his lips are a breath away from mine. “You wanna know why I called in that marker?”

  My pulse thumps erratically. “Yeah. I wanna know why.”

  “I’ve made a shit ton of mistakes, babe. Bad choice after bad choice. But if I ever did anything right in my life, it was givin’ my heart to you. You’re an all or nothin’ girl. That’s why I’m in this with you. I’m all in. Your battle is my battle. We fight together.”

  My breath catches. This was only supposed to be about wild sex with a hot, irresistible man. I should have known. The moment he walked inside Fix, I knew he was a paradox. A puzzle, one I played with, slowly fitting all the broken pieces together until the whole picture now sits before me, a picture so beautiful it steals my breath.

  “Kelly.” He watches me, his face close to mine. “You were never meant to get involved. It’s not your fight.”

  He draws back like I’ve slapped him the face.

  I fumble for his hand, grabbing it before he can withdraw any further. “It’s always been my fight. I don’t have friends. I don’t have boyfriends. I don’t sleep around. I’ve always kept people at arms-length because I don’t live a life where I can answer the kinds of questions they ask of me. Then you came along, and I thought maybe this once it would be nice, real fucking nice, to pretend I could have something beautiful for myself. Only you weren’t what I expected. You pissed me off. You made me laugh, and you made me ache, and you made me want you so damn much. You did all that and now I can’t imagine how I lived a life without you in it. You give so much of yourself without even realising it. Even now, you’re taking my fight and making it your own, and I hate myself for being so selfish and letting you.”

  Kelly stares at me for a long moment, heat building slowly in his eyes until my body hums with anticipation. He reaches for the door handle behind him and gets out of the car. He walks around the front, keys in hand, and opens my door.

  I step out, clutch and shoes in hand, the air between us charged with a thousand electrical currents.

  “Get inside,” he orders, shutting the door behind me. “Now.”

  I dash up the stairs, fumbling for the key. I slide it in the lock, my hands trembling as though I’m Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf is after me. The door gives and I step inside, leaving it wide open as I go straight for my room.

  I toss my heels and bag to the corner, turning, waiting.

  The front door closes, Kelly’s footsteps coming closer. My breath comes faster as he steps inside, hungrier than I’ve ever seen him before. He nods his head toward my bed. “On your back.”

  Kelly’s words are short, as though saying any more will make him lose control. My clit throbs as I move to the bed. I sink to the edge while he watches me with darkness in his eyes.

  I’ll tell you something, Ace. I got friends on the inside. The day he walks inside that prison is the day true justice will be served. And I can’t wait.

  Kelly is brutal. Rebel blood runs through his veins. He will always be wild. Always willing to inflict damage on anyone or anything that harms those he cares about most. I should stop him. It’s the right thing to do, but I’m not sure I’m such a good person either. I don’t want to change him. I just want to love him.

  Kelly walks over to me. I’m not on my back like he ordered. I’m interested to see what he does with my insubordination. He jams a knee between my legs, spreading them wide. Then he bends, grasping the backs of my thighs. He yanks. Air leaves my lungs in a whoosh when my back hits the bed, and my eyes hit the ceiling.

  “I said on your back, Ace.”

  Jesus. My clit is pulsating so hard I think I almost come then and there. He palms my hips, sliding his hands upward, dragging the slippery silver fabric of my dress along with them until my panties are bared and cool air hits my stomach.

  Kelly bends, ducking his head and dipping his tongue inside my belly button. “I’m disappointed in you, Ace.”

  “Why?” I gasp, my head in a fog.

  “You got panties on under this dress.” He hooks his thumbs in the waistband and tugs them down, painfully—painfully slow. “Next time you wear a dress, I want you bare.” He leans over me, watching my face as he runs a thick finger through the slick heat between my legs. My eyes flutter closed. It’s sweet relief, but only for a moment. His expert touch soon makes the ache inside me grow.

  “If we’re sitting at a table together,” he says in a rough voice, “I want to know I can slide my hand up your thigh beneath it and do this.” His middle finger enters me. I moan. “You like that?”

  “You know I do.”

  Kelly plays with me, watching me. It should be awkward, being watched so intently, but it just feels intimate. He’s seeing me at my most vulnerable, and he takes pleasure in it. He takes that vulnerability
and intensifies it, making my body burn hotter.

  He thrusts another thick finger inside, leaving me perfectly full. My head tips back against the bed and another moan escapes me. His breath is coming a little more ragged, and there’s less finesse to his touch. He’s fingering me harder. Rougher. I welcome it, fucking myself against him. “Wanted to go slow, babe. For you. Make it special. But I need to fuck you.”

  “Fuck me, please.” I need more.

  He withdraws and I sit up, whipping off my dress and tossing it to the floor while he unbuckles the belt of his pants. Rising to my knees, I start on the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them, yanking when they don’t open fast enough. The last two are wedged. The buttonholes are too small for the buttons, I have no idea how he managed to fasten them to start with. I give up and tear his shirt apart. They ping across the room.

  Kelly ducks his head, his mouth landing on mine. His tongue sweeps inside, his kiss savage as he kicks his pants and underwear away. He nudges me down on the bed, his lips locked to mine.

  There’s a rustle as I hear the condom wrapper. I couldn’t care less if he used one or not. I’m not responsible. Not with him. My head is lost.

  His calloused palms grasp me by the knees, and he pushes them toward my belly, lifting my hips. “Put me inside you, babe,” he gasps, sweat beading his forehead from restraint.

  I grab his cock. It’s like iron, thick and pulsing in my hand. He nuzzles my neck as I rub it against my clit for a brief moment. His lips move upward until they’re on mine, a deep groan rising from his chest when I guide his cock inside. With his hands on my knees, he thrusts and I gasp, breaking our kiss.

  He pulls out slowly, his head tipping down to watch our connection. “Fuck that’s hot,” he mutters before slamming back in. My hips rise to meet him, his thrusts slow and forceful, building in intensity until I can’t catch my breath.

  I hug his sides with my knees when Kelly lets them go. His palms land on the bed on either side of my head, his cock moving inside me without missing a beat. I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth down toward mine. “I love you,” I say, breathless, before kissing him.

  His tongue rubs with mine, his lips pressing hard as though he’s trying to pour every bit of emotion he’s feeling inside me.

  Drawing away, he lifts an arm and reaches down, sliding a calloused finger against my clit as his cock pumps deep and hard. His eyes are on me. “I only ever want to make you feel good.”

  I want to tell him that he’s doing a great job so far, but I’m too far gone. My body is tingling and I’m coming, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I pull him to me. His thrusts go wild. He comes soon after, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

  “I love you too,” he whispers against my skin, and I can never remember feeling so scared in all my life as I do in that moment.

  28

  Arcadia

  “You’ve reached Royal Port Shipping Containers. My name is Rachel, how may I help you?”

  “Hi, Rachel,” I answer from my seat beside Echo. It’s Tuesday, three days after Grace and Casey’s wedding, and we have three cars left on the list. A Bugatti Veyron, the ’68 Pontiac Firebird, and an iconic ’87 Ferrari Testarossa.

  Of all of them, the Bugatti is almost impossible. Almost. This isn’t just an expensive car. It’s a car valued in the seven figures. The engine is an eight-litre quad turbo, meaning its performance would be nothing short of explosive. The moment you punch your foot down on that pedal, the torque will compress your chest and push you back in your seat so hard you’ll stop breathing. Unfortunately, I won’t get to appreciate the religious experience because even though I’m technically stealing the car, I won’t actually be driving it. And that’s the tricky part I’m trying to arrange now.

  I’m inside Echo’s apartment, surrounded by four empty packets of Doritos, two half-empty Diet Cokes, and three computer screens. The left screen shows live video feed of incoming and outgoing trucks at the Port of Sydney. The middle screen shows the processed order Echo hacked for the delivery of a shipping container. Echo is working on the one on the right, and she’s moving so fast it hurts to watch, so I don’t. My eyes return to the middle screen as I continue with my phone conversation. “I’m calling about the delivery of a shipment that my boss arranged through you yesterday. He needs to cancel it, unfortunately.”

  “That’s fine. If you can give me the consignment order number, I’ll look it up for you.”

  I read it from the screen. “It’s D-six-five-five G-A-zero-two-seven. It’s for George Ashton.”

  The sound of tapping comes through the screen. “The order has been paid in full. Were you wanting to arrange another delivery day or did you want to go ahead with the cancellation?”

  Fark. I don’t know. If they reschedule, a new order form will go to George Ashton, but if they reimburse his fee he’ll see the credit on his account. I didn’t think this through carefully enough. My gaze shifts to Echo. She eyeballs me, slicing a hand across her neck in a throat-cutting motion. “Cancellation, please.”

  “Not a problem.” Tap, tap, tap. “We can only reimburse the funds via the same account they were paid from. It will take between five to eight business days for the credit to process.”

  And this is why I usually leave the finer details to my friend. She knows things. The shipping container, and the Bugatti inside it, will be long gone in five business days. “That’s fine, but we’re interstate on business at the moment. Can I give you a new fax number to send the cancellation confirmation through to?”

  “Sure.” She continues tapping. “Just give me a minute to finish processing this.”

  I wait a few beats and Rachel’s tapping comes to a halt. “Okay,” she says. “What’s the number?”

  I give her the fax number direct to Echo’s computer and end the call. Then I swivel in my seat and face my partner in crime. “And that, my friend, is how you steal a Bugatti.”

  She rolls her eyes and sits back, shoving her hand in one of the Dorito packets to scope out the dregs. “You’re not that clever, Ace.”

  My brows rise. “Umm, that’s why they call me Ace? Because I’m fucking ace, and you know it.”

  “Whatever.” She licks crumbs from her fingers and points at the computer screen. It shows the image of a plain white tilt tray truck. “Reckon you can handle driving that, Ace?”

  I’ve never driven one in my life, but how hard could it be? “Of course I can.”

  Another eye roll. “That’s what I thought. We get the truck the day before so you can work it out.”

  “I’ll need a special licence.”

  “Already arranged.”

  The Bugatti is arriving Thursday via a shipping container, making it the only one available in Australia. Our only option once it hits Australian shores is to steal it from the docks. The issue is that only trucks drive in and out, taking or delivering shipments. If I could just walk in there, open up that container, and drive on out, it would be a cinch. But there’s also security to factor in, and paperwork, and yeah, the actual owner of the car.

  The plan is for me to take the place of Royal Port Shipping Containers and drive the truck in with the original order, the same one the owner doesn’t know we just cancelled, have the container loaded on the back, and drive on out. It’s almost too easy. I spend another hour looking at it from every angle, making sure I haven’t missed any minor but important details.

  “What about the container delivery mob?” I say to Echo. “They won’t send the cancellation to the ports too, will they?”

  She shakes her head. “I already told you the onus is on the owner. Everything is arranged via third party. We’re all good, Ace. Stop stressing.”

  It’s so easy to tell someone not to stress, but I’ve never boosted a car of this magnitude. If you’re going to retire, it’s definitely a car you want to go out on.

  “The uniform’s arranged?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “You pick it
up tomorrow.”

  I take a deep breath. “Okay. Good.”

  “Have you texted Kelly yet?”

  I pick up the phone he gave me on Saturday night to correspond with him. I can’t use my own phone to talk to him. Not anymore. And with the police already involved, there’s no point in using code. They can see every message I send.

  Me: The lady is locked in. Friday. 8:00 p.m.

  He replies in an instant.

  Kelly: Be safe.

  My eyes close, my fingers squeezing around the phone in my hands.

  You’re not going to prison. I promise you.

  Kelly

  It’s just after 7:00 p.m. on Friday, a full moon already on display, as I slide in the front passenger seat of Mitch Valentine’s black Subaru WRX STI while Fox slides in the back. Though I prefer vintage muscle, this is a car I’m itching to get behind the wheel of. It’s built for the unexpected. It won’t just handle whatever you throw at it, it will go above and beyond it. The Rex is a car forged from rally roots, and it’s a fucking beast.

  Valentine is in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearstick, eyes ahead as he waits.

  “I approve,” I say.

  He turns his head. “I live to please you.”

  “Good.” I nod. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

  He stares at me for a moment before turning his head to Fox in the back. “I didn’t say you could come along.”

  “Yeah?” Fox replies, clipping his seat belt. “That’s my brother’s old lady boosting a Bugatti tonight. She’s out there alone, having to play this the fuck out with us taking a backseat, for me literally, and that means you ain’t got a say.”

  My chest expands. Fox has my back, and I’ll be honest, it feels real fuckin’ good because I’m on a ledge right now. I haven’t seen Ace for a week. I have no idea what she’s thinking and feeling.