by C. L. Stone
I frowned, gazing at my target. “I was going to quit, you know.”
“They all say that.”
“Do you want me to start picking at skeletons in your closet? ‘Cause seriously, I’ve got the time right now. Did we go over how we’re committing a felony?”
He grunted. “We’ve got a good reason.”
I scoffed and clenched my fists. Forget about the target. I was about to pounce Brandon. “Are you saying my reasons weren’t good enough?”
He turned fully now, squaring off his shoulders at me. “I’m saying if you are really as smart as all that, you’d have found another way.”
“I tried,” I said. “I did everything I could. I applied everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” he asked, his cerulean eyes lit up. “Really?”
I pointed a fist at his face. I spoke low and through my teeth to make sure no one else was listening in. “Listen, buddy. I’ve got a little brother I’m trying to get into college. I’ve got a drunk father who steals our money or beats us if we don’t have any, so he can drink it at the bar and pay for women. We tried to leave and he called the cops on Wil, and they brought him back. They didn’t care. Social services didn’t care. They just wanted us out of their hair. I can’t leave Wil until he can safely leave on his own, and I’m not about to be sorry for doing whatever I have to do to make sure he gets a better life than me. Not like you could ever understand that. You’ve got a fancy apartment, and friends, and food in the fridge, and a new car.”
“I earned those,” he said.
“I’m trying to earn my way,” I said. I held my hands out, palms up, flustered. Tears bit at the sides of my eyelids, but I silently threatened them with a thousand deaths if they dared start to fall. I wanted to spit back a thousand reasons why I did what I did, but even despite myself, I knew myself better than that. Deep down inside, I wondered, too, if there was anything I could have done, any different path I could have taken, to change who I was and what had happened to us. Could I have saved mom? Could I have stopped Jack from destroying himself? Could I have fought harder? Worked harder? Begged more?
We glared each other down. Why did it matter to me what he thought? If this had been anyone else, I would have walked away. What did I care as long as Wil and I were okay? What anyone else thought didn’t matter.
Except it did just now. It did with Brandon. Maybe it was those sad eyes, penetrating through my body and magnifying every thread of self-doubt I’d ever conceived about my actions. It was like he was trying desperately to understand me, just like I needed him to believe I wasn’t just an idiot, greedy girl.
I bit back the tears and forced the words out, cool and slow. “If it were up to me, my mother wouldn’t have died, my father would be the way he was before she did, and I wouldn’t need to be here right now. When I finally get a chance, I’ll work my tail off and dump a ton of money on charity, and help whoever I can to make up for every penny I’ve ever stolen. And, believe me, I know every cent. I feel it every time. Now look me in the eyes again and tell me you’ve ever fought that hard for anything.”
He lowered his body at the waist, until his face was level with mine. “I did,” he said, but his voice was a tone softer now, and it threw me off, curbing the anger that had my fists ready to sail. “I’ve got a brother, too, you know. And if I ever needed to steal, or fight, or suffer to make sure he’s safe, I’d do it. And believe me, I have.”
I blinked hard, jerking my head back. “But... you... You just told me I should have worked harder.”
“I just wanted to hear it from your lips that you knew what you were doing was wrong.” He straightened himself again. “I think you could have done better, but I understand why you did what you did when you felt cornered. I do sympathize, but I wasn’t about to stand by and let you lie to me, or yourself, about what you’ve done like some misunderstood hero. I won’t lie to you Kayli. We’re about to steal a wallet from a man who might have powerful allies, and break into a building that doesn’t belong to us. We put our lives at risk to save others, but we can’t ever forget exactly where we stand. In the shadows. Inside secrets that can rip us apart. If we’re not honest with each other, this won’t work. We’ll become as bad as the guys we fight against.”
My breathing slowed and my heart stilled. Somehow the party had disappeared around us. Brandon’s eyes were swallowing me up, telling me things I wasn’t sure I was supposed to know. “I didn’t mean to lie,” I said in a quiet voice.
“Don’t feel too bad,” he said. He turned again, focusing on the partygoers. “Sometimes you tell yourself a lie so much, you start to believe it. Sometimes when you’re in the middle of shit, you need a lie to keep you sane until you can get out again.”
I swallowed hard, and side-stepped into his shadow to block my face from everyone else around us. “I wasn’t trying to... I didn’t ...” After being so angry, and suddenly not, I was shaking. What was I doing here? Who was I? Somehow he had me questioning everything. Despite him being near me and the party around us, I felt a million miles away from everyone. I was the thief among the crowd. I was the bad apple in the orchard. I trembled, feeling lost.
He glanced back down at me and sighed. His hands slid up, catching my elbows. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I need to learn to shut up. I shouldn’t have started talking about this. Not now.”
“You should have left me at the mall,” I said, staring blankly at his red tie.
He grunted, and suddenly his arms encircled me, drawing me close. He swayed gently with the music. He was pretending to dance with me. That didn’t matter to me as much, but his strong arms across my shoulders were suddenly everything I needed, that I never knew I needed.
“I meant you were probably safer there,” he said. “You were probably right all along. This is dangerous and you don’t even know. We know and we choose to be here. You were bribed and still don’t know. I don’t like that.”
I clutched at the breast pocket material of his shirt. “I don’t know who you are,” I said. “I don’t know who exactly you work for. I want to believe this is the right thing. Tell me I’m not making a huge mistake.”
“I can’t promise that,” he said, his hands sliding across my back in a soothing motion. “Because I feel like we’re making a big mistake letting you in this close. But I can tell you that this guy could be a bad guy, and we could possibly be stopping him from making a big mistake if that’s what he’s planning. Or he could have been bad all along and we’re just now catching on. If that’s the case, we’re all in trouble. But if we get out of this without getting caught, I’ll do everything I can to make sure we keep our promise to you. Because I know exactly how hard you’ll work to save your brother. I probably would have done the same thing. Actually I have, just in a different way.”
I tightened my face, afraid I’d cry. I was already worried I was ruining my mascara. I sucked in a deep breath, and then pulled myself away. I wanted to sink into him more, but I wouldn’t allow it. “This is the worst pep talk I’ve ever had.”
Brandon released a forced chuckle. He touched at the knot of his tie. “Sorry. Corey’s always telling me I scare girlfriends off by talking too deep. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m not crying.” I stuffed an arm against his chest in a faux punch that lacked any effort. “Just shut up and let me do my job. You can talk to me later.”
“You’ll talk to me after this?”
I rolled my eyes, and didn’t answer. The truth was, I didn’t have one. I wondered about that, too. More than one of them had mentioned that if I wanted, I didn’t have to see them again after this. They weren’t bad people. If everything was true, and I was starting to believe it was, I wouldn’t want to just forget a group of people who helped me so much. Whatever weird fate had thrown us together, it seemed cruel that this job would end and that might be the last I ever saw of them.
Would they disappear again and never want to talk to me? Did that matter to me?
> Despite our conversation, the party went on around us without noticing our little spat, but I wasn’t as nervous as I was before. When I zeroed in on my target again, he was still by the buffet table. Women seemed to flock over to him. They hovered around him in a circle. A couple of men came along at one point, escorting certain ladies away. I understood they were probably husbands and boyfriends dragging their girls away from Mr. Coaltar. He must have hundred dollar bills hanging out of his nose. I still couldn’t see his face.
But I could see the bulge in his back pocket. Bingo.
A waiter trailed past us with champagne flutes. I picked one up, coming up with an idea.
“I said no more drinking,” Brandon said.
“I’m not going to drink it.” I gestured to our target. I sunk my hand into Brandon’s back pocket, pulling out the fake wallet and planting it in my palm, pressing it against my thigh. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Brandon glanced at me once more, and then backed off, heading through the throng of people, angling himself as we’d practiced earlier. He’d walk right behind my back at just the right time so I could pass off a wallet.
Time slowed for me again. It was different though. The guilt-ridden thoughts were gone. I was doing this man the biggest favor by clearing his name or doing Charleston a favor by getting rid of a potential drug cartel. Win-win, right?
I focused on the bulge in his back pocket. I held on to the flute in my hand, ready with a new distraction.
I walked steadily as if I were going to pass him and head to the food buffet. The food buffet alone was enough of a distraction. I bit my tongue to concentrate.
Fake stumble.
Bump.
Hand drop.
I held the flute sideways to spill at the top of the pink dress, causing a wet stain. I dropped the glass to free up my hand.
I lifted the wallet, and halfway out, started dropping the new one back in.
I started in on batting my eyelashes right as he started to turn. “Oh,” I breathed in the softest voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean...”
There was a commotion all at once. Two attendants flew in, offering me a napkin and picking up the dropped flute.
I couldn’t turn back to look as it would be too distracting, but someone lifted the wallet from my hand. I could only hope it was Brandon. I sensed him walking away. He would head out to pass it off to someone else, giving me time to collect myself and look natural when I went searching for him.
Mr. Coaltar turned.
The world shifted.
His whole appearance was surprising, because part of me had expected him to be middle-aged, but he didn’t appear much older than twenty-two or so. A dirty blond eyebrow arched up. His face was slightly unshaven, but it seemed intentional, making him even more photogenic. His dark blond locks framed his face. His cheeks were slightly sunken under high, defined cheekbones, giving his angled jawline a hardened look. Yet there was a hint of a coy smirk playing on his lips.
And, god forgive me, I paused for a millisecond to admire the view.
“Oh no, not again...” he started to say before he fully turned and even noticed who I was.
And the way he said it made me realize, to my horror, I’d probably just pulled the same stupid stunt dozens of women tried on him, only with the intention of getting into his bed or a hold of his money. Or both. Another stupid girl trick that I’d never used before because I didn’t play that game, so I thought I was being clever.
And then he looked up.
His eyes dead locked on mine.
They were a stunning hazel with flecks of gold around the center. The discontent and boredom slipped away in that moment, quickly replaced with curiosity, as though he had just been presented with a new, interesting puzzle to solve.
And my heart wouldn’t stop racing. I almost forgot to let go of his butt after I’d dropped in the second wallet.
I forced myself to focus and planted a hand right on Mr. Coaltar’s lapel. I wanted to draw attention up. I shook off my initial fear and tried to resume my charade. “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to soften my voice. If he thought I was there to flirt originally, I could at least play into his assumption to distract him.
Mr. Coaltar’s eyes danced as he looked into mine, sparkling with interest. “Sorry, sugar, I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It was my fault.”
His eyes slid down in slow motion, toward my chest. I arched my back, puffed my breasts out like a pigeon. I didn’t know where Brandon was or how quickly he was walking away. I wanted to protect him.
Part of me was too curious to pull away and disappear. I could see why women were flocking to this man. I tried to resist, not wanting to admit to how attracted I was to him. I wasn’t the type to create a fake interest in someone just because I knew he was wealthy, was I? Was that the only reason?
But Mr. Coaltar’s eyes didn’t stop their slow perusal of my body. He took a step back, getting the full view. It gave me a chance to look at him entirely, too. He was a head and a half taller than me, with broad shoulders under his dark suit coat, a white collared shirt underneath, and a silver tie with a red pin. His suit fit perfectly to his body, and it wasn’t hard to imagine a sculpted body underneath.
“Oh no,” he said, his voice had a deepness, but with a curious Charleston accent - Southern refinement. “I reckon the fault was mine. I’m so sorry. Did I ruin your dress?”
“Oh, this thing? No. Don’t worry about it.” I waved carefully. Now that a minute had gone by, I wanted to make my exit. This was too close. “Now where did he...” I started to say, ready to pretend to find Brandon, the boyfriend.
“No, please, sugar. Don’t run off,” he said. His hand loosely cuffed around my wrist. “Let me at least apologize properly.”
“You don’t really have to.”
“As your host, I insist.” He bowed his head. “Forgive me. How can I make it up to you?”
“Host?” I asked, not meaning to ask the question. The formality just struck me off guard. Or he did. I felt he didn’t want to release me at all.
“This is my party,” he said. His lips cracked open into a sly smile. “Didn’t you know whose house you were walking in to?”
I glanced from side to side, wishing I had known more about what we were doing, or who I was up against. Maybe Marc had told me when I wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, yes,” I said. “You’re ... Mr. Coaltar.”
“So you have heard of me?”
“Your name,” I said. “My, uh, boyfriend brought me.”
His eyebrow lifted again. “Who?”
“Brandon.”
“Brandon who?”
My lips parted except I didn’t know what his last name was, and I wasn’t sure if I should lie. If I said the wrong name, and he didn’t know him, would he think I was lying and throw me out?
Mr. Coaltar’s smile broadened. “Is it too personal a question, sweetie?” His tone suggested maybe he knew I lied and I didn’t have a boyfriend and he was hoping that was true.
Run away. Run away. Run away!
“No, I mean, it’s not that,” I said. I inched my body around, angling as if I had to go. “I should probably find him.”
He released my wrist but stepped around to block me as I tried to escape. “Of course, if you did say his name, I probably won’t remember. I hate to say it, but I’m hardly ever at home. Half the people here I can’t remember their first name sometimes. I’m over in Europe way too long these days.”
I glanced around, looking to see who he might have been talking to before now. The others had completely vanished. We were on the outer edge of the partygoers. How was I supposed to get away?
Something struck me about what he’d said. It wasn’t what he was telling me, it was how he was saying it. There was a way he held himself, the deep tan that seemed to drop down below the collar of his shirt. “Did you say you go to Europe a lot? Is that for business?” I asked, trying to sound casual, but giving a
question that I expected him to answer no to. This playboy? Would he laugh at the suggestion of work?
He tilted his head in a way that suggested he was surprised at the question. “I go when I can. The most recent trip lasted maybe a month, but felt like a lifetime. I don’t like to think of it as just for business. Most of my research requires my being in different locations. If I have the choice, I try to at least go to pleasant places.”
I squinted at him. Did the guys even talk to him? Maybe I could get out the information they really wanted. That would show them I could do more than steal a wallet. Not that I should need to impress them, but it was an amusing thought. I wanted to grin but smothered that instinct. “What sort of research?” I asked, pushing him to talk a little more.
He paused and his eyes narrowed, suspiciously dancing back and forth with mine again, searching for something. “Oh, you can’t fool me. You don’t want to know about that. Girls like you don’t really want to talk about science. You just want to know how big my yacht is."
I swallowed back the urge to huff indignantly. “I like science.”
He sliced his hand through the air. “Bless your heart for entertaining the idea,” he said dismissively.
“I was recently doing a study on bioluminescence,” I lied. “About the chemical reaction within animals.”
“Oh?” He perked up, his shoulders straightening. His eyes brightened with honest interest.
“My current one is on the reaction of Sea Sparkle as a defensive response.” I faked a blush. “I mean, I know it’s probably silly and unimportant research.”
“If you really want to do some helpful studies, you should consider forensic research. I did something similar with chemiluminescence a couple years ago.”
“Really?” I asked, widening my eyes for extra emphasis. Movement distracted me from the corner of my eye. Brandon stood a distance behind Mr. Coaltar and signaled, asking me if I needed help. I cut off his distractive motioning with a slight wave of my hand. Not that I wanted to jabber on, but I had a feeling. I refocused on Mr. Coaltar. “That’s the chemical reaction, right? The stuff they put in glow sticks?”
