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I check my watch. 12:07. I expected this to take longer, and once again, I’ve impressed myself. The black and gray dumpster diver sniffs in my direction, then scurries back out the window.
“Tell your friends!” I whisper-yell after him, then wait for the scraggly fellow to waddle off a proper distance.
Exiting isn’t nearly as easy as I anticipated, not with the window to put back up. But after a few failures, I manage to lean the thing in place, then crack open the next window. My furry cohorts need an entrance.
“Ugh,” I let out as it opens normally and without fuss.
I shake off my scowl. My choice of entry was barely a road bump. I stroll away from the place without a care in the world. I don’t remove my dark layers until I’m down the block and in my car.
The rental smells like cleaning solution and pine. I breathe it in and start the inconspicuous gray Prius. For now, I think it’s safe to say mission accomplished.
I have no choice but to pass the Victorian as I leave. I study the blue two-story with white trim and smile. Good, all the windows are still attached. If I have any luck left, my raccoon friend will return soon with an entourage.
* * *
I’ve been waiting at Brewer’s Bistro, sipping my latte like I meant to leave my headphones uncharged, for a few hours now. It’s usually what I do when meeting with an employer since I’d rather see how they get here than the other way around.
I’ve never known a client to show up any earlier than an hour. And that guy? I never worked with him again. I have standards, and they start and end with being in control.
“Howdy.”
I grit my teeth but keep my look even. Seems like Mr. Dillons has a light foot of his own. The middle-aged shifter pulls out the chair across from me and takes a seat.
“Top of the morn,” I reply, hoping I don’t have to remind him of proper thief-client etiquette. He’s suppose to send me my –
My phone vibrates in the side of my boot, telling me I’ve just received a deposit.
“Seventy –”
“Happy birthday.” I slide the goods across the table in a glossy gift bag, the word ‘congratulations!’ printed in pink and green across it. I didn’t get to be the Cyber Thief by being sloppy. Unless it’s part of the plan, of course.
“I’d love to get your thoughts on working for me full time.”
Ugh. This fucking guy. Didn’t we already do this?
“Enjoy the cucumber lotion.” I meet his gaze as I get up, taking my time to button my jacket.
“But –”
“Don’t tell all your friends.” I don’t look back, already onto my next job. And this one is a real biggie. Maybe my biggest yet. Jarn Enterprise.
CHAPTER 2
Tarek
“That fucking Fuck Face.” I lean against my factory’s second-story railing and scowl at the scene below.
Chunks and pieces of cardboard, packing peanuts, and bubble wrap litter the concrete. Whoever knocked out my guards, snuck inside, and swiped half my stock is about to be in a world of pain. And same goes for the traitorous underling I’m going to have to smoke out.
“What the hell happened here?“ a gravelly voice from behind me says.
I turn away from the mess of tattered cardboard and bubble wrap strewn across the factory floor. Another day, another warehouse broken into, I want to say to Merle, my head of security and favorite long-time employee. It doesn’t strike me as coincidental that the week he’s been off is when I get robbed. I should consider myself lucky that Merle vacations on his lazy boy rather than halfway across the world.
“Fuck Face Craig,” I spit, but only because Merle is a trustworthy guy.
Not like the steaming piece of hot trash I know must be in on my rival's plan to ruin me.
“Oh, no, not that asshole.” Merle has always been good at letting me vent without feeling ‘attacked.’
