“It wasn’t me!” My voice echoes in the otherwise empty parking garage.
The stranger watches me like a predator. “It wasn’t you?”
Low voice, almost melodic. It sends a shiver down into my toes.
“It was… it was teens.”
“Teens?”
“A whole pack of unruly teens.”
His eyes flick to the paint can at my feet. “Right. Teens.” He clearly doesn’t believe me, and I can’t blame him.
Unruly teens? Seriously Regan?!I’m freaking out, my heart racing, every muscle in my body screaming at me to run, run away as fast as possible, get out of here before I get in trouble. I’ve tried so hard to avoid breaking the rules and now here I am, living through my nightmare scenario.
The stranger doesn’t seem angry though. He walks toward me and I back away, my heel sending the can clattering a few feet to the side. His eyes rake over my body, his lips tugging down, and I’m struck by the shape of his mouth, the sharp lines of his jaw, the slight stubble on his strong cheeks. His hair’s a rusty copper color, closer to brown than red, like old blood. He’s in dark jeans, a gray long sleeve shirt, and a dark blue backpack. He’s wearing black leather gloves, which I find extremely unnerving for some reason.
And he’s big. Athletic and muscular. The sort of man who keeps himself in shape. I catch a hint of something spicy as he moves toward the car, looking more thoughtful than angry, and I start to wonder who the heck just caught me.
He’s not a cop, that’s for sure. Maybe just someone else who keeps their car here? If that’s the case, I can still get away. My mask is still covering my face. He has no idea who I am.
But I’m frozen solid.
“Not half bad,” he says, sounding amused as he runs his gloved fingers over the dry paint. “Shame though. This car is a real beauty. At least, it was.” He turns back to me and gestures to his face. “You don’t need that.”
“I don’t… I mean, what?—“
He mimes pulling the mask off. “The cameras aren’t working.”
“How do you know?”
“I disabled them an hour ago.”
That makes me take a step back. He looks to the car again, humming to himself as he casually strolls around it, chuckling at some of the colorful language I scrawled on the hood. When he reaches the far side, he calmly and meticulously takes what looks like a small steel hammer and smashes the driver’s side window.
The car freaks out. The alarm blares, shockingly loud in the enclosed space. I gape in utter astonishment, my knees shaking, as the stranger unlocks the car, climbs in, and does something to the wheel block. I catch motion and suddenly the alarm goes silent like it was never screaming at all.
This is fucking crazy.
That guy’s stealing Kieren’s car. I have to… call the police! Report this to someone! I can’t let him pull a grand theft auto right in front of me without intervening. That would make me complicit.
But also… what the heck am I going to do? Explain to the cops that yes, I vandalized the vehicle, but it’s fine, this guy is doing something worse!
Shit, crap, dang it, what is happening right now?
“Hey, you,” I say, forcing my stuck legs to start moving. I hiss at him in a sharp whisper. “Hey, what are you doing?!”
“Looking around.” He’s bent over, rifling through the center console. He comes out with a pair of chunky black sunglasses and tosses them over his shoulder.
“Hey! Asshole, those are mine!” I snatch them off the ground and pause, noting my mistake.Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.But if he noticed, he doesn’t seem to care.
I watch in horror as he tosses through the car. Glove compartment, cupholders, even looks under the seats with a little pen light. He seems disappointed when it’s done and doesn’t bother taking anything.
“Hey, love, do me a favor.” He gestures at the backpack on the ground beside him as he squints in concentration. He’s messing with the wires under the wheel again. “There’s a big can inside there. Could you grab it?”
“What? Are you crazy? I’m not going to help you rob this car.”
“Oh, I’m not stealing anything, don’t worry.” He lets out a grunt of satisfaction as the engine turns over and the vehicle comes to life.
