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“How d’ya know it’s broken?” he says, squinting up at it.
“No light. I pay attention.”
“Time to pay some more.” He nods over my shoulder. A couple have entered the street and are walking in our direction.
“Keep cool,” I mutter. “You know what to do.”
“I’m always fucking cool. You’re the hot-headed mofo.”
“Did you hear what I—?”
“Yes. And you’re still a mofo.”
I open my mouth to give him shit, but he’s already standing by the side of the ATM with his phone angled at the keypad, camera rolling. Eyebrows lifted at me, as ifI’mthe pussy for not giving this gig my full attention.
Gritting my teeth, I position myself a couple of metres away, resting one elbow on top of a red post box as I pretend to scroll through my phone. It’s my job to stand behind the customer and distract them. With the new ‘Lebanese Loop’ device in the card slot, we’ll be able to record their details and double our money later.
I steal a glance as the couple approach. They look like father and daughter, but there’s a strange dynamic about them that keeps me staring longer than I should.
The girl is young, around the same age as Aiden. Her slender body is swamped in a black coat, two sizes too big, and her hands are buried deep in the pockets. I can’t see her face because her head is hung low and disguised by a messy dark fringe, but there’s a line of purple bruises on her neck that give me all the show and tell I need.
Finger marks.
My fists clench.
The man walking beside her is a tall motherfucker in a good suit, with a bad amount of arrogance stinking up his ugly face. He smirks at me as they draw level, like he knows what we’re up to, but he can’t be bothered to demean himself and kick our skinny arses for attempting it.
I shoot Aiden a warning look.This doesn’t feel right.Moments later, I’m breathing out in relief as they bypass the ATM and head towards the old library instead.
They’re nearly at the front door when a gust of wind comes racing down the street, tugging at the girl’s coat to reveal a thin white summer dress underneath.
A memory flutters at the back of my mind. Something precious and pure, dancing in amongst the shadows.
Something dove-like.
Frowning, I watch them climb the concrete steps and disappear inside, the man practically shoving her through the doorway and smirking again as she stumbles.
Bastard.
“What the hell was all that about?” says Aiden, coming over to join me.
“Luck,” I mutter.
Was that her?
Was that O’Sullivan’s daughter?
“Did you see that chick’s neck?” He sounds as pissed about the bruises as I am.
“Wait here,” I order suddenly, launching myself after them.
“Wait—what?”
“I mean it, Aiden,” I snarl over my shoulder as I break into a run. “Stay the fuck out of that building, whatever happens.”
* * *
It’s beenyears since I last stepped inside a library.
