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“Grab what you need.”
“For?”
Before disappearing into the hall, she says quietly, “A job.”
What the fuck? A job?WithLex?
Kit in hand, I jog out after her. Outside, we part ways as I head for my car.
“We’re taking this,” she says, pointing at a maroon Mustang crossover.
“Is it yours?” I’ve only seen her Range Rover.
On God, she gives me a lip snarl as she says, “It’s red.”
We have that in common. I like my cars and clothes black, too.
“Where are the plates?” I ask as we approach, the taillights flashing from the doors being unlocked.
“Inside.”
“If a cop sees it without plates—”
Lex taps the back window on her way to the driver’s side. Taped on the inside is a paper that looks like what dealerships send new owners home with until the real license plates arrive.Smart.
Getting in, I immediately notice a booster seat in the backseat and freeze.
“You stole some soccer mom’s car, with the fucking child seat still in it?”
“That’s presumptuous,” she mutters while starting it up.
“This car isn’t stolen?”
“It is, but how do you know the kid plays soccer?”
Without waiting for a response, she proceeds to back out.
“Lex.”
Eyes on the road, she ignores me.
“Lex?”
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she says, “I’m not the sweet one here.”
I bark out a harsh laugh. No shit.
The ride is smooth and quiet until eventually Lex pulls off into a field. Fifteen minutes of off-roading later, a huge warehouse comes into view. Lex parks a good distance away, leaving only the top of the roof visible.
The Mustang goes dark and we sit in silence for a full minute.
Lex is the first to break it, saying, “Case it.”
I put on my gloves and grasp the handle.
“Are you gonna wait?”
“I’ve waited this long.”
