A New Day (StrikeForce #1) (9 page)

Her sisters, her nieces… there was a whole family empire built on fencing stolen goods and sharing the profits. None of them would be happy with the petty thief who ended up blowing the whole thing wide open.

I couldn’t fuck up again. Which meant no jobs, no matter how bitchy Luther got about it.

I’d get by, but it would be tight. With what I had stuffed in my dresser, I would be able to pay Mama’s crazy medical bills, but I wouldn’t be able to help anyone else. And the holidays were coming up and that was always one of those times when people who were down felt even more down, when a little help made a world of difference.

I couldn’t do it all. Mama came first. I’d help whoever I could. It would just have to be okay, while I laid low and tried to figure out what to do next.

The problem was that I couldn’t stop going back to the fact that there were two people now who knew my name, and that the public knew about my powers. It all added up to a little too much stress, too many chances for my identity to be blown wide open. I tried to tell myself that that was my main concern.

But I was fooling myself, and I knew it. I could try to act all sensible, but I knew. Along with the fear of being found out, the idea of giving up the rush of the job, of not doing my Robin Hood thing, left me feeling empty inside. I knew better.

I paced, and let the argument play out in my head. I needed a sure thing. I needed to keep working. I needed to get ahead, in case the worst happened.

More than anything, I needed to make sure that, like Luther, I kept a tight rein on those who knew too much about me. Why not kill two birds with one stone?

Chapter Six

I landed in the back yard, not far from the pool I’d tried to throw myself into the night I’d tried to rob Damian’s house. I didn’t bother trying to be sneaky. I knew he had surveillance cameras around. He’d likely gotten some kind of alert the second I’d shown up on the property. I walked, taking halting steps to the back door, and before I could even knock, I could see him walking through the kitchen, toward me. I straightened, shoved my hands back in my pockets. I was wearing my face scarf and my hooded sweatshirt again, but I knew he recognized me.

He opened the door and silently gestured for me to come in. I ducked past him into the warmth of the kitchen and tried to remind myself that this had been my decision. Kind of.

The door closing behind me, that click of the lock falling into place, seemed much too loud, and my stomach twisted. This was a mistake. Everything in me screamed that this was a stupid idea, that this guy, this weird guy who stockpiled pillows and bed sheets, would end up being my downfall.

For his part, he stood there, leaning against the enormous island in his kitchen, watching me. He wore jeans, a dark blue v-neck sweater. A watch glinted on his wrist, and for some reason, that made me feel better. Sensible, responsible people wear watches, right?

I never claimed to be sane.

“Um,” I began. He went to the back door and closed the blinds, and I started unwrapping my scarf. I shrugged out of my jacket.

“It’s nice to see you again,” he said, and something in his tone, the warmth there, the sense that he really actually meant it, just made me feel more uncomfortable.

“That thing we talked about last time you saw me?”

He nodded.

“Is that still on the table?”

“You know it is.”

“I didn’t, actually. I thought maybe you’d change your mind.” I crossed my arms over my chest, which made me feel a little more calm while concealing my trembling hands.

“What, because of that video of you?”

I nodded again.

He grinned, a slow smile that revealed rows of perfect, straight teeth. “That was supposed to scare me off?”

“The heat is on,” I said. “Luther is probably so pissed at me right now.”

He crossed his arms, and now that smile was at full force. “You realize we don’t need to make Luther happy anymore, right?”

“Of course we do. Who else is going to sell our stuff?”

“Come on, Jolene. You think we’re gonna keep robbing houses and trying to fence stolen goods?”

I studied him. “What are you talking about? What else would we do?”

He leaned toward me, eyes locked onto mine. “We go straight for the money. Banks, baby. Armored cars. No fences. We don’t need anybody but you and me.”

“Luther…”

“We’ll still give Luther her tribute,” he said, waving his hand as if it was of no consequence. “Neither of us would be shit without her. I know that better than anyone. She deserves it. Plus we’ll need someone who knows how to make sure none of it is traced back to us, and she knows how to handle all that shit. We’re about to get very, very rich, Jolene. Your strength, my ability to get into places where people don’t want me. Built-in getaway. We’re unstoppable.”

“If we decide to go through with it,” I said quietly, eyes glued to his.

He smiled again. “We both know you wouldn’t be here unless your mind was already made up.”

“And StrikeForce?”

He laughed. “They’re scared of you. Everyone is. The best thing you ever did was knock down that motel. Put the fear of god in everyone who saw it. That’s where we want them. Afraid. Knowing damn well that they’re out-powered.”

“Are they?”

“The strongest one they have is Alpha. Pretty sure you could take him, if it came to that.”

“It doesn’t bother you, that I’m the muscle here?”

He shook his head. “I’m very equal opportunity that way. And I’m not without my own strengths.” He met my eyes again. “So. Partners?” He held out his hand.

I stared at it for a few long moments.

And then I put my hand in his, hoping I hadn’t just sealed my own doom.

“Good. Come on in and sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

“It’s safe to talk here?” I asked, looking around.

He nodded. “I sweep it every couple of days. I’m a little paranoid about it,” he added with a shrug.

“Paranoid is good,” I said, and he grinned at me.

“I knew you’d get me,” he said. I followed him up the stairs and to the opposite side of the second floor from the rooms I’d tried to rob. He walked into a wood-paneled library, and I was met with the sight of dark, shining wood shelves, books lining every wall, and I think, maybe, that was the moment I fell a little in love. Not with him, of course, but definitely with his library.

“Nice,” I said, looking around. He shrugged. “Where did you get all this?”

“Jobs. It’s one of my things. You ever look in these people’s libraries? First editions, signed books. Antique books. It pisses ‘em off when you take shit like that. Even more so than jewelry, sometimes.”

I nodded. I knew it would piss me off. You can take someone’s wedding ring. Diamonds can be replaced. But you do not mess with someone’s books. He was, maybe, a little more evil than I was.

“Plus, I had to fill the shelves,” he added.

“Yes, I noticed you have a thing about being well-stocked.”

“Long story,” he said.

“I don’t doubt it. Seems a little obsessive, though.”

He nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Well, it started as one thing, and then it ballooned to all the things, because I could afford it.” He met my eyes. “It’s not that weird.”

“If you say so,” I answered.

I turned and walked along one wall, looking at the spines of the books without really seeing them. “I want my mother kept out of this. At all costs. No matter what happens between us, no matter whether something happens to me or not. She’s not involved.”

He nodded. “I never would have involved her. I already told you that.”

“I find it hard to believe.”

“What? That I’d know the one thing in this world that really means something to you, and I wouldn’t use it?” He studied me. “That’s not me.”

I glanced away. “That, and we don’t hurt anybody. I’ve gotten this far without hurting anyone, without even coming close to killing anyone. I’m not going to start now.”

He didn’t respond, and turned toward him.

“Right?” I pressed.

“If someone comes after me, guns blazing or something, I’m going to use what I have, and I’m not going to feel bad about it.”

I crossed my arms. “You don’t need to fight back. You have your built-in getaway car.” I paused. “Was that Dearborn thing at the hotel you?” I’d seen a news report the day before about a robbery at one of the nicer hotels in Dearborn. Someone had broken into the main safe, the one the concierge kept for high-profile guests to keep their belongings safe. The burglar had been caught in the act, and, somehow or another, all of the lights in the building shattered, and then about a dozen small electrical fires sparked. The burglar had gotten out and away, thanks to the chaos.

He didn’t answer for a moment, and then he sighed. “It doesn’t happen very often,” he said.

“Starting now, it doesn’t happen at all.”

He crossed his arms, mirroring my posture.

“I’m not kidding. Hurting anyone, for any reason, is off the table. They’re defending their homes or whatever against us. We have powers and they don’t. We’re not going to hurt people. It’s one thing to steal from them. Things can be replaced. I won’t hurt anyone.”

He took a breath, then shook his head. “So, what? Is that an ultimatum?”

“Yeah.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. But you also understand that I use my powers to make a point? To get them to do what I want?”

“And I’m totally fine with that. Threaten them with it all you want, but don’t freaking hurt anyone.”

“Fine. Deal. Stay away from your mother and don’t hurt anyone. Anything else?”

“We avoid each other in public. We meet up here, and we work. Other than that, you don’t know me, and no one has any idea that we even know the other exists.”

He nodded. “People start seeing us together without masks, they might somehow put two and two together. Heights, builds.”

“Exactly.”

“All right. So let’s get started. I’ve been doing recon on a few places for a while now, and I have some possible targets we could hit pretty quickly.”

I sat down at the long wooden table in the center of the room, and he sat across from me, and we spent the next few hours planning how we’d pull off our first job together. Along with the rush of adrenaline that came from knowing I’d be making another hit was the heavy feeling in my stomach, the certainty that this had been a really, really stupid idea.

As long as Mama’s bills got paid and I was able to help a few people out, it would all be okay. I’d get used to it, and I’d make sure he didn’t hurt anybody.

I was doing a public service, really.

I am so good at lying, sometimes I even manage to lie to myself.

Chapter Seven

Three weeks later…

“This should be an easy one tonight,” Damian said in greeting when I walked into the library. Three weeks working together. Three jobs. We’d hit two banks and one armored car, and in three weeks’ time, I’d had more money pass through my hands than I’d ever imagined. It was almost too easy.

“They’re all easy ones,” I said as I settled onto one of the mahogany chairs that ringed the large round table.

“I promised you they would be,” he said with a small smile. I looked away. In some ways, working with Damian was a dream. Plenty of money, no close calls. That was nice. Having someone to share the victory after the fact was nice, too.

And he was generous. He’d given me a key to the house so I could let myself in easily whenever I wanted. Offered me a room so I could stay on those nights when the job required late hours or an extra bit of work on my part. I’d declined that offer.

He walked across the room and sat in the chair beside mine. “I promised I’d make sure you never had to worry about money again,” he said, and a chill went up my spine. My mind shot back to one of the few memories I have of my father. I was four. He was drunk, breaking vases, candle holders, picture frames in our living room, just out of stupid drunken spite, shouting at my mother over and over again about how good she had it, that she didn’t appreciate any of it… that he was a good provider and she didn’t know how lucky she was.

That she never had to worry about money.