“And Duncan?”
The hole had hands, as it turned out, and reached up and squeezed my heart. I bit down on my bottom lip.
“I probably lost the best thing that’s ever come my way,” I said, my words clipped as I shoved back the emotion. “I’m a fool.”
She shook her head. “Okay. So what are we gonna do?” Missy said, standing up with hands on her hips.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Ian has some ideas but—”
“Talking about me behind my back?” said Ian, morphing in the doorway. Damn-shit-hell.
“How long have you been eavesdropping?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
I breathed in deep, forcing myself to meet his hard gaze. “Something I can help you with?”
“Come to talk about those
ideas,”
he said, his tone going sour.
I held my chin up. “Do you have a plan that doesn’t involve Duncan?”
Ian’s lip twitched. “You’re still calling him that?”
“He changed it legally.”
“And what
did
Mr. Spoon have to say last night?” Ian said. “Since you went over there without me.”
“You wanted to case the place, Ian,” I said. “I wanted to talk to him.”
Ian crossed his arms, looking as if his muscles might jump out of his skin at any moment. “And?”
“And he isn’t involved,” I said.
Ian lifted his hands. “Well, hallelujah then,” he said. “What the hell did you expect him to say?”
“I believe him.”
“Of course you do,” Ian said. “He’s rainbows and puppies where you’re concerned.”
I set my jaw, not up for another fight. I’d kind of had enough. “He changed his name two years ago to get away from his family. He walked away from it.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Ian said.
“Stop,” I said.
“Savi, you have to—”
“Just stop.”
Ian looked down at my bowl of keys, picking one up and rolling it between his fingers. “You used to trust me.”
I felt the jab, the burn to my stomach. “I still do. With myself. But I don’t think you can be objective when it comes to Duncan.”
He pushed out a laugh that was really just a rush of air.
“I’m
the one not being objective?”
“Honey, you know I hate agreeing with this one,” Missy said, thumbing toward Ian. “But he’s kind of right.”
Ian raised an eyebrow as if to say
well there you go
.
“I’m not being naïve here,” I said, to which they both looked away. “I’m just not writing him off that quickly. I don’t think—”
“That’s guilt talking,” Ian said, hitting a nerve I didn’t want to hit. “Savi, he lied to you.”
“So did you,” I said, raising my voice a little. “In quite a big way, in fact, in a not-so-different situation, so be careful throwing those stones.” The stricken look that flashed through his eyes stabbed me again. Fuck, I was tired of emotional fighting. “I forgave you. I have to give him that same chance.”
“So what’s the plan?” Missy said, pushing on.
Ian put down the key he was holding and took a deep breath, letting it go. “We break in to the vet clinic,” he said.
“Oh, for—” I began.
“Just hear me out,” he said, his face hard, his emotions gone.
I raised a palm to signify he was to continue.
“You said he does everything at work,” Ian said. “Okay then. Whatever there is will be there.”
“I said no.”
“If I’m right,” he said, “however he’s involved will be there. If you’re right, it will prove him innocent.”
I paused. “And then you’d let it go?”
“I won’t have to,” he said. “He is who he is, Savi. He’s Bobby’s nephew. It’s in the blood.”
“Really?” I said. “And what about your blood?”
The flash that went through his face was just short of hatred. And it took my breath away a little. It was a low blow, comparing him to his father, and I knew it, but I was tired of being on the defensive. Defending my feelings for a man who probably didn’t return them anymore. Defending a man I wasn’t entirely sure I believed, but had to give a chance.
“I guess the apple doesn’t fall far,” he said.
• • •
Sitting on my porch, waiting for Missy and Ian to meet up for a burglary, was a surreal experience. Actually, even just planning this out was bizarre. It felt like three lifetimes ago when this kind of thing was anywhere close to normal, and even then it was nothing this well lined out. Our big plans usually consisted of weighing the pros and cons for an hour beforehand over a contraband beer, based on information Ian had heard second- or thirdhand. More often, it was something much more spontaneous. Because we were young and stupid and bored.
I checked my phone for probably the millionth time that day, just in case there would be a missed call. Or text. Or something. There wasn’t. And let’s face it, there wasn’t going to be.
Headlights lit up my driveway as Missy’s car pulled in. We were taking her vehicle since it was unknown and nondescript. As she got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk, however, my jaw dropped. There was nothing nondescript about Missy in black cargo pants, black high-top shoes, a black long-sleeved T-shirt with a black vest over it—a vest with pockets, holding three flash drives on a clip, a mini-flashlight, and lip balm. Her hair was slicked back in a tight ponytail as usual, but—oh, Lord, she’d added a black bandana.
“Wow,” I said.
“Always wanted to go all Ninja,” she said with a grin, walking up the steps. “This isn’t quite that,” she said, “but functional.”
“I have no doubt.” I wasn’t sure if she fit better as a misguided black-ops soldier or a Hells Angel’s Old Lady.
“You got something in every one of those pockets, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
I looked down at myself, feeling much less like a Ninja and more like I was pitching for a low-budget softball team. My black leggings and T-shirt and ball cap over my ponytail didn’t really scream badass. I’d never really given much thought to why I always owned black sneakers instead of white ones, but I guess I’d been taught their usefulness at an early age.
The rumble of Ian’s Harley came up the street from two blocks away, sending fingers of dread crawling up my back.
“Here we go,” I said.
“You okay with this?” Missy asked, sitting next to me.
“No,” I said. “I feel like I’m betraying him again.”
“You might be proving him innocent,” she said.
“If I really believed in him,” I said, “I wouldn’t have to prove anything.”
Missy sighed and Ian’s headlight bounced up the driveway.
“Well, look at it this way,” she said. “If we find anything, maybe all of this stops once and for all. Life can go back to normal.”
Normal. “That’s the only reason I’m doing this.”
I took a deep breath and watched as Ian walked up the sidewalk. Ian in all black was always eye candy. Of that there was no doubt. But he had on black jeans and a tight black T-shirt that made me look down before I started to drool. He made the steps slowly, so that when he finally landed on my porch I had to look his way. Meet his eyes. It was dark, but I felt the smolder anyway. Or the glare. It was hard to tell.
The last time we’d been on my porch it had been very different.
“Ready?” he said.
“I am,” Missy said, drawing his attention, which he then cleared his throat to cover.
“You—went shopping, didn’t you?” he said.
“Well, of course,” she said. “I don’t normally wear black, it’s not in my color chart.”
He nodded. “Didn’t feel like stretching out there for the face paint?”
She swatted at him. “Hush,” she said. “I’m just doing what you said to do. You said wear black.”
“I guess,” he said as I stood up. He turned to me. “You okay?”
“Does it matter?” I said. “Let’s just get it over with.”
We piled into Missy’s car, which happened to be dark blue and acceptable or I’m afraid she might have painted it too. We were quiet on the short drive to the vet clinic, and I turned to look at Ian in the backseat, unable to shake the buzz that was coming over me.
The rush, the adrenaline—it used to all be part of the fun. Getting away with something. I felt it again, breathing deeply to control my heart rate, but the fun wasn’t there.
Because what you’re doing to Duncan isn’t right.
I shook the thought away and tried to get in the moment.
“Well, this is new,” I said. “Third person.”
“No shit,” Ian said. “It’s like
Ocean’s Eleven
, senior edition.”
“Hey!” Missy said. “You can get out and walk, you know.”
“No, not because of you, Missy,” Ian said. “Just—the approach. The method.”
“
Having
an approach or a method,” I said. “We’re old now.”
“So you’re saying you’re done after this?” Missy said, winking at me. “Or you’re starting up an old thieves club?”
I laughed. “I’ve been done, Missy. This stuff is for the young and quick and stupid—with nothing to lose.”
“Well, at least our liquor is safe,” Missy said. “And our Little Debbie snacks.”
I frowned at her. “What?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “You don’t think I knew about your little petty thievery? When everyone’s bourbon would disappear one week—except mine. And then snack food, cigarettes, tools, all except mine. I don’t think I was ever broken into. I like to think it was because we were friends and not because my stuff sucked.”
I opened my mouth and it stuck there. Another person I’d spoiled my innocence with. Or at least what I thought she thought was innocence.
“I could never have broken into your house, Missy,” I said.
She patted my hand. “See, it pays to have friends in unlikely places.”
I scoffed. “Yeah.”
“We’re here,” Missy said.
“Drive around the block,” Ian said.
Missy kept going and circled the block, parking around the corner and down the street, between two trees and a house with no lights on. They wouldn’t question why a car was parked out front.
“Okay, Missy, you have your flash drives?”
She grabbed them where they dangled off her vest. “Yep.”
“Hand them over,” he said.
“What?” Missy said. “That’s my job.”
“You dig around,” he said. “I’ll look on the computer. I know what to look for.”
“And I know how to get around a history and a password-protected hard drive,” she said. “That’s why you brought me, remember?”
“That is why you brought her, Ian,” I said. “Let her do what she’s better at so y’all can get out of there.”
Ian blew out a breath. “Fine, save all you can and give me the drives.”
“I brought Latex gloves,” Missy said, opening her glove box. “You allergic?”
I couldn’t help smiling. “Fancy.”
He chuckled. “We used to just wear long sleeves and pull the sleeves over our hands.”
They gloved up and then there was silence.
“Let’s do this,” he said.
We got out and clicked our doors closed quietly, and Missy shoved her keys in one of her many pockets as we started walking.
“I feel like I’m in a movie,” Missy whispered, but I barely heard her.
Something was coming over me, something old and buried and hidden away under layers of motherhood and working and dealing with day-to-day life. That buzz from the car, a tingle, a rush rolling through me that I’d completely forgotten about. I was zoning out and tunnel-visioning. But it was different. It was sad and wrong and, like—like revisiting your glory days. Like those people in high school who still talk about that touchdown, or their cheerleading days. Like the bad kids who grow up to still brag about what they got away with. The buzz didn’t feel good anymore, it felt dangerous. It felt silly and lame and wrong. And it felt like I had no business out there helping them do this. Except, if they could prove that Duncan wasn’t involved, that was something.
We rounded the corner and stayed to the shadows, and as we approached the building my heart was racing. I looked at Ian’s profile and saw it there too. He was into the thrill of the moment. As if he felt my eyes on him, he turned. And the look on his face was priceless.
“One more thing,” he said. “If something goes wrong, alarms go off, somebody shows up, whatever—” Ian looked me dead in the eyes. “You run. You two get to the car and haul ass.”
“And you?”
“I’ll go a different direction,” he said. “Don’t look for me.”
I knew what that meant. He would draw the attention away from me and take the fall if need be. He touched my cheek with the backs of his Latexed fingers.
“Like riding a bike,” he whispered.