Page 13 of Preying Heart
I’ll just say I’m selling something. Or passing out religious tracts.
I ring the bell repeatedly, knock on the door, and press my ear to listen for movement.
Nothing.
I turn toward the van and shrug, indicating I have no idea whether someone is hiding in the back and not answering or that the house is truly unoccupied.
Heath pulls up and leaves the van on idle. He unzips a toiletries kit and pulls out a ring of metal prongs of all shapes and angles.
Lock picks.
I don’t bother asking him if he’s breaking the law because clearly he is.
The door opens, and we step into the dingy house. It smells stale like mildew, and the linoleum floors are uneven and peeling.
Heath heads for the refrigerator and checks the dates on the milk.
“Expired in July. Looks like they’ve been on vacation. Let’s check the closets.”
“We can’t just steal their stuff.”
He gives me the look. “Go find something to wear. Use the bathroom. Whatever, but I need you ready to roll in five minutes.”
I don’t like taking orders from him, but at the moment, it’s my best option. Once I figure out what Heath’s angle is, I’ll be able to counter his moves and hatch my plan to get back to Seattle without betraying Slade.
We find clothes in the master bedroom. Ill-fitting and old-fashioned, but wearable.
On the way out, Heath grabs the car keys from a hook, fills Slade’s duffel bag with cereal, snacks, and chips, and then, surprising me, he peels off ten one-hundred-dollar bills and leaves the money under a glass ashtray.
Is he a good guy after all or is he trying to impress on me that he’s good?
Whichever it is, I’m fast coming to the realization that I’m worth something to him—some amount of money. My brother has no money, so there are only a few options—none good. I’ve been sold to a human trafficker or there’s a bounty on my head.
But who, other than Gavin, would want to capture me?
Heath
Remi notices the money I leave, but I don’t comment on it. They’ll get their car back when I ditch it for another set of wheels. I’ll leave them enough to get an alarm system installed. Sometimes I have to hurt people and bend the law, but it’s only right to make up for it.
“Ready?” I take her by the arm. “Let’s hope the car battery isn’t dead.”
As it turns out, the battery is dead, but I’m able to swap the one from the van into the clunker and siphon out the remaining gasoline.
“I know what you are,” Remi says once we’re on the road again. “A petty thief, a con man, and a gambler.”
“Pretty much covers the bases.”
“Are you going to drop me off at a bus station?” she asks.
“You think you’ll be safe going back to this Gavin person?”
“Sure. He might be mad at me, but he isn’t going to hurt me.”
“Then why did he send those two goons? What do you have that he wants?”
She flips her hair over her shoulder and gets into the Oldsmobile.
Just when I think she’s not answering, she says, “I have something he doesn’t want. His baby.”
