Page 2 of Lucky Boys
“I’m sure. None of their alarms have been tripped. Just stick to the plan.”
I sucked in my lower lip and kept walking, on high alert. My instincts were usually spot on—something was wrong. Even if I wasn’t being followed, I had a feeling this job wasn’t as cut and dry as it should be.
It was supposed to be corporate espionage shit. I’d sneak in, steal whatever incriminating evidence one rich asshole had on himself, and give it to another. Asshole 1 would go down for embezzlement and whatever else and asshole 2 would take his company. It sucked, but Asshole 2 paid well, and Diego and I needed the money.
Typically, I brought whatever I stole to one of the secure drop off points I had through the city. I didn’t have direct contact with anyone. Too risky. This guy, though, had been insistent that I bring it to him directly and immediately after I got it. That should’ve been enough red flags to turn it down, but all those zeroes in the number he’d offered me had been fucking tempting. Plus, Marshall Fieldburg was a billionaire and the face of several multimillion-dollar, Fortune 500 companies. If he wanted me to meet him in his office in the middle of Wall Street district, it seemed safe enough.
But as I finally got to where my bike had been stashed, I wondered if all those zeroes would be worth it.
Holy fuck. Oh god. Yeah, the money wasn’t fucking worth it. Not that I was gonna get paid now. Oh my god.
I swallowed down the bile building in my throat as I stood rooted to the spot. I couldn’t fucking vomit now. The last thing I needed was my DNA anywhere in this place.
“Brooks! Brooks! Fucking talk to me. I’m not in the security cameras yet and I think you blocked your body cam again. What happened? Are you okay?”
I swallowed. “Um . . . I-I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Talk to me.”
“He’s dead.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry. I must’ve heard you wrong. I thought you just said he’s dead.”
“I-I did. He’s dead, Diego. Fuck, it’s so fucking bad.”
“Hang on. You can’t panic yet, Brooks. You hear me? You gotta keep it together.”
It was getting hard to breathe, and the urge to take off my mask was getting stronger by the second, but I managed to resist it. I regretted switching toThe Purgemask, though. Diego thought it was cheesy, and it was too cumbersome for jobs, but when I was forced to meet clients face-to-face, I usually wore it rather than a normal balaclava. It was more intimidating.
Now, though, it felt heavy and enclosing and . . . “D, I can’t fucking breathe.”
“Okay, Jesus. Just—you’re sure it’s Marshall.”
“Uh, his head is half gone, but yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure.”
“Okay…thanks for the visuals. Alright, Brooks, I need you to breathe and listen to me, understand?”
I sucked in a breath, my lungs burning from the effort. “Y-yeah.”
“Good. You’re doing good. Did anyone see you come in?”
I really wished he could see me roll my eyes. “No.” I didn’t have it in me to reply with a snarky comment. I’d save it for later.
“Alright. I’m finally in their fucking system. Brooks, you need to get the fuck out of there. Wear your gloves and try to touch as little as possible. I’m scrubbing the cameras now so there’s no trace of you.”
“D, his face is half gone.” It was smeared in bloody, gross chunks all over the window behind his desk.
“I know, Brooks. I know. I need you to get out of there now, okay? Don’t fall apart yet. Hang on a little bit longer. For me?”
I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears from coming. I could barely see in this mask as it was. I didn’t need to make it worse.
“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”
“Yeah, you are, Brooks, so fucking good. Now get outta there.”
It was a little odd hearing that kind of praise from my brother, even though we were both adopted and not blood brothers, but the sneaky shit knew how to play dirty and get me calm enough to function. I turned and booked it out of the office and away from Marshall Fieldburg’s mangled corpse for good, though I’d probably be seeing it every time I closed my eyes for a long time.
