Page 14 of Nest of Thieves
What is she going to do with it?
Why do I want to figure her out?
Clenching my jaw, I glance away from the computer screen and yawn. The night sky is turning light green as sunrise approaches. My stomach grumbles, and I groan, scrubbing my hand over my face.
We ordered pizza last night, but the box is empty save a few pieces of crust Mac left behind. I open a new tab, one of fifteen, and search for a local fast food place. If I’m quick, I can be back before Jo even wakes up.
Should I wake Vette up?
Nah, he’s fast asleep. It’ll be fine.
Placing my computer on the dash, I carefully climb out and pull my hood over my head. No one is out, but it’s best to keep a low profile. Fall mornings are my favorite. The crisp chill sinks into my bones, but my clipped pace gets my blood pumping. Soon enough, I’m not cold at all. I reach the chain coffee shop in a matter of minutes.
I pull off my hood and enter, nodding at the barista and her co-worker.
“Hey there, what can I getcha?” the bright-eyed brunette at the counter asks.
“Three triple shot lattes and three egg sandwiches.”
She taps on her screen. “All right. Did you want those coffees hot?”
“Yes.” Only weirdos drink iced coffee in the morning. That’s a fact.
“Your name?”
“Brian,” I say, giving her half a fake name. Everyone I know calls me Lark. I could use my real name. Philadelphia is far enough away from Atlantic City that I don’t worry about the cops connecting Riku Tanaka to Lark—a highly sought after criminal who works with Damien Chadsworth—but better safe than sorry.
“Twenty-three fifty-two.”
Taking out my wallet, I hand over forty dollars. “Here you go.” I wave off a receipt and change, letting her keep the rest as a tip.
“Okay, Brian. I’ll have that right out.” She beams at me and sets to work getting the prepackaged sandwiches ready.
Not the healthiest option, but it is what it is. Besides, the guys and I are used to much worse. Slinking to the condiment station across from the counter, I grab napkins, hot sauce, and stoppers. Lights flash over the window in front of me. I squint and then stiffen. A cop hops out of his vehicle and struts toward the door. Turning away, I keep my eyes on the barista and avoid looking at him.
The barista steams the milk wrong and the steam wand emits a god-awful screech. I want to ask them to redo the coffees, but I won’t make a scene. Not with the cop at the counter. My mood sours knowing I’ll have to drink scalded milk. The only redeeming thing about this trip will be the food.
“I have three lattes and sandwiches for Brian.” The barista sets a bag and drink tray on the counter.
“Thank you.” I flick my gaze to the cop, but he’s flirting with the counter girl. I snatch my order and hightail it out of the shop, glancing over my shoulder until I make it around the block.
Slowing my pace, I stare up at the rippling clouds over the picture worthy sunrise. Mornings are pretty, but they always make me a little sad. When the morning comes, that means the night is gone, and the night is when I thrive. I get my best hacking done at 3:00 AM.
The parking lot is still quiet when I return, but Vette is up and leaning against the front of the van.
“Breakfast?” he asks.
“Yeah. And scalded coffee,” I grumble.
“Really? Fuck.”
I sigh. “There was a cop, otherwise you know I would have asked for them to do it right.”
“Cochino.”Pig.
“You’re telling me.”
“How’s little mami?”
