Page 2 of Nest of Thieves
I pretend not to notice him checking me out.
“I’m good, Jackie. Are you up for a trip to the vault?”
“Of course. Let me grab my key and badge.”
About time you asked me.
Excitement trembles through me, but I keep a calm mask on. I take the badge from the computer and snatch my keys from the cash drawer.
“Good luck,” Eloise sing-songs under her breath as I walk toward the door that leads from the teller desk to the back office where the underwriter usually sits.
The vault is around the corner and down the hall.
I take another step and the air seems to shift, as if it senses the electric elation filling me. I take another. And another, gaze honing in on the doorknob as I inch closer to a pivotal moment in my career. One breath closer to who I’m truly meant to be. It’s time to stop falling on my knees to do the bidding of others and take control.
It’s time to strike out and claim my empire and find the pack that’s meant for me. Even if that means leaving my sister and baby niece behind. I love them, but I also love me. I need more than what Philadelphia has to offer. Step one of my grand plan is to have enough money to pay off the government stipend and build a new life in a different location. With graduation only two months away, I can’t afford to waste more time.
I adjust my shirt as I meet Nelson in the lobby, giving him what I hope comes across as a shy smile. “I hope I remember what to do.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Nelson winks and gestures for me to go first.
Swaying my hips more than necessary, I pray the kitten heels don’t get stuck in the worn carpet. They’re not four-inch fuck me heels, but I can’t exactly rob a bank in those. Pretending to button my top, I grab the cap-covered needle filled with horse tranquilizer from my bra and tuck it into my hand with the key and badge.
The vault has a giant, steel reinforced door with one combination lock and one key. The good old dual control requires two people to get inside the vault, hence the obnoxious outfit to get Nelson’s attention.
Bank robbing is much harder than it seems.
“So, I scan my badge first,” Nelson says, his breath tickling the back of my neck.
I fight off a cringe.
Creepy bastard.
Reaching around me, he swipes his badge over the reader mounted to the wall to log the event. There are electronic records for each time the vault is accessed.
His front brushes over my back, and he slowly retracts his arm, brushing it over the curve of my hip.
“Now me?” I ask with a breathy voice.
“Good,” he praises me. “You’re doing so good, Jackie.”
Coming from Nelson, it’s not hot. It’s fucking disgusting, but I’m trying to win an Oscar here.
I release a husky chuckle and touch my badge to the reader, looking over my shoulder and batting my eyelashes at Nelson.
His ears grow pink, and his eyes drop to my mouth.
“The key?” I ask, dashing my tongue across my lower lip.
He nods, almost too dumbstruck to speak.
For a creepy manager who preys on his staff, he sure doesn’t know how to talk to a woman.
Slipping the key in, I turn the lock. No alarms sound. No police come rushing to arrest me. It’s paranoia to think any of that would happen. My fake identity is solid. Nelson has no idea what’s about to happen. He has no idea who Joey Walsh is or that my natural hair color isn’t blonde like the stifling wig I’m wearing. He doesn’t know why I’m known as Kitty to the criminal world.
Quiet as a cat, isn’t that the saying?
The best way to do a job is undercover, without suspicion, and as silently as possible.
