Page 58 of Nest of Thieves
Nodding, I slowly join Vette inside the truck. It’s mostly women and girls inside, but there are a few boys too. The truck reeks of omega and bodily fluids. I clench my jaw. How many more are in the other truck?
“You’re okay now,” Vette says, translating his English to Spanish and saying it again. “Estás bien ahora.”
His words are meant to be soothing, but the three of us know this night will haunt them for the rest of their lives. You don’t forget massacres, and you don’t forget being taken to be sold off to the highest bidder. That shit stays with you. Mac knows how to talk to these people better than me and Vette—knows how to convey how much he understands what they’re going through—but he’s hurt and the blood would only freak these people out.
The light on the inside of the trailer casts a yellow glow across their dirty faces. They watch Vette with wary eyes. A few step back and huddle together, not yet realizing that we’re the good guys, at least in this situation.
“Are the bad men gone?” a small boy with blue eyes asks. A fat tear tracks down his cheek, but he tips his chin up, bravely facing us for the rest of the group. A child was the first to address us.
It doesn’t escape my notice how eerily similar he is to Mac.
I swallow and kneel down, making myself smaller. “They’re gone.”
A grin cracks across his face, and he races toward me, throwing his arms around my shoulder. “I knew the angels would save us.”
Angels?
Something inside my chest splinters. This boy is so wrong about that, but if he needs me to play his godly savior, I’ll do it to the best of my abilities. I’ll do it for Mac, who had to save himself time and time again. I’ll do it, hoping it’ll give the child something to hold on to.
I wonder how long it’ll be until he realizes there are no angels on Earth.
seventeen
JO
The damn keypad on the office door is the bane of my existence. I can’t break in, at least not quickly and cleanly. Quiet as a cat, remember? Leave no trace. I can’t saw around the doorknob. I could, but there’s no guarantee the information I need is even inside this stupid room, and if I did that, they’d never leave me alone again. I bang my fist on the office door twice before whirling around and scouring the library with a look. Books, books, and more books. Nothing useful as far as I can tell, but with nothing better to do, I may as well search through the shelves. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find one of those secret doors.
As soon as the garage door closed, I was up and out of bed. The comfortable shorts and old vintage T-shirt I’m wearing are pajamas, but I never really went to sleep. The guys were busy getting ready for a job, dealing with the shipment Pony told them about, and I was busy planning to infiltrate the office.
Running my hand over the spines of books, I randomly pull some out. High fantasy. True crime. Non-fiction—I’d rather die. A few choice young adult fantasies. A select few mafia romances. I pull one out with a silhouette of a man in a suit and red and gray splattered across the cover and read the blurb on the back.
“Don’t move,” an all but forgotten voice says. I’ve been listening to his distorted voice for years. Hearing his true one come from behind me—the barrel of a gun pressed in the middle of my spine—that’s what nightmares are made of.
“Pull the trigger, Jo.” Laurence’s breath ghosts over my cheek as he stands behind me, reaching around to clasp his hands over mine to stop them from shaking. “One shot and it’s over.”
I shake off the memory of my initiation and sigh. “Laurence.” I slide the book back in place, proud of how little my hands tremble now. He took my innocence all those years ago, but I won’t let him take any more of my soul. “I was wondering when you’d find me.”
Call it cocky confidence, but I’d sooner have a bullet in my head before begging and whimpering. Laurence respects strength. I am strong, but Laurence terrifies me. I can’t let him know that, though.
“Where’s the ring, Kitty?”
I hold my hands up to show I don’t have a weapon and turn around, staring down the barrel to meet steel-gray eyes. Laurence is a hard man. His square jaw and sharp brow give him a fierce sort of beauty, but looking at him now, I don’t see anything attractive. I see a promise. One I’d rather not think about.
“I’m trying to get it back.” I gesture around the room. “These assholes stole it from me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I lie. “Probably because they were sent to get it too.” I can’t tell him the truth. He didn’t know about my plan. He would never let me go. He’d always try to control me. I had hoped to go to California or Nevada to get away from him, far enough to go underground and reinvent myself. Atlantic City is too close to home. It was only a matter of time before he found me.
Laurence’s gaze hardens. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“Because I’ll get the ring back.” Doubtful, at this point, but it won’t stop me from trying.
“Get a little banged up?” He nods toward my stitches, tightening his grip on the gun.
“A little. I’ll get the ruby back, Laurence. I just need time.”
He hums, taking in the library. “You’ve made out well. Did they fuck you before they let you into their home?”
