Someone To Steal Read online

  “That’s great. I’m sorry,” she said, pushing her hair back and reaching for her sleeping bag.

  “Can I hold you?”

  “I wish you would. Was I awful?”

  “No. Even if you were awful, which you weren’t, you’d have a perfect right to be after what you went through.”

  “It wasn’t cancer, Cain. It wasn’t like losing my dad again, or when my mom left. It was a shitty week and nothing more,” she insisted, curling up in his arms and burying her face in his chest.

  “I have contacts in Germany. We could go there instead of Belize, despite the weather.”

  “Yuck. Beer and sausage? Plus it’s cold, and also, Nazis.”

  “The Nazis were last century, Riley. But I also have friends in Indonesia who could hide us.”

  “I don’t even KNOW what they eat there, but it can’t be good. Is there even medical care, or do they bleed you with leeches when you get a fever?”

  “So you basically hate everywhere but Atlanta.”

  “Atlanta’s actually too hot for my taste. London was nice. I liked the market and the thing you stole.”

  “London’s too high profile. Sorry.”

  “But the food was really good.”

  “I know you liked the food, but is there any—I suppose what I’m asking is, is there anyplace on this Earth you’d agree to stay with me?”

  “I wish there were. I’m not moving to Indonesia or Germany, that’s for damn sure. Even if it were London, or Paris or Venice—even if there wasn’t a hit out on both of us, I don’t think I could stay long term. I want you but not, I guess, on your terms.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I want you to help me out, though. I want to strike at the Ukrainian. I owe him for what he did. What’s the best way to get him? You said his stepdaughter helped you get me out. What can we do? Would she help?”

  “It was my mistake, Riley, that got you in this mess. Sasha is the head of security at that bank. I didn’t tell her I was pulling a job to get her to look the other way, because she wouldn’t have. Because the flash drive I wanted to steal belongs to her. It’s a list of the offshore accounts of Il Furrato. If the Ukrainian gets his hands on those, he’ll go on the offensive, and Il Furrato will have him assassinated.”

  “So why hasn’t she done it? If the creep was messing with her after her mom died, he totally deserves it.”

  “She’s smart, Riley. She doesn’t have the support yet to back her in a takeover.”

  “Wait, this girl wants to run the Russian Mafia?”

  “Yes. I knew about the drive because I did her a favor once. I was willing to sell her out to buy my freedom. It’s not a story that casts me in the best light, I’ll admit.”

  “No, not really, but I’m on your side here.”

  “I appreciate your allegiance. Still, she’s not going to strike at the Ukrainian openly. She’s biding her time. She helped me get you out because she doesn’t like his tactics, and she was willing to forgive my ethical lapse. I don’t think I can push her loyalty any further, considering my tactics.”

  “I see. So how exactly did I end up kidnapped by the Ukrainian when you were stealing from a bank and this girl?”

  “You don’t get the reach of the mob in the Russian Federation. When the pressure sensor inside the vault alerted Sasha, she had to notify the Ukrainian about the breach before the police. Not that the police are independent of the mob or have that much authority. The Ukrainian keeps a tight hold on crime in the cities.”

  “So he’s like an evil superhero…fighting crime and capturing bad guys.”

  “Not at all. But to answer your question, no, he doesn’t know what’s on the flash drive. Sasha had them put it back in the safe deposit box without telling the thugs it was hers.”

  “But he still wants the flash drive and he would still give you up for it, right?”

  “Forget the flash drive, and especially forget the revenge. You cannot avenge yourself on a man with the kind of resources and power he wields. Move on from this.”

  “I can’t. I think it would be cathartic and healthy for me to kill him.”

  “You can’t kill him. You’d never get close enough. You’d be dead six times before you were near enough to see the color of his eyes.”

  “Can’t I blow him up? Don’t you know how to blow shit up?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact, know how to blow shit up, as you so eloquently put it. However, I don’t intend to utilize this particular skill set in an attack on the Ukrainian. Not even for you.”

  “If you help me, I’ll forgive you.”

  “You already forgave me. You said so.”

  “Fuck. I should never have said that out loud. It was my best bargaining chip.” She laughed. “I’m going after him with or without your aid. I’m just less likely to be killed if you help me.”

  “Christ, Riley. It’s not like you’re giving me a choice.”

  “Wait, is it like waving an unloaded gun in your face and threatening your defenseless kitten?”

  “I never threatened to harm Tico!”

  “Agreed. Now, are you in or are you out?”

  “In,” he said grudgingly.

  The next day, he was gone before she woke up. She caught a ride on the truck into town and came back with wrapped purple and aqua bangles stacked elbow-high on both arms, a stolen pair of diamond earrings in her pocket. Cain was back when she returned.

  “Come outside with me. Carry that box,” he said, arms full of bags.

  She followed him down the dirt road for a couple of miles before he took off into a field. She shifted the unwieldy box onto her hip and trailed after him. He deposited the bags on a rock and relieved her of the box. Cain set to unpacking a series of wires and ropes and papers.

  “This is black match. It’s cotton fuse with a glue coating. We’re going to wrap it in pipe to make a fast burner called piped match.” He folded and twisted, demonstrating the process with swift, deft fingers.

  Riley imitated his movements, but fumbled the first few attempts. He covered her hand with his and led her fingers through the right motions. They worked in silence for a long time. When her fingers grew stiff and crampy, she stood and stretched her hands, shut her eyes, and turned her face up to the bright sun.

  “So what’s this for?”

  “The bomb.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s a supply depot in Kharkiv. The Ukrainian keeps an arsenal there, as well as stolen property awaiting transport. It’s the most integral strike point I’ve come up with. It won’t kill him, but it’ll blow his organization back a couple of decades with regard to credibility and firepower.”

  “Really? You’re going to blow shit up for me!” She squealed and kissed him.

  “Yes. Against my better judgment and under extreme duress.”

  “Duress is a good nickname for me, I think. And under me is a very good place for you.”

  “We may both end up dead because of this fiasco.” He warned grimly.

  “We could both die of food poisoning from this disgusting food, but everyone’s got to go sometime.”

  “No, I think the curry acts as a protective agent against foodborne illness.”

  “Even bacteria flee from curry,” she countered. “So tell me the rest of the plan.”

  “We travel back to the Ukraine, blow shit up, and leave. I go to Belize by way of Atlanta. Consider a rich man’s way of walking you home. A courtly gesture.”

  “Shakespearean.”

  “Exactly.”

  Chapter 10

  After days of preparation, rehearsal, and one controlled blast in a remote field for practice, Riley was packed and ready to depart India when she went to bed. She woke in the morning before dawn with a sneeze. Sitting up, she felt small, round objects tumble all around her. Panicking that they were cockroaches or something, she groped for the lantern and switched it on.

  Thousands of marigolds, orange and yellow and pinkish bloom
s, filled their cinderblock room. Their peppery scent, the oiliness of their pollen, suffused the air. The color, the texture of them, was India to her. The vibrant saffron hue and celebratory air lent to the ordinary. Back home, people grew these to repel bugs in their flower beds, but in India, they were woven into archways for wedding ceremonies, as exalted as the rose or lily in the Western world. Cupping some of the blossoms in her hands, she laughed lightly.

  “I owed you flowers,” he said, and she realized he was leaning against the wall across the room from her.

  “You certainly delivered. But did you steal them?”

  “I confess they’re bought and paid for.”

  “Then you still owe me flowers from London.”

  “What if I steal you hibiscus and birds of paradise in Belize?”

  “What if you let the Belize thing go? You’ve grouched around ever since we met about how you couldn’t wait to be free of danger, the game, the trouble that came with me especially. To sit on a beach with silence and alcohol. Now it’s here, you don’t want to?”

  “It’s the silence that fails to move me now. I’m accustomed to your voice now.”

  “So you’ll call me sometimes. Tico will hiss ‘hi’ to you.”

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this? I’m about to smuggle munitions into an Eastern European nation on a private jet. This would be the time to back out if you’re going to.”

  “No chance. I’m in this. I’d like to shoot him up with Valium and throw his ass into the depot before it blows.”

  “You’re such a gentle flower yourself,” he teased. She chucked a handful of marigolds at him. Her eyes prickled with tears. “We need to hurry; it looks like rain.”

  The monsoon hit while they were in the truck en route to the train station. For hours, sheets of impenetrable rain assaulted the mud-slick landscape while they waited. Eventually the train made its slow and dirty way to Mumbai, where they boarded his jet, backpack of explosives and all.

  “We can’t take off,” Cain told her almost gleefully. “Monsoon makes it too dangerous.”

  “Can’t we just fly above the weather? I kind of had my heart set on blowing shit up tomorrow morning.”

  “We’ll get there soon enough. Isn’t there some way to entertain ourselves in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have a deck of cards?” she teased, leaning in to kiss him.

  She moved easily into his arms, working at the buttons of his shirt. They had made love every night, every morning, as if they both felt the finite nature of their alliance. She wouldn’t let herself think about it, but she knew if he’d ever said he loved her, she would’ve hazarded the boredom and moved with Tico to whatever beach Cain named. But he held back, so she did, too.

  There was truth to her fear of ennui. It was the fear of ending up alone, of giving everything up only to find herself without him, the way her parents had given up everything to be together. And then her mom had taken her diamond earrings and left the family for greener pastures all those years ago. It was a fate she meant to escape for herself.

  Riley fell asleep before the plane got clearance to take off. She awakened to find Cain attempting to wrestle a safety belt onto her without waking her. She sat up and fastened it herself, pushing back the unruly riot of her hair that had gone haywire in the humidity of rural India. She pulled her embroidered London jacket out of her bag, smoothing it out so it would be ready for the cooler Ukrainian weather.

  Once they were on the ground in the Ukraine, she grew uneasy. Instead of checking in to a midlevel business hotel under a fake name, Cain led her into the poshest establishment in the city and gave them his credit card. He ordered Cristal and espresso truffles to be sent to the room and tipped ostentatiously. Everything he did was out of character, and the manic gleam in his eyes gave her pause. Had she really pushed him over the edge? Maybe instead of being ready to retire, he was a few weeks past it?

  Their suite was sumptuous, but the very conspicuousness of it made her too nervous to enjoy it. She lay on the moss green sheets, wondering why, after a week and a half of sleeping on a concrete floor, she was so anxious in a comfortable bed. When Cain sat on the bed beside her, she looked at him questioningly.

  “Why are you drawing attention to our arrival?”

  “Did you prefer the goats and the sleeping bags?”

  “I hate to admit it, but I felt safer there.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to bomb the Ukrainian.”

  “I didn’t want to court death, though. Are you trying to teach me a lesson about vengeance and danger by getting us killed?”

  “Not at all. Well, not exactly is more accurate.”

  “You’re an infuriating human being.”

  “You wanted to say ‘whatever’.”

  “Yes I did. But I restrained myself.”

  “Well done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re fucking brilliant,” he said, kissing her.

  “You wanted to say ‘whatever’, too!”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “Room service is here. I’m told the truffles are sublime.”

  “What are my acceptable alternatives to ‘whatever’ again?” She said.

  “I believe they are yes, sir, no, sir and you’re absolutely right, I’m such a fool.”

  “Given my choices then, I think I’ll say nothing at all.”

  “There’s a first. I didn’t even have to give you a shot of Valium.”

  “Cain, it’s too soon to joke about that. Don’t,” she said, wounded.

  “I’m sorry, Riley. That was cruel. I shouldn’t have been flippant about—” he said, taking her hand sadly. She cut him off, laughing.

  “I’m kidding. God, you’re so Macbeth!” She giggled. “Maybe you need a shot of Valium and a Diet Coke.”

  “Now you’re just messing with me. I’ll get the door.”

  Cain swung open the door to admit the room service trolley laden with a silver bucket of chilling champagne and a plate of truffles, each swirled with a red curl of raspberry sauce. Riley licked her lips in spite of herself. The man pushing the cart smiled at her, showing a gold front tooth, and she sucked in a breath audibly.

  “Shit,” she said, staring at the tallest thug, her Neeson-esque captor from Vienna.

  Cain didn’t even turn around to see what was wrong. He punched the waiter in the side of the head, swept this feet out from under him, and had his hands around the man’s throat before she could cross the ten feet to the still-open door.

  “That’s one of the kidnappers,” she managed, watching Cain choke him.

  The thug was reaching for his pocket. She stomped on his wrist instinctively, stopping him from catching the hilt of his knife. Bending down, she took the blade and a cell phone from his pocket, wishing idly she had some zip ties lying around. Her breath came slow and steadily. She didn’t even have to count it.

  “So what do we do with him?” She asked. “You need to quit choking him. He’s going to pass out.” Cain didn’t look up, gave no sign that he heard her at all. “Cain!” She shouted at him, but got no response.

  Keeping one foot on the man’s wrist, she hauled off and kicked Cain in the side. His head snapped around and he glared at her.

  “Quit choking him,” she growled. Cain gave a slight shake of his head and took his hands off the man’s throat.

  “Get me a hanger from the closet.”

  “Wait, what are you going to do with it? Because you’re not killing him with a hanger.”

  “It thought you wanted revenge.”

  “I do want revenge, but I’m not going to let you torture someone.”

  “Get the hanger and unwind the wire.”

  “Uh, it’s a wooden hanger. This is a nice place.”

  “Okay, forget the hanger. Get in my bag. There are zip ties.”

  “You carry zip ties? Who the hell carries zip ties?”

  “Someone who needs them, Riley.” He said impatiently.
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  She retrieved them and secured the man’s ankles.

  Cain climbed off of him and rolled him over, zip tying his wrists ungently. A further inventory of his pockets produced a gun, another knife and a roll of duct tape, which they used on his mouth.

  “If I had any Valium, I’d give you a shot,” she told the man genially as they wrestled him into a standing position. “Wait, Cain, let me get the robes out before we put him in the closet. I want to wear one after my bath,” she said, pulling the plush bathrobes out and removing the rest of the hangers and the iron, lest the man find a way to fashion weapons from them. “You know, I broke out of zip ties, so I figure he can, too.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Cain said, peeling tape off the roll and binding the man’s hands and arms tightly. “Clearly they know we’re in the city.”

  “You made sure of that. I didn’t expect them so fast, though,” Riley said. “That made me thirsty. Drink?”

  “Go ahead and pour. I’ll finish up here,” Cain said.

  Riley opened the champagne with a deft twist and filled the two glasses, sipping the deliciously dry bubbles off the top. Cain joined her and took a drink.

  “Can we go stuff him in a supply room or something? I don’t like having him in here with us.”

  “We have to keep an eye on him.”

  “It’s sort of killing the romance for me.”

  “We’ll power through. We’re a robust pair,” he said, kissing her hard enough that she growled low in her throat. Riley dropped her glass, arms tight around him.

  Cain set his glass on the cart so he could devote both hands to Riley. He pushed up her sweater, rough hands cool on her skin. She wrapped her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as she flipped him over on his back.

  “You were exactly right, sir, I’m such a fool,” she whispered against his mouth with a laugh.

  “Are you whatever-ing me at a time like this?”

  “No, I was just glad to have an occasion to use that ridiculous line you gave me. It’s practically Shakespearean.”

  “I’m not sure you understand Shakespeare,” he said dubiously.

  “So teach me,” she said, pushing her tongue into his mouth as she worked the zipper on his pants down.