Read Online A New Day (StrikeForce #1) by Colleen Vanderlinden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Colleen Vanderlinden
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years.”
“He’s not much older than I am,” I said.
She nodded, raised her eyebrows as if to say “yeah, and?”
“He’s in his early thirties. And yes, I’ve known him almost twenty years. Not many I work with for that long. Most aren’t smart enough to have that long of a career. Keep that in mind, kotka .”
“He doesn’t seem bad. I’m just…” I shrugged.
“Oh, he’s bad. As bad as you or me or anyone. Sinners, all. That’s why we go to church.”
I studied her for a few moments, then shook my head. “Whatever.”
“Speaking of church. Will you be driving me this week?” Would I have merchandise for her this week, she meant.
“Maybe. I need to look at my schedule.”
She pursed her lips in that way she did when she was annoyed with me. “Well. Let’s hope so. I’m not getting any younger, and there’s still plenty of saving I need.” She wanted an influx of cash. Or, her sisters did, maybe.
“We’ll see what I can work out,” I said, glancing toward the window. I had a couple of places under surveillance. “You know, beggars can’t be choosers,” I said.
She smiled, and there wasn’t a whole lot of warmth in it. “No. No, they most certainly cannot.”
I let myself out. Great. Now I had Luther on my back. My relationship with her was mutually profitable, but a lot of getting the best prices on things relied on how happy Luther happened to be with me at the time. And a Luther who got regular kickbacks for her services was a happy Luther.
The last thing I wanted to do was pull off a job just then. It took focus I didn’t have, and I had enough excitement in my life without the adrenaline rush that came with cleaning out rich people’s houses.
Still. How hard could it be when all I had to do was fly out?
One job. In, and out.
As it was, the job itself wasn’t hard. Jam the security system, in and out in under three minutes, grab some nice jewelry and some coins. Luther liked coins, but I didn’t know anything about them. I even got out without any problem, opening a window and flying out. Easy.
I was flying over West Bloomfield when I saw the line of squad cars, lights flashing, heading toward the place where I’d just been, and I let out a loud laugh as I flew away. I got home, stashed my loot, and grabbed the tub of rocky road out of the freezer. I sat on the ugly sofa in my living room, shoveled ice cream into my face and got ready to watch the news. I was still surrounded by unpacked boxes. My stuff just didn’t seem to belong there, and I wasn’t in a hurry to unpack everything. So, for the moment, I was living out of boxes. I’d have to at least shuffle them elsewhere before my mother came to visit, or she’d insist on helping me and if there was one thing I definitely didn’t want, it was Mama rooting around in my stuff.
I’d get around to it. Eventually. I turned my attention back to the news. When the top story was “Relentless burglar strikes again,” I laughed.
My laughter froze and died when my image flashed onto the screen. Not anything most people would recognize. Me, face covered by a black scarf, only my eyes exposed. Nobody could tell anything from that. It wasn’t the first time security cameras had captured my image, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. As I sat watching the black and white video of myself, my stomach started twisting, worse when I realized that the window I’d flown out of was right in view of the camera.
Shit.
I leaned forward and watched as I opened the window and flew out into the night.
There was a voiceover, and I listened as I watched. “As you can see, we have exclusive video of the burglar who has plagued the suburbs in recent years, exiting via a second story window. Exterior cameras showed another view.”
“No,” I groaned, eyes glued to the screen.
And there I was, flying over the back yard. Grainy, dark, but it was very clearly a person, flying. The video looped again, and then
“He’s not much older than I am,” I said.
She nodded, raised her eyebrows as if to say “yeah, and?”
“He’s in his early thirties. And yes, I’ve known him almost twenty years. Not many I work with for that long. Most aren’t smart enough to have that long of a career. Keep that in mind, kotka .”
“He doesn’t seem bad. I’m just…” I shrugged.
“Oh, he’s bad. As bad as you or me or anyone. Sinners, all. That’s why we go to church.”
I studied her for a few moments, then shook my head. “Whatever.”
“Speaking of church. Will you be driving me this week?” Would I have merchandise for her this week, she meant.
“Maybe. I need to look at my schedule.”
She pursed her lips in that way she did when she was annoyed with me. “Well. Let’s hope so. I’m not getting any younger, and there’s still plenty of saving I need.” She wanted an influx of cash. Or, her sisters did, maybe.
“We’ll see what I can work out,” I said, glancing toward the window. I had a couple of places under surveillance. “You know, beggars can’t be choosers,” I said.
She smiled, and there wasn’t a whole lot of warmth in it. “No. No, they most certainly cannot.”
I let myself out. Great. Now I had Luther on my back. My relationship with her was mutually profitable, but a lot of getting the best prices on things relied on how happy Luther happened to be with me at the time. And a Luther who got regular kickbacks for her services was a happy Luther.
The last thing I wanted to do was pull off a job just then. It took focus I didn’t have, and I had enough excitement in my life without the adrenaline rush that came with cleaning out rich people’s houses.
Still. How hard could it be when all I had to do was fly out?
One job. In, and out.
As it was, the job itself wasn’t hard. Jam the security system, in and out in under three minutes, grab some nice jewelry and some coins. Luther liked coins, but I didn’t know anything about them. I even got out without any problem, opening a window and flying out. Easy.
I was flying over West Bloomfield when I saw the line of squad cars, lights flashing, heading toward the place where I’d just been, and I let out a loud laugh as I flew away. I got home, stashed my loot, and grabbed the tub of rocky road out of the freezer. I sat on the ugly sofa in my living room, shoveled ice cream into my face and got ready to watch the news. I was still surrounded by unpacked boxes. My stuff just didn’t seem to belong there, and I wasn’t in a hurry to unpack everything. So, for the moment, I was living out of boxes. I’d have to at least shuffle them elsewhere before my mother came to visit, or she’d insist on helping me and if there was one thing I definitely didn’t want, it was Mama rooting around in my stuff.
I’d get around to it. Eventually. I turned my attention back to the news. When the top story was “Relentless burglar strikes again,” I laughed.
My laughter froze and died when my image flashed onto the screen. Not anything most people would recognize. Me, face covered by a black scarf, only my eyes exposed. Nobody could tell anything from that. It wasn’t the first time security cameras had captured my image, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either. As I sat watching the black and white video of myself, my stomach started twisting, worse when I realized that the window I’d flown out of was right in view of the camera.
Shit.
I leaned forward and watched as I opened the window and flew out into the night.
There was a voiceover, and I listened as I watched. “As you can see, we have exclusive video of the burglar who has plagued the suburbs in recent years, exiting via a second story window. Exterior cameras showed another view.”
“No,” I groaned, eyes glued to the screen.
And there I was, flying over the back yard. Grainy, dark, but it was very clearly a person, flying. The video looped again, and then
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