obviously. But we wonât.â
Fun. The word settles on my tongue like bad breath. I consider launching into a monologue about morality, but letâs face it, Iâm no poster child, and thatâs not really whatâs holding me back.
Mat whistles low. âLot of expensive chrome in that warehouse. Weâre not talking Ford Escorts and RX-8s.â At my wide-eyed expression, he adds, âWith respect, Ghost.â
The nickname still makes me squirm. Moving into the mansion was supposed to exorcise that part of my past. In light of Rogerâs proposition, a resurrection seems imminent.
My heart flutters with a mix of fear and adrenaline.
âIâm not sure weâve got the chops to pull off this kind of boost,â Nick says. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed, like fully entering my room will concede some kind of truce. âWeâre not talking low-hanging fruit here.â
At least thatâs something Nick and I can agree on.
âBeyond my skill set,â I admit.
Morals, fear, and fresh starts aside, I donât have a clue what weâre up against. A simple Google search of rare and expensive muscle cars coughed up a hundred or more candidates, and I wouldnât bet our odds on any of them.
âIndividually, maybe,â Chelsea says. She bounces her gaze between me and Nick. âBut how many cars could you have stolen if youâd had access to a lock-picker or a hacker?â
At least double.
âWeâre talking top-level security here,â Nick says. âNo disrespect, Chelsea, but when it comes down to it, weâre all amateurs.â
Mat snorts. âSpeak for yourself, cabrón . Iâve cracked some tough databases.â
Chelsea snaps her fingers. âSo thatâs how you passed algebra.â
I slide down onto the floor, using the bed frame as a backrest. My enormous walk-in closet overflows with shit Iâll never wear, and the duffel bag stuffed with my basic necessities is still half-packed. No matter what I told Vanessa, Ems and I arenât staying hereâthis is just a pit stop.
Nick paces like a caged tiger. âIâm out of the life now.â
I offer a weak smile. âMe too.â Or so I thought.
Iâm wavering and that sucks. I canât stop thinking about Emma and how being here, even for this short time, has tempered her anxiety. Rogerâs proposition means a chance of normal for Ems.
Stability.
I owe her that.
âYouâve got your sister to think about,â Nick says. âMakes sense youâd give it some serious thought. But whatâs in it for me? I can survive on the streets.â
For a brief, startling few seconds, his ice-blue eyes lock on mine and I see itâunease. A small shred of vulnerability.
Tension radiates off him in waves. âThereâs no way we can pull this off,â he says.
âDefinitely not without the right tools,â Mat says. âIâd need scanners, rerouters, access to a Tor networking site.â He acknowledges my blank stare with a grimace. âSorry. Tor is software that allows me to post anonymously.â
âGot it,â I say.
âAnd computers.â He pumps his eyebrows. âTwo good ones for sure. Maybe three.â
Chelsea sits upright on the edge of the bed, setting the magazine on her lap. I crane my neck to look at her as she pulls a pillow to her chest. âSo we make a shopping list.â
Irritation leaks into my voice. âNot everything gets solved with a Gold Card.â
She doesnât take the bait. âI can think of some sweet lock-picking doodads that would come in handyâbump or specially cut keys, a torsion wrench, a few picksâstandard tools. Roger will spring for the good stuff.â She winks at Nick. âBet you and Jules could think of some things that would help you bring your A game.â
Nick scowls. âIâm never off it.â He rubs his hand behind
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