Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

RILEY

The floors creak beneath my feet as I enter the house and step around the glass from the shattered window. The lock was like nothing I've worked with before, so I had to get in another way. Brick was wrong, and he never is. Did he confuse these locks for someone else's? Smashing a rock through the glass door felt like a good idea at the time until shards of glass went through my finger, piercing my gloves.

Wincing, I hold my hand to my chest, and quickly rush to the kitchen when I spot a roll of napkins tucked under a cabinet. With deep breaths and the gloves off, I yank the glass from my finger above the sink and turn the water on, allowing it to run over the deep cut until clear. I shut off the tap and use the napkin to apply pressure when my finger starts bleeding again, because dripping my DNA all over the place is the last thing I want to do. I'd hate to leave behind evidence for whatever cops Mr. Good Doctor decides to call long after I'm gone.

Once the napkin is secured around my finger, I head for the office, spotting a large, crooked picture frame on the wall behind an oak desk. Not a spot of dust on anything I pass. Everything's so clean and tidy. It's what makes the off-centered painting so easy to spot. No other wall decor and no family portraits in the living room either.

I slide on a new pair of gloves and check all the drawers. One is locked, and I jimmy it with one of my tools until the drawer pops open. A gun rests at the top and I lift it in the air, the sunlight from the large window causing it to shine. I shove it in my bag, along with an old Rolex watch and random collectors' coins that look like they're worth something. After closing the drawers, I search the rest of the room, not finding anything but an obscene number of navy-blue blazers in the closet. Would it hurt him to wear another color now and again?

Laughing at the thought, I move back to the weird painting of a cabin in the woods. Eerie as it might be, I can't stop looking at it—how the bright flowers pop against the muted tones. Seconds later, I have the painting off the wall and a stethoscope placed in my ears with the chest piece pressed next to the lock. Due to missing the second number as I turn the dial left to right, it takes me longer to crack it open, only to find a bunch of files and a stack of two-dollar bills. The fuck? Who goes to all the trouble of having a safe when they aren't going to use it for more than sixty dollars and a bunch of paper?

I leave my duffle open after shoving the money inside, close the safe and place the painting back on the wall how I found it. I enjoy the way the crooked frame adds character to the room and how, like me, it doesn't look like it belongs. So out of place and standing out like bright yellow stars splashing the dark night sky.

Moving quickly, I rush through the hallway and find the bedroom. I grab everything valuable I can find—all the jewelry, change from an ancient-looking piggy bank, an iPad from the nightstand, a Kindle e-reader under the pillow. He's a late-night reader like me. What else does he like doing when no one is watching? Not sure why I'm wondering when normally I couldn't care less about the people I steal from.

Then again, other houses I've broken into have told me more about the people who lived in them than his one has. He's this hidden mystery in a place he's allowed to be himself. An array of suits hangs in the bedroom closet next to designer ties and cashmere sweaters. Looking at the time on my phone, I know I've been here too long and swiftly clear off the hangers. Tossing the sweaters into the duffel, I reach for some shiny gold cufflinks and a small metal lock box hiding behind a rack of shoes. Smiling, I add it to my collection and exit the closet. Ten first-edition books, four unopened bottles of aged wine, and a laptop later, I text Brick.

Me: Coming out.

No response comes as I'm emptying the kitchen drawers of sterling flatware. Zipping up my backpack, I exit the front of the house and pause when I find Brick is missing. What the fuck? I check behind the house, wandering up and down the driveway. Brick doesn't answer any of my messages and doesn't answer the phone until the fourth call.

"Riley."

"Where are you? Why would you leave?"

"I'm really sorry things have to be this way. I didn't want to hurt you, but I saw this as the only way."

"Only way for what?" I grind out.

"We both did."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Me and Stephen. We've been seeing each other for weeks now and knew how you'd get if he tried to leave. This was the best option."

"But you're my best friend. Why would you do this to me? We grew up together. It was you and me way before he came along." Did surviving foster care together for ten awful years mean nothing to him? We'd had each other's backs whenever foster parents got too handsy or violent. When the other kids tried to steal our shit or start fights.

"I know." He blows out a breath. "But you always got everything you wanted while I got your scraps. I'm sick of it and will no longer live in your shadow. I will no longer be your damn errand boy."

"But we're brothers. You're my only family."

"Cut the shit." He releases a nervous laugh. "All you ever cared about was yourself. Even Stephen agrees. If I were you, I'd find somewhere to hide before the cops show up."

Sirens blare in the background and I nearly drop my phone.

"You set me up."

"I guess I'll be the one to enjoy that champagne and steak with your boyfriend now."

The line clicks and I'm unable to move my feet for a long time, my whole body suddenly feeling too heavy. The sirens close in on me and red lights flash through the trees. Ignoring the spreading pain in my chest and lurching stomach, I run. Everything's a blur of green and yellow but I keep going anyway. My ears ring and my steps are heavy against the ground the further I get, clutching onto my bags. Surrounded by trees and rocks, I shove the bags in a random hole in the ground, covering it up with branches.

All voices and the dispatch radio sound so far away. They're probably entering the house and checking for any evidence of breaking and entering. They'll see the broken glass door. So fucking sloppy. If I had opened the door the right way, it would have bought me time, and they would have assumed the caller was mistaken. Fuck. Throbs of pain spread down my face as I pound my fists against my head. How could they? How fucking could they? They wouldn't have all that they have if it wasn't for me. I taught Brick everything he knows, and Stephen was living on the streets, selling his body for whatever money he could when I found him.

Maybe I'm a little selfish at times but so are they. We all can be. I only wish they'd told me they wanted to be together, instead of sending me out into the lion's den like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered. Maybe I would have hated them for a little while, but I'd have moved on eventually. I was wrong before. Stephen and I never had anything between us. He did this all for Brick, and I've been standing in the way all along.

Tears sting my eyes as I find a large tree to hunker down behind. I wait for the cops to come for me, but they never do. The sun starts to set, the sky darkening the longer I sit out here not knowing who to call. I have no one else. I can't very well contact an Uber so close to the break-in. My all-black clothes are as suspicious as my injured hand. Dirt cakes into my nails as I bury the gloves I'd forgot I was wearing. My finger is no longer bleeding, so I toss the napkin in my pocket and look for another way to the road. Relief hits me when I finally reach the freedom I've been searching for, but dread fills me again after not spotting a single car or business in sight.

I can't believe I didn't see through their plan. I didn't want to. Neither were as safe or reliable as I'd thought. All I have is myself. All I ever needed was myself. My lungs burn with each breath I take after walking for what feels like hours. Darkness fills the sky, and I shiver from the cold air stabbing at my exposed skin.

When I look at my phone again, I have no signal. I don't know where I am anyway, so I have no way of telling anyone my location. Bright lights flash behind me and I stop walking, glancing back. The car inches closer, slowing down when it reaches me. A person I can't quite make out peers through the opening of a lowering window.

"Need some help?"

Wrapping my arms around myself, my teeth chatter and I nod. "I think I got a little lost during my run. I can't seem to find my way back to the hotel I'm staying at," I lie.

"Not from around here?" The voice says.

"No. Visiting from out of town. On business."

"I see. Which hotel are you staying at?"

"I… The Holiday Inn."

"There's no Holiday Inn around here." He chuckles softly. "You must mean the La Quinta."

"Oh, right. I get the two mixed up sometimes. I don't stay in many hotels."

"Yeah, it shows." His voice is humorous, and loud clicking reverberates around me. "Hop in. I'll give you a lift there."

I hesitate a little before opening the door. Taking a ride from a stranger in the middle of nowhere isn't the best idea, but what other options do I have?

"Thanks," I say, cautiously sliding in beside him.

A light turns on above us and he smiles, green eyes sparkling. He's very handsome. Strong jawline, dark hair, and gray peppering his neatly trimmed beard. "I'm Sam. I don't live far from here and I had a late night at the office. Good thing too, or else you'd be walking until morning."

"Yeah. I shouldn't rely on my phone so much to find my way everywhere. Not when it loses signal the moment I need it the most."

He laughs. "You youngsters and your phones. Can't ever seem to put them away for longer than two seconds. I guess that's y'all and technology all together."

"Okay, okay. Back off, grandpa."

He chuckles again, switching off the light. "So, what kind of business are you in?"

"The don't worry about it kind," I want to say. But what comes out of my mouth instead is, "Sales."

Staring ahead, his tires scrape against the dirt as he drives off from the side of the road. "What kind of sales?"

Man, this dude asks too many questions, and I only got in his car minutes ago. "Medical supplies."

"Ah. I get a lot of your kind in my office all the time. Haven't seen you yet though. Now I'm feeling a little cheated."

Is he flirting with me? Do I want him to be? A little flattery never hurt after a long, shit day. I'm single now and don't have to worry about this going too far. Not that I have the time to spare. I need to rent a car and get back to where I hid my latest loot. I'd rather not do it in the morning when I'll be more visible to anyone driving by. What if they call the doctor and he comes back early or sends someone to check on his house?

I might not really have been rooming at the La Quinta, but I will be now for the night. I don't know what else is near here or if I'll even find a car rental place of any kind. Brick has my car, and I don't know how hard he'll make it for me to get it back. Will he call the cops the moment I step into what's supposed to be my apartment? Are they still there or did they take off somewhere into the sunset together? So much filters through my mind, but all thoughts are put on the back burner when the sexy stranger speaks again.

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. I was only joking. Kind of. Seeing someone as cute as you around the office would definitely have been a highlight of any day. Sorry, sometimes I can be a little too forward."

"It's okay. I actually liked the joke and I'm a huge fan of forwardness. I like when you can see everything you're getting from a person up front. No beating around the bush of what your end game is."

"What do you think my end game is?"

"To get me safely to my hotel room and ask me for my number." I waggle my brows as if he can see them.

"Doesn't sound like it would be too far from the truth. Not if we were both who we really said we were."

His eyes gleam in the dark and that unsettling feeling from before is back. The softness in his tone is gone, and the silence happening now spreads longer between us as he turns the car around. He's not taking me to the hotel, is he?

"Are you really here on business?" His tone is clipped.

"Is there really a La Quinta nearby?"

It's like I can hear him smiling. "No. You'll be staying somewhere else tonight instead. Right after you take me to where you hid everything you stole from me."