Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

Her voice takes on a whining quality. “I knew you’d get angry.”

“Oh no. Don’t try to turn this around. You stole fifty thousand dollars from the mafia. And they aren’t just going to cut off a finger, are they?”

The fear in her eyes proves my point. “They have him, Bee.”

“They’re going to kill him. And then they’re going to kill you. And then they’re going to kill me for being related to you, along with anyone else you’ve ever spoken to or known.”

She shivers, and at least now I know she understands the situation. She understood it before she knocked on my door. She understood it when she stole these day-old hot dogs, but hell. This is all she knows how to do. Smile and pout and wheedle her way to getting what she wants.

Trade up. That’s what she used to tell me. Other parents taught their kids to tell the truth, to be nice. Maisie taught me that the only thing that matters is trading up, even if you piss off some of the most dangerous men in the city.

Even if it means betraying people who trust me.

Her hands turn palm up, helpless. “Now you understand why we needed you to do the job.”

The job. Bitterness is sharp on my tongue. This job that will cost me my job. More than that, it will cost me people I’d begun to think of as friends. It will cost me West.

“I told you I’ll do it.”

“We have to do it now.”

She says we, but of course she means that I have to do it now. Not her. “When then?”

“The night after tomorrow.”

An incredulous laugh bursts out of me. “Christmas Eve?”

I’m not sure why I thought that would be sacred to her when nothing else is.

She looks earnest. “The club will be closed. We have to do it soon.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “It’s too soon. We aren’t even sure we can get into the security system. We haven’t worked out all the kinks and—”

“We don’t have a choice.” She takes my hand, her blue eyes startling in their honesty. I’ve never seen her this focused on me before, not in eighteen years as her daughter. She’s the flighty one, while I had to negotiate with the landlord for an extension on our rent. Now she looks dead serious—and worried. “They said they’ll kill him if we don’t bring the money soon. They…they sent me this.”

She pulls something from her pocket and sets it on the counter. I’ve seen that plain silver band before.

They once hocked my bike with the ribbons in the handles. They’ve gone for days without food. They’ve traded their last dime for a security code to use on the next score. They give up anything and everything in pursuit of the game, but I’ve never seen Jeb not wearing this ring.

Now it’s on my cracked kitchen counter, tarnished and coated in dried blood.

My throat tightens at the threat contained in that small band of silver. It tightens further at the thought of stealing from Candy and Ivan. Candy, because I’d started to respect her, even like her. And Ivan, because everyone in the city knows well enough to fear him. Stealing from him is as bad as stealing from the Caivanos.

The only difference is that I won’t get caught. I can’t get caught.

Chapter Three

The sound of laughter draws me into the dressing room. It’s a foreign sound, but I can’t help but smile along with them. The girls have gathered their chairs and stools in a circle around Amelie. Her tummy is just starting to show, and she stops dancing next week. She holds up a little onesie with a mustache on it that says, Mommy’s Little Man. The group gives a chorus of oohs and ahhs.

There’s a table set up near the door with gifts and a diaper pail for cash. I’ve been to a few of these baby showers in the time I’ve been working here. The tradition is to give both money—to help out the new mother—as well as something cute to open during the shower. Normally I would throw in a hundred bucks or more. I’m not even close to these girls, but babies are crazy expensive and I like the idea of pitching in. In some ways it’s as close to a family as I’ve ever gotten.

Only, I don’t have a hundred bucks.

Maisie took most of my last paycheck. She said she’d use it as a payment toward the debt—a gesture of good faith so they’d give us more time, though obviously that didn’t work.

And West took the money from the wallet. Or hell, maybe he left it lying on the ground.

No, most likely he returned it to the rightful owner, along with the wallet. Bastard.