Caught for Christmas (Stripped 3.50)

Now that she doesn’t need to cut the alarm, she could come in with me. And the fact that she doesn’t want to has more to do with hedging her bets than keeping a lookout.

“Fine,” I say, my teeth clenched. I tell myself for the millionth time that I won’t be sucked into any of their schemes, but how can I even believe my own lies? The second they show up on my doorstep with some sob story—and some crazy violent assholes on their tail—I’m back to doing their bidding.

She puts her hand on my arm. “Bee, don’t be upset. You need to go in calm. Clear your mind.”

I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. I do need a clear mind if I’m going to crack that safe. “You’ll be here when I get out?”

I hate how small my voice sounds, how childlike.

“Of course,” she says in that carefree way. And I know better than to believe her.

It’s something else that pulls me across the street, something else that makes me climb the metal gate. A sense of duty. Or maybe something darker. The fear that if I don’t do this, if I turn my own parents away from my door, I’ll have no one left.

The cameras sweep over the courtyard in an irregular pattern, but I’ve watched it. I’ve learned it. And I use that knowledge now to evade them, pausing behind the broken fountain before running across the broken cobblestones.

I don’t bother trying to pick the fancy carbon locks. It only takes me a few minutes to pry apart hinges from old wood and wedge the door open from the other side.

That’s the fatal flaw of this place. No matter how much high-tech security infrastructure you add, it’s still an old building, a genial building, one designed to welcome people in—not keep them out.

The security system beeps in warning.

I enter the code on the slip of paper, and it goes silent.

Well, that was the easy part. Now I have to break into the basement, which will be no small feat. And then I have to break into a safe before anyone finds me. And then I’ll have to get out of town.

I’ll get out of town and never be able to come back.

The Grand is silent and still and almost pitch-black, only the placid green blinks from the security system to light the way. The energy is different now too, without the avid curiosity of the attendees, without the hard beauty of the girls. It feels truly grand, with old-world elegance and an air of demure calm.

It hurts to think about robbing this place, even while I’m halfway there. As if I’m defiling something pure. It hurts to think about leaving and never coming back.

Maisie is waiting for me outside. Jeb is waiting for me, his life hanging in the balance.

So I force myself to cross the floor and head to the hallway by the stage. There’s a set of stairs leading down. I’ve only been down here once, when Ivan hired me. I never planned to rob the place, but I cased it anyway. So I could tell he kept the safe in his desk, bottom drawer. It would be something heavy, not something normally transportable. He would have had it built into the room, small and impenetrable.

I do have to pick the lock on the basement door. I bypass the half-made hat and the knitting needles in my bag and get the equipment I need. The hinges here are made of steel, the door itself a heavy metal as well. It takes me longer than I hope to get through the three dead bolts, each with a different size and shape bolt. I leave more scratches on the locks than I’m comfortable with. It’s sloppy, but I don’t have time to be neat. Every second that front door hangs open is a second I’m vulnerable.

I can’t forget what’s at stake here. Not just my life but Jeb’s. And Maisie’s. They wouldn’t stop with him if they’re trying to send a message. Their acts of violence are almost legendary. Everyone knows how ruthless they are. We don’t stand a chance.

Finally I push the door open. The floor of the Grand had seemed dark, but it’s nothing compared to the basement. There isn’t even the thread of moonlight through high stained-glass windows or the green glow of security buttons. There’s nothing at all.

I take two steps in the direction of the desk. I remember the placement of the room. There is no other furniture but that. And with the heavy safe built into it, he wouldn’t have moved the desk.

Two more steps. It’s disconcerting moving in the darkness, like I’m floating in a sky without stars.

A small scuffing sound makes me freeze.

The whistle of metal hinges makes the hair on my neck stand up. Then the door slams shut behind me. I’m not alone.

“Hello, Bianca.”

Chapter Six

The very worst thing isn’t what will happen to me now. It isn’t even what will happen to Jeb or Maisie, who got themselves into this mess. Who got me into this mess.

The worst thing is that it’s West who’s caught me.

I fought so hard against him, against my attraction to him and the strange trust I had for him. He’s the one who’s going to bring me down. But then, maybe I always knew he would. I pull the old leather bag in front of my like a shield, even though I know it’s useless. I’ve been caught.