Stolen Lust (Beauty in the Stolen 1)

Drivers honk as I pass between cars on the white line, but I don’t slow down. I’m a good driver. My whole body vibrates with fear, but I don’t acknowledge it. I focus on speed and distance, on how fast I need to ride to overtake the truck on the shoulder of the road before the tarmac gives way to gravel. I put all my energy into getting to Pretoria alive. I’ll worry about the rest when I get there.

I’m buzzing with adrenaline when I finally pass the correctional services buildings and head toward the more upmarket east side of town. At the Menlyn Shopping Mall, I park the bike underground and fasten the helmet to the handle. From there, I make my way upstairs to the mall and go straight to the banking section. I won’t be on any wanted lists yet, but I may be soon. For now, I don’t have to hide from the surveillance cameras.

At the self-service ATM, I type in the offshore account number and pin and make a withdrawal of five thousand rand. I wasn’t going to use Ian’s money, but if I’m to survive, I don’t have a choice.

Pocketing the cash, I go back to the parking, but I don’t take the bike. I go to the section where the taxis are parked and pay a driver to take me to a nearby hotel. The area is expensive, but cheap means dangerous. After booking in, I go to the room and lock the door behind me. I lean against the wood, the backpack buffering me, and sink to my knees as my legs give out.

Finally, fear catches up with me. Behind the meagre protection of the door, I give in to the shaking. My teeth chatter, and my hands tremble. I peel my arms from the straps of the backpack and jerk the strap of my handbag over my head. I let the tremors rack me for all of a minute before taking a deep breath and pushing to my feet.

Forcing calm, I strip and have a cool shower. I dress in the clean change of clothes, wash the dirty ones with the hotel shower gel in the basin, and hang them in front of the fan to dry.

My stomach grumbles. A pang of hunger reminds me I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and it’s late afternoon already. I order a toasted tomato and cheese sandwich with fries from room service and throw in a Coke for good measure. I need all the sugar energy I can get. Once again, I eat on Ian’s charity, but I refuse to think about it.

It’s only five, and the bar doesn’t open until seven. I should get some rest, but I’m too strung out to sleep, so I switch on the television. Nick’s brutal killing is all over the news. It’s the first time, as far as police know, that the Phantom gang has committed a murder during a robbery. The murder has bumped them up from the most notorious and wanted gang to the most hunted in the country. Police say they won’t stop until the perpetrators are caught and justice is served. The gang’s followers, people who dedicate themselves to making a study of the heists, are divided. Some sickeningly idolize the killing while others condemn it.

Unable to watch any longer, I switch off the television and grab my handbag. It’s time to hit the bar and buy myself a new identity before I vanish forever.

Chapter 18

Ian

When we land at the Wonderboom Airport, I look around as I climb from the Cessna, but no Cas or Walter is waiting on the tarmac.

Fuck.

I switch on my phone. The screen lights up with notifications—six missed calls and a text message.

The hair in my nape stands on end as I read the message.

Cas escaped. She stole Walter’s bike and took off.

Clenching and unclenching my hands, I climb the three steps back inside the plane and call to the pilot, “Take a break, but stay close. We’re not taking off immediately.”

He looks up from scribbling in a logbook. “Sure thing. I’ll be in the pilots’ lounge when you need me.”

I don’t waste time in listening to Walter’s voice messages. Making my way around to the front of the airport building with big steps, I dial him. The customs officer nods when I pass. They’re all on my payroll, allowing me to slip in and out of the country undetected. As far as the records go, my pilot did a Red Cross food donation drop and carried no passengers.

“Where are you?” I ask in a tight voice when Walter picks ups.

“Pretoria center. An associate who works in town gave me a lift.”

“How many men do you have in Pretoria?”

“I can get three immediately and another two in an hour.”

“Do it.” I stop outside the main entrance. “Sit tight. I’ll send instructions.”