Molly Miranda: Thief for Hire (Book 1) Action Adventure Comedy Read online

  Nate looked really tense. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. “You’re smart. I don’t understand why you would get into that line of work anyway. How could you possibly think that was a good idea?”

  “You want to be a comic book artist because you’re good at it. Nate, I’m really good at this. Sometimes I think it’s the only thing I’m good at—”

  “Do not compare my life goal to what you do,” he snapped. “You’re a criminal. I don’t even know who you are, but at least I know you’re a criminal now.” He shook his head and stared at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

  “It’s just a job. It’s not…” I cleared my throat, pushing past the aching spot near my larynx. “It’s not who I am.”

  Nate thought for a minute. “I don’t think I can stay here.”

  “Please—”

  “I don’t want to be here when police come through that door and … something happens to you. What if you someday, I dunno, rob the wrong guy and he comes after you? What then?” His eyes met the floor.

  “That’s not going to happen,” I said.

  He nodded silently, staring at the wall behind my head. Then he ducked into his bedroom and quickly appeared back in the hallway with an open gym bag, his laptop and toothbrush poking out beyond the zipper.

  He’d already had a bag packed and ready to go. My throat tightened at the realization.

  “I’m gonna stay at Logan’s.”

  “Nate, please—”

  “I can’t stay here. I can’t just sit here and watch you fuck up your life forever.” He stole a single glance at me on his way out the front door.

  * * *

  A big cloud of sad hovered over me for the next few days. I didn’t talk to anyone and I didn’t go anywhere. I binged on Netflix and comfort food. After three days, Ruby forced her way in.

  She cuddled in bed with me, cramming chips into her mouth.

  “Nate’s an idiot. Wow, your sheets are covered in chip crumbs. You know that, right?”

  “He’s not an idiot,” I said, stuffing my face. “I’m the idiot. “

  She lifted up the sheet. “How did you even manage to get this many crumbs in here?”

  “Maybe I should’ve just lied and said I was an escort. That’s what he thought, anyway.”

  Ruby frowned. “He thought you were a hooker?”

  I dropped my head back onto my pillow, exhausted. “Everything is so messed up, Ruby. The look on his face was just … awful. He probably hates me now. I don’t know where my next job is coming from. Rhys probably wants to destroy me by now. My father is sleeping with Audrey—”

  “What? Ewwwwww!”

  “I know.”

  “Men are crazy.” She brushed crumbs off my pillow and put her an arm around my shoulders. “I know a lot of lovely lesbians that would be happy to date a sexy, badass burglar chick. Do you want me to make some calls? I can get at least two of them over here right now if you want.”

  I smiled weakly. “No, that’s okay. No matter what my grandmother said when I was a teenager, I’m pretty sure I’m straight.”

  Ruby eventually left me alone to wallow (“You’re no fun. Are you sure you don’t want to get high with me later?” “I’m fine, thanks.”). Just me. Alone. Me and a bed covered in chip crumbs.

  * * *

  The next morning I opened my sleepy eyes, closed them again, wrapped the blankets tightly around me and rolled over. Unfortunately, I was already at the edge of the bed, so I dropped a foot and a half to the floor.

  My bed is kicking me out. Even my mattress hates me.

  In only underwear, I ate my cereal, surveying the world from the big living room window. I didn’t have to worry about Nate startling me this time. I chewed slowly and didn’t bother wiping excess milk from my chin.

  It was two o’clock and I still hadn’t showered. I just lay on the couch and watched a Judge Judy marathon, silently criticizing the deadbeat boyfriends and fathers in my head.

  “Yeah, you tell ‘em, Judy,” I said out loud.

  You’re losing it. Go take a shower. You know what you have to do to feel better.

  * * *

  Paul smiled when he saw me. The pawnshop was empty but Deanne gave me a quick hug, handed me a cookie and took Paul’s spot at the front of the store while he and I had our grown-up talk in his office.

  “How can I help you, young lady? Do you want a coffee?”

  I smiled and shrugged. “No thanks. I was just checking in.”

  “Of course you were.”

  I grinned. Lying to Paul was like lying to my grandfather. Or Santa Claus.

  I filled him in on the continuing saga of Rhys and his jackassery, including his ban on Audrey hiring me ever again.

  “You need work?”

  I nodded slowly, embarrassed to admit it.

  Paul shuffled papers on his desk, quickly skimming over his messy, handwritten notes. Perhaps he was a doctor in a past life.

  “What’s your schedule like in the next few days?”

  I smiled. “Wide open. What’s up?”

  “I may have something for you. You’ll have to fly to Tulsa tomorrow.”

  Are you joking? I have to go all the way to Nebraska—

  “Oklahoma.”

  “I knew that!”

  I did not know that.

  He slid a photo from underneath some papers and held it up. I looked at it then raised an eyebrow.

  An Egyptian artifact with an enormous erection. Of course.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Two days later, I was staring angrily at a map and hating my cell phone provider.

  How could I possibly have had cell reception in Scotland but not in Oklahoma?

  I tossed the map onto the bench beside me and looked around the truck stop restaurant. My fair skin probably set me apart from the tanned locals but no one asked me about my destination or where I was coming from. For now, I was safe.

  I tried my phone again. No such luck. I grabbed the map again and squinted at the mass of tiny, intersecting lines. Naturally, Lake Virginia wasn’t on the map.

  Perhaps it should be called Pond Virginia. Or Puddle Virginia.

  I wasn’t sure exactly where I was on that map—somewhere on Highway 75, maybe—and I couldn’t ask anyone either. That was a no-no. I could just picture some tobacco-chewing cowboy hauling up his britches and telling the local authorities, “Why yes, officer. I do remember talking to someone of that description. She was looking for Lake Virginia. Hey, she’s not in any trouble, is she?”

  I grabbed my big sunglasses from my bag and slid them on. My waitress, a Southern belle with big boobs and a lot of makeup, put my bill on the table and smiled.

  “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some dessert, honey? We got a whole bunch o’ pies to choose from if y’all would like to see a menu.”

  Well, aren’t you a walking stereotype?

  I smiled weakly. “No. Thanks.” I handed her cash. “Keep the change.”

  She glanced at the crumpled map. I should’ve put it away.

  “I’m just looking for the nearest town.”

  And by “nearest town,” I, of course, mean where the fuck am I?

  She stared at me wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights style.

  “Ya know,” I tried to help her out, “a town?”

  “Agnes is about fifteen minutes east o’ here. Where you headin’?”

  Finally. Some good news.

  “Dallas. Thanks.”

  Back in the car, I smiled as I put the key in the ignition. I was heading in the right direction. Before I left New York, I had Googled Lake Virginia, and Agnes was the closest town to it.

  Now. If I can make it to a motel without getting attacked by a tornado, I’ll be fine.

  * * *

  The booming metropolis of Agnes—insert sarcasm here—had three options for accommodations: a bed-and-breakfast, an RV park and a disgusting motel with hourly and nightly rates listed on the sign outside. I didn’t hav
e an RV, and B&B owners ask too many questions, so I checked into the disgusting motel on the edge of town, cursing Paul in my head.

  To be fair, why should he waste an enjoyable, well-paid assignment on me? I deserted him for Audrey. I’m a sucky friend and Paul doesn’t owe me anything.

  The place was rank with the scent of cigarette smoke, even though it was a non-smoking room. I was too tired to care. I collapsed onto the hard bed, the springs creaking and clunking under my weight.

  Usually this was the part where I would stare at the ceiling in an attempt to sleep. Instead I was staring back at myself.

  There was a mirror mounted on the ceiling. Ew.

  I feel like watching myself have sex would be distracting. I’d be all “What’s going on with my facial expression right now?” and “Why does it look like I’m dying?” and “I didn’t know my ass jiggled that much.”

  I slept for a few hours and then was back in action. I zipped up a black hooded sweatshirt and applied a generous layer of black face paint. (Balaclavas are stupid warm and they restrict your vision.) I put my suitcase, which held more gear than clothes, back in the car and headed for Lake Virginia.

  It was shortly after midnight. That familiar feeling of adrenaline crept up on me. A smile spread across my face as I drove down a dirt road pointing me in the direction of the lake. This night’s outing was just for surveillance purposes but I still twitched with anticipation.

  I didn’t know how many houses would be around the target’s home—the road to Lake Virginia isn’t on Google Maps. I didn’t know who the target was or what his house looked like. Paul was a little vague on the details, almost certainly because the client was vague when describing where the item might be found. Sometimes a client might not know at all. It complicates things but it also increases the fee substantially.

  The road continued on for a long ways, at least a few miles. There were no streetlights back here, just thick greenery on either side of the dirt road. There were power lines, so I knew there had to be something down there.

  I kept my headlights dim. The moon was a sliver of light in the sky, always helpful when trying not to be seen.

  The dirt road turned into a circular paved driveway with a closed gate. I turned the car around and drove back up the dirt road a ways, pulling off the side of the road as much as possible without actually going into the woods.

  Nothing says suspicious like a car parked right outside your property. I was at least set up for a quick getaway if I needed one.

  I couldn’t see any cameras on the gate but I flipped my hoodie up just in case. The gate was wrought iron and pointy at the top. I went into the woods, where the gate was a bit lower and protected by overhanging trees. I scaled the gate with one foot on a tree and one on the metal bars of the gate, pulling myself up higher with an overhanging branch. I peered over the fence.

  Virginia Lake wasn’t wide but it was long. It stretched out ahead of me for what looked like miles, ending at a mountain range. The sky was wall-to-wall stars, and the calm water sparkled with their reflections. It was incredible.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  Security lights dotted a well-manicured lawn. A wooden dock bobbed gently on the lake. And tethered to that dock was a houseboat.

  A fucking houseboat.

  I’ve never stolen something from a houseboat before. Do they work like regular houses? What’s the plumbing like in there? Does poo just go into the lake? Should I have packed a wetsuit? Do I even own a wetsuit? Where would I get a wetsuit around here? Can I swim with a hoodie on?

  I lifted my binoculars and scoped it out.

  Two stories high and bigger than most homes, the houseboat looked completely out of place in this woodsy, natural setting. The flat, fenced-in roof included a small sheltered area for a table and chairs. A set of golf clubs leaned against the table.

  There’s a driving range on that roof.

  Besides the badass roof, the houseboat looked like a normal house with windows and wooden deck chairs outside the front door. I couldn’t see a secondary entrance, and the windows were dark.

  I looked around the property. The driveway was empty, which meant I probably had the place all to myself, maybe even for the whole night. I smiled and pulled on a pair of gloves. This surveillance mission had just turned into the real deal. If I could shave a day off this trip, the sooner I’d be home and the sooner I’d feel more secure about my finances, and my life in general.

  I grabbed my gear from the car, shimmied up the fence from my spot by the tree and dropped down onto the property. Wind whistled through the trees and water sloshed against the sides of the houseboat. I took one last look around before approaching the dock.

  I stepped as softly as I could but the boards creaked anyway. I didn’t risk trying the front door in case there was an alarm system in place. I decided the best way in would be to climb up the side to the roof terrace and then go down from there.

  Using the fence around the front door, I slowly found my footing and climbed up, each time checking the sturdiness of window frames before I put any weight on them. A piece of wood splintered beneath my fingertips and I breathed out a silent scream, my eyes welling with sharp, burning tears.

  I reached the top, swung my legs over the side and avoided the driving range just in case I left footprints in the grass. A spiral wooden staircase led down to the second floor. I lay flat on my stomach and lowered my head over the side of the boat to see where the staircase ended. My stomach turned over in my gut.

  The staircase ended right in front of a bedroom. Right beside the window was a bed. And in that bed was a man.

  I whipped my head back up, my chest heaving and my pulse racing. I lay on the top deck, staying as still as I could.

  Just walk away.

  I lowered my head over the side once more, slower this time. The man was sleeping, his mouth stretched open like a hungry walrus. His chest rose then lowered slowly with each breath.

  I’m sure if he were awake, he’d be out of bed calling the cops by now, not pretending to sleep.

  I still couldn’t risk going down the ladder in case he heard me, because he’d see me right away. Around the other side of the roof was a porch with a sitting area. I climbed down onto it and let myself in through the patio doors.

  I can’t just leave now. I came all this way. I’m already here. I might as well just find the statue and get the hell out.

  Besides, I needed the money. This item didn’t offer a huge payoff but at least it would hold me over for a few months. My bank account wasn’t as amply stocked as I’d led my father to believe.

  You’d be doing this anyway, even if you were chockablock with cash.

  The place was dark inside. The stairs down to the main floor thankfully didn’t creak as I stepped on each one, going slowly. The living room area was small with a sofa, a big armchair, a couple of bookshelves and a mantle over an electric fireplace. There were a few framed photos on the mantle, right next to the Egyptian artifact I had come to collect. About ten inches high, the statue looked extremely proud of his gigantic penis, which was at least four or five inches long. He was smiling. Ew.

  Who would keep this thing next to photos of their children?

  I reached for the statue. Before I could decide how to get off the houseboat, there was a loud bang, followed by the big front window shattering from top to bottom. Thousands of shards of glass fell everywhere.

  There is no way the guy upstairs didn’t hear that. Shit.

  A tall, dark figure stood on the patio, pointing a gun straight at me. I dropped the statue and threw myself behind the couch, covering my face to avoid the layer of glass on the carpet.

  The guy upstairs was yelling but I couldn’t make out what he said over the high-pitched ringing in my ears caused by the gunshot.

  He appeared at the top of the stairs, a phone in his hand. “I’m calling the cops!”

  Before he finished dialing the number, the gunman aimed the gun at his chest
and shot twice. The man’s body fell back limply and crumpled to the floor. The wall was dotted with blood behind him, and a red stream trickled down onto the floor below the open stair steps.

  I turned and stared at the gunman, my eyes wide. “What do you want?” I grabbed the Egyptian statue. “This?”

  The gunman nodded. I slowly passed the statue to him. It was dark but I could see he was wearing a balaclava. The gunman looked at the statue for a second and then aimed the gun at my forehead, touching the nozzle to my bangs.

  “Oh god. Please don’t kill me,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

  This is it.

  Silence.

  I opened one eye. The gunman checked the chamber and grunted in frustration.

  His gun is jammed. Oh my god, his gun is jammed!

  The gunman pistol-whipped me across the face and I fell backwards to the floor, nearly cracking the back of my head on the electric fireplace. I wiped a few drops of blood away from my eye, the socket aching.

  The gunman took off, running down the dock at high speed. He jumped off the dock and dove into the water, graceful and fast, and swam towards the other side of the lake.

  I gotta get out of here.

  I pushed myself off the carpet and bolted out of the houseboat, leaping over the broken window. I just stared straight ahead at the wooded area I come in through. I ran so hard and so fast, my legs burned.

  Ya know, I wish people would stop pointing guns at me. Enough is enough!

  I threw myself into the trees, climbed the gate, jumped down and got in the car. I didn’t look back. I thought my heart might explode as I sped down the dark road, much faster than I should. I needed to get off this road as soon as possible, before the police showed up.

  What if the police stop me on my way back into town? I’m wearing black face paint and dressed all in black. That’s not suspicious at all.