Page 18 of Indigo Sky

He unsnapped the pink canvas and flipped it open to flash me the driver’s license, showcased in the clear plastic window. I snatched the damn thing from him, holding the wallet up to study the face of a pretty blonde. Kathleen McLaughlin. Twenty. Five foot six.

"Picture must be old," Nate said like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I lowered the wallet to spear him with my rage-filled glare.

"She has red hair now." He spoke so casually, so nonchalantly. Like he hadn't stolen someone's property.

No, not justsomeone. A fuckingclient. Forget getting himself—us—in trouble. Roy could lose his business. Roy, who had been nice to me my entire fucking life. Roy, who had given us both jobs without knowing jack shit about either of our work ethic. I could safely say mine was still intact, but Nate's? I wasn't sure he’d ever had any, but now? It was nonexistent.

I stepped closer to him, so close that the toes of my dirty boots touched his. "How the fuck did you steal her wallet?" I hissed, seething and two seconds away from killing him on this fucking sidewalk.

Nate took a step back and swept his eyes across the surrounding area. "Can you keep your voice down, please?"

"Can you answer my goddamn question?"

He turned and began to walk. I followed.

"It was in her car," he said, shrugging like it was nothing. No biggie.

"So, you just, what? Thought it was up for grabs? Jesus fucking Christ, Nate." I raked my hand through my hair to cup the back of my neck, and as I squeezed, I groaned. "So, what the hell are we doing here?"

"Returning it."

He glanced at a mailbox, then veered off the sidewalk to head toward one brick unit with white trim and a whole bunch of daisies in the yard—identical to all the rest. I looked at the marked parking spots in front of the house, noticed they were empty, then hurried after Nate.

"What, you're just gonna drop it in the mailbox?"

"I mean, Icould…" He glanced over his shoulder toward the street, then removed a hammer from his pocket.

I watched with horrified bewilderment as he shattered the glass in one of the door's windowpanes. He pushed his arm through the empty window, brushing the glass aside with his jacket sleeve, and unlocked the door from the inside. The door swung open as he smirked at me.

"Orwe could leave it on the kitchen counter."

I remained on the front stoop as he confidently walked into what looked like a living room. He acted like he’d been thereforever, like he owned the place. He glanced around, nodding with approval.

"Nice," he complimented. "Not sure I would’ve chosen this carpet color, but hey, what can you do? Think she'd mind if I took a couple of things?"

I threw a terrified glance over my shoulder, sweeping my gaze over the quiet road.

"You wanna not look like you're doing something illegal?"

I swiveled my head wildly, looking back at him with more fear than I remembered feeling in my entire life. Fuck, not even having my face blown up had felt like this. I’d had little comprehension of what happened then. But this? I knew what we were doing. I knew what was happening. And I knew that, if we were caught, it would be my ass in the back of a cop car and my parents bailing me out of jail.

"Are you fucking serious right now? Drop the wallet, and let's go. Before someone sees us."

Nate pursed his lips as he raised his eyes to the ceiling. Then, he shook his head. "Nah, I think I'm gonna take a look around for a few minutes. You're free to join me, but can you close the door? Don't wanna make the neighbors suspicious."

He turned and walked farther into the unit, swinging a right and heading up the carpeted stairs.

I had a choice to make. I could leave, call the cops, and tell my parents to come get me. It was probably the smartest thing to do—thesafestthing—but then what? Nate would be on his own,and who the fuck knew what he would do when left to his own devices?

He had never ditched me before, not even under the worst of circumstances, and what kind of friend would I be if I ditched him at a time when he desperately needed me to talk him out of doing something completely fucking reckless—even more so than what he was doing right now?

So, I stepped inside, closed the door, and hurried up the stairs, keeping my gaze on the floor, as if that made this situation better.

I found Nate in a bedroom full of white and lace. He snorted when I entered, still keeping my eye on the floor.

"Girl wants Mommy and Daddy to think she's Little Miss Priss, but look at the size of this fucking thing."

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