Page 123 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“I’ll get him, it’s safer that way. Please, I insist you move to the street.”

“Wait. Are you alone? Where’s your truck?”

“Not alone and the truck will be here soon. Now, sir, you need to go now!”

The man moved as instructed, and the conversation was replaced with the sound of movement. Then there was aclickand Devin said, “Back door unlocked.”

Benji and Sticks ran to the French doors at the back of the house. Pulling it open, Benji rushed inside just in time to see Devin disappear up the stairs to grab the son.

“This way,” he said to Sticks.

With how quickly this job had been thrown together, Benji half expected the info about the painting being in the formal dining room would be wrong. But sure enough, the Stone hung right where it was supposed to be.

Benji pulled it down, removed it from its frame, and leaned the frame against the wall. Sticks then placed one of his fire starters on the floor against the frame. Since there had been no time to prep any false evidence, the frame alone would have to sell the idea that the painting had burned.

By the time Sticks said “Ready,” Benji had the Stone wrapped in a fire blanket.

“Light it up,” Benji said.

The device burst into flames that quickly spread onto the wall.

“Let’s go,” Benji said.

He raced into the living room.

From across the room a deep voice yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”

A middle-aged man stared at Benji from the base of the stairs, one foot on the first riser, as if he had been about to go up, his voice identical to that of the homeowner Devin was supposed to have sent away.

“This house is on fire!” Benji shouted. “You need to get out!”

“What is that under your arm?”

“Sir! You shouldn’t be in here. It’s too dangerous.”

From above came the sound of running feet. A younger clone of the guy came halfway down the stairs, then stopped. Devin was right behind him.

“Dad?” the kid said. “This guy said the house is on fire.”

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Devin said.

The father’s gaze moved past Benji and Sticks to the dining room entrance. From his angle he could see the empty frame and the flames below it.

He looked back at Benji. “Is that my painting?”

“Let’s go!” Benji yelled and began running toward the open French doors.

“You’re the people the insurance people called me about today, aren’t you?”

Benji nearly tripped over his own feet. He looked back. Before he could ask what the guy meant, Sticks grabbed his shoulders and pushed him toward the French doors. “Run, dammit!”

They sprinted out the doors and across the backyard. Theyhad just reached the hedges when a gunshot sounded behind them.

“Oh, shit!” Sticks exclaimed, then raced past Benji toward the fence around the community.

Benji glanced over his shoulder, looking for Devin, but didn’t see him. He told himself it had probably been easier for his friend to escape through the front door, not wanting to consider the alternative.

Sticks scaled the fence first and started to run again.

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