Page 15 of The Grinch Who Stole Orcmas

Kam grins widely. “Count us in too! Right, Emma?”

Emma nods, but she doesn’t look enthusiastic. “I guess so. But let’s be careful, okay?”

Sarah and Thornn exchange a look before Sarah speaks up. “We’ll come too. Safety in numbers, right?”

Joy beams at the group. “Thank you all. Now, let’s go catch that truck!”

As we hurry to Thornn’s Suburban, I wonder when, exactly, I completely lost my mind.

Chapter 9: Warehouse Woes

Joy

The warehouse district looms before us, a maze of corrugated metal, 1800s brick, and shadowy alleys. My heart pounds as Thornn eases the SUV to a stop, far enough away to avoid detection but close enough for us to see our target—the yellow rental truck.

“There it is,” I whisper, gripping Grum’s arm. His muscles tense under my touch, and I quickly pull away, reminding myself that he’s not a fan of physical contact. “Sorry.”

He grunts, but there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “It’s okay. Let’s focus on the mission.”

We pile out of the car, our mismatched group of humans and orcs moving with surprising stealth. Emma and Sarah bring upthe rear, while Kam and Thornn flank us protectively. As we creep closer, two figures emerge from the truck’s cab, cigarettes glowing in the darkness.

“The guard is supposed to be here to let us in. He’s late,” one grumbles, his voice carrying in the still night air. “We might be sittin’ here all night.”

“Yeah, man,” his partner replies, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “This gig has been bullshit since we started. Where’s that damn watchman?”

We huddle behind a nearby dumpster, hardly daring to breathe. Not only don’t we want to be spotted, but it reeks. Grum’s solid presence beside me is oddly comforting, and I lean into him before I realize what I’m doing—which doesn’t mean I pull away. I like his solid warmth.

“Has Sykes got somethin’ on you too? Or is he payin’ you?” The first guy spits on the ground.

“You’re asking if that fucker’s paying me? No. With Sykes, you work for him or he sends you back to prison. I hear he’s got at least half a dozen of us doin’ shady shit like this all the time. Fucker’s getting rich off us and we’re the ones taking all the risks.”

“Fool’s shakin’ us down, man. Like we ain’t got enough problems with probation and shit.”

“The system’s rigged. Who do you report to when the head of the probation department is shaking you down?”

My eyes widen, and I exchange glances with Grum. This is bigger and far more complicated than we thought.

“For real,” his buddy agrees. “This is bullshit. But you know how it is—Sykes says jump, we ask how high—or go back to the joint.”

A door creaks open nearby, and a third figure appears—the watchman, I assume. “Sorry I’m late, boys. Let’s get this show on the road.”

As they unlock the warehouse, my mind races. The head of the probation department has masterminded a penny ante heist of a bunch of toys? Why? And just how deep does this go? Before I can voice my questions, all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck is this?” One of the thugs yells after yanking open the truck’s back door and opening one of the boxes. “Where’s the computers and electronics?”

“This truck was supposed to be filled with high tech?” his partner echoes, confused. “This is all… toys?”

My heart leaps. We found our presents!

“Shit, shit, shit,” the first guy panics. “Sykes is gonna kill us, man. Do you think we grabbed the wrong truck this morning? Hell! It was right where he said it would be, parked at 5600 Hollywood Blvd.”

“5600? You fucking idiot. It was 3600. Are you stupid or somethin’?”

“Wait,” the other says, grabbing a teddy bear. “Maybe… maybe they hid the good stuff inside?”

To my horror, he pulls out a knife and slices the bear open. Stuffing spills out, and nothing else. He does the same to a plush lion and zebra.

“It’s just… toys.” He sounds disgusted and bewildered.

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