Page 13 of Bitter Arrangement

This is why I steal. It’s the rush, the excitement, the danger that hangs in the brief moments before I know I’m getting away with it. Any second now, he might realize I took something?—

But Dad sweeps Jeremy away to the door, talking numbers, confirmations, contracts, and phone calls.

I clear the table, grinning like an idiot. Once the plates are stacked, I send one last text.

Riley: See you in a month, creep.

He doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. I’m flying high and elated as I do the dishes. Dad stops in to thank me for my help, back to looking his normal sour self before he disappears into his office.

Only after I’m done cleaning up and safely back in my room do I finally take out my prize.

It’s a pocket watch. Burnished brass case, complicated engraving on the face. There’s no make or model. I’m guessing it’s very, very old, based on the wear and tear.

What’s a modern guy like Jeremy Fong doing with a piece like this?

Doesn’t matter. I whistle to myself as I open my closet door, loosen the fake board against the wall, and kneel down to open an old, lead-lined safe hidden in the wall.

Inside are my most precious treasures.

A state senator’s wallet. An ivory cat statue taken from a notorious gangster’s living room. A signed photo of Lionel Messi swiped from some asshole consultant’s private soccer memorabilia collection. Along with a dozen other minor items, mostly all entirely worthless, except to me as mementos of all the dumb things I’ve pulled off.

I add the pocket watch with a big smile.

If it weren’t for Alexan’s texts, I never would’ve had the courage to go for it, and with my dad standing right there too.

That must’ve been my best score to date. A quick and easy lift, and nobody’s the wiser.

Later tonight, or maybe not even until tomorrow or the day after, Jeremy’s going to realize his watch is missing.

And he’ll never suspect sweet little Riley McGrath.

Chapter5

Alexan

Three weeks until the wedding.

“If I’m not backout in twenty minutes, assume they cut my throat.” I frown at the nondescript building tucked in the back of an average office park. There’s nobody else around except for a bunch of average sedans parked nearby.

Tigran laughs softly, sitting up in the passenger seat of my BMW. He’s got a pistol in his lap and a phone in his hand, casually leaning on his elbow.

“Mantis is ruthless, but they aren’t stupid. If they wanted you dead, they’d just shoot you in the back of the head and be done with it.”

He’s right, but I’m still more than a little wary.

Up to this point, all my contact with Mantis and their operatives has been through secure email. At least until this morning, when they sent me a job offer and a location.

I wasn’t sure I’d accept until I mentioned it to Tigran. He gently reminded me that I’m the one trying to keep a healthy working relationship with those vicious bastards.

Besides, the pay is very, very good. Double my normal rate for this sort of thing.

He didn’t have to come as backup, but I appreciate the extra muscle.

“If there’s trouble, I’ll just start shooting.” I push open my door and step out. “If you hear gunfire, come running.”

“Good luck.” He salutes me with his gun barrel, showing teeth.

Fatherhood slowed him down, but there’s still a dark hunger in his eyes.

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