Gifted Thief by Helen Harper
‘You must have pissed off someone.’
‘Not that I can think of. The last time I really did that was before you came along. I’ve been keeping my nose clean.’
Other than arranging for a series of high-profile thefts, I thought. Apparently reading my mind, Taylor sighed. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve not upset anyone in the underworld.’
‘Could it be someone we’ve stolen from in the past? Someone wanting serious revenge?’
A spark flared in his eyes. ‘I might not be much of a gambler, Tegs, but I am good at my job. No one knows who we are.’
I had no idea what we were going to do. ‘Okay,’ I said. I’d have to make this up as I went along. ‘This is what we’re going to do. Um…’
There was a sudden thump at the front door that made us both jump. I looked at Taylor. ‘Stay there,’ I told him, every muscle in my body tensing up.
It was nothing more than the morning paper. I cursed myself for being as jumpy as a kitten and picked it up. ‘It’s alright,’ I called out to Taylor, picking it up from the doormat. ‘It’s just the newspaper.’ I tossed it down onto the kitchen table with the rest of the detritus.
‘I’m sorry,’ Taylor said miserably. ‘I’ve screwed everything up. Here you are trying to pack, trying to make a new life yourself and…’
‘Stop.’ I mustered my sternest look. ‘Yes, you’ve messed up. But we’ll deal with it.’
His head drooped. ‘How?’
I straightened my shoulders. Sneaky was my middle name. But when sneaky didn’t work… ‘I’ll find this courier and talk some sense into him. If we can get the name of the guy who bought the loan, we can find out what he really wants. Because I’m betting it ain’t money.’
Taylor jerked his head up in alarm. ‘The Wild Man will squash you, Integrity! This isn’t someone you want to mess with.’
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘Maybe he’ll find out that I’m someone he doesn’t want to mess with.’
Besides, at this moment we were out of damn options.
‘I should come with you then.’
‘No. Right now you’re the target. It makes more sense for you to stay here. It’ll be easier for me to talk my way out of things if I’m alone.’
He sighed. ‘Once upon a time, it was me giving the orders.’
‘Once upon a time, you weren’t a decrepit old man.’ I winked. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll sort all this out.’
Chapter Four
From where I was standing, Taylor’s little house looked empty. The door was closed, the curtains were drawn and there were no signs of life. A few people scurried along the street, one or two of them with faces I recognised. Wanting to avoid getting drawn into a chat about the weather, I stayed in the shadows. I couldn’t afford to get distracted. You’re tough, I told myself. I nodded at the tiny voice inside my head that chirped: ‘And when the going gets tough, the tough get going.’
I could do this. I had to do this.
As soon as the street was clear of pedestrians, I darted forward. It was possible that the hulking brute had vanished when he realised Taylor wasn’t around. That wouldn’t help my cause; I needed to confront him. He knew who I was and that meant he probably also knew I was Sidhe. I would bet, however, that he didn’t know that I had no Sidhe Gifts to work with. I could play with that. Assuming he showed up again.
When I reached Taylor’s door and examined it, the splintered frame was easy to see. The lock itself was completely bust. I pushed open the door stealthily but it took only one touch for it to creak ominously, fall forward, drop off its top hinge and slam against the wall with a loud crash. So much for a discreet entry.
With little choice, I folded my arms and stalked inside, yelling as I went, ‘Hey Scarface! Where the hell are you?’ I injected a gravelly growl into my tone. Ha! Take that, scary enforcer man.
Without slowing down, I stormed through the hallway and into Taylor’s living room – to be greeted by a scene of utter devastation. He was normally fastidious about tidiness. When I lived with him after fleeing the Bull, he snapped at me for so much as leaving an empty glass on a table. If he could see how things looked now, he’d have palpitations. Oh wait. He already was having palpitations.
Taylor’s computer monitor, which normally sat neatly on the desk in the corner, was lying smashed in the centre of the room. There was a huge rent through his watercolour of the Aberdeen skyline, and there was paper everywhere. There was also a strong smell of cloves.
‘Where are you?’ I snarled. I marched over to the rug in the middle of the room and picked up one of the cushions from the sofa. It appeared to be stained with some sort of icky brown liquid. ‘You better have wide pockets,’ I shouted. ‘Because you’re going to have a hell of a dry cleaning bill!’
As threats went, that was hardly going to have a thug quivering in his boots. I had to do better. ‘You lily-livered guttersnipe! Come out and show yourself!’ Nope. That wasn’t much of an improvement.
Just then there was a thump. I froze and slowly lifted my eyes to the ceiling. There was another thump and, as I watched, a crack appeared in one corner of the plasterwork then snaked its way across. Okaaaay. Upstairs then.
Trying not to be terrified at what sort of creature could cause structural damage so easily, I balled up my fists. Bring it on.
I thumped over to the stairs. I wasn’t going to cause any cracks to appear but at least I could make myself sound unafraid. ‘Show yourself!’ I yelled.
A strange rumble reverberated through the house. I swallowed hard. That didn’t sound good. Before I could place one foot on the bottom stair, a vast shadow appeared. There, directly above me, was a monstrous dark shape. I couldn’t make out any features but, whoever he was, he was possibly the largest being I’d ever seen in my life. It was a wonder he’d ever made it up the narrow staircase. No doubt this was Taylor’s Wild Man then. The only saving grace was that I couldn’t see any sign of the aforementioned gun.
I ignored the rapid flutter of my heartbeat and frowned upwards. ‘I’m guessing you like to disco,’ I called up. ‘Because you’re doing a bloody good impression of the boogieman.’
For a moment there was silence, then I heard a tiny wheeze. Was that a good or a bad thing? ‘You like jokes?’ I asked. No response. I took a deep breath. ‘What does one penny say to the other penny?’
There was still no answer. I provided it for him. ‘Let’s get together and make some cents.’ Nothing. ‘Okay, okay. So it’s an American joke,’ I said. ‘It’s still good though, right? You can still understand it. And, you know what? This, right now?’ I waved my arm. ‘You being here? It’s making no sense. Your boss, whoever he is, will get his money. But seventy-two hours is ridiculous. We need more time. You tell him that you don’t scare me. You want a fight then I’m here and I’m ready.’
I puffed up my chest, emboldened by the continued silence from the enforcer. It was all for show, of course. I didn’t fight. Ever. ‘What’s your boss’s name again?’
Unsurprisingly, the monster-shaped man didn’t answer. I was going to have to be a damn sight cleverer than that. ‘Strong and silent, eh?’ I asked. ‘I’m betting you’re actually a real softie at heart. You probably hate violence.’ I took one step up. ‘You play the part of the bully but really you like puppies and pansies and crying at romantic comedies.’ I took another step up.
There was another loud rumble. I forced myself not to clutch at the banister as the entire house shook. It took me a moment or two to work out what the sound was. Shit. It was laughter. I shrugged.
‘Okay then. I pegged you wrong. You do like violence. You are a bully. But you know what? Most bullies can be beaten. You probably live off your size. People run away in fear before you even raise your little finger. Well,’ I said, hoping to hell that I sounded bold and confident, ‘I’m not scared of bullies. Not any more. Until you’ve faced a vicious Sidhe teen girl, you don’t know the meaning of the word bully. So you? You’re nothing
He still didn’t bloody move. This was like talking to a brick wall. I stepped up once more. I was getting closer. And he was still a freaking statue.
‘I’m Sidhe, you know,’ I said casually, hating myself for bringing up my heritage. What the hell. I was leaving town anyway. ‘You want to know who my father was? Gale. From Clan Adair. He was a mean wanker with more power in his pinkie than you could ever even dream of.’ So I’d been told. I flicked a cold smile up at the statue. ‘Clan Adair might not be around any more but I’ve got his power. I am his daughter.’
He didn’t so much as flinch. My words might be tough but I didn’t have a single thing with which to back them up. I tossed back my hair. ‘So get your boss on the blower and tell him to back the hell off. If he does, he’ll get his money. But if it’s not money he’s really after, then tell me what he wants and I might just let you go.’
In a world of ridiculous notions, that was about the silliest thing I could have come up with. I was a third of this guy’s size. But I was banking on the fact that it was so ridiculous, it might actually work. Unfortunately I was wrong.
The huge man wheezed again. He started to move down towards me, one step then another. I ignored the tremble in my knees and held my ground. It was all I had. If I ever got out of this, though, I was going to wring Taylor’s neck.
The reek of cloves got stronger. I peered at his face but it was still shadowed. I lifted up the corner of my mouth in a rueful smile. ‘You’re going to be sorry if you come any closer,’ I told him.
I’d barely finished my sentence when he reached out with one huge hand and grabbed the front of my T-shirt, hauling me off my feet. Quashing my terror, I began to mumble incoherent nonsense. I screwed my eyes shut. ‘Qaleghqa'mo' jIQuch! LwlIj jachjaj’ I ignored my legs dangling helplessly in the air and waved my arms around as if I were about to cast a spell. Then I opened one eye and peeked.
His face was still shrouded in darkness but I could make out the scar that Taylor had mentioned. It was clearly an old wound but it was an angry red colour, cutting a jagged line from one side of his face to the other. His nose was large and bulbous but his eyes were nothing more than shaded chasms of black. Uh oh.
He cleared his throat. ‘Since when do the Sidhe know Klingon?’ he grunted in a deep voice.
I winced. So much for that. Without further warning, he thrust his free hand in a tight fist at the side of my head. For a brief second I felt a burst of pain and tiny lights danced in front of my eyes. Then the world slid into darkness.
*
When I came to, I was completely disorientated. I thought I was back in my own bed and had dreamed up the entire thing, until I tried to sit up and felt the pain in my head where he’d struck me. I raised my hand and gingerly touched my temple. It throbbed and was tender but I didn’t appear to have suffered any lasting damage. Then it occurred to me that the brute of an enforcer might still be around and I leapt to my feet.
I was back in Taylor’s living room, lying on his sofa with my head propped up on a cushion – which made no sense whatsoever. Of the monster man there was no sign.
‘Hello?’ I called out cautiously. There was no response. I cast a wary glance upwards to the ceiling. Had he gone back upstairs? The crack seemed to have grown, threading its way out across the white surface. I stared at it and made a decision. Whether my attacker was there or not, I was done. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
I half ran and half stumbled out of the door, almost colliding with the warm, familiar figure of Brochan.
‘Hey!’ he said, catching my arm. ‘What gives? I came round to see if Taylor was alright and I saw his door.’ He pointed at the semi-destroyed frame. ‘I’m going to guess that wasn’t you.’
‘We need to get out of here,’ I told him. ‘Now.’
I filled him in on the details as we half walked, half ran back to my flat. Brochan listened, his face expressionless. When I was done, he stared at me with an intensity that I rarely saw. ‘You should leave, Integrity. This is Taylor’s problem. Not yours.’
‘Taylor’s problems are my problems. And vice-versa.’
He shook his head. ‘You can’t spend the rest of your life beholden to him.’
‘If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what I would have done.’
‘You’ve paid him back tenfold.’
I straightened my spine. ‘And I’ll continue to pay him back.’
Brochan sucked air in through his teeth. ‘It sounds to me like you’re in over your head.’
‘And that’s the fun part,’ I said lightly, punching his arm. ‘Besides,’ I joked, ‘I live for danger.’
Brochan didn’t crack a smile. ‘I know what it’s like. We all know what it’s like. We’re just as Clan-less as you. It might be a bit different for you because you’re Sidhe…’
‘It’s not different,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m not different just because I have Sidhe blood running through my veins.’
‘Every Sidhe has a place. Every Sidhe has a Clan. That can’t be said for the rest of us.’
‘There are mermen in the Clans.’
He nodded. ‘Sure. Just like there are pixies and warlocks. And all the rest. But they only work for the Clans. They’re not tied to them like the Sidhe are. And there are plenty of us who aren’t in the Clans either. You’re the only Sidhe in the country in that situation. You’re bound to feel the need to belong somewhere. It doesn’t mean you need to kill yourself because of it.’
‘Believe me,’ I snorted, ‘I have a very strong survival instinct.’
He spoke quietly. ‘Not strong enough. Pack up your stuff, Integrity. Get out of here and go to the mountains like you planned. Taylor will manage without you. He got himself into this situation. You said he’s owed money before and got himself back into the black again. He’ll cope.’
I thought of the hulking Wild Man in Taylor’s house who’d laid me out with one single swat. ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘There’s something about all this that’s different.’ I tilted my head up to the sky and felt the faint drizzle on my skin. ‘I can delay Oban for a few more days if I have to. Besides, this guy – the one who’s bought the loan – he’s given us seventy-two hours.’ I checked my watch. ‘My train leaves in seventy-five so I’ll probably still make it.’
‘You might not be in one piece, that’s all,’ Brochan muttered under his breath.
I laughed, trying to sound more confident than I felt. ‘If this moneylender guy wants a piece of me, then he’s got good taste.’
‘Let me speak to the others. I’m sure between the three of us we can scrape together enough money to sort things out.’
A part of me really wanted to say yes but it wasn’t fair. ‘If you don’t think I should be involved,’ I said firmly, ‘then you lot definitely shouldn’t be. Taylor and I will work something out. There’s still time.’
‘Integrity…’
I met his eyes. ‘I promise that if I can’t find an alternative solution then I’ll come and talk to you, alright? I’m sure it won’t come to that though.’ It definitely wouldn’t. I’d use Bob’s wishes before I involved the crew. The scarred man was dangerous, even if he’d laid me down on the sofa after knocking me out. I remained convinced that his boss wanted something more than money – and until we knew what that something was, it made sense to keep things between Taylor and me. ‘This isn’t your problem,’ I reiterated.
‘Why is it,’ he complained, ‘that you can say that to me and believe it, but I can’t say it to you?’
I smirked. ‘Sheer stubborn contrariness, of course.’
He gripped my fingers tightly, bare seconds before there was a squeal of tires and the sudden sharp howl of a siren. My stomach dropped. Oh shite. We were cornered and there was nowhere to run.
‘Iain Brochan! You’re under arrest for assault. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. An
I gaped. Assault? What the hell? A burly police officer jumped out of the car, snapped a pair of handcuffs round Brochan’s wrists and flung him into the back seat.
‘Wait!’ I shouted. ‘He’s not done anything! You can’t do this!’
The car door slammed shut. From the other side of the window, Brochan stared at me with wide eyes. ‘Get the others,’ he mouthed.
‘Stop!’ I shrieked again. It was pointless. The police officer didn’t give me so much as a glance; he simply clambered into the driver’s seat and the car took off, leaving me standing there frozen with shock. Dry leaves skittered across the road in the wake of the car’s departure.
With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone. Before I could dial, however, it rang and Lexie’s name flashed up on the screen. Thank the stars.
‘Lexie,’ I said, urgently, ‘listen. Something’s happened. Brochan…’
‘It’s Speck,’ she broke in. ‘He’s been arrested. He sent me a text message just now. They broke in his door, Integrity.’
The tendrils of dread curling round my heart squeezed further. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ she babbled. ‘There wasn’t time for him to explain. It has to be the bank job. How did they get onto us? How…’
Cold rationality replaced my fear. ‘Leave now, Lexie,’ I told her. ‘Don’t pack anything. Get out of your house and find somewhere to lay low. Someone’s after us and I don’t know why.’
‘But…’
‘Do it! Dump your phone too. I’ll come and find you when I know what’s going on.’
‘I’m scared.’
I swallowed. ‘Me too. But go, Lex. Now.’
I sprinted the last few hundred metres home, flung open my door and bolted inside. Taylor’s strained expression greeted me.
‘Who else knows about the bank job?’ I demanded.
He blinked. ‘What?’
‘The Lia Saifire, Taylor. Who else did you tell about it?’
Confusion was written across his face. ‘No-one. I’m not stupid. What’s happened?’