Submerged (Bound Together #1) Page 7

  We barely make it through the first song and I realize today is going to be a difficult day for Miss Natalia. She won’t sit still, won’t play with her toys, and won’t be quiet. She’s basically a church nightmare.

  To save myself the embarrassment, I go ahead and excuse myself, firmly latching onto the wiggle worm in my arms, and head to the family room just outside of the main chapel. There’s a small area where families can entertain children, change diapers, or whatever without completely disrupting what is happening on the other side of the big wooden doors.

  Natalia, who has been walking for only a few weeks now, is all over that little room. Toys are being strewn from one end to the other, and no matter how much I try to keep it somewhat organized, it’s like a mini-hurricane blew through the room in her wake. It’s just my luck that as soon as I throw my hands in the air and give up, at least until she calms down, a nice looking man walks in carrying a small boy. I’m guessing the child is three or four years old with light brown eyes and matching hair. He’s the spitting image of his dad.

  “Hi,” he says with a polite smile as he sets the little boy down to play.

  “Hello,” I reply before grabbing the block Natalia is about to put in her mouth. Who knows where that block has been?

  “You’re Carly, right?” he asks as he sits down in one of the comfy chairs across from me.

  “I am,” I say incredulously. I noticed he was good looking when he walked in, but now that he’s sitting full-on in front of me, this guy is gorgeous. His light brown eyes are sparkling and his hair has that tussled, yet stylish look with just a slight curl to the ends. He’s wearing a plain green polo shirt tucked into pressed Dockers. My heart rate actually kicks up a few beats. “How did you know?”

  “Oh,” he starts but then looks down at the little boy playing with a large fire truck. It takes him a few seconds before he finishes. “I kinda asked around a few weeks back when you were here.” I’m pretty sure I blush ten shades of pink at his admission.

  “Oh,” I say shyly, looking back down at Natalia who is now trying to take the fire truck away from the young boy. “Is this your son?” I ask as I try to gently pry my daughter away from the little boy’s toy.

  “Yeah, this is Liam. He just turned four. Oh, and I’m Bill,” he says, extending his hand forward for me to shake.

  “Carly,” I say and then realize my mistake. “But I guess you already know that,” I add with another blush and a smile.

  “Yeah, well you are the prettiest girl in church, and I just needed to know your name.” His confession hits me square in the gut. He thinks I’m pretty? God, I haven’t felt pretty in I don’t know how long. Actually, I do know, but I’m determined not to think about that night right now.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “So, I know we just met and everything, but would you like to have coffee with me sometime?” he asks, his handsome face radiating tepidness and hope. Part of me wants to say no. Am I ready to date? Is this a date? Coffee is a date, right?

  Oh hell…

  The other part of me really wants to say yes. I’ve been stuck living one certain day over and over again for too long; like the movie “Groundhog Day,” I just can’t seem to get out of the rut. Blake is never coming back. He made that clear the night we spent together, so there’s nothing wrong with me finally moving on. Moving forward. That’s what I want. I want to move forward, and for the first time, I feel like I might be ready to take that step.

  So without giving it another thought, I look up at him and say, “Sure.”

  “Really?” he asks, seeming surprised by my acceptance of his invitation.

  “Yeah, I’d love to have coffee with you,” I say as Natalia starts to throw building blocks at Liam. “Natalia, no no,” I chastise in a forceful voice.

  “Oh, I remember that age. Wait until she hits two. If you still have hair by the time she reaches three, three and a half, consider yourself lucky,” he says with a laugh, earning one from me in return.

  “Well, you have great hair so you must have fared well enough.”

  “It’s all an illusion. Liam and I barely made it through.” The far-off look he gets makes me want to ask him to elaborate, but before I can, the door opens and my mom walks in. She seems awfully happy to see me sitting with Bill while our kids tear up the room around us.

  “Hi,” I say, trying to keep her attention to me and not towards Bill.

  “Hello,” Mom says to me before turning towards the man sitting across from me. “I’m Georgia.”

  “Bill Adler, and this is my son, Liam.”

  “Well, it’s so nice to meet you, Bill. And I see you’ve met my daughter, Carly?” she asks, stepping next to me with a weird smile on her face. I know that smile. Her mind is working overtime at something, and I’m sure it has everything to do with Bill. She probably has me married off and pregnant again in her mind right now.

  “I have finally had the pleasure of meeting Carly,” Bill says. “And I hope to see you all again soon,” he adds before helping Liam pick up the toys he got out. I do the same, though it appears I’m putting quite a bit more away than he is. Natalia is a terror.

  When we have the room picked back up as best as we can, Bill turns back toward me and pulls the cell phone from his pocket. He starts typing before handing me the small device. I take that as my cue to fill in my personal contact information. I hesitate, but only for a few seconds. Step one in moving on: give a good-looking guy your phone number.

  I hand him back his phone and the room seems to stale with dead silence. Mom appears to be watching us both, smiling with a big grin, until Bill finally gathers up Liam’s hand in his and turns towards me. “Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Carly. I’ll call you soon,” he says with another friendly smile. Yep, nice teeth. Nice smile. Handsome face. Decent body, a little on the skinny side, but hey, they can’t all be a hunk of beefcake. He appears to have it all.

  Yet, he appears to be all wrong.

  I shake off the negativity, and offer him a kind smile. “Yes, I’ll look forward to your call.”

  Bill throws my mom a wave before stepping out and exiting the room completely with his young son in tow. I try to busy myself with gathering up Natalia, but I can feel my mother’s eyes burning into the back of my skull; like little laser beams embedding in my brain. I already know there’s no way in hell I’m going to get away with not telling her the entire story, but I’d at least like to get outside of God’s House before I blurt out that I have my first date in years.

  Of course, she can’t wait. “What was all of that? It sounds like you two hit it off well.”

  “Can we wait until we’re in the car?” I ask quietly as we step outside and slip into the receiving line to say goodbye to the pastor.

  “I suppose. It’s only buying you a few minutes, though,” she says with a sassy smile. I roll my eyes, but know she’s right. I have a matter of minutes before I’m interrogated by the woman who was always able to figure out each and every one of my childhood lies. The woman should have been in the FBI.

  I barely get the door closed to the car and she’s waiting. She sits there all prim and proper in her Sunday best, but deep down she’s chomping at the bit to find out all the juicy details about my encounter with Bill. “Ask.”

  “What was that all about in the Family Room?” she asks without turning the car over.

  “Bill asked me for coffee. I accepted. End of story.” I try for casual even though deep down, I’m freaking the hell out. I can’t believe I actually said yes.

  “And that’s it?” she asks a little shocked.

  “That’s it. He’ll either call me or he won’t.”

  “And if he does call you, then what?”

  I make sure my seatbelt is securely in place, signaling my readiness to leave, before answering. “I’ll probably go have coffee with him. I mean it’s only coffee, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s only coffee, but you haven’t had only coffee with someo
ne in a long time, sweetie. I’m glad you’re finally taking this step; for you and for Natalia.” I knew it. She was already picking out china patterns and deciding between the smoked salmon and the beef wellington.

  “Mom, its only coffee. It’s not like we’re getting married. I have a very long way to go before this goes further than coffee,” I say, nervously smoothing a hand down my taupe skirt.

  “Oh, I know, I know. It’s just that I’m a little shocked and very happy that you said yes. Bill might not be the right guy for you, sweetie, but at least you’re willing to try to find out. I’ve never said anything to you before, never asked too many questions about Natalia’s father, but I always saw the sadness in your eyes. This is a big step for you, and I’m proud of you for taking it,” my mom tells me with a look of sympathy. Mom knew that I was raising Natalia alone, but never really pulled for more information after I told her that it just didn’t work out between him and me. As much as she wanted to, she respected my decisions and my choices in life.

  “Thank you,” I respond as my eyes fill with tears. I don’t know if I’m crying from the understanding and love in her words, or from the fact that I’m basically letting go of something that was never to be. Maybe it’s a little of both.

  We head home, Mom in a much lighter mood than I am as she sings a song to Natalia in the backseat. It’s not that I’m in a bad mood, per se, it’s that I can’t stop thinking about what she said and trying to determine why I was on the verge of crying a few moments ago. It makes me want to release those unshed tears when I realize that I might actually be crying for the loss of something I never even really had in the first place. It all comes down to Blake.

  It always comes down to him.

  Chapter Eight – A Nice Night To

  Boost Cars

  Blake

  We’re a go for Sunday night. The text just came through. I helped Styx find a few of the cars on his list, but he’d taken it upon himself to find a good chunk of them. While he takes my help when necessary, he’s a territorial son of a bitch and likes to remind us all who the man is that answers directly to Mattias and Roman. The cars that I helped locate are simple, easy steals, nothing too fancy or too hard to replace. This isn’t the bust the FBI is wanting. They want a big one with overseas contacts. This job has a quick sale within the U.S. and the rest in Mexico.

  My job tonight is to boost the first car and then wait at the facility for the rest to come rolling in. I will catalog and make notes on what fixes are to be done to each car while Styx gets the VIN numbers replaced with the new ones from our contact with the DMV. So easy we could do this shit in our sleep.

  We meet up at the facility at six p.m. to get our orders. With the absence of Jimmy Mo, Styx brought in Gage from the shop to fill the hole. Definitely not my decision, that’s for sure. As soon as I spot him when I walk through the door, I don’t fucking want him here. He’s smiling like the cat that caught the damn canary, practically bouncing up and down like a two-year-old. He screams “loose cannon,” and I just pray he’s not as sloppy as he is at the shop or we’ll be cleaning up his messes soon enough.

  The car I’m swiping is a new BMW X5 series M. The basic package on this sport activity vehicle starts at one hundred grand, but this one is decked to the nines; easily one hundred and twenty-five grand. It’s an easy grab, kept inside of a standard attached garage without an extra security system. Getting this car is as easy as taking candy from a baby. This couple isn’t going to know what hit them until they get up in the morning and find their precious BMW MIA. By the time they make the call, we’ll already have it stripped and re-registered. They’ll never see their baby again.

  “You ready?” Styx asks with his trademark frown firmly in place like a plastic mask. It doesn’t move. If I didn’t know the history of this organization, I’d probably be a little intimidated by Styx. He takes no shit from anyone, including the big bosses. While he’d never disrespect them, Roman and Mattias have him as their number one for a reason. He gets shit done. Bottom line.

  “Yep. I’ll have that BMW back here by eleven-twenty and ready to go with everything else by eleven-thirty. Cars should start rolling in shortly after that,” I say relaxing a few minutes on the old, brown sofa in the room we call the “office.”

  “Gage is gonna be with me. We’ll take three cars tonight with Hugh taking the other two.” Six cars are all we have on the list for tonight, and we’re spread out from one end of Vegas to the other. Styx generally only takes the hard-to-boost cars. He’s the man when it comes to boosting any vehicle since he can pretty much drive anything with wheels and a lot of things without. With the disappearance of Johnny Mo, he’s taking those extra two cars to show Gage the ropes. By the time our next scheduled boost comes around in a few months, he should be ready to go solo.

  Hopefully.

  “We got this,” I say, reaching my fist forward for the standard fist-bump.

  “Fuck yeah, we do,” Styx responds before taking a long drag of his cigarette.

  Over the next hour, our three drivers arrive. They’ll be dropping us off at the designated spots close to the heist location. Their job is to watch us as we approach the job and make sure that everything goes off without a fucking hitch. If the shit does hit the fan, they have the option to engage or to get the hell out of dodge. Most of them get the hell out of there. If the cops are coming, they don’t want to be anywhere near the action. Case in point: Jimmy Mo. When the shit hit the fan with his boost, Crazy K didn’t stick around to watch it go down. He was already on the phone to Styx, reporting the issue before he was even a block away.

  We all relax in different ways to get ourselves ready for tonight’s boosts. Pizzas were brought in by the last man to arrive, but I never want to eat before a heist. This isn’t my thing and my stomach can’t handle the bullshit that goes with it. Several of the guys pass around joints and bottles of whiskey, while I prefer to sit all by my lonesome and go over the details of the job. The phone in my pocket has been active since I arrived tonight so everything around us is being transmitted and recorded.

  When the clock strikes quarter ‘til eleven, it’s go time. I slip into the front passenger seat of Crazy K’s Mustang, and we head towards Vegas. The drive back to town only takes a few minutes, but I always use that time to get myself in the right frame of mind. I spent years programming my brain to react and take down the bad guy. For two years, I’ve been the bad guy. Sure, for the greater good of the case, but still. It’s those damned blurred lines, again.

  “I’m droppin’ you down at the end of the block. You know the code?” Crazy K asks without taking his eyes off the road, searching the streets and houses as we pass by. The houses are immaculate with brick exteriors, fancy shutters, and yards cared for by a gardener. Definitely above my pay grade.

  “Got it,” I tell him, searching the shadows and making note of all the vehicles we pass. Two on the side street immediately catch my attention. One had someone sitting in the driver’s seat, and the other might as well have had COPS painted across the side in bright pink paint. Fortunately, Crazy K doesn’t notice one bit.

  Crazy K rolls slowly towards the stop sign, and I get myself into position, donning my thick pair of leather gloves. As soon as we stop, I open the passenger door and slip out into the night. I keep to the shadows of the street before I reach the house directly to the left of the one I’m after. Checking the street one more time for any sign of life, I slip into the shadows of the house.

  Once I reach the back, two quick fence-hops and I’m in the backyard of the house I’m looking for. Two-Six-Six-Four. I quickly enter the code into the security keypad on the garage backdoor and am instantly granted access. As soon as the door is securely relocked behind me, I engage the BMW. The silver SAV is parked right where it’s supposed to be. The driver’s door isn’t locked so I slip inside the soft black leather interior and get to work at starting the car. After inserting the dummy key into the ignition and a few swipes on the keypad
of the fancy gizmo, I’m overriding the ignition code that starts the vehicle. Twenty long seconds later, the light turns green, signaling that I can now start the car with the dummy key.

  Piece of cake.

  When the garage door is fully up, I slowly back the BMW out. Peering from my left and my right incisively, I maneuver the vehicle onto the street and away from Wisteria. Crazy K waits down the block, and as soon as I pass and he is certain I’m not being tailed, he pulls out to trail behind at a safe distance.

  On the open road, I finally take in the vehicle I just successfully swiped. It’s definitely a family car dripping in luxury. I don’t even want to think of how many Bureau paychecks it would take to afford this baby. The monthly payments alone would probably be as much as my rent. The dash is lit up with a soft, iridescent glow and reflects off the angel hanging from the rearview mirror. The crystal draws my attention, slightly swaying back and forth, as if taunting me. As if it knows that I’m no angel. Not anymore.

  Arriving back at the facility, I pull into the large bay and park the car in its designated spot. I don’t have much time before the next car arrives, so I get to work on cataloging the changes I’m making. Cataloging them first for the sake of the organization, but also with my handy camera. I snap quick pictures of the real VIN numbers before we remove and replace them with their new identification. Not that the bureau really cares about getting these cars back. Hell, that’s what you have insurance for. No, we need them as a stepping-stone for the ironclad case we’re building against Roman and this entire organization.