Chapter 1
Close Call
Samuel Foster
The footsteps have thundered to a halt outside the door to my enclosed little hiding space. Linen closets just weren’t designed for this shit. For a moment I hear heavy breathing. The stench of stale sweat and cigarettes permeates the air. He’s that close.Fuck it.And then...
“Come on out, Colt, we know you’re in there!” a voice says so close to my ear I can practically feel his breath through the cracks of the door. “Come on now, buddy...we just wanna talk to ya. Mr. Buford has a few...questions.”
I know exactly what those ‘questions’ are going to involve. Probably my kneecaps – and me telling them what I did with Gregory Buford’s Eye of Isis. Lifting that damn diamond right out from under his nose was one of my greatest coups...and also one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.
There’s a sound nearby and I can sense the guy inches away...the doorknob turns. When he flings open the door, I’m already in the ducting, thanking all that is holy for my years of theatrical training. I’m suspended above the metal piping on my fingertips and the toes of my boots. I don’t breathe. A bead of sweat is trickling down my forehead and part of me is convinced he’ll hear it if lands on the aluminum. My muscles begin to shake as I wait.
“What the—” I hear from below me. The floorboards creak as the thug walks into the tiny space.
“What the hell are you doin’ up there, Vinnie?” another man calls. The guy below me releases a curse on an outward breath. I hear him turn on his heel, step out and slam the door behind him.
“Naw...nuttin’ up here,” he grumbles, his footsteps retreating down towards the staircase. “Fuckit, I could’ve sworn he was in here. How the fuck would he get out?”
“Guy’s as slippery as an eel,” the other voice replies to the one I’ve decided is Vinnie. “You’ve seen him in action. Probably slithered through the floorboards. Like a snake.”
I wait endless seconds till I’m sure he’s out of earshot, then I slither my way down the ductwork. I know there’s a way out to the outer wall from here – I deliberately had the venting designed this way. Call me paranoid, I guess, but something always told me I needed a couple of ways to get out in a hurry.
There are more crashes inside the house as the assholes trash the place. It sets my teeth on edge, but it serves me well right now. They’ll never hear me clambering out if they keep up this noise. By the time I’m out of the house and across the lawn, the surge of adrenaline almost makes me want to laugh out loud. Which would be suicide, of course.
Fuck, I’m such a dick!
I unlock a side-gate from my sprawling garden and make my way into one of the streets that run along the perimeter of my property. It wouldn’t be smart to hang around my own neighborhood – those jerks are going to be looking out for me. I take a detour through the nearby park, and pretty soon, I’m surrounded by bushes. Finally out of sight, I allow myself the luxury of a small moment of relief. I breathe out in a rush, patting the top pocket of my jacket.
The hard lump is still there. The lump that is Gregory Buford’s multi-million-dollar diamond. I almost want to chuckle. Because why should a near-death experience at the hands of his goons teach me any kind of lesson?
I really am a dick. With a death-wish.
“Hey, Mister! Got some change?” a small voice breaks into my thoughts and I almost shit myself.
“Jesus, kid!” I bark out. A pale, elfin face is peering up at me from the shadows of the trees. The kid seems fearless – even my sharp tone doesn’t make him blink, and I recognize hunger in those huge dark eyes. I reach for my billfold and peel off a hundred, shoving it into his filthy little hand.
He glances down, eyes widening. “Wow, thanks, that’s pretty neat, Mister,” he gasps out, then continues. “Got any candy?”
Little shit!
I chuckle, then an idea forms. I reach into my pocket, haul out the glittering gem, and toss it in his direction. “Here, suck on this,” I say, then think better of it. “Actually, rather don’t.” No telling where Buford might have been keeping that thing.
Filthy bastard.
The kid catches the bauble and holds it up to the sun. “Cool,” he says, barely impressed. But he tosses it in the air and catches it, repeating the movement as he gives me a small nod and saunters off. Playing with a world-famous gemstone like it’s a careless kid’s plaything.
I’m still chuckling as I make my way to the other side of the park. There’s something about knowing that kid has Buford’s precious gem that just makes me want to laugh out loud. Seems only fair though. The man who claims to own the stone probably has less emotional intelligence than the street kid I just handed it to.
As I reach the street corner, I glance at the time and suck in a breath. I’m due at Arielle’s place in less than an hour. Jesus, what a way to prepare for a date. Of all the crazy stunts I’ve pulled, this has got to take the cake.Maybe it’s my way of forcing myself out of this crazy lifestyle,I think to myself.
Maybe by making it impossible to go back to my old ways, I’ll stop doing this shit. It’s not like I need the money. Every time I rip off some fat cat, I give the haul to someone who needs it more. But things are getting out of hand...the heat is getting way too close. There’s no way I can keep this from Arielle any longer. What if she’d been at my place when those goons had arrived? I have to tell her...now.
I have a twinge of regret as I think of what they may have done to my place, though. It’s been my haven for years, and now my own stupidity has brought the shit to my doorstep. I haul out my phone and place a quick call to my security company.
“Mr. Foster,” a voice says once I’ve given my security details to the operator. “How may we help you?”
“I’ve had...a bit of a situation,” I say vaguely. “I need a team to get over to my place and make sure it’s secure.”
