Better to do this quickly.The longer we hung around, the more chances there were for someone to comealong and catch us.
I crouched down to the cardoor despite knowing it’d look more suspicious if someone came along. Ineeded to hear the lock, since it was much too dark to peer into it, and alight would’ve given me away.
This was easier now that Icould only hear out of one ear. My brain focused all its efforts on thestill-working one, so all I had to do was angle myself so my right ear wasnearer to the door.
I smiled to myself as thefirst tumbler of the lock clicked into place. Car doors—especially ones thisold—weren’tall that different from the kind of mechanism you’d find in a padlock or on afront door.
As long as I didn’t get caught,this was the easy part.
Jiggle, jiggle, click,click.
And then one louder, morefinal click, and the door popped open.
I grinned.
Not bad for being out ofpractice.
Easing the door wide enoughto get a hand inside, I reached into the darkened footwell, wincing when I putmy hand on a greasy takeout bag and batting it aside to feel around for…
Got it.
I slipped the notebook outof the car and shoved it in the inside pocket of my jacket, along with thelockpicks.
Letting out a breath I feltlike I’dbeen holding for a lifetime, I stood and eased my weight against the door,holding the handle so it’d shut as quietly as possible.
“What the hell’s going onout here?”
Vincent.
Shit.
Shit.
“Run,” I hissed at Logan asa light in the house came on. Vincent would’ve seen me by now, but not him.Even if he saw a dark figure, he’d never be able to identify Logan if he gotaway now.
One thing formetoget caught doing this, but I wasn’t going to take Logan down with me.
He knew what to do. This washow we’dalways done things. If one of us got caught and we couldn’t fight back, therest of us were supposed to run.
And pray.
And hope like hell that wesaw each other again.
So far, we had. This didn’t have to be anydifferent.
Logan, bless him, bolteddown the street as Vincent walked down his own front steps, approaching me at aswagger.
My stomach dropped, veinsturning to ice.
Was he the kind of idiot whokept a gun by the door?
A glance at his handssuggested not. Both of them were empty, and he wouldn’t have bothered stashing itin his waistband if he thought there was a potentially-armed intruder out here,would he?
Just as well. Getting shotby a music industry manager—and not even a good one—after everything I’d survived wouldhave been downright embarrassing.
“You,” Vincentgrowled. “What the hell are you doing with my car?”
Well.
