Thief (32 page)

It was dusk. The house was still. Neighbors’ homes were still. An occasional car passed. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. If I were to sit and stare at his house too long, it probably would become obvious that I was scoping it out. At night, however...

I couldn’t be sure if he was even home. I was starting from ground zero now. What in the world did I know about spying on anyone? I just had to wait for him to do something. I settled into the bench, pretending to be more interested in the park and watching the sun set.

After a while, I ended up on my back, staring up at the trees and propped up my head where I got a good view of Coaltar’s front door.

♠♠♠♠♠

S
pying was starting to be really boring. Staring at an unmoving house was worse than watching grass grow.

Lights turned on after the shadows of twilight fell over the city. The house illuminated, with no other signs of life. People walking by with their dogs or jogging or driving were distractions, but temporary ones.

It took another hour of waiting on the bench, and my back killing me from the hard seat, before anything interesting happened. Movement caught my bored eyes. I stilled, wanting to sit up to see better but not wanting to draw attention.

The front gate at Coaltar’s house opened. A shadowed figure passed through. Black ball cap, jeans, and a baggy T-shirt wasn’t enough to mask that it was Coaltar. Despite trying to look casual, the shirt and jeans looked expensive and the hat appeared brand new.

Perfect.

I followed him back to King Street. He started west, and kept at a decent pace, enough that I had to do almost a jog at times. I had to wait to let him cross the street. Luckily at this time of night, the streets were nearly empty. It wasn’t too hard to keep an eye on him from a reasonable distance.

The boys had been right. He left the house at night, plain clothed. My mind jumped to conclusions of my own though. A secret lover? Or maybe he simply couldn’t sleep and he wandered around to think. Maybe he wasn’t a snob and could pull off talking to a few thugs along the way. Was it too far of a stretch?

I kept waiting for him to turn off King Street, maybe circle the block, but when he passed by Market Street, which was a decent stretch from his neighborhood, it became clear that perhaps this wasn’t some night stroll. There was some business he needed to get to.

Slowly, the neighborhood began to change from big houses to fancy shops, to less-than-attractive brick buildings. Charleston peninsula was constantly being renovated, but there were still places closer toward I-26 that were left in the shadows. Old factory buildings crumbled with time and every hurricane that barreled through. Ghosts of old fancy homes stood gutted, either from a storm, or from lack of funds to fix them up. While Charleston’s city council slowly pushed the lower class out further into North Charleston, they couldn’t get rid of the gritty underbelly completely.

Coaltar finally diverted from King, taking a right onto Woolfe. I bristled at the change of some of the more shabbier homes into this run-down industrial area. Old factories surrounded us. The brick walls used to have painted advertisements of what they made inside, but the paint had peeled away after years of Charleston weather, and weed-filled gravel parking lots told me no decent person had been near here in a while.

Mr. Coaltar passed by two of these buildings, and then made a left onto a side street. I slowed, not wanting to catch him around the corner if he stopped.

But when I got to the corner and checked, there was no sign of him.

I cursed to myself, and stilled. I didn’t think he caught on that someone was following him, but I couldn’t be sure. My fingertips brushed at my thighs. I wished I’d had worn jeans. With the sun down, the temperature had dropped. The walk had kept me warm up to a point, but the night breeze was starting to ice me over.

I was tempted to go back, maybe find my way back to that bench and wait again. I suddenly felt exhausted. Only pride kept me from returning to the Sergeant Jasper now. I’d been arrogant to assume maybe I could find out quickly what Mr. Coaltar had been up to. Wasn’t this what the boys had been doing? What made me think I could figure this out by following him?

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and waited, checking the streets in front and behind me. I started up between the two buildings where I last spotted Coaltar. If I bumped into him or he rerouted, I may be out of luck. I’d have to go back. Maybe I could break into his house while he was gone. Or at least peek through his windows.

I was about to give up when I heard the scratch of sneakers along pavement. I checked behind me. A person crossed the street and then followed the sidewalk behind me at a distance, but getting closer.

Either Mr. Coaltar had turned around, or this was someone new. I debated my options.

I turned left, cutting through a ragged parking lot. There were two industrial buildings close to each other, but on the other side was King Street again, and it wouldn’t take long to get to a more crowded spot. I hurried through the lot, planning to make a dash between the buildings. My imagination went wild with thoughts of who this was and what he wanted. Whoever it was, I suddenly felt like I was being hunted, so I wanted to lose him quickly.

The path between the two industrial buildings was darker than I’d thought once I dipped into the deeper shadows. The footsteps behind me slowed. I could have been wrong and this person wasn’t that interested in me, but I didn’t want to take that chance.

I marched faster and darted between the two brick walls of the buildings.

My heart stopped in my chest when a cluster of teenagers stood at the end of the alley. I couldn’t have seen them in the dark with their black clothes. Hanging out together in a sketchy part of town, they were certainly not Boy Scouts.

Before I could decide to turn around, they’d noticed me, straightening. Their dark faces curious.

I turned back; I could take on one guy, not a dozen. I squared my shoulders to face off my pursuer.

The guy had black hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Not Coaltar.

I made to walk around him, and his hands shot out. “Hey,” the guy said. A strong waft of alcohol floated to me.

The familiar feeling that he wanted something from me that I wasn’t willing to give settled in. I wasn’t going to stick around to find out what he wanted.

“Rape!” I screamed. Why not? It worked before.

Instead of backing up, he pounced. I tried to dart away, but in the darkness, my ankle caught on his sneakered foot. I stumbled, but he caught me by the waist in a harsh grip.

“What are you? Crazy? High?” His voice was irritating, a squeaky pitch.

I kicked. I fought. I bit, but his arms, as wiry as they were, crushed me. His legs evaded my attempts to knee him in the shin.

“Who’s that?” one of the guys from the group behind me called out. “That you Dale?”

“Yeah. Who let the crazy girl out tonight? These hoes are getting feisty.”

Crap. They knew each other.

Since he wasn’t letting go, I dropped like a dead weight. Dale was too slow, and I landed on the ground.

I kicked up at his groin. My leg made contact.

Dale yelped but it suddenly died off as he choked. He grabbed at his crotch, and knelt, holding his junk.

I scrambled up, trying to fly off. An arm caught my shirt, tearing it. Another hand grasped my arm.

I made a fist with my free hand, turning, striking someone in the face.

Another hand wrapped around my throat.

I struggled, but soon I had to stop clawing and scratching, and wedge my fingers against the hand that strangled me. I hung on to it, trying to pull it away, but it squeezed. Breath left me, but never came back in. I wanted to cough, but couldn’t.

My eyes were open, but the light around me changed, becoming hazy.

Loud shouts started going on around me. A thick thud. A scream—male and full of pain.

The hand around my throat released and I dropped to the ground. I choked, grasping at the ground and sucking in air. I coughed hard, enough that my body tilted and I was on my back on the ground.

The last thing I remember is being lifted.

––––––––

T
he sound of a car driving somewhere below me, on the street, had me feeling like I was back at the hotel. My throat felt itchy. I worried about getting Wil sick with a cold when he had tests coming up.

When I woke enough to realize the bed felt different, I suddenly remembered Marc. Was I supposed to be in his bed? Or with Corey? Or...

I flipped over, willing my body to move when it felt stiff and sore, especially at my throat. I blinked hazily at the ceiling, disoriented.

The ceiling struck me funny. Did one of the boys have carved woodwork edging?

Didn’t I shoot someone in the knee? With a .303 rifle?

I sat up with a jolt, looking around. The bed was plush, with crisp white sheets and blanket, and a rich black wood headboard. There was a thick black rug under the bed, and the floors beyond it were a dark cherry wood.

As the details of the room sunk in, and a memory didn’t surface that told me why I was here, I panicked. Where the hell was I?

The spot next to me was unmade. I reached over to feel the coolness of the pillow, and the indention in it. Someone else had been here.

I was wearing the same black shirt and shorts I’d had on the night before. The sleeve had been torn, reminding me of the struggle in the alley. My heart thundered at the memory, but I needed to focus.

Beside the bed was an overstuffed chair, appearing to have been moved close so I’d notice. There was a black tank top and pair of shorts similar to what I was wearing splayed out. Different, though. The label at the neck of the shirt said International Concepts. Definitely not a Wal-Mart brand, which was about the extent of my knowledge about clothing labels.

I held my breath, listening. I couldn’t hear anything. The fact that someone had been here beside me made me want to pinpoint whoever it was within the building.

I jumped from the bed, going to the window. I studied the street, trying to figure out where I was.

I spotted a familiar bench within eyesight down the road and White Point Gardens behind it. I calculated the distance.

Shit.

Maybe I could get out of here without Coaltar noticing. The guys thought I was too close before? I was neck deep now.

I looked around for shoes, but there weren’t any available. My boots were gone. I grunted. I really liked those boots. I hated the thought of leaving them. But I wasn’t going to start looking around.

I padded to the door. It was open and all I had to do was nudge it a couple of inches to give myself enough room to step out.

The hallway was narrow, and there were a lot of doors. I spotted the start of the stairwell at the end of the hall. I stilled, listening. Silence.

I stepped forward and the floorboards creaked below my weight. This is why I never broke into houses. Wasn’t my style to sneak around like that.

More creaking sounded behind me, like someone moving in a room further down the hall. It was all I needed to know.

I zoomed down the hall, not caring about being heard, as long as I had a head start and he couldn’t get in my way. I thundered down the stairs, found a second level, zoomed down to the first.

I was at the back door, where the party had been. I took a turn, finding the hallway I remembered going through toward the front door. The coast was clear. I dashed down the hall. My heart slammed against my rib cage. I was going to make it!

A form launched from a side door as I started to pass. I was caught in a pair of strong arms, and I had been running so hard that we both tilted. He gripped my waist protectively, holding me up and catching us both with one hand hard on the floor before his elbow crumbled and we crashed.

I knocked my head into his shoulder, getting a jolt of pain between my eyes as the bump there resounded. I cried out, and started clawing away in a panic. I closed a fist, punching him hard in the temple. He grabbed my wrist.

My body was twisted, and he pressed his full weight on me. His knees bit down tight against my thighs. He pinned my wrists to the ground. I was uneven on my side, unable to move under his weight.

“Kate!” Coaltar shouted. “Calm down.”

“Let go!” I choked, and then coughed hard. I was forced to stop fighting. I twisted my face away from him, a hacking cough taking over.

His knees moved. He kept both of my wrists in one hand, grabbing my body with his other arm. In a near flip, his arm encircled my shoulders in a headlock, with my arms pinned behind me. He lifted me with him and sat up, with my back pressed into his chest. His lips found the back of my ear.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice raspy. “Kate, calm down and breathe.”

I wanted to tell him off but my throat wasn’t going to let me. I coughed once more, and started sucking down air. Him sitting me up had helped for the moment. The air stung my throat but it was what I needed.

“I’m going to let you go,” Coaltar said.

I shifted, squirming, resisting against his grip.

His arms hardened around me, tightening enough to threaten to cut off my air again. “Nu uh. I’ll let go when you promise not to run off. And you tell me what you were doing following me, and trying to take on a team of gang members singlehanded.”

“You’re going to let me go,” I wheezed out. “And I’m going to walk out that door and...”

His arms tightened a little more, cutting off my air briefly. “Don’t go getting your feathers all ruffled. You’re going to get yourself killed walking in neighborhoods like that.”

I wedged an arm out from his hold and swatted at his in response, unable to do much but try to breathe slowly and not cough. When panic mode subsided, I was simply angry. Probably more hurt that I was caught, but then if he hadn’t come for me back in that alleyway, I would have ended up dead in the gutter.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, the syrup thickening in his Southern accent. “I wouldn’t normally wrestle a girl in my house. At least not like this.”