The Job (Auctioned) by Cara Dee (highly illogical behavior txt) 📕

phone. “We have forty-five minutes.” It would give us a fifteen-minute window to put as much distance between ourselves and this place before the pigs arrived.

First order of business, I removed the transmitter from the chair in AJ’s study, and then I opened the bottom drawer in his desk and checked if the pictures of trafficking victims were still there.

They weren’t. How goddamn convenient for AJ. But the sick motherfucker wouldn’t get away that easily. I planted the photocopies to replace the missing pictures before closing the drawer again.

“Now. Finally.” I opened the other drawers and quickly pocketed all the crumpled bills I could find. How I’d waited for this moment.

The rare, first-edition books on the shelves behind me weren’t at the top of the list of priorities, so I went to AJ’s bedroom next. Or, to be precise, his walk-in closet.

I came to an abrupt stop in the doorway when I spotted the wall safe. It was fucking open. There were also two briefcases below the safe, and I got the sneaking suspicion that someone had been in a hurry.

I flicked on the light and went down on one knee. The locks on the briefcases just needed some brute force, so I let out a sharp whistle. Boone could handle those. Instead, I straightened again and opened the wall safe farther.

“Fuck me sideways,” I mumbled. Three shelves were full of cash bundles, velvet pouches, poker chips, and binders. It took me ten seconds to get bored with the binders. I was sure AJ’s stocks and bonds were worth a shitload, but it was nothing I could get my hands on.

How the hell did I decide what should be left behind? Make sure no one could tell the place had been robbed was the rule. The binders were staying, obviously. But opening one of the velvet pouches, I asked myself, how many diamonds had to stay here?

Boone joined me, a little winded, and asked what was up.

“Well, there’ve been additions since last time.” I gestured to the briefcases and held up a couple pouches.

He got started right away and used a crowbar to open the briefcases.

The first popped open with a strained thud, and my eyes bugged out.

“Jesus,” Boone whispered.

He opened the second too.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna shit myself,” I breathed. There had to be two million dollars there. I squatted down and flipped through one cash bundle. All hundred-dollar bills.

“If you tell me we gotta leave this behind, I will shoot your balls off, and I’m a fan of those,” he told me.

“Fuck no! We’re bringing them both.” I opened my duffel and stacked the briefcases inside. “Let’s hurry. We can scream like girls at a Backstreet Boys concert when we’re outta here.”

“I just might, bro.”

“I can guarantee I will.” I almost wanted to fan my face. I felt a little sweaty. My heart pounded so fast that it was more like an incessant whooshing sound. “Okay, so we’ll leave a handful of cash bundles and one pouch of diamonds. Maybe some poker chips too.”

He nodded firmly, moving on to the watch collection while I emptied the safe. The watches were laid out on a lit-up display that ejected from under the rack where AJ kept his ties.

“Do we take ’em all?” he asked.

“Take the most valuable ones,” I replied. “Leave a third.”

I chewed on my lip, thinking. The cash and diamonds—even the poker chips—wouldn’t be an issue at all. The watches, however… The investigators would eventually run across receipts or insurance papers for those. That was how valuable some of the pieces were. But what could they do about it? And hell, for all we knew, AJ had come across them illegally too. We didn’t know. And I couldn’t imagine that the Feds would spend manpower on dead ends about expensive watches when they were drowning in cases of missing persons and the collapse of a human trafficking ring.

“How much time is left?” Boone asked.

I checked my phone. “Twenty-four minutes. I’ll go check the guest rooms.”

I didn’t expect much in there, but I did get one nice surprise. AJ’s mother had been staying here, and the small jewelry case she’d left in the guest bathroom was packed with goodies. I bagged an amethyst-and-diamond necklace, several pairs of earrings, two diamond bracelets, rings with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, and a couple brooches. Rose gold, yellow gold, white gold, this woman wasn’t fucking around with gaudy bling.

When all was said and done, Boone and I walked out of AJ’s estate with four heavy duffel bags—and the two backpacks on our backs—and we didn’t say a word. Tension had flooded us the moment I’d reactivated the alarm and relocked the patio door. Stiff as boards, we stalked toward the edge of the backyard, where I crossed the pool corner first. Then he slung the bags my way, and I dropped them carefully on the ground below.

It wasn’t over until the fat lady sang and all that.

I knew we were thinking the same things. What if we got caught now, with one foot on the finish line? What if we’d forgotten something in the house that would lead the authorities to us? What if, what if, what if?

It took a while for ghosts like that to shut up.

We hadn’t forgotten anything. We’d double-checked and triple-checked. Our DNA couldn’t be found in that house. Or our fingerprints. We were always careful. They wouldn’t even find our correct shoe sizes.

After leaving the duffels and our backpacks in the back seat, we got in and kept an eye on our surroundings. No one lurking. It was a quiet neighborhood. No alarms triggered. No traces. Darius was dealing with AJ’s car, or namely, the tracker. I swallowed past the dryness in my throat as Boone pulled away from the curb.

Had we actually pulled it off?

“Why am I surprised that we nailed this?” I asked, baffled. “We’re not new. We’ve been doing this for fifteen years.”

“I was just thinking the same,” he admitted. “I guess the size