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I’ve known more men like him than I care to remember. Mercy isn’t in their nature—especially toward witnesses. So, why am I here walking when I should be there burning?
Good question. I don’t know.
The only thing I do know is that I need money, and considering my phone and ID are long gone, there’s only one way to get some.
Steal it.
I’ve committed murder. It’s not like robbery is going to damn me to hell. Besides, I don’t have much of a choice, and this is the famous Boardwalk. Most of these people are tourists, so they probably have a backup stash squirreled away in their hotels.
My target doesn’t take long to find. A family of three stands fifteen feet down the Boardwalk, but it’s the father who catches my attention. He’s desperately licking a melting ice cream cone that’s dripping all over his long Bermuda shorts and freshly airbrushed T-shirt with the words Hyland Family Vacation written across the chest.
But it’s the clear plastic fanny pack slung around his waist that seals the deal. The one that announces to the world, “I have money and an iPhone. Please take them both.”
I follow them into a few shops, not nearly crowded enough to risk it. By the fourth one, the young boy has apparently shit himself, so the wife straight arms him like an atomic bomb and runs outside, leaving her husband alone in a crowded souvenir shop.
I’m trying to come up with an idea when we’re both jostled by the woman beside me haphazardly sifting through a wall of cheap T-shirts on her tiptoes.
“Watch it,” I hiss, grabbing one of the wire racks to steady myself.
“Piss off.” Chewing a wad of gum, she blows a bubble in my face before sucking it back in. “Not my fault you have to be in the NBA to reach this shit.”
I’m about to rip off one of the racks and shove it up her ass when her words sink in.
That’s it.
For once in my life, being five foot two is going to come in handy.
I glance up at a pink T-shirt two full rows above my head. Even on my tiptoes I wouldn’t be able to reach it, which is exactly what I want. Making sure the man is still standing beside me, I hook my fingers and toes through the wire mesh attached to the wall and climb. Glancing down at the floor, I blow out a shaky breath.
Damn, this is going to leave a bruise.
Before I can change my mind, I squeal and let go of the wall, making sure to twist at the waist. My aim is perfect, and the man barely looks up before I barrel into him, taking us both to the ground.
“Jesus, lady!” Tilting his chin back, he winces while rubbing the back of his neck.
My landing couldn’t have been more perfect. I’m lying on top of him, chest to chest, his fanny pack now shifted against his hip.
The hip that’s right next to my hand.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, forcing sympathy in my voice as I carefully unzip the bag. “I wanted that T-shirt, and I’m short.”
“Well, how about asking for help next time. You could’ve really hurt someone.”
I force a few tears to well up in my eyes as I slip his phone in Niko’s jacket pocket. “I wanted a souvenir. I had a shirt like that when I was little. Back when my parents were alive. We came here all the time.”
Lies. How easy they fall out of my mouth.
The man’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you let me buy it for you?”
“No!” His eyes widen with the force of my words, but I cover with a well-placed sniffle while pocketing his money. “I mean, no, thank you. I think I’ll just go back to the hotel. I’ve caused enough harm for one day.”
He smiles and nods, and as I push off his chest, a shrill voice slices through the shop like a knife. “Jason! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Oh shit. His wife is back.
And she’s pissed.
“Nancy! It’s not what you think!” He scrambles out from underneath me, knocking me on my ass in the process. “This is…uh…” Bushy eyebrows knot together and he whispers to me in a panic. “What’s your name?”
