Page 7
Fuck me, I wanted to cut that grin right off his face.
Tom kept laughing and moved toward the front of the store.
I was going to kill him.
When he shouted to Jay that he was taking his lunch, anticipation swooped low in my belly, and I listened and waited for the little bell over the door to jingle.
A bright, loud tinkling rang through the shop, something equally bright and loud bursting through my entire body.
It was now or never.
My heart was beating a sure, steady, rhythm in my chest, like my balance lay in doing things I shouldn’t. But stealing from those who deserved it always got me excited, always made me feel like I was doing something right for once in my worthless life.
I waited for a good fifteen minutes before setting down the box I was currently working on and feigning a stretch, then started walking casually toward the back.
“Where are you going?”
Fucking Jay. I paused and turned toward where he stood behind the counter. Could I do anything without being questioned or chastised?
“I’m going to the bathroom. Or do I need to get permission for that?”
He looked embarrassed, his cheeks flaming. “Whatever,” he mumbled, fixing and fiddling with a few doodads on the counter that didn’t need fixing.
I said nothing and continued to the back.
THREE
My lips curved up in a smile as I watched Margot walk into work with a scowl, flexing her fingers like she wanted to punch someone.
Well, Margot wasn’t her real name, but I didn’t know her real name. Not yet.
She shared a few heated words with Tom, then headed into one of the aisles littered with boxes. She reached into her back pocket, pulled out her box cutter, and squeezed it in her hand. Her thumb slowly pushed the blade up until it was sticking out an inch. She glanced toward the front of the store, angry eyes fixed on Tom.
Shit. What was she doing? She was so unpredictable, and the more I watched her, the more fascinated I became.
My brother, Cade, called it a very unhealthy and weird obsession, not fascination, but I didn’t care what he thought. Not about this, at least.
I had a tendency to become overly fixated on things. When our mom was still here, she would steer me toward more productive hobbies I could occupy my time with. She used to tell me that I should never be ashamed that I let love into my heart as easily as I did.
Cade used to tease me about my fixations, a brother’s playful ribbing before he understood it was something I had a hard time controlling, and our mother would chastise him for it. He stopped making fun of me and beat up anyone who dared say a negative word about me.
Protective, every one of us McNairs. We would do anything for those we loved the deepest.
Still, he’d never had an obsessive personality like me. He was the opposite, in fact; he tended not to form attachments to things easily, if at all. Me, on the other hand…
I got attached far too easily. The very first time I laid eyes on her, everything in my head went quiet.
I became so preoccupied with Margot that when she was in sight, the world faded around her. I wasn’t thinking about Jesse or the money or Thorne.
No, I was focused solely on this firecracker of a woman who carried a chip on her shoulder so big it was a wonder she was even standing. Armed with the worst temper I’d ever seen on anyone, she was a devil with the face of an angel.
Maybe it was the dichotomy that drew me in initially. From there, my interest had only grown.
When we looked her up online, there was nothing. Brooks hacked into Thorne’s employee files, and name in the file was Margot Wendice. All that brought up was a character from some old movie.
No leads there.
There weren’t any social media pages that shared her image, no phone number, no email address, no home address. Nothing.
