What does one wear when they commit the first felony
of their life? I probably spent two hours going through my closest trying to
find something criminal. It had to be black. Yes, definitely black. I finally
settled on a turtleneck, spandex workout pants, and the only pair of black
sneakers I’d ever owned. They were left over from my waitressing days and I was
pleasantly surprised to see that they were still in good shape, even if they
did smell a little like grease.
I just finished pulling my hair back into a low bun,
like spy girls do in the movies, when the doorbell rang. Conner was here and my
heart fluttered instantly. Last night had been a lot of fun and I really
enjoyed my evening with Garrick, but this was the first time any man had been
to my house who wasn’t a part of the police force since Russ was killed. This
was also the first time I’d ever had a half demon in the house, at least as far
as I knew. After another quick glance in the mirror, I bounced over to the
door.
And as soon as I opened it I realized how much of a
dork I must have looked like.
There was Conner, in a regular pair of jeans and a
college sweatshirt doing all that he could not to laugh at me. I glared up at
him.
“What? No one told me what to wear so I had to
improvise.” He started laughing but then choked it back down when I tried to
close the door on him. His foot shot out and blocked my attempt.
“I’m sorry. You look good. Really.” He smiled fully
at me and then bowed his head as he put his hands together in a prayer-like
position. “May I have permission to enter my ninja warrior princess?”
I could see his shoulders shake with amusement again
and I refused to be embarrassed. With an exaggerated sigh, I walked back into
my bedroom, leaving Conner to let himself in. I decided that he should wallow in
uncomfortable silence for a while, although when I came back into the living
room and saw him flipping through some of my illustrations, I realized he was
unfazed.
“These are really good. You’re quite talented.” I
stood there, leaning against the wall for a few seconds trying to judge if he
was being serious or not. Just as I started to give him the benefit of the
doubt, he arched an eyebrow my way and said, “A much better artist than
fashionista.”
I threw the sweatshirt I had in my hands at him and
stomped over to the kitchen. His laugh consumed the room and I was surprised to
find a smile on my face as I opened the refrigerator.
“Should we take snacks?” I asked. We were going to
drive to a spot close to the house and wait until it was clear. I’d been told
that it might take several hours and I didn’t want the cambion getting hungry
while we waited.
“Sure, if you want. Maybe some water would be good.”
It was obvious that he enjoyed my lack of stake-out abilities.
I grabbed one of my reusable grocery bags and filled
it up with water, crackers, and Twizzlers. All of the essentials. I briefly
considered grabbing a bottle of wine to control my anxiety, but decided against
it in the end.
“So, are we ready to go?” I asked as I hoisted the
bag on my shoulder and grabbed the sweatshirt back. He studied me for a moment
and then pulled an object from his back pocket.
“Not until you put this on,” he said as he tossed
something small and black at me. It was a ski mask, one of those ones that
covered everything except for your eyes. I pulled it over my head and batted my
lashes.
“Am I ready now?”
He laughed and took the snack bag off my shoulder.
“Yes, Leila. I think you’re ready for a life of crime.”
Book
Trailer: http://youtu.be/1z7SEGu0jwo
No comments:
Post a Comment