Exposed by Judith Graves Page B

one willing to go as high as I could. Supersize was my last shot. He’d showed such promise, but there was more to this job than just scaling walls. You had to be comfortable crawling all over them, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and taking controlled risks.
    So far Supersize hadn’t been able to push beyond his self-doubt. He was overthinking. Freaking himself out at the last minute.
    My chest tightened. My breathing became strained, but not from the demands of the climb.
    Diesel would not be pleased.

TWO
    An hour later I pulled into the warehouse’s rear bay doors and killed the engine. Through the windshield I noted the familiar two-story industrial layout with its open-beam ceiling, long row of blacked windows, and rusted metal columns.
    “Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Supersize said, speaking as low as his not-quite-broken voice would allow, then leaning in for a kiss like some dude from an online dating commercial. I let him get close. Let him think it was going to happen.
    Then, laughing, I palmed his whole face. “Ugh. Please .” I twisted his head so his lips puckered into the air.
    “Worth a shot.” He grinned and slipped out of the car, heading toward what we jokingly called “the dorm,” where he’d probably fall into an exhausted sleep. I pretended not to notice his limp. Guys and their egos and all that. His had already taken a beating.
    I climbed out of the driver’s seat and slammed the door.
    “What is this crap?” I heard someone say. Disgust dripped from every word. To a member of a crew responsible for breaking into the city’s fanciest parkades to access the expensive vehicles within, the car I’d brought to the warehouse that night was subpar to say the least.
    “Come on, Link.” I smiled up at the unibrow who’d come to stand at my side. Six four and bearing an uncanny resemblance to a textbook Neanderthal, The Weakest Link, or Link for short, was one of the best guys working chop. “It’s not so bad.”
    We both examined the Honda Civic hatchback. The industrial lighting wasn’t kind. Rusted wheel wells. Bondo patches. Not my best work. Usually my hauls were higher-end vehicles, 4x4s, SUV s or sedans that’d be sent to the dock and loaded into shipping containers. But tonight I’d hotwired whatever was around to give Supersize a taste of the adventure.
    Didn’t tell him the rush is a lot like chewing gum—intense at first, but all too soon your jaw is working clay.
    “I’ll make it up to you,” I said, flashing Link a smile.
    He wagged a finger at me. “Now quit that. I’m not falling for those come-and-get-me eyes, and long lashes…”
    “ Come-and-get-me eyes ?” I smirked, impressed. “Really?”
    Link flushed and backed away a few paces. “Get out of here, Raven. Some of us have work to do.”
    Laughing, I spun on my heel and left him to it. I took the stairs to Diesel’s second-floor office two at a time. Years ago the warehouse had served as a bottle factory, and then it was abandoned. Most industrial buildings were snapped up by developers and turned into condos, but Diesel had lucked out. Thanks to his unnamed connection in the city zoning department, no one had ever come sniffing around. If they had, they wouldn’t have seen much beyond the crumbling facade of the exterior walls and boarded windows.
    The inside was another story.
    Two levels of genius. The lower level had bays to temporarily store stolen cars and a chop station for dismantling. The upper floor was Diesel’s “central command” and an entire converted wing of small rooms that housed those on the team who had no other place to go. The warehouse was a refuge.
    We took care of each other. When I’d told the kid I was taking him home, I meant it.
    For some of us, this place was the only home we knew.
    As I approached Diesel’s office, voices rose angrily over the clatter and squeal of power tools. My footsteps slowed. If Diesel was having words with someone, I’d have to bide my