Thieves Like Us by Starr Ambrose Page A

marshmallow.
    Easy put on his tough face, squinting and curling his upper lip. The glimpse of nicotine-stained teeth was the only actual intimidating factor. “You took something from me, Hernandez. I intend to get even.”
    “You made sure I went to jail. I’d say we’re even.”
    “Well, you’re wrong. A year in County, big deal. Those gold coins were my big score, and you took them.”
    Marshmallow or not, the guy had hit a tender spot. Rocky made a conscious effort to control his temper as he leaned close to Easy. “Those gold coins weren’t yours.”
    “I don’t agree, and I want them back.”
    “Too bad. I don’t have them.”
    Easy sneered. “You expect me to believe you’d fence them for a tenth of their value? I’m not stupid.”
    “You might have to reevaluate that claim. I gave them away.”
    He scowled, anger changing to disbelief. “To who?”
    “To ‘whom,’ dumb fuck,” Rocky corrected, enunciating it the way Elizabeth Westfield would, just to irritate the little prick. “To their rightful owner, which is not you. Now move.”
    He did, sliding a short, jagged-edged knife from his waistband and standing between Rocky and the car door. Rocky sighed. Some guys just couldn’t separate their brains from their balls.
    Easy let the knife flash in the sun, admiring the shine. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot if you—” his sentence ended abruptly as Rocky delivered a fast punch to the gut that sent Easy staggering against the car. Before he could recover, Rocky kicked the knife away, eliciting a high squeal from Easy as his fingers tried to go with it. Grabbing a handful of his shirt before Easy could recover, Rocky pushed him out of the way.
    Easy sat on the gritty pavement, cradling his fingers against his injured stomach and gasping for air as Rocky got in his car. Starting the ignition, he lowered the window to offer a final piece of advice. “Stay out of my way, Easy, and I’ll do you a huge favor and stay out of yours.”
    Easy stood painfully, straightening as much as he could. “No one gets away with stealing from me, Hernandez. If you don’t have the coins, I’ll take something else.” He paused to draw a few raspy breaths. “I’m warning you right now, you just made yourself a target. And you know I can do it.”
    Rocky wasn’t sure about that, but he had to admit the guy was good at what he did. Joey Korchak hadn’t picked up his nickname from an easygoing manner or an effortless way with women. It came from his brash but accurate claim that he could break into almost anyplace, “easy.”
    Rocky doubted Easy’s skills could overcome the security measures at his apartment, but it might be fun to see what the guy could do. He’d have to be awfully good to bypass both Rocky’s vigilance and a Red Rose alarm system.
    “I can’t stop you from trying, Easy. But remember what happens if you get caught in the act.” He put the car in gear and eased off the brake. “Maybe I can use my connections and get you a cell with a view.”
    “Fuck off,” Easy grunted as the car backed up. He was standing straight, if shakily, as Rocky drove off, calling out, “We’re not done, Hernandez!”
    Great.
He stepped back into the underworld for one measly hour, and came away with its most slimy specimen stuck to him like a piece of gum on the bottom of a shoe.

Chapter
Six

    T he rental car company made it easy, delivering an environmentally friendly, inconspicuous compact car right to the Westfields’ door. And since Elizabeth was at a steering committee meeting for the downtown development group and Rocky was at work, Janet knew she could sneak away easily. After all, what did they expect her to do all day, watch TV? It was either go to work or go crazy.
    Janet walked down the corridor of the Westfield-Benton office as if she had every right to be there. She did—in the department that ran Aims Air Freight. But not in the basement storage area.
    Listening for footsteps before stepping