Viking pride is visible from the street. My nerves increase the instant we turn onto the property, then heighten even further when Reyn drives around back, locating the gym. The sky is little more than a blot of deep gray as he backs his Jeep into a spot by the edge of the lot and cuts the engine.
Silence fills the cab. We both unclip our seatbelts, and he rests his head back against the seat, eyes falling closed. It occurs to me that the drive here was probably the most stressful part of the night for him. Meanwhile, I’m still looking at a long stretch of tangled nerves.
He takes a breath and finally opens his eyes, looking more settled in this moment than I’ve maybe ever seen him. He says, “I want to wait until it’s totally dark,” and twists, stretching toward the footwell of the back seat. I watch curiously as he pulls a brown paper bag into his lap. His eyes look less crazed than they had while he was driving. Now, they’re just heavy, tired-looking. “I brought snacks,” he explains.
I take the bag and look inside. Chocolate, buttery croissants. I shake my head, “No thanks.”
“What?” he frowns into the bag, and I almost feel a little bad. “You don’t like them?”
I press a hand into my stomach. “Honestly, I’m too nervous to eat.”
His eyes flick to the gym. “You’re worried about breaking in? Because you know that’s not a problem.”
“I’m not questioning your thieving superpowers.” I roll my eyes. “It’s the ‘not getting caught’ part that worries me more.”
He takes an aggressive bite from a croissant, jaw shifting as he chews it down. “Not getting caught is one of my superpowers, too.”
I watch him scarf down an entire croissant in two bites. “Boys,” I mutter.
“Hm?” He’s got a crumb hanging on the corner of his mouth and my fingers twitch.
“You all eat like animals,” I explain.
I immediately regret it when he stops mid-chew, furtively swiping at his mouth. Suddenly, he seems to adopt some manners, grabbing a napkin from the console. “Sorry, I’ve been hungry all day. There’s nothing to eat at my house.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Your dad doesn’t buy groceries?”
“We have grocery delivery,” he confirms. “But it’s all shit that needs to be prepared. For the record, that’s not one of my superpowers.”
I’m torn between ribbing him for being a cliché and asking what he eats every night when I see the patrol in the distance. “Oh! There’s security!”
Reyn grabs his phone from the dash clip, noting the time. “We’ll see how long it takes him to make another pass.”
Thirty minutes is the answer. Reyn wants it to be darker, though, so we sit through two more passes. When he starts pulling things from his pocket and fiddling with his phone, I know that the security guard’s next pass will be it.
“Make sure your phone’s on vibrate,” he says, watching as I do it. “And if you have an ID on you, put it in the glove box.” He watches as I do this, too, putting his wallet in next to mine. Next, he hands me a pair of leather gloves.
Stupidly, I guess, “Because of fingerprints?” Like they’re going to have CSI out here dusting for prints on account of a great helmet caper.
Reyn gives me a look that suggests he’s thinking the same thing. Generously, he merely explains, “For the fence.”
When the guard comes into view for the final time, I try to breathe in and out calmly. This is nothing. No big deal. What had Emory called it? Just a light B&E.
Softly, Reyn says, “Hey,” and leans forward until our eyes meet. “Don’t worry. Thirty minutes to get from here to inside the building? Piece of cake.”
“Easy for you to say. I should have practiced climbing a fence or something.” I run my palms across my thighs, looking across the lot at the fence. “Don’t you need time to pick the lock? What if I’m really slow?”
“You won’t be,” he assures. “We’ve got this.”
By then, the guard has disappeared, and there’s really no way I’m wasting my precious climbing time whining about it. I’d wanted to do this. It’s time to woman up.
I pull the handle to the door and Reyn follows suit.
While he goes around to the back of the Jeep, I skulk around the side and have a miniature meltdown, heart pounding. When Reyn returns, he’s holding a big sheet of cardboard and the license plate from the car.