I was very good at not being noticed. When you lived on the street and your life depended on blending in, you got real good at it, real fast. Even when I should have stuck out like a sore thumb on the docking bay, I didn’t. No one noticed me. Sure, the docking bay was busy, there must have been over a dozen Draax ships alone, not to mention the numerous havoc cruisers waiting to take off, but still… I was the only one in the loading area not wearing a uniform.
I zipped my hoodie to my chin and made sure not a strand of my long blonde hair was showing. I really should have just cut it short instead of constantly hiding it under hats or hoods, but I was stupidly vain about it. Even when it was stringy and dirty like it was right now.
Not my fault. The homeless shelters were full the last few days. I’d spent each night huddled in a damn alley under a literal cardboard box, wondering if this would be the night I froze to death. Winters in Iowa were no joke. Plenty of us lowers froze to death every winter. Hell, I’d almost been an Ellis popsicle myself last winter. If I hadn’t found that land vehicle to break into, I would have been a goner.
I leaned against the towering stack of shipping containers, keeping my head down and studying the ships that lined the bay. Which one was most likely to have some gallberry juice on board? I mean, they would all have a little, but I needed a big score.
I’d found out two days ago that Richie Bulchanini had put a price on my head. A steep one. The only way to avoid being killed was bringing him juice. A lot of it. Even then, I put my odds at survival around fifty/fifty. One did not fuck with Richie. Not if they wanted to avoid being buried in a shallow grave.
So, why did you do it? You knew this would happen and you still gave her the juice instead of bringing it to Richie.
I ignored my inner voice. It knew why I’d done it. I knew why I’d done it. We didn’t need to fucking discuss it.
Maybe you should just forget all of this, grab one of those havoc cruisers and get the fuck out of Iowa. Go somewhere warm like Mexico. Richie would never find you there.
It was tempting. There were plenty of cruisers to choose from. But boosting a cruiser wasn’t a one-woman job. It required at least three people. There was no way in hell I could disable the tracking device, override all six of the passcodes, and pilot the ship before the cruiser’s alarms went off and alerted every single person on the docking bay to what I was attempting to do.
I swiped a hand down my grubby jeans. For a moment, I was overwhelmed by my sorrow for Torra and the rest of the gang. It was almost two years since they’d gone to prison, but they’d been the closest thing I had to family and it was still a kick to the gut to think about them.
I heard voices and shrank into the shadow of the shipping containers. I suppressed my urge to cough. I’d developed a nasty cough in the last week, and it was getting to the point where I’d need to steal juice for myself.
Two dock bay workers walked by, arguing good naturedly about whose turn it was to go on break. I held my breath, keeping my slender body completely still as they passed by the shipping containers without glancing my way.
When they were gone, I released my breath, coughed into the crook of my elbow to muffle the sound, and studied the ships again. There was only one Draax ship in the bay, and while some of the government ships lined up in a neat row near the landing pad would have juice, the Draxx ship was my best bet. Not only were the odds higher of more gallberry juice being on it, but the cargo hold was open. I could walk right in, find the juice, and walk out. Easy pickings.
No, not easy pickings. The cargo hold is open because the Draax are returning soon. Which means the risk of getting caught is higher.
True, but I’d been honing my skills as a thief for years. I was small and skinny and quick. I wouldn’t get caught.