A knife edge of hope cuts through me, sharp and dangerous. This one score could feed everyone back at the farmhouse for days. My stomach clenches with need, but I somehow keep it from growling.
Voices draw my focus outside. It’s nearly dark, the sun a sliver of gold on the horizon. Three men in camo shorts and tight green T-shirts have stopped their Polaris ATV to chat with Cal. They’ve increased their patrols recently, and now a girl can’t break into a simple barn around here without taking desperate risks.
“C’mon, a-holes,” I whisper.
Usually about this time, Cal is tanked. Enough to leave the warehouse and ride with his patrol around the grounds blaring Willy Nelson and waving their rifles while shooting everything that moves.
Not that they’re using game for target practice. All the animals are long gone, either poisoned from the scourge seeping into our lands, killed by the darklings, or overhunted by the Millers and their hired thugs.
Cal’s solution to my string of thefts was to hire a mini army. An overreaction, if you ask me. But I suppose he’s trying to send a message.
Most of the new hires are former officers from the now defunct police force, although a few are Cal’s former teammates from the football team who graduated a couple months ago. Far as jobs go, this is the best they’ll find in the borderlands.
It’s hard to fault them for that.
But I do fault them for protecting merchandise stolen from the people, which is why I give zero fracks about stealing it back.
At least, what I can fit inside the wheelbarrow I have stashed behind the barn.
“All right, boys,” Cal calls, his voice sloppy and loud. “Time to hunt some Fae bastards!”
They throw up a cheer, and I rest my head against the cans of mandarin oranges with a thunk. Finally.
How such an idiot can lead the largest smuggling organization in the borderlands is beyond me.
As everyone piles into the Polaris, Cal slings a bolt action rifle over his shoulder and then lugs the ice chest over to the vehicle.
My gaze slides to his weapon. For a moment, I imagine Cal peering through his scope at me. Imagine what a bullet feels like as it rips through my flesh.
They have guns. Big ass freaking guns. This is stupid.
But I can’t turn back now. For better or worse, I’m stealing this food.
My motto: Better stupid and fed than smart and starving.
As they strap the big red freezer onto the back, they make more jokes about killing Fae.
A girl can hope. We could only be so lucky to have the a-holes of this world and the Fae cancel each other out.
One of the guards yanks the garage door down, flooding the warehouse in darkness. But the merciless West Texas sun, never one to admit defeat, slants through the dusty windows at the top, providing all the light I need.
Quieting my breathing, I pop to my feet and ready my mind for what must come next. My heart plays a steady tune against my sternum.
Thump.
Thump.
A mewling noise nearly knocks me out of my skin. I whip around, my boots slipping on the sawdust-covered concrete. A yellow tomcat slinks around the corner and then sits on his hindquarters, staring at me with suspicion. His ribs stick out beneath his mangy fur, and it’s obvious he hasn’t had a meal in a while either.
Bastards. The Millers probably have him just to keep the rats away. If he doesn’t hunt, he doesn’t eat.
“Do they not feed you, buddy?” I whisper, trying to ignore the tug on my heart.
Remember, you’re a badass thief. Now act like one.
The cat pauses, his lime-green eyes wide. Then he cocks his head and meows and oh my God he’s so friggin cute I want to take him home right now.
My heart puddles into a pile of goo. Animals for me are like Louboutins for most girls.
Dogs are better, of course. No debate there.
As if the cat can hear my thoughts, he suddenly hisses.
I didn’t mean it! I mentally think. You’re better than a dumb dog, probably smarter too.
The cat stops growling and licks its white paw, watching me intently. There’s judgement in his eyes.
“Technically this isn’t stealing,” I whisper to the cat.
Honest to God, the cat rolls its eyes.
What am I doing? I should be elbows-deep in fruit loops and spaghettiOs right now, not chatting it up with a friggin cat.