The Runaway (Barrett Boys #1) - Jordan Ford Page 0,2

grows even wider, and I roll my eyes. Johnny has a constant hard-on for those naked dancing girls. Sure, they’re pretty, and I’m not gonna deny that I haven’t taken the time to check them out, but it just doesn’t do it for me.

Johnny will bang anyone who’s willing.

I tried that for a little while and I don’t know… the soulless conquests only made me feel worse.

Besides, half the girls don’t even want to be there. That’s the part that bothers me. The ones who love it, all power to them, but I think of Mindy and Trelise. They’re paying off debts and hating every second of their lives. They’ll do anything Sloan’s crew tells them to because they’re desperate and scared.

It’s not right.

Following Johnny out of the bathroom, I nearly ask him if he wants to split. The idea of taking off on my own is a lonely one. It reminds me of the night I lost Deeks.

Slipping my hand into my jeans pocket, I wrap my fingers around the lighter my older brother gave me. It was his favorite one, but he let me have it.

“So you can find your way in the dark.” He winked and then rolled over, wrapping his coat around himself while we hunkered down for the night, hidden beneath a bridge.

Although Deeks only had eleven months on me, he always had my back. Protected me like I was his responsibility… until the night we got separated and I never found him again.

I try not to think about it, but damn, I wish he were here right now. He’d know exactly how to get us out of this.

“Come on.” Johnny leads me down to the money room.

He likes to hang out there because of the two new girls Sloan hired a few weeks ago. One of them is a brunette with big boobs and clothes two sizes too small. Johnny can’t get enough of that chick.

I hover by the doorway, leaning against the wall, while Johnny gets his flirt on.

Sloan will probably be down here in the next hour or so, ready with a set of instructions for the night. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, the ticking clock making my heart jump out of rhythm.

My left leg starts bobbing when I scan the room and spot the black backpack right next to me. I know exactly what’s inside it. Sloan always transports his money in backpacks just like this.

Glancing into the room, I scan each person. Everyone’s busy counting, flirting, smoking cigarettes. Machines are churning through piles of money while a guy in the back of the room is stacking them into thousand-dollar piles.

My eyes flick to the bag beside me again. Someone will come over for it in a minute. It’s just sitting there, waiting to be processed.

Before any thought can stop me, I snatch it and slip it onto my shoulder. I keep my eyes on the room, hoping the move is subtle enough.

Everyone’s busy, so I slip out the door—a smooth, quiet move that doesn’t draw attention. I’ve always been good at that. I guess I learned the skill when I was a little kid, trying to avoid my dad. I perfected the art of silence as a way to survive.

Gripping the lighter in my pocket, I run my thumb over the smooth metal. The rhythmic motion calms me as I walk for the exit.

Sunlight awaits me.

Freedom.

All I have to do is make it through the gate without anyone noticing and I’ll have a jump on everybody. They won’t even know I’m missing until Johnny and I get ordered to Sloan’s office.

“Hey! Where you going?” Luis stops me before I can reach the outside door. It’s only three steps away.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck. I can feel it. As long as it’s not on my forehead or upper lip, I should get away with it.

I spin, keeping my expression bland.

“Running a job for Sloan.” I hitch my shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Delivery.”

Luis’s eyes narrow, his pointy black shoes clipping on the concrete floor as he approaches me. His thin mustache twitches. Never a good sign. I’ve been reading the guy since I started working here, and I’ve got his tells down.

He doesn’t believe a word I’m saying right now.

“I didn’t know he wanted you to do that.” Running a hand through his floppy black hair, he eyes me up, still coming toward me, his pace not fast or slow, just a determined