Chapter Three
CAM
Last night was messed up. I’d been pinned to the wall beside a urinal at The Garage, barely escaping the big, ugly bear unscathed, and I’d been chased through the casino at the hotel earlier.
I was down at the Vegas auto auction now, poking around well before it opened.
I was still pissed that I hadn’t seen the car my boss wanted me to nab back at the hotel.
I had no idea who those guys who’d chased me were.
I’d lived in Vegas all my life and didn’t know the hotels and casinos in town utilized undercover security but thought that’s who those two had been.
Nothing else explained why they’d zeroed in on me.
I had to deliver a car tonight which is why I’d been up practically all night, looking for the exact model I needed, going from hotel to hotel.
I’d have to try later today, but first, I needed some quick cash, and this was the way to get it.
I did a quick look around before pulling out my lockpicks and opening a padlock at the back of the car lot site which housed the cars being auctioned off.
I was kind of hoping to get into some mischief once inside the pavilion tent.
Most cars wouldn’t have anything big worth stealing, but the small stuff still came in handy.
My older brother, Jessie, and I had broken into so many cars when we were younger, we’d earned quite a reputation.
At sixteen, reputation had been everything.
So had the admiration of my older brother.
When he got caught just after his eighteenth birthday, the offense had landed him in adult jail rather than juvie.
Things had gotten bad when he’d come home.
Jess had only served six months, but he’d come back home changed.
He’d never told my mom what had happened to him there, and he certainly hadn’t shared any details with me.
It was clear that something had gone wrong, but when I’d asked, he’d shaken his head and then told me to straighten up because I really didn’t want to end up in there.
He’d taken to drinking—even more than a normal teenaged boy—and then started doing drugs, overdosing on a heroin/fentanyl combination by the time he was only twenty.
My mom had buried him, but she’d never been the same after that.
These days, her hair was grayer and her voice often got shaky with tears when I visited her at the care center.
I knew on some level, she was aware of what was happening to herself and at other times, I was thankful there were days when she forgot how the disease was shredding her brain.
I’d see her, and hold my breath, waiting…
Would this be the day she didn’t recognize me at all, or would she be sharp as a tack?
The doctors said she’d only get worse as time went by, and I counted myself lucky on those rare occasions when she could actually carry on a conversation for any length of time at all.
As for me, I hadn’t learned a damned thing from my misspent youth.
As kids, I’d worshipped my older brother, trailing along behind him, doing whatever he did.
I was almost glad I didn’t have to explain to my mom that Jessie was dead because most days, she couldn’t remember the circumstances around his death.
But I was forever grateful Jessie had taught me what he did because it paid better than if I’d gotten a real job.
When he’d taught me how to steal cars just to drive around having fun, I’d thought it was the best thing ever.
When I’d seen him steal anything he could get his hands on, I’d gone along with it just for the thrill.
We’d taken sunglasses, lighters, loose change…
anything that wasn’t glued down from the cars we took on joyrides.
When Jessie died, I guess I went just a little crazy.
I got bolder, developing some pretty decent breaking and entering skills over time.
I sold most of the stuff I stole at pawn shops, bringing in a little dough to help out my mom anywhere I could, especially when she began to deteriorate.
Petty crimes paid better than working some stupid fast-food job and since I’d barely finished high school, there wasn’t much else available to me.
I’d learned quickly, however, that B&E, possession of stolen property, and auto theft came with jail time.
After my third time in juvie, I should’ve learned my lesson.
Instead, I just got better at not getting caught.
In fact, after the ripe old age of eighteen, I’d never so much as gotten a parking ticket.
I’d learned one lesson, though…I never wanted to do prison time like Jessie had.
So, now, at barely twenty-six, I was careful…
extremely so. I had to be to keep earning the money I did to keep mom where she was.
I couldn’t imagine her being homeless on the street.
Of course, stealing stuff out of unwanted cars was just a sideline.
The real bucks came from stealing the cars themselves… and I was really good at that too.
I glanced around the tent, lit only by the rising sun.
There were close to eighty vehicles crammed into the space.
Even though they’d probably been gone through by whomever had repossessed them, I had just enough time to check some for myself.
I started with the older model cars because they didn’t have alarms and keyless entry or ignition which took longer to bypass.
They were easier to get into and if anyone did get nosy, I knew I could go through them quickly before moving on to the more time-consuming ones.
I walked over to the first car in the row and checked the dash.
The absence of a blinking alarm light was reassuring, but never foolproof.
Satisfied that it was safe, I pulled a window wedge out of the inside pocket of my jacket and positioned it just right, easily popping the door lock of the Nissan with a quick, upward jerk.
I yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat, reaching down under the dash just to make sure there was no backup alarm and then went to work.
I quickly checked around the interior, lifting the lid on the console, checking the glovebox, under the seats, and sunglass holder.
I grinned when I spotted the sunglasses tucked inside and grabbed them.
The white framed, women’s glasses with the distinctive gold Versace branding on each earpiece told me I’d be able to pawn them for around a hundred bucks.
Score. I slid my find into an inside pocket.
The great thing about living in Las Vegas was—next to gambling establishments—there seemed to be a pawn shop on every corner.
Since I frequented them a lot, going to a different one every time was the safest bet.
Who the hell needed to get caught or worse yet, found out as a purveyor of stolen goods?
I snickered, liking the word I’d heard somewhere.
I glanced around one last time, making sure I hadn’t missed anything and slid out of the seat, moving on to the next vehicle in the row.
I’d just finished checking about twenty cars when I heard someone already unlocking the door to allow early birds in to preview the vehicles before the auction.
I glanced at the back door and did some fast math.
I was at the front of the tent and the back door was a good hundred feet from where I stood.
I’d never make it there before being seen.
I’d have to hide until the tent filled up with gawkers.
Once there were enough people inside, I would easily blend in with the crowd and walk right on out.
I ran around to the far side of the SUV, opened the back door, and slid inside, lying down and pulling a huge sun visor over me from the backseat, right where I needed it.
I heard footsteps approaching the car and froze, remaining absolutely still as someone walked up. They tested the passenger door.
“Oi! Look, Mickey, this one’s unlocked,” some guy with a British accent said.
I heard him open the door wide and slide into the passenger seat as I remained unmoving, holding my breath.
If I was caught, I’d be in a world of hurt.
Breaking into the tent might be overlooked but as soon as the cops got a load of what I had stuffed into my jacket, I was gonna be toast. I felt the seat shift in front of me as the man moved around.
Other people began coming into the tent, having conversations about the vehicles being offered at the auction.
“I don’t know why in the hell you’re looking at an SUV, Mars,” someone said. The guy had a distinct New York accent.
“I don’t know either if I’m being ‘onest. It just caught my eye.”
“Mars, we drive around in SUVs all day when we’re not in the BearCat. Why in the hell would you replace the Camaro with this piece of junk?”
“Like I said, there’s something about it I like.”
I felt him slide out of the car, hearing his feet crunching on the gravel beside it.
I took a small breath, praying the reflective sun visor didn’t move.
When I heard the back door open, I knew I was in trouble.
I couldn’t see a thing, except the bottom of his jeans and tennis shoes.
He leaned over, probably to check the rear compartment of the SUV, only inches from my hiding place.
If he bothered to move the sun visor, I was dead.
“Come on, Mars, you’re not really serious about it, so let’s look at another car.”
“But I like this one.”
“You’re not gonna buy it, so forget about it.”
I grinned to myself, unable to stop the smile when he said “forget about it” in that totally New York way.
The man moved again, and I felt him straighten.
Once again, he stood outside the car. “Ya just like every New Yorker I ever met, ya know?
None of ya ‘ave the patience of a flea, Milky, That’s ya problem, mate, always in a ‘urry.”
Mars? Milky? Who were these guys? Candy bars?
MARS