Chapter 22 Jackson #2
There was no rooftop access to the home, which meant I couldn’t attempt the same trick I’d used to steal the car and the supplies needed to repair it.
That meant entering the home would be even harder.
This plan had been worked out as precisely as it could be, but there was always a chance that something I hadn’t anticipated might pop up.
Any mistake, and this was all over. My sister was as good as dead if I was caught before completing this god-awful task for that piece of shit.
There was a small peach orchard along with a fruit and vegetable garden behind the main building.
Speed decreasing rapidly, I tilted my wings to take me into the orchard, where I shifted and landed silently.
Crouching low, I made my way toward the house, scanning for movement.
At the edge of the thin patch of trees, I looked toward the house.
Lights shone in most of the windows on the first and third floors.
That made sense. Most of the bedrooms were on the top floor, and the bottom held the living room, den, kitchens, and dining room.
At this time of night, the second floor would be mostly unused since it held a couple of offices for Christian and his parents, a playroom that Bryn basically never used anymore, along with a billiard room and library—areas that wouldn’t see much foot traffic this time of night.
Even as I scanned the building, I noticed the flickery movement of people walking past the windows. Too many people. There was definitely a security presence in the house.
“Shit,” I whispered.
I’d seen bodyguards around the house before.
Mr. Bauer was a high-ranking businessman who had enemies and people who’d want to kidnap him or his family for ransom.
Though, most of those would-be kidnappers were humans who would be in for one hell of a surprise when he shifted into a twenty-foot-long armless and legless snake-like dragon.
The problem was, there seemed to be more guards than usual—either that, or they had guests over.
Both were major problems. It would severely limit my options, but there was nothing to be done about that now.
I moved toward the small garden shed, doing my best to stay in the shadows as I went. Halfway there, the sound of footsteps sent a burst of fear through me. Feet in the grass, close enough that I could actually hear it.
I forced myself to stay quiet and not sprint to the shed.
Instead, I moved as fast as I could without giving myself away.
My panic increased as the footsteps gave way to the low rumble of conversation.
Two men, from the sound of it. The rear door of the shed lay partially open, and I slipped inside, cloaking myself in the shadows ten seconds before the approaching men rounded the corner.
I had to clamp a hand over my mouth to hide my sigh of relief.
“You think we’ve got a chance?” one man said.
“Who knows,” the other responded.
There was a strange clicking sound, followed by the faintest flash of light. A moment later the bittersweet reek of cigar smoke assaulted my nostrils.
“It’s only halftime,” the first man said. “We can still come back.”
“It’s game seven and the Rockets are down by twenty, Shawn,” the second man said, a hint of derision in his voice. “This is not going to be our year. We aren’t going to the finals, much less winning the championship.”
The first man sighed in disappointment. “Well, I’m still holding out for a miracle. I can’t stomach the thought of the Spurs being in the finals again. Fucking basketball, man, why’s it always stress me out?”
“Probably because you’re both a fan and you bet on the damn games. You’ve got to get money out of it. Just enjoy the ride like I do.”
“And how would I afford to buy your sister all that crotchless lingerie?”
“Ew! Fucking gross, man. Don’t say shit like that. Makes me wanna puke. And you know she’d never date your ass.”
“Oh! Right!” the first man said with a laugh. “I didn’t mean your sister. I meant your mom.”
“You’re a child, you know that?” the second added, his voice tired.
The two men stood directly outside the door to the shed, passing the cigar back and forth for several minutes, while I sat crouched less than three feet away.
I was afraid they might hear my thundering heart.
I couldn’t move and risk making noise, but if either of them turned around, they might see me.
The shadows had shifted, and a sliver of moonlight fell directly on my face.
“Ready to go watch the end of this disaster?” the second man said. From my vantage point, I could barely make out his arm arching back to toss the butt of the cigar away.
“Hey, don’t throw that in the grass,” the first said. “Mr. Bauer will be pissed if we litter around his place. Give it here. There’s probably a trash can in the shed.”
My eyes went wide at his words, and I held my breath.
“Suit yourself,” the other guy said.
The first guy took the cigar and turned toward the shed. To my eyes, his movements took on an almost cinematic slow motion. He’d see me as soon as he looked at the door. I had to risk the noise of moving.
Pivoting on my right foot, I spun and pressed my back to the wall directly to the right of the door.
In my squatting position, the lowest shelf on the wall grazed the top of my head.
The entire maneuver took less than two seconds.
Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed I hadn’t made enough noise to be heard.
The door squealed as the man pushed it open, and my eyes snapped open. I had to at least see if I’d been caught.
“Hurry up, man. I don’t want to miss the start of the second half,” the second man called from outside.
The first guy stepped in, holding the burnt-out cigar, his left foot swinging through and coming within six inches of my own. I didn’t swallow, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. All I could do was watch with wide, terrified eyes as he looked around the shed for a trash can.
Finally finding one, he tossed the cigar in.
The guy—somewhere between twenty-five and thirty from what I could see in the darkness—turned to the door again.
As he did, his eyes slid right across me.
Hell, I’d actually looked into his eyes.
I nearly shifted then, nearly let the panic overwhelm me and threw caution to the wind.
My dragon screamed at me to do it, to fight and claw my way to Bryn and take her.
But, in the dark shadows beneath the shelves, I was invisible.
His eyes danced across me, then without pausing, he strode out, shutting the door behind him with a bang.
I waited until their footsteps were no longer audible, then let out a trembling lungful of air and fell forward onto my hands and knees.
Not a great way to start. I’d assumed I’d have a few moments like this, but I’d planned on them happening when I was inside the house, not out in the fucking backyard.
Glancing out the window, I scanned the area to make sure no one else was around, then inched the shed door open. I headed straight for the rear of the house and the door that led from the flagstone patio into the basement area.
When I got to the glass sliding door without coming across anyone else, I took a moment to catch my breath and calm down.
When I felt composed enough, I peered through the doors into the dark room beyond.
Most of the basement was devoted to storage: Christmas and holiday décor, old keepsakes, photo albums, unused furniture, and other supplies that accumulated over the years.
This portion of the floor, however, had recently been remodeled into a small living room with an attached bathroom that would eventually serve as a type of pool house.
Christian’s family was beginning the process of putting in a pool toward the end of the month.
Pulling on the door, I found it locked. Of course.
Why would you lock your outer doors, Mr. Bauer? I thought bitterly. Do you think a family friend might try and sneak in to kidnap and murder your youngest child? How paranoid!
I sighed in frustration. I’d anticipated this, but it would have still been easier to walk right in.
Reaching into my pants pocket, I pulled a bandana from my pocket—an item I’d brought along specifically for this task—and took a heavy flower bed edging stone from the garden near the rear door.
Wrapping the bandana around the rock to muffle the sound, I banged it on the glass.
Rather than smashing it hard, I tapped it a few times, using barely enough force to shatter the glass but not create a loud explosion and shower of shards that might alert someone inside.
After four taps, a rapid burst of crackling sounds and spiderweb cracks gave me what I needed.
Placing the rock back where I found it, I used the bandana to work out a few small shards. A couple of tiny pieces of glass hit the ground, but for the most part, I was able to create a hole big enough for my hand.
Covering the back of my hand and wrist with the bandana, I pushed my hand through, reached around to the lock, and spun it.
A satisfying click came as I did, and I pulled my hand free.
Keeping the cloth in my hand, I grabbed the handle and slid the door open, making sure not to leave any fingerprints.
Thankfully, the Bauers hadn’t activated their security system for the night. It was what I’d hoped for, but that didn’t fill me with confidence. They still had a security team in the house, along with God only knew how many guests watching that damn basketball game.