Chapter 10
Ten
Afew days later, Jal woke up feeling almost…
rested. The dreams were still there, but they weren’t nearly as bad.
The hallway still stretched endlessly into the distance, but it had been just an endless corridor of locked rooms. There had still been an element of frantic searching, going from one door to the next with her heart beating almost out of her chest.
But, there had been none of the usual sounds, no bright light or total darkness, no obstacles or attacks, just urgent wandering that hadn’t nearly been as jarring to wake up from as other dreams.
After a cup of tea, and a few pages of a novel Lexi had given her, she’d fallen right back to sleep and awoken with more energy and focus than she’d had in a long while, enough so that she got dressed and bundled up in her loose tan jacket almost on auto pilot.
She was halfway to the stairs before she remembered her hat and had to double back but, once it was safely in her pocket, she emerged onto the street and hoped that luck was with her.
It struck her as she descended the stairs to the subway that it had been weeks since she had last hit the streets, not since her first run-in with Ciaran.
She didn’t need to steal, not really, between the money Ciaran had given her, which she suspected was overly generous, and the occasional nights bussing tables and washing dishes at Lima y Sazón, the restaurant Elena’s father owned, she had more than enough.
But nothing beat the rush of adrenaline, and the boost of confidence that came with it. As she rode the subway downtown, her fingers tingled as she surveyed her fellow passengers, looking for any easy marks. Most were clutching cups of coffee and were far too alert, but there…
The train stopped at 8th Street and the doors rattled open. Jal stepped out onto the platform close on the heels of a woman in a smart business suit who had so many bags stacked up on one shoulder that her purse was practically sideways.
It took little more than a gentle tap for her wallet to fall out into her hands. Jal slid it into her pocket and made a show of straightening the stack. The woman turned her head at the more substantial contact and edged away.
Jal gave her a reassuring smile as she passed, murmuring, “I’m sorry, just wanted to adjust your purse so nothing fell out.” The woman’s expression became thankful, though Jal didn’t wait around to see if the woman stopped to check her belongings.
She was two blocks away before she took the wallet out of her pocket and examined it. From her ID, Ms. Sally Benevento was well into her fifth decade of life, lived in the East Village, and going by her credit cards, she liked her shopping, and not at the stores Jal could afford.
Thankfully, she was also a fan of cash. It was one of the reasons that Jal tended to target those of a certain age, especially those that dressed like they had money to flaunt, even if they did take the subway.
The wad of cash, easily several hundred dollars’ worth, disappeared into one pocket, while she dug out a soft cloth from the other to carefully wipe away any fingerprints she might have left on the pricy, designer leather.
Up ahead, near the corner of Washington Square Park stood a big, blue mailbox waiting to gobble up letters and packages to send on their way.
Jal gave the wallet a last once-over inside and out with the cloth and tossed the wallet inside.
It hit the bottom with a soft thump. The post office would help the wallet make its way home, just a little lighter.
Jal dusted off her hands and walked into the park, stopping in the shadow of the white marble archway to get her bearings.
There was a good mix of commuters using the park as a cut through, along with a steady stream of teachers and hoodie-wearing students making their way to different parts of the university that nearly surrounded the green space.
On her left through the trees was a playground full of shrieking children and crying toddlers. A handful of untended strollers dotted the area around the fence, but there was no more vigilant a group than moms of young children at a public park.
No, she was better off with the college professors and the tourists, who were already out and about with their phones glued to their hands, and their attention on everything but their purses or back pockets.
Within minutes, she had her first target, and a minute later, the man’s wallet was in her pocket instead.
She moved on, matching pace with a tourist with a large, unzipped tote bag.
Her heart was already pounding in her ears as she casually scratched an eyebrow and reached for the wallet she could just see poking out behind the woman’s elbow.
“Hiya, Jal.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest at the cheerful, slightly too loud greeting from behind her. She yanked her hand back and whirled, her coat billowing around her like a cape, so the weight of the professor’s wallet whacked into her thigh.
Ciaran stood by the fountain, a few yards away.
He had on the same tan overcoat, one side drawn behind the hand casually tucked in the pocket of his tailored dress pants, the other balanced a cardboard tray of takeout cups.
His hair was neatly styled but that lock in the front still lifted in the breeze.
“What brings you to this side of the city?”
As if he didn’t already know.
She stormed over to him, stopping a few feet away.
He rocked back on his heels slightly, but she couldn’t tell if he was forcing himself not to take a step back or if he was bringing his cocky self to work today.
If it was the latter, he had chosen the wrong place to stand, especially this time of year.
“If you are following me, Ciaran, I hope you’re ready to get wet.”
Ciaran glanced over his shoulder at the rippling water, which looked cold despite the sunlight throwing rainbows in the mist. He turned back to her with a raised eyebrow. “Going to throw me in, are you?”
Not a bad idea… Jal took another step forward, close enough for the tails of their coats to brush together and raised her hands toward his chest, tensing her legs. He merely looked down at her and grinned.
She instantly regretted taking that step. With him this close, her bravado began to falter, and he just stood there and watched it crumble. Her heart stuttered at the memory of his breath caressing the shell of her ear, the slide of his hand along her back. And then, he’d called her bluff.
She blinked and the park came back into focus.
Her hands were still poised to push him, all she had to do was lean forward and put a little weight into it and he’d tumble into the frigid water.
She raised her eyes to find him still smiling, but it had shifted to something a little more curious, which meant she’d zoned out longer than she thought.
One side of his mouth quirked up even further and she balled up her fists and shoved them into her pockets to keep from touching him. Her moment of surprise was gone, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.
Besides, there wasn’t any other reason for her to touch him. Nope, nothing else. And certainly not something insane like wrapping her hand around his tie and pulling him closer.
He looked away and pointed with the tray of cups. “Now, if I remember right, we met just over there.”
Her nose filled with an odd, but not unpleasant, blend of fragrant steam as she turned her head toward the heavily wooded path that led to the north-west corner of the park.
She turned back and found he had drawn close enough that she wouldn’t be able to get her hands up between them let alone push him in.
Jal took a step back before she could catch herself. At this angle, his shoulders seemed to blot out the mid-morning sunshine that filtered through the trees and cast his face with dramatic shadows. The corner of his mouth twitched at something in her expression.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” she demanded.
“I volunteered to go on a morning coffee run.” He removed his hand from his pocket and pointed at the name on the coffee cups then threw a thumb over his shoulder to the matching logo on a striped awning across the park. “No better coffee in the city, I’ve found.”
“Ah yes, your favorite stalking spot.”
“People watching, lass. People watching.” He corrected, as he wiggled a cup out of the tray and held it out to her.
She looked down at the cup like it was a grenade and removing it from the tray had pulled the pin. All she had to do was take it and bam!
The other corner of his mouth turned up. “Call it a consolation prize,” he moved the cup closer to her. “I am sorry for interrupting you just now.”
“No, you’re not,” she protested.
He grinned and offered a third time. She tried to hold on to her stony expression, but the smirk, and that damn twinkle in his eye, like the glimmer of light on ice in whisky… What was he doing to her?
She yanked a hand out of her pocket and took the cup. “Happy?” She asked, then wrapped both hands around the warm paper sleeve, only then realizing how chilled her fingers really were. “Now, tell me what you want.”
“So hostile,” he teased.
Jal growled but it sounded half-hearted even to her ears. She tried to move past him, but he stepped into her path. She took another step, and he matched it. Another step and he followed, and again, dancing around each other. Finally, she stamped her foot and glared at him.
He met her gaze, and there was an energy vibrating through him so strongly she could feel it pressing on her skin. “You know, I’m actually glad I ran into you,” he said. “Given that I still don’t have your phone number…”
He gave her a pointed look, but she refused to take the bait. Better he got to whatever he needed to say, and then she could decide if she wanted to give it to him.
“So… I have a match coming up and I was hoping that maybe you would want to come and watch.”
“Match?”
“Football.”