guards from an upper window. Dim lights high in the warehouse turned everything into a mosaic of black and green. He’d creaked the window open during a gust of wind that had made the whole building groan. Climbing across girders and down steel supports had been the easy part. Now he was on the same level as three of the guards, scraping his old lock picks against the tumblers and knowing any second there would be shouting followed by shooting.
Luckily he hadn’t completely lost his touch and the lock gave way. The guards were at the farthest point of their rounds. He opened the door just wide enough to slide inside the office. Breathing slow in an attempt to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest, he crouched among the desks and file cabinets. Somewhere in this mess was the single piece of paper he’d been tasked to find.
It was a test. He’d known that when the instructions arrived in a text from Ronald Olesk. But it was a test he couldn’t fail. Arash knew how these gangs worked: prove yourself and you were in the door. Keep proving yourself and you gained their trust.
Once those murderers thought he was one of their own, he could strike.
But before he could think about revenge, he had to find the schedule for Eddie Shun’s produce trucks. The most up-to-date one would be on the top of any stack. From the way the broccoli and brussels sprouts were smelling on the warehouse floor, it was time to move them out. The drivers would probably arrive in just a couple of hours.
He checked a clock on the wall. Damn, it had taken longer to get into the office than he anticipated. The text from Olesk had been very specific. Arash was to get to the location on foot. His ride away from the warehouse would be arriving at 3:40 a.m. and departing before 3:41 a.m. He had four minutes to find the piece of paper and get to the street.
Panicking wouldn’t get this job done. He focused on the space. He’d been a truck driver before, making predawn deliveries while working his way through trade school. Manifests and schedules were always flying through these offices. The large desk at the center was the hub. He crept there and craned his head up to look over the surface.
The first thing he saw was one of the guards walking past the safety-glass windows that made up one side of the offices. Arash froze and his pulse thundered in his ears. He knew if he ducked out of the way too quickly the movement would tip the guard off. The man’s silhouette continued past the windows, then around another stretch of the catwalks.
Arash eased out a breath and refocused on the desk. Askew on one corner was a clipboard. Its grease-stained edges showed that it had traveled from the warehouse floor and back up to these offices. Keeping his eyes on the front windows, he stretched his arm out and snatched the clipboard back.
The content on the page was illegibly dark. He had a very powerful flashlight in his jacket pocket, but that would surely alert every guard in the place that he was picking through their business. He got as low as he could and crept toward the front windows to let the warehouse light bring the text into focus. The date at the top was today and the shipping times were all laid out in a grid with truck numbers and cargo.
Arash released the page from the clipboard and folded it into his jacket. He replaced the clipboard on the desk, then returned to the front door of the offices. The clock on the wall told him he had two minutes to meet his ride out of there. Not enough time to sneak his way back up to the roof. Hell, there wasn’t enough time to walk out the front door.
He stood up and opened the door to the office. He had to run, right past the guards.
* * *
STEPHANIE HADN’T WORN any rings, in case they’d caught the light and given her away while stealing her car, but now she wished she’d brought at least one so she could release a fraction of the tension by twisting it around her finger.
Her mother had always hated the habit. She’d wanted Stephanie to pick one set of jewelry and wear only that to demark her presence in the world. Changing it out every week had kept her grounded, though. A variety of rings felt differently on her fingers, making her focus on her hands. She hadn’t been ready to define herself as a teenager straining against a family and lifestyle she hadn’t chosen, and still wasn’t.
3:40 a.m. If her pickup wasn’t here in the next minute, she had to leave. Whoever they were, why the hell hadn’t they been early? Every second that ticked by with her parked in the shadows near her father’s warehouse was another opportunity for doom. If he found her there, her cover would be blown. And she had to operate with the confidence that Olesk and his crew had no idea who she was.
A side door on the warehouse slammed open. She jumped, startled, then quickly gathered her composure and put the car in gear. She’d stolen the ride, and now her job was getaway driver. A single figure sprinted onto the sidewalk, then toward her as she approached. Shadows enveloped him; she couldn’t pick out any of his features. He reached the car and threw open the passenger door.
Just then, two more men emerged from the warehouse door. One of them limped. Both held pistols. Her pickup leaped into the car and slammed the door closed. “Get us out of here.” He didn’t yell, but his urgency was unmistakable.
Not that she needed encouragement. The two armed guards were enough. She hit the gas and zipped past them before they could bring their guns up. The car handled the next corner perfectly and they were quickly away from the warehouse.
Her passenger was twisted around in his seat to watch the rear. When he turned to the front, she could finally steal a look at his face. Intense dark eyes peered forward. Black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, accentuating his chiseled cheekbones and pronounced nose. He had a trim goatee. His mouth was set in a grim line. She guessed he was Middle Eastern, and honestly would’ve been happy to spend more time examining this handsome thirtysomething-year-old man’s distinctive features, but the street curved ahead again. And he was a member of a criminal driving crew she was intent on taking down.
He turned again to scan beside and behind them, bringing his shoulder and broad chest close to her in the small coupe. His body was covered in black clothes, but the cords of his neck and the energy that radiated from him showed how strong he was.
“Damn it...” he growled.
“Did you get what you went there for?” She couldn’t allow this job to go sideways and ruin her chance with Olesk.
“Of course I did,” he shot back. “Why do you think I was running away?”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Three cars with their headlights off following us are the problem.” He pointed to a street parallel to theirs. Two sport-tuned compact cars and a high-end sedan prowled into an intersection, then veered directly toward Stephanie and her passenger.
She sneered, “Awesome,” and stood on the accelerator. Her passenger tugged his seat belt on and braced himself against the door frame. They zipped through the flat streets of the Dogpatch neighborhood, but she couldn’t shake the pursuers. “What’s your name?” she asked through a clenched jaw.
“Arash.” He continued to turn, tracking the other cars.
“Okay, Arash, in the side pocket of my bag at your feet is a transponder.” If this man was skilled enough to steal something from Eddie Shun, then he should be able to figure it out. Though he wasn’t so masterful that he got out of the warehouse undetected.
He pulled the bag into his lap and dived into the side. “Got it.” Holding the device up, he said, impressed, “These things are expensive.”
“Who says I bought it?” In fact, she had, from a third-party contact she had in the black market.
“Slick.” His gaze scanned her for a moment and she thought she detected a quick heat of attraction. It inspired an unexpected bloom of warmth across her chest. The two of them raced over the San Francisco streets and for the first time in a long time, she felt a little reckless. She shut it down immediately and focused on the road. Arash cooled, as well. He turned to the device in his hands. “You used this to get the Mercedes?” His thick fingers traced up the lead wire with the metal clip. “Picked