Thief by C.L. Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

said. “I can’t stay and play. I’ve got work.”
    “Work?”
    “The hospital should be in chaos right about now.”
    From inside the truck, pretzel boy leaned over the middle console. He waved shortly at the old man. Longer locks of brown hair crossed over the start of his brows, dipping into the blue and green pools of his eyes. “Hey, Doc Roberts.”
    “This is the one, isn’t she?” Dr. Roberts asked him.
    “Yup. Nice work. Thanks.”
    My jaw fell. “You’re not a cop?”
    Dr. Roberts’s head tilted back and he laughed. “No, sweetie. I’m on your side. Get in the truck.”
    “But what about ...” I didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt like begging.
    “I’ve got it taken care of. Don’t worry. Your little hotel room isn’t going anywhere.” He gestured again.
    I sighed, and wedged myself into the passenger seat. Dr. Roberts started to close the door, stopped and then picked something out of the paper bag he had gotten at the candy shop. He handed over a gold box to me.
    “And here,” he said. “Thought you might like these.”
    I took the box from him and he shut the door.
    Pretzel boy started down the road. I used the side mirror to glance back at Dr. Roberts, who remained on the sidewalk. He looked after the truck for a moment and then turned away, walking the opposite direction.
    Traffic was slow since we were still downtown and pedestrians dominated the streets in this particular neighborhood. When pretzel boy stopped, he looked curiously at my lap. “What did he get you?”
    I undid the ribbon and opened the box.
    It was filled with chocolate covered truffles, the same kind I’d tasted at the candy store.

THE TYPE OF GROUP THAT REQUIRES A THIEF
    ––––––––
    I ’d put the box of candy on the floor, folded my arms around my stomach, and sat back in the seat, glaring out the window. My heart raced. I was nervous, worried about making the biggest mistake and was on my way to prison.
    “Relax, Bambi ,” pretzel boy said. “You’re not in trouble.”
    “Sure feels like it.”
    He grinned, and reached to fiddle with the air conditioner. “Cold? Warm?”
    “No.”
    “Change it if you are,” he said. He sat back, one hand on the wheel, the other raking through his hair to pull locks away from his eyes. He wound his way through downtown, heading back toward I-26. “Glad we found you. I had a hunch you wouldn’t try the mall again, but had to leave a guy there just in case. We’re going to go pick him up, and then meet the others.”
    “He knew my name,” I said. “Dr. Roberts did. Do you?”
    “Yup,” he said. “Kayli Winchester. Eighteen. Born and raised here in the tri-county, mostly in North Charleston, but the last few years hovering between Goose Creek and West Ashley. Your school record’s a mile long, too. I didn’t know they let kids graduate when they skipped so many classes.”
    I closed my eyes tightly and pressed my fingers to my temples. “Why are you stalking me? Who are you?”
    He steered with his left hand, and held out his right in offering. “Marc.”
    I stared at his hand.
    “I don’t bite, sweetie.”
    I slipped my hand into his, and he easily enveloped it. He squeezed mine gently, shook it once and pulled his back.
    I stopped playing coy and stared at his face, especially at the eyes. “Is that your real name?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    I squinted at him. His hair was rich brown and soft-looking and his skin had a nice tan. And the dark brows complemented his two-toned eyes. He wore a deep blue collared shirt, unbuttoned to reveal the white ribbed tank shirt underneath. His fine-sculpted chest was more defined as the tank shirt was snug. Around his neck was a black cord, and hanging from it was a sand dollar encased in silver.
    I glanced away, not liking where my thoughts were going staring at his body. Even his face was incredible, with a day’s worth of unshaven gruffness and high cheekbones. “Do you really want me to work at your