FINDERS KEEPERS (Silent Demons Book 1) Read online

  Copyright

  Finders Keepers

  Copyright© 2020 by C. Luca

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not meant to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book. Trademarks have been used without permission.

  The author has asserted her rights under the Copyright Act of 1976 to be identified as the author of this book.

  Photo credit: Shutterstock.com

  For my parents, who never stopped believing I could achieve my dreams.

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  ONE

  Nikolai

  As I exit the high-rise building with Jonah at my side, a strong gust of cold wind greets us, whipping around the bottom of my wool trench coat. These occasional gusts coming off Lake Michigan, can sometimes become funneled throughout Chicago’s many streets, typically causing them to become hazardous during winter storms. I’m accustomed to the winters here though, so they don’t bother me. In fact, after being cooped up in my office all day, I appreciate the crisp, fresh air that’s doing its best to knock me over. To be honest, not much bothers me these days. The one constant exception to that is the necessity for me to socialize in order to keep up appearances.

  Jonah, my assistant, walks with me towards a black SUV with darkened windows idling at the curb, ready to whisk me back to solitude. We’re about twenty feet away, and passing by a throng of tourists who are hunkering down against the wind as they walk—when a petite redhead barrels right into me. Her soft body momentarily collides with mine before I instinctively reach out to steady her.

  Her face lifts, and unusual eyes meet mine briefly before she flashes an apologetically embarrassed smile as her red hair whips around her face. She then quickly moves around me and continues on down the sidewalk, head bowed, and slim shoulders hunched against the wind gusts.

  As I resume walking towards the SUV, I can’t help but think upon the odd coloring of the woman’s eyes. They were a yellowish hazel, a color that one typically doesn’t come across. Perhaps contacts?

  Ezra, my driver, is standing beside the side rear door of the SUV, and he quickly opens it so that I can duck inside and settle into the comfortable, leather seats. The door closes, and then a cold blast of wind sweeps through the interior as Jonah opens the front passenger door and claims the seat as Ezra slides into the driver’s position.

  I reach up and rub a hand over my face as the SUV smoothly pulls away from the curb. A winter storm is approaching, and I want to be off the streets when the snow begins. I’m a man of control, and the sensation of being in a vehicle sliding on slippery pavement is not something I tolerate very well. Though to be fair, Ezra is an impeccable driver. It’s the idiots driving the taxies or the drivers rushing to their destinations regardless of the street conditions that grates on my nerves.

  A contented silence has filled the vehicle’s interior, and I find myself beginning to relax. It’s been a long day, and I’m more than ready to return to the estate and savor the peace and quiet of my home. Being in public is something I detest, but Jonah and Reed, another one of my employees, do an excellent job preventing people from approaching me.

  As the owner of a very successful investment company, it isn’t out of the ordinary that my assistant communicates with the employees while I remain in my office. I believe Jonah once told me that the employees consider me a callous employer who makes himself unapproachable. Unbeknownst to them, I couldn’t care less if they dislike me. I only drop by twice during the week simply to be seen and to continue my cover as a legitimate businessman. The corporate office practically runs itself because I run a tight ship, and if the work is done correctly, the paychecks are nothing to grumble over. Most of the actual work I do is when I’m in my home office and away from distractions. I enjoy corporate raiding, and the challenges far outweigh the unpleasantness of having to drop by the office from time to time.

  I reach into my coat to pull out my phone, but the pocket is empty. Frowning, I search all the pockets, finding my wallet but not my phone. I distinctly recall slipping it inside my coat pocket while we were in the elevator heading down to the lobby.

  What the hell?

  The redhead that had collided with me flashes in my mind, and I stiffen. There’s no fucking way she…

  My empty pocket says otherwise.

  Son of a bitch.

  That phone is my goddamn life. It has pertinent and damaging information on it, not to mention it’s what I use to communicate. I’ve taken measures to make certain no one can get into it without a passcode and my fingerprint, but hackers always find a way. I should know, Jonah’s hacked plenty of sites and accounts for my benefit. It’s the main reason he’s my assistant and lives on the estate. Nothing gets past him, and his intelligence is unrivaled.

  A low, furious growl escapes me.

  The sound has Jonah looking back at me, his eyes questioning.

  I haven’t used my voice since I was sixteen, and that little slip of a woman isn’t going to force me to embarrass myself by revealing my stutter. Phone, I mouth to Jonah as I deliberately hold out my hand.

  He frowns but promptly hands me his phone.

  I take it and quickly text, The redhead stole my phone. FIND her. NOW!

  When Jonah takes his phone back to read my text, he curses and orders Ezra to immediately pull over. The vehicle hasn’t even come to a full stop when Jonah climbs out, and with the slam of the door, he takes off on foot.

  Ezra’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, and I signal that he can continue on back to the estate. I have no doubt that Jonah will find her. The man has a photographic memory, and I’m certain he’d automatically assessed every detail about the woman, because that’s the way his mind works.

  As Ezra navigates the Chicago traffic, I struggle with my temper. Was this a setup? Does she know my identity, the one I’ve painstakingly made sure to keep a secret? How compromised are my men and I?

  TWO

  Blakely

  I step onto the crowded ‘L’ train and make my way through the crush of bodies only to find that there are no seats available. Not surprising since it’s early evening and most people are making their way home after working all day. I manage to make a small space for myself near a pole and hold onto it to keep myself steady once we begin moving.

  A voice over the intercom announces that we’re departing, and the train squeaks briefly on the tracks as it pulls away from the platform. The pole in my hand begins to vibra
te, and I instinctively try to make myself smaller as I avoid coming into contact with anyone else.

  All around me people are distracted with their electronics or newspapers, and those that are riding with companions have their heads together as they talk.

  Someone nearby needs a shower as the heavy scent of body odor infiltrates my nostrils. Mixed with the scents of multiple perfumes permeating the air, the inside of the train is a bit nauseating.

  The distractions around me soon fade as the day’s events begin to tug at my mind. I’m extremely frustrated, and I release an inaudible sigh. The red wig I’d been wearing five minutes earlier is stuffed inside the oversized purse tucked under my left shoulder. I hadn’t realized I’d forgotten to put in contacts until I’d ducked into a bathroom to remove my cover.

  It’s doubtful that my target will ever recognize me, but I’ve always taken care to hide my eyes. Most people assume they’re contacts, but the eerie yellowish hazel color is natural—inherited from my mother. The lack of contacts bothers me, but the fact that I ended up with the man’s phone instead of his wallet overshadows my forgetfulness. I’d had to choose a pocket, and I chose wrong. It happens.

  The entire day has been one big disappointment.

  Waitressing is one of the easiest jobs to acquire, but the job itself is harder than one would think. Today, I’d had to deal with a couple of rude patrons that complained about everything and didn’t bother tipping. Shortly thereafter, I’d nearly been puked on by a toddler, and then an hour before my shift ended some old as dirt little man had the nerve to pinch my ass.

  It’s days like this that I’m tempted to quit and find something that doesn’t involve much interaction with people, but it’d be a wasted effort. I don’t keep jobs for long since I like to keep moving. Pickpocketing in the same area for an extended period of time is dangerous.

  Damn.

  The man had looked like he was loaded, and I’m still stinging from my epic fail. I try to perk up by reminding myself that there might be some useful information on the phone. I only target the wealthy, so there’ll likely be links to accounts.

  I can’t help but think of Aunt Sarah, and my lip curls with animosity as my mood begins to decline once more. Sarah raised me from birth after the death of my mother, and she’s the one who taught me to pickpocket back when I was still in elementary school. It became a way of life for us throughout my childhood and teen years. That is until her boyfriend talked her into kicking me out as soon as I turned eighteen—leaving me to fend for myself.

  Honestly, I haven’t done too bad these past few years, and a part of me hopes Sarah is now all alone and realizing that kicking me out only hurt her in the end. Ever since I can remember, she had problems paying bills on time. Plus, she changed boyfriends like she changed clothes, so her asshole boyfriend is probably long gone by now.

  It’s not like I had wanted to stay permanently, but I’d had every intention of at least living there until I graduated high school. Unfortunately, I couldn’t work a full-time job and spend my days in school, so I’d had no choice but to drop out. It’s a decision that still bothers me deeply.

  Feeling way too melancholy, I mentally shake it off. It’s not like Sarah let me keep all the money I stole anyway, I remind myself. Without her using me, I keep everything I earn and steal.

  Well, mostly.

  I keep the cash while I receive a finder’s fee when I turn in credit cards or electronics to the crew I work for. It’s a small operation but has been more successful than others that I’ve joined—mostly because the people behind the operation are smarter.

  My stop is coming up soon, and I become more alert instead of losing myself to my thoughts. When the train comes to a halt a minute later, I follow the others through the exit and make my way down the stairs from the elevated platform. I hold tight to my oversized purse, and when I reach street level, I duck my head against the brutal wind.

  As I walk towards my next destination which happens to be a fast food restaurant, I think about how this isn’t going to last forever. Someday, I want a steadier job, one that pays well so I won’t have to supplement my finances with pickpocketing. But before I find my niche, I want a home. A real one, a place of my own that can’t be taken away.

  Sarah was always throwing it in my face that her home wasn’t really mine and that I was nothing more than an obligation, because my mother was her sister. Many times during my childhood, things were withheld from me until I did what Sarah wanted. Or when she was in one of her moods, I’d have to be at her beck and call, because I was only a temporary ‘guest’ under her roof.

  I always seemed to owe Sarah.

  As a city bus whooshes past on the street, I’m blasted by a cold burst of wind. I shiver and pull my coat closer to my neck, wishing that I’d thought to bring a scarf.

  Yearning continues to fill me as I ache to own my own home. I don’t want an apartment that includes a lease, or a duplex. It doesn’t have to be anything big, or even appealing to look at. I just want it to be one hundred percent all mine.

  Unfortunately, since I didn’t graduate high school or go to college, this is the fastest way to achieve my dream. Do I feel good about stealing? No, but it’s been a way of life for far too long for me to quit now. Once I have my home, I’m done being a thief.

  I’m almost to the restaurant, and I quicken my pace, dodging a couple standing on the sidewalk screaming at each other. By the time I enter the fast food joint, I’m shivering and my fingers are numb. I make a mental note to find my gloves when I get back to the apartment. I hadn’t been able to find them this morning, and since I’d been in a hurry, I’d left without them.

  My stomach rumbles from the enticing scent of burgers and fries, but I ignore my hunger and avoid joining the line where cashiers are manning registers. Instead, I make my way to the back of the restaurant and enter the women’s restroom.

  The bathroom is thankfully empty, and I hurriedly lock myself inside the handicapped stall. Then, I yank open my purse and pull out a sandwich size, clear bag and slip the glossy, black phone inside. Once it’s sealed, I wrap it in toilet paper, and with a wrinkle of my nose, I slip it inside the metal box attached to the wall that’s reserved for discarded tampons and pads.

  Blech.

  As soon as I exit the stall, I approach one of the sinks and wash my hands for a full two minutes before drying them. After fixing my windblown dark hair, I leave the restroom and head to the front of the restaurant, patiently waiting in line to place my order.

  As the atmosphere washes over me, I begin to relax. Between the sizzling of burgers and the fries in the fryer, the commotion of the cashiers calling back to kitchen employees, and loud conversations as patrons talk with companions or on their phones while they wait—I almost feel invisible.

  I enjoy crowds. Within them, I become just a small spectator in a very large world, and blending is what I’m good at. If I go unnoticed, it’s like I’m not even here. There’s only one person that needs to see me in this line, and all I need to do is make quick eye contact with him.

  When it’s my turn at the front of the line, I order a burger, fries, and a drink—making certain that Randy, the manager, notes that I’m here. His eyes briefly meet mine, and that’s all the signal that I need. He’ll check the box in the women’s bathroom as soon as he gets the chance.

  Five minutes later, I’m exiting the restaurant with my bag of food and my drink. I never stick around to eat. One of the reasons the crew is so successful is because we all avoid being seen with one another. I don’t even think I’ve ever had an actual conversation with Randy. We just know each other by sight, and really, that’s all that’s needed.

  Back on the ‘L’ train, I manage to snag a seat. During the ride to the station closest to my apartment, I eat my meal, and every so often, sip the soda.

  I’m currently sharing an apartment with three other women. It’s only a two-bedroom unit, so I’m sharing a room with Harmony and sleeping on a
mattress on the floor. I barely know any of them, and as far as I can tell, the others aren’t all that close, either. We’re just trying to survive in the city, so why not room together.

  I’m finished with the sandwich and fries, so I crumple the wrappers and slip them back inside the paper bag before taking another sip of my soda.

  While I wait for my stop, I think about the man I’d pickpocketed earlier. He’d been very attractive, and I can’t deny that I’d enjoyed ‘bumping’ into him. For a moment, our eyes had met, and I’d been caught up in those dark gray orbs as my hand nimbly withdrew his phone without him ever knowing it.

  I wince inwardly.

  I’d hate to witness my targets figuring out they’ve been robbed. Someday, I worry that bad karma is going to catch up to me. I’ve never been the superstitious type exactly, but I do believe that what you put out into the world will one day come back to you.

  Soon, I want to put this all behind me and live an honest life. I long for the kind of future that I can be proud of, but until I reach that point, I’m going to keep getting by the only way that I know of that’s proving to be worthwhile.

  The soda is gone, and I lean back in the seat, patiently waiting for my upcoming stop.

  I’m exhausted.

  When I get back to the apartment, I think I’m just going to go to bed early instead of going out for the evening.

  THREE

  Nikolai

  I’ve spent the better part of the evening pacing my home office. It’s been over two hours since the thief stole my phone. Jonah couldn’t find her after searching the surrounding area where she’d bumped into me, and he had quickly decided it would be wise to track the phone by its GPS chip. It hasn’t been easy since the phone has been on the move, so he can’t intercept it until he can assess the situation and leave no witnesses behind.

  I am absolutely furious.