Maya Hart didn't do damsel in distress.
Actually, she didn't do distress in general. Everything she did was calculated. From her tight lipped smiles and flirtatious one finger waves to the way she turned her body so she could figure out how many surveillance cameras were in the penthouse of the Olympus Hotel. (There were four.)
Her thousand dollar metallic Herve Leger bandage dress hugged her curves tightly, leaving little to nothing to the imagination. Mussed blonde hair tumbled down onto her back and shone on her like a halo, captivating the attention of many socialites that were attending the function. She was bored— and that was saying something due to the fact that multi billionaires, royalty, sports stars and A List celebrities were milling leisurely around the annual Minkus Ball. (She was pretty sure that she saw Leonardo DiCaprio holding a conversation with her mother but she didn't have the best eyesight and if she did her math correctly, they were exactly seventy feet away from her.)
She hummed to herself and drummed her perfectly manicured hands onto the crocheted table cloth, each table equipped with a small ice sculpture and a glass of wine.
(Her mother smacked her hand away when Maya reached for it, but it was all a diversion so she could use her other hand to slip the phone of the boy sitting next to her's phone from his pocket. He hasn't noticed and that occurred approximately thirty minutes ago. She was kind of hoping he'd come back because he was sorta cute with his over styled light brown hair that reminded her of the coffee table in her living room, his broad shoulders and his blue-green eyes. She was also pretty sure that he was from somewhere in Texas due to a slight country accent. Dallas or maybe even Austin. She didn't couldn't quite decipher. She wished she had paid attention in her dialectology class.)
If Maya really wanted to, she could've mingled amongst the rich and famous. She was literally trained to. She tucked a lock of her honey blonde hair behind her ear and casted her gaze across the room. There were only four (armed) security guards located every exit. Well, five if she didn't count the short, beefy man that had a slight limp. She deemed it an ACL injury and she was sure she could take him down in a matter of seconds. (Or milliseconds, depending on how fast she could move in five inch heels.) She glanced upwards, and noticed there were only two air vents. The ceilings weren't that high, so maybe she could sneak out later on.
Rolling her cobalt blue eyes, she directed her attention back onto the crowd. Her eyes caught sight on a particular brunette boy, smiling emptily as he conversed with Wesley Babineaux, the mayor of New York City. She had to admit that Texas Boy looked good in his tailored designer suit, standing there while holding a glass of a drink that resembled apple cider. But then something happened that changed her perspective on the kid.
She would've missed it if she were anyone other than, well, her. But she was. So she didn't.
The boy was smiling, talking and having a grand 'ol time until he tripped over his own two feet and stumbled forward only to catch himself by landing on the mayor. He then apologized profusely (Maya was good at reading lips), patting the poor old man reassuringly with one hand, only to take the old man's phone out of his pocket with the other. Her previously adoring eyes narrowed and her red coated lips were pulled into a thin line. Who was he?
And then he was gone.
She furrowed her eyebrows, scanning her eyes among the crowd to look for the sweet talking country boy but he was nowhere to be found. The sixteen year old socialite stood up from her seat, and stalked towards the crowd of party goers. She was practically at home, drowning in the sea of Manhattan's elite. Each step was so purposeful, anyone would be out of their mind to think the petite girl was anything but powerful.
Although she belonged there, she didn't exactly blend in. Girls like Maya Hart never blended in though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Maya Hart was not ugly. In fact, Maya Hart was the epitome of beauty.
She mustered her hi's and hello's and, after five minutes of examination, the boy was still gone. She began to wonder if she had imagined him when she caught a flicker of movement by the stairs. Naturally intrigued, Maya followed the line of movement. They say curiosity killed the cat, but Maya Hart was no cat. She was a gazelle, gracefully dodging predators and keeping an eye on her prey. (In this case, the predator was Brooklyn Beckham. The two were familiar, but the kid did not know how to take a hint. "You look great, Maya." "I know." "Care to dance?" "Maybe later." "I'll be looking for you later, then." "Bye, Brooklyn.")
And when she rounded the corner, she was shook to hear the same stupid accent that she couldn't, for the life of her, pinpoint.
"Took you long enough."
She turned around slowly, and was met with the cocky grin her plastered onto his face. He leant against the railing to the stairs with an empty glass of apple cider.
"You should put his phone back," Maya stated indifferently, walking towards him. Yet he seemed to immune to the way her hips swayed when she walked because he didn't even bat an eye. And when she stopped right in front of him, his eyes didn't linger down to her cleavage. This boy was good.
"I don't know what you're talking about, miss," he exclaimed, condescendingly. He moved from his previous position, and walked around her teasingly. He was an enigma that Maya couldn't seem to decipher, and she hated not knowing who this kid was or who he was pretending to be. "Pat me down if you'd like."
Paired with a wink, he patronizingly held both hands up in mock surrender. Sending him a scowl, Maya crossed her arms over her chest. Maya Hart knew a liar when she saw one, but he was good with words.
"I saw you-"
"Well, if you were watching me as closely as you thought you were, you would've saw me put his phone back ten seconds after realizing he had a password. Nice try, shortstack." He smiled down at her, leaning in closely. What he wouldn't show on his features is how much this girl intrigued him. Here he was, walking and talking and thinking that he was high on a pedestal when this girl came quick to destroy the foundation beneath him. The girl that he thought was a standard high society princess was a breathing encryption that his uncle hadn't prepared him to crack.
"Who are you?" She asked him, slowly uncrossing her arms for her chest. And then she realized something. If he was so good at pickpocketing, if he was so good at the sleight of hand, how did he not realize she had slipped his phone from his suit pocket? She eyed him warily. The only answer is that he had to have known.
But then why did he let her?
"H.B Lucas VI," he answered coolly. "I go by Lucas. You?"
"Maya Hart."
"What school do you go to, Maya Hart?" He asked. If he was being honest, he didn't really care where she got her education. He knew many people around not merely Manhattan, but all over the world. He needed to know more about her, and maybe where she went to school could be the start of his search.
"An all girls school," She replied passively along with the wave of a slender hand. He pursed his lips. "You wouldn't know about it."
"Try me," he pressed on. Who was she?
"Let's not." Maya smiled menacingly, and she was glad she now had the upper hand in the situation. Maya didn't need to read his body language to know that the kid came from money; his father owned Lucas Enterprises, which was a huge oil company set up in Texas. She had heard that his father's net worth was almost a trillion dollars. She smirked. He definitely was from Austin. "What about you? What's with the whole mysterious initial thing?"
"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a mystery now would it?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and Maya has to force herself to look away because her headmaster didn't have a class on how not to fall in love. Or on how to mend a broken heart. Because Maya hart was sure that both things were bound to happen as long as she hung around H.B Lucas VI, or Lucas as he insisted on being called.
Maya didn't respond to his rhetorical question, not only because she didn't have an answer to it, but because something seemed off. The air seemed to be still, and Maya looked out onto the crowd. Everything seemed too… surreal. Too perfect. People were happy and Maya didn't like that.
"What?" Lucas egged on. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Shut it, Huckleberry," Maya snapped. The nickname for the native Texan flowed off of her tongue smoothly, and Lucas smiled; he had no choice other than to accept the name she graciously gave him. Who was he to deny anything that came from those lips?
"Huckleberry," He said aloud, as if he was testing the word out. He had to admit: it was creative.
"Get used to it, H.B."
There was still that sense of danger in the air; the kind that made the blonde hairs on the back of Maya's neck stand up and her posture straighten. Adrenaline started pumping through her veins and she couldn't help but smile. She lived for this feeling- it made her feel purposeful. It made her feel as if she wasn't another blonde rich girl with a knack for shoes and boys. And it all happened in a matter of seconds. She didn't blame Lucas for not knowing what was going on. He was merely a pickpocketer or maybe even a con man. But Maya was different; she was apart of a bigger picture. She was the entire night sky while Lucas was merely a star, or maybe a constellation if he was lucky.
She pushed Lucas into the corner he was leaning on minutes prior when the first shot rang out.
Screams pierced the previously calm air, causing Lucas' eyes to widen. She strained her ear to listen to the gunman's footsteps, but it was very hard due to the constant click clack of high heels scurrying away. And then another shot rang out, and Maya felt Lucas' heartbeat quicken. Her forearm was against his chest and she had to put her index finger on his lips when the gunman yelled for silence.
Maya peeked from the wall they were hiding behind. It wasn't hard to find the gunmen; they were dressed in all black in a sea of expensive colors. She quickly counted how many there were before ducking behind the wall. There were eight men herding the crowd of over a hundred into the corner. There were only four security guards, but Maya inferred that they had already overpowered them. After all, there were two bad guys for every good one.
"What the hell is going on?" Lucas murmured against her finger. She sent him a glare in response. He shut up.
"Alright, party people!" The first gunman yelled. Maya narrowed her eyes. His voice was mature, and the use of sarcasm suggested he was cocky. He was either a seasoned criminal or a very arrogant college boy, or maybe the deadly combination of both. "Hand over your phones and bags. You won't be needing them for the rest of the night."
She peeked once more, and saw three of the gunmen rounding people up and taking their possessions. Her lips tugged into a frown, and she removed her body from Lucas'. She hadn't realized how close her body was pressed against his, but she didn't dwell on it. After all, people could be murdered tonight.
"Every guest has been accounted for except for Maya Hart and Lucas Friar," One man announced. Both teens stiffened. They had the guest list? That meant they were organized. That meant whoever had orchestrated the crime needed everyone. But what for? They had already collected hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of items; what would a two missing teens contribute to that?
"Well, look for them. They didn't leave, so they're in here somewhere."
Maya recognized the voice. It belonged to the first gunman.
"On it, sir."
Both Maya and Lucas' eyes widened as the sound of clunky combat boots made their way towards them. Maya patted down her dress (which conveniently had a right pocket) for her phone, but it wasn't in it's rightful place.
"What are you looking for?" Lucas asked her quietly.
"My phone," she snapped lowly. She could've sworn she had it. The last time she knew for sure she had it on her was when they were eating appetizers at the table, and then it dawned on her. She lifted her gaze up to Lucas. "You have it, don't you?"
"I swiped it when-"
"Just give me the damn thing."
Doing as told, Lucas pulled out Maya's iPhone from the back pocket of his tailored suit and handed it to her. The clunking of the boots got louder, which meant one of the gunmen were about to turn the corner. Maya closed her eyes.
"Follow my lead," she stated lowly. She ruffled her hair and pinched her cheeks. "I know what I'm doing."
"What are you-"
She crushed her lips against his, not giving him any time to respond to her declaration. He didn't know what to do at first. He knew she had told him to follow her lead, but at what cost? She was intoxicating and intense, and Lucas knew by the way her hands tugged his hair that he was a goner. He never even stood a chance. Reluctantly, Lucas placed his hands on her waist and reciprocated when someone cleared their voice.
"You two must be Maya and Lucas," the gunman stated. Maya was the first to pull away, and squinted at the man. Like the others, he was dressed in all black with a ski mask covering his face. His eyes were a dark shade of brown and he had a scar along one eyelid. He wasn't buff, but Maya could tell by the way he carried himself that he had taken a fighting class or two. He pointed a gun at the both of them. "Follow me."
They gulped.
"Is this like, a real live kidnapping?" Maya inquired, intentionally slurring her words. Lucas looked down at her. What game was she playing? "How much would my ransom be worth?"
The gunman eyed Maya in annoyance. He put his gun down and his other hand out.
"Phones," he demanded.
Lucas knew Maya had taken his phone. It was the classic touch diversion. She had distracted him by reaching for the wine and arguing with her mother (quite loudly if he may add) as she slipped her hand into his pocket and took his phone. If Lucas was anyone other than, well, him he wouldn't have noticed. But he was Lucas. So he did.
Maya didn't even notice when he stumbled as he got out of his chair, used Maya's shoulder to steady himself and swiped her phone from her pocket. It was hard to contain his smirk as he did so. He kind of felt bad when she smiled up at him, assuring him it was okay. Key word: almost. She was the one who started it, anyway.
"I don't have my phone. Someone—" He glared pointedly at Maya. "—left it at the table."
The gunman pat Lucas down just to make sure, and that was when Maya noticed that white rubber band he was sporting. She found that odd; why go rob socialites with a white rubber band? She'd have plenty of time to contemplate about the whole situation if her plan went through accordingly.
"That leaves you, blondie." He smirked as he waved his gun in her face. Maya gasped theatrically, and slowly reached in her pocket.
"Do I have to?" She whined. "I won't call the police or anything. I promise. I'm playing the Kendall and Kylie game and I only have five minutes left to hang out with Ben!"
He bit his lip, as if he were deciding something and then he raised his gun so close to Maya that she was going cross eyed staring down the barrel. He then pressed it straight against her forehead.
"Phone. Now."
Maya whimpered as she brought her phone out of her pocket, and slowly handed it to him.
And when it reach his fingertips, she pressed the 'up' volume button on the bulky case for her phone which sent a little under 800,000 volts into his body. He collapsed like a rag doll without making a sound.
"I'll be taking that," she said to herself as she bent down to pick up the fallen thieve's gun.
"You have a stun gun for a phone case?" Lucas asked incredulously. Maya simply smiled innocently in response.
She kicked her heels off next to White Band's body, and looked at the air vent that was a foot taller than her. There was no way she would be able to reach it and there was definitely no way she would ask Lucas for help. It was totally implausible. They had probably under three minutes before White Band's colleagues get suspicious and went looking for him. So, that meant Maya had under three minutes to find an escape route that made getting to an air vent easier.
"Follow me." She grabbed Lucas' hand and lead him down the hallway. She kind of liked the way her hand fit easily into his like how keys are made for specific doors. Some hands were made for each other.
They stopped in front of a portrait of Farkle and Riley. It was painted by Maya and she couldn't help but smile at the memory of trying to get them to sit still. It was done years ago, and Maya couldn't really remember the last time she had spoken to Riley. Farkle, yes, because her… schoolwork always ended up overlapping with his crowd but with Riley, not so much. They had distanced ever since Maya had left for school. And that was three years ago.
"Okay, nice painting, but can we get to the point?" Lucas asked impatiently. Maya rolled her eyes.
She lifted the painting off of it's hinges and opened a small door, which revealed a secret passageway. She remembered hiding in there as a thirteen year old whenever things got bad at home. She was the one who found it, so Farkle let her use it whenever she felt she had to. Maya dismissed the memories quickly.
"Ladies first," Maya deadpanned, gesturing for Lucas to go inside. He didn't find it amusing, as he glared at her in response. The tall teen was uncomfortable being cramped in such a tiny space, but it had to do. He didn't have a plan but for some reason, Maya had this all figured out. He wished it were that easy for him.
Maya crawled in after him, and put the painting back up in it's rightful place which closed the hatch.
"So," Maya stated. "We need to strategize."
Lucas looked at her, "You think?"
"There are eight people and all of them are armed. Well, seven," Maya began, ignoring Lucas' previous comment. "Every single one of them have a gun. They've fired two shots but both of them were blanks."
"And they took everyone's phones," Lucas added. "It was almost like they had to."
Maya thought it about it. Did they take everyone's phones to ensure that no one would be able to call authorities? No, it didn't make sense. There were surveillance cameras; but Maya had a feeling that they had cut off the connection to those. This would give them a head start if no one expected anything was wrong.
"This isn't a typical robbery," Maya explained. "Otherwise they would've left already when they got everyone's stuff except for ours. I mean, they had the freaking guest list. I think the phones and bags were a distraction while someone else went in for what they really came for."
Lucas nodded in agreement and Maya had to think really hard on what valuable items the Minkuses owned. There were too many to count. Stuart Minkus liked expensive things, so he wouldn't stop to spoil his Manhattan penthouse. But the longer Maya thought about it, the shorter the list got. She remembered Farkle mentioning that his father had (maybe) gotten the Barnett Newman painting that people have been bidding on for over six months. (It wasn't that Farkle didn't want to tell Maya— he literally couldn't. His father had signed a confidentiality agreement stating that no one could know he owned the painting.)
"Well, what did they really come here for?" Lucas asked Maya. The blonde opened her mouth to respond when she was cut off by the familiar sound of clunky combat boots. She gulped.
"They're still in the penthouse- we've cut off all exits!" Maya recognized the voice. It was the first gunman. Again. He seemed to be the leader of the team of thieves.
"Maybe we should just leave them. The surveillance team must've noticed something was off by now and the police are probably on their way at this moment. We don't have time to waste."
Maya furrowed her professionally plucked eyebrows. The person had a very feminine voice. There was a woman among a group of men? Maya was surprised.
"She's right," a third voice intervened. "Blue is probably hanging up his counterfeit as we speak. All we have to do is watch the crowd and then we're off to Paris."
"And for all we know, White could've just… I don't know… Hit his head?" The first voice suggested, but the way their voice got small suggested that even they themselves couldn't believe their own theory.
"And he stole his own gun too?"
Maya glanced at Lucas, but in the dim lighting, she could make out that he was already staring. She quickly averted her eyes to anything but his and pressed an ear against the hidden door.
"If anything goes wrong, I have no trouble going down for double homicide," The first man sneered. Even Maya couldn't help but gulp.
The footsteps faded away and Maya turned to Lucas. It looked like they were off the hook for now, but Maya couldn't let those people steal Stuart's painting. It was her job as a Gallagher girl to stop things like this from happening. She absentmindedly recited her school's motto in her head: Learn her skills, honor her sword and keep her secrets.
"I guess they're here for a painting." Lucas smirked. Maya huffed. "Which painting do you think they're after? There's probably over fifty in this penthouse."
"Stuart Minkus- possibly- purchased the Newman that's been on sale for like, half a year. Farkle wouldn't tell me, though."
"Farkle?"
"His son." Maya rolled her eyes. Had Lucas really attended the Minkus Ball without knowing anything about the family? What a tool. "He probably has it judging by the new security ever since he totally not bought it. I just don't know where it is."
Maya thought of all the places it could be. The penthouse was over 12,000 square feet so they had to think big. Where would a multimillionaire put a priceless painting? They would put it somewhere where they could admire it almost everyday. That ruled out Farkle's room. The man barely visited his own son. And that also ruled out the living and dining area— he definitely wouldn't hang it where people easily had access to it. Where would he go regularly where no one else did?
His office.
When Maya was ten years old and playing hide and seek with Farkle, she accidentally came across the no-no hallway of the Minkus residence. Only at that time, she didn't know it was off limits. (She definitely knew now.) So, the little blonde girl with a missing front tooth trotted down the hallway not knowing how much trouble she was about to get in. She called out for Farkle and when he didn't answer, ten year old Maya pushed open the only door that was in the hallway and walked in on Stuart Minkus making a call. (Maya later learned he was talking to the then president of Switzerland and was making the biggest business transaction of his career.) Stuart simply told the man on the other line to hold on for a moment, walked over to Maya and in the lowest, deadliest voice, he had told her to get the fuck out. She gladly obliged.
"Well, whatever painting they're going after, we can't just waltz in and stop them!" Lucas reasoned, waving his arms in the cramped space. With a scowl, she smacked one of his hands that had come too close to her face. (She had spent almost two hours on her makeup, so the cowboy better not mess it up.) He was totally losing his cool, which Maya thought was annoying because a little over five minutes ago she had a literal gun pointed at her. (Boys were wimps.)
"Who said anything about waltzing?" Maya asked rhetorically, before pushing past Lucas. She didn't hear movement, which caused her to look back and see Lucas still sitting in the position she left him in. "Come on, Henry. I told you to follow my lead."
"Henry?" Was all Lucas could respond.
"Because you won't tell me what H.B stands for."
Maya began crawling in a straight line, ignoring the spots where she could've turned. (Even after Stuart had kicked her out of his office, she sometimes climbed through the air vents to spy on him and report back to Farkle. But that was when she was really bored and Jennifer, Farkle's mother, was asleep.) She wondered if she was too late to stop them, but the answer appeared to be no when she heard voices softly drifting through the air. The air vent was right above them.
There was a rectangular opening about Maya's height and above her head was an air vent that bled into the vents in Farkle's room, Stuart's office, the guest bedroom, and the rooftop patio. (She probably knew more about the house than the owner's.) Cracking her back, Maya stood up after ten minutes of crawling around. Her knees ached and she desperately needed to sneeze, but she held it back. She had stunned the guy twenty minutes ago, so he was probably conscious by then. The last thing she needed at the moment was for him to throttle her. But when she looked back at Lucas, he seemed strangely at home. Maybe being a pickpocketer meant you spent a lot of time in small spaces.
"What makes you think they're still here?" Lucas asked as Maya pulled herself into the air vent. Her muscles screamed as she did so. Spring break was seriously taking it's toll on her physique. She let out a sigh of relief as she laid on her stomach in the metal space.
"The painting is going to be encased in glass," Maya explained, slightly out of breath. She had enough knowledge about expensive paintings to make an inference. "You don't buy a painting for over a hundred million and just hang it up. It's going to have a security system and it's going to take a while to hack it without setting off the alarm."
Lucas murmured in agreement. It all made sense. Steal people's belongings as a distraction, get the painting, hang up a fake, and get the hell out of there. By the time that someone notices the real painting is gone, the crime scene is too tampered with to get evidence. It would've worked out if Maya wasn't there. (But she was, so it wasn't going to go successfully on her watch.)
Effortlessly, Lucas pulled himself into the vent and Maya began crawling in the direction of Stuart's office. Voices were whispering hurriedly and both had to strain the hearing to listen to what they were saying.
"That little bitch stunned me and took to my gun!"
Maya cringed. He totally wanted to throttle her.
"Relax, White." It was the same feminine voice from earlier. They seemed to do a lot of advocating on Maya's behalf. "It's not like we were gonna use them to shoot people."
"If I ever saw her, that statement would be false." Maya clutched his gun that rested in her hands tightly.
The voices got louder the longer they moved, and soon enough they were right on top of Stuart's office. Lucas and Maya stayed a reasonable distance away from the air vent so their faces would be concealed. (Lucas started grumbling about why in the hell Stuart Minkus' penthouse would have air vents, and Maya explained that the building was over sixty years old but Stuart had a knack for renovating things.)
"What can you see?" Lucas asked from behind Maya. She squinted (she didn't have the best eyesight and she left her contacts at her apartment thinking that she wouldn't have to stop a robbery) and she made out for people in the room. The guy who was cracking the code, the man who was in charge, the only female in the group, and the guy who backed the only female in the group up.
"He's having trouble," Maya murmured, mostly to herself, She tilted her head to get a better view of the boy. He was small in stature and his skinny fingers were trembling. From the voice he used to speak to himself, Maya guessed that he was no older than ten. What was this kid doing among them? Was he kidnapped? Did he even have a choice?
"He might set off the alarm, which will cause the painting to go into a vault behind the wall. Then no one can access it for forty eight hours and they'll need a fingerprint scan to get in," Lucas stated, eyeing the broken security cameras. Maya gave him a look. "What? I recognize the brand of security." Maya quirked an eyebrow. "Let's just say I've had a few run ins with them."
"Hurry up, Blue," The Alpha snapped. Maya glanced down at his wrist, which held a startlingly red band. Of course he would wear red, which symbolized blood and power. Maya was sure that's all he wanted. Blue, the little boy who was hacking into the security pad, mumbled something in response which for some reason angered Red.
Red placed a gun to Blue's right temple, which caused the girl to launch herself towards Red. White, the guy that Maya stunned unconscious and whose gun she was borrowing, held her back as Red cackled. Suddenly, Maya's good hearing wasn't a blessing anymore.
"He's just a kid!" The girl wailed. Maya looked down at her wrist. She didn't have a band.
"One more outburst and the gun will be pointed at you, capece?"
That shut her up quickly.
"I have a plan," Lucas whispered. For once, Lucas was useful. "I'll distract them while you set the alarm off." Maya nodded in agreement.
Lucas held his hand out.
"I'm not giving you the gun." Maya narrowed her eyes at him, but Lucas' hand was still held out expectantly. "Or the stun gun."
Huffing, Lucas turned around and headed in the direction he came in. She continued looking through the slits of the vent, and watched as the little boy got closer to disabling the security system that kept the painting safe. Red no longer held a gun to Blue's head, which pleased the girl. Maya eyed her. Why didn't she have a band, and who was that kid to her? Red didn't seem to be in a hurry though it's been almost forty five minutes since they first entered the penthouse. Maya couldn't fathom how they got past the doorman in those outfits. She could barely walk into class without a faculty member holding a ruler to her skirt to make sure it was 'school appropriate'. Five minutes passed, and there was no sign of Lucas. Maya began to have suspicions that he ditched her in order to be safe when she heard glass shatter from outside the door.
"What was that?" Red barked. He looked at the three people sitting in Stuart's offices, who met him with blank stares. "Idiots. All of you." With his gun, he gestured to the only two men besides himself. "Come with me." He looked back at Blue, still cracking the code. "B, you watch him. And don't try anything."
With that, the three men exited the room leaving Blue and the girl. Maya got a good look at her. She was tall and lean with brown hair tucked messily into a ski mask. Maya could first take the girl down, and set off the alarm which would cause the other robbers to flee, but the alarm was silent so the thieves wouldn't realize anything was wrong until it was too late.
Clutching the gun in her hand, Maya pushed open the lid to the air vent and somersaulted onto the ground. She landed with one knee and hand on the ground and flipped her hair from her face. She looked up to see Blue staring up at her like he was the one who jumped from the vent and No Band pointing a .38 caliber gun at her. Maya smirked.
"We can do this the easy way," Maya began, rising to her full height. "Or the hard way."
No Band shot at Maya, who rolled out of the way milliseconds before the bullet would've hit her in her hip. She leaped over Stuart's crisp white couch, phone in hand, and stunned him in the stomach. Like White Band, he collapsed without even realizing what was going on. Maya kind of felt bad, but not really. After all, the kid was going to steal a priceless painting. He deserved some sort of punishment.
Maya wanted to shoot at No Band, but she was reluctant in doing so. She felt that it was wrong to do so.
Maya looked back at No Band, who reloaded and shot the gun another time. She ducked behind the couch, and grimaced when she noticed the bullet hole in it. Whatever. The couch's price was probably miniscule to the painting's. Maya would say that Stuart would thank her later, but she couldn't tell her that she was the one that saved his painting. It would blow her cover. A Gallagher girl always keeps her secrets, and just being a Gallagher girl was one of them.
Maya grabbed the couch from the bottom, and flipped it over. It took down No Band, or B as Red called her, and her gun skittered away from her. Smirking, Maya pointed the gun at No Band as Maya knelt on the couch that was pinning her down.
"Don't ever-"
Maya was cut off as No Band, in matter of milliseconds, swiped the gun from Maya's hands and lifted the couch from on top of her which caused Maya to go tumbling backwards. Hitting her head harshly on the floor, it took Maya seconds to recuperate, but by the time she did No Band was already on top of her with her hands wrapped around Maya's neck.
Maya grabbed No Band by her forearms and swung her off of her body, and No Band landed on her back with a loud thud. Maya didn't plan on actually shooting her, she just wanted to intimidate her. She just needed to knock her out in order to set off the alarm, but No Band was actually taking serious work. The way that the girl cowered beneath Red had lead Maya to believe that she was weak, but the way her hands clamped down on Maya's throat made Maya believe otherwise.
Maya kicked No Band in the stomach, just to keep her down, when No Band grabbed Maya by the leg and brought her back to the ground. No Band grabbed Maya by her messy blonde hair and slammed her forehead into the polished hardwood floors. Maya could just feel her third concussion brewing.
Maya used all of her strength to crawl up onto her hands and knees as No Band sat on her back and elbowed No Band in her face, which probably left a nasty bruise. Good. Maya turned around and pushed No Band onto her back, straddled her, and straight up decked her in the face. As Maya was about to deliver another blow, No Band grabbed the picture frame that rested on Stuart's desk and hit Maya across the head with it. Maya gasped as the glass shattered and fell over her. Seriously, what did this girl have against my head? Maya thought.
Maya slumped over and fell to the ground beside No Band. She was conscious, able to hear, but she couldn't move or open her eyes. She felt No Band breathe heavily next to her, and Maya prayed to God to have another chance to deck the bitch in her face.
"I can't believe this is happening," No Band whimpered. Maya sucked in a breath. Her voice, suddenly, sounded eerily familiar. Like Lucas, she couldn't pinpoint where she had heard it before. But she was certain that she knew the girl. She was sure that she knew the girl very well. Maya mustered up all of her remaining strength, and opened her eyes. No Band was kneeling over the boy, cradling his head in her arms. Maya almost felt bad. Key word: almost.
Maya casted her gaze around the room looking for either her phone or the gun, but she couldn't find either. She'd have to use her fists.
Maya looked at her surroundings, and noticed the golf bag resting against the wall. Biting her busted lip, Maya quickly grabbed the golf club and swiped Missy on the cheek with it. Missy fell over, much like Maya had, and rolled onto the ground before pushing herself to stand up. And then, Maya noticed something. The way their fighting styles seemed so similar and her voice. Her voice. Maya couldn't, for the life of her, figure out where it was from.
Maya jabbed Missy in the stomach with the end of the golf club, and pinned her against the wall with it. Always go for the head, her fighting teacher had instructed. It's the quickest to injure and hardest to recover. Maya had guessed No Band's fighting teacher had told her that as well. And as Maya swiftly went in to grab her by the ears and yank her head to the wall with force she didn't know she had, she took of No Band's ski mask in the process.
"Missy?" Maya asked, dropping the golf club in disbelief.
Missy Bradford had attended The Gallagher Academy with Maya as a freshmen. Missy was actually the first person Maya made friends with- Missy was a smooth talker, she was cruel and she was a bitch and Maya loved it. They weren't best friends (that spot was reserved for Riley, even if the two weren't as close as they previously were) but Maya could confide in Missy and vice versa. They trained together. They ate together. And occasionally when Maya's roommate wasn't there, they slept together. (In the totally platonic sense, of course.) That was until Missy dropped out of the academy during early January of freshmen year right after they got back from winter break, never to be seen or heard from again until then. Maya's jaw slacked. It was like seeing a ghost.
Missy had become everything the academy trained her not to be, and took the academy's secrets with her. Learn her skills, honor her sword, and keep her secrets. Missy had done the latter well; the headmaster would be proud.
Maya couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was fighting a fellow Gallagher girl as she dodged Missy's punches and kicks. It was like fighting herself. She knew what was going to happen. They were in the same fighting class, so they knew each other's techniques. Maya eyed the security pad next to the painting. All she had to do was press random numbers in, and the alarm would go off. But Missy knew that. That's why she couldn't let Maya near the thing. It was her last job before she and her brother were free.
Maya ducked and rolled between Missy's wide stance and as soon she stood up, she effectively dodged another one of Missy's kicks. (She totally knew it was coming.) Before Missy could get enough momentum to stop Maya, she launched herself towards the pad and simply pressed her hand against it. That was enough to trigger the alarm.
The two girls watched in awe as the wall opened up and seemed to swallow the painting. Click, click. The vault locked, and the wall emitted a low rumbling sound that entered through Maya's feet and rattled her bones
"I needed the money," was all Missy offered. Maya turned around to look at her. She was skinnier than they last time they saw each other, and her face was sunken in with the kind of sadness that you'd see in a forty year old.
Missy was seventeen.
"Go," Maya said so quietly that even she herself wasn't sure she said it.
"What?"
"Go," she repeated, her tone more firm. Missy furrowed her eyebrows, but didn't question it. She grabbed her brother and woke him up, before taking him to the window. She looked back one last time as if to say goodbye, but all she did was repeat herself.
"I needed the money."
And then they were gone.
The police were able to rescue all the hostages and capture six of the thieves. And when Lucas asked Maya what had happened to the other two, Maya lied and said they got away. He had given her a look, wondering how the hell could someone get away from Maya Hart, but didn't question it.
It was around twelve AM, and the two were sitting on the rooftop of the penthouse. Most of the guests had gone home, including the Babineauxs and even the Minkuses who decided to reside in their house in Martha's Vineyeard for the weekend, except for Lucas and Maya. They had chosen to stay back, even when the police had advised them not to. They were "collecting evidence to catch the two missing thieves" even though Maya told them it was a lost cause. (It was, and it was because Maya had wiped down all the evidence tracing back to Missy and her brother.)
"You're bleeding," Lucas noted, running a hand through Maya's matted her. Maya furrowed her eyebrows and touched the top of her hair, where dry blood rested as well as pieces of glass. She frowned. She better not have to shave her head. It took her two years to grow her hair out. (Lucas couldn't believe how Maya made anything look good, from thousand dollar dresses to head wounds.)
(Both of them had lied to their parents, saying that had snuck off when the gunmen found them. Maya said that they hit her over the head with a picture frame they had stolen from Stuart's office and it knocked her unconscious. Lucas said they held him at gunpoint, and he heroically knocked the guns out of their hands and saved Maya. But Maya Hart didn't do damsel in distress, but for the sake of her cover as a Gallagher girl, she had to.)
"I should get this checked out by an EMT," Maya suggested, standing up. She pulled the blanket that the paramedics gave her closer around her shoulders. "Are you staying?"
He gave her a boyish smile, and Maya thought twinkling eyes were only existed within Disney movies but his eyes shone because this girl he met two hours ago held his heart in her hands. (He hoped she had steady hands.)
"Only if you want me to."
"Okay, Harry."
"Harry?"
"You never told me what H.B stood for!"
And then he began to realize that Maya Hart did, for a fact, have steady hands. How else would she have picked her way through the vault of a ribcage that locked away his heart, without setting off the alarm?
(Lucas began to wonder who were the actual thieves in the situation.)
(And it was Maya, Maya, Maya.)
fin.
please leaves thoughts/criticism below!\