Emma put her ear to the lock and listened as she turned the dial. She could barely hear the tiny clicks over the music blaring downstairs.
iClick...click...click.../i
"Oh, hello, love! Are you a criminal too?"
She whipped her head up. The guy was a party guest, dressed as a pirate. He had a hook on one hand, and carried a large drink with a paper umbrella in the other. She had no idea where he'd been hiding, but he'd already been in the room.
"Who the hell are you?" She stood, and her poofy red princess dress made a huge amount of rustling noises. She should have chosen a less noisy costume. Well, istolen/i a less noisy costume.
He set down the drink and took out the little paper umbrella. He pointed it at her. "I'm the person who's going to turn you in. Unless you give me a cut."
She played dumb. "Oh yeah? Turn me into what?"
"Cheeky. I like that! So." He moved closer. He reached over and gave the dial of the safe a playful twirl. "You're not robbing this safe, then?"
She glared. "I live here."
"Right! I'll call security to check. For your own safety." He lifted his hand to his mouth, getting ready to shout.
"Fine!" She slapped his hand down. "You can have a cut."
He burst into a huge grin. "You really are doing a robbery then? Oh, fantastic! I wasn't sure!"
Emma closed her eyes. "Christ on a bike."
When she opened them again, he was wandering around the room. He picked up a blobby little crystal sculpture off a nightstand, studied it, then set it down again. He picked up a candle, sniffed it, and wrinkled his nose. He ran his gloved hand over a glossy stack scarves in the closet. He took a bright red one and slung it around his neck experimentally.
"What are you doing?" Emma said.
"Looking for a trophy, love. I always take a souvenir. Aren't you going to get on with the safe?"
She considered stopping him. But he wanted to leave his DNA all over the scene, that was fine by her. She'd do her job, and if they got caught, they'd only pin it on him. She leaned into the lock, her gloved fingers precise on the dial. The world around her narrowing to nothing but those tiny clicks.
"So! I was wondering!" said a cheerful voice right by her ear. Emma jumped. Hadn't he just been on the other side of the room? He was leaning into her space, eyes dancing with mischief. He was wearing a hideous fuzzy poncho over his shoulders, the designer label peeking out from inside.
She gritted her teeth. "Busy."
He toyed with the fuzzy edge of the poncho. "Who taught you to crack safes like that?"
Her mouth went dry. On instinct, her hand went to the keychain around her neck. His eyes tracked the motion. Then he studied her face. She quickly smoothed her stricken expression, but he'd seen. She clenched the fluffy part of her dress with one fist, bracing herself for a smirking comment.
His eyes softened. He frowned a little, like he'd just heard something sad. For three heartbeats, he stayed like that, his blue eyes somber.
Then he hopped up, held up a pair of glitter-covered designer heels, and said, "are you sure you don't want these? They're so sparkly!"
He had seen something in her. She'd felt it.
Then he dropped one of the heels, which knocked over the blobby glass thing. It smashed on the floor. Emma rolled her eyes.
"What the hell do you normally do on robberies? You know, when someone's not here to babysit you?"
"Oh, this is what I do. I wasn't going to get that safe open! I just snag cash, credit cards, stuff like these-" he waggled the shoe- "at parties. But I'm very delighted you showed up to bring some real profit into it!"
*
The plain black clothes of the security staff stood out in stark contrast to the dancing, costumed guests. A line of them snaked through the crowd. Emma pointed them out as she and Hook peered over the balcony.
"Silent alarm," she said. He nodded.
"Come on," he said. "We'll duck in a closet until they pass, then get out again before they search."
Shit. "Isn't there-"
"Come on!" he pulled her hand and they slipped into a tiny hall closet. It was a linen closet with only a tiny space to stand. They had to squeeze together. Her dress puffed uncomfortably around her. It was dark, and his body was pressed close.
He smelled like salt and soap and leather. He was warm. And he was still wearing the hideous fuzzy poncho.
"You know? I don't even know your name!" he said, like they were on a blind date and not the middle of a robbery. "I'll be Hook," he added, waving the hook.
Emma considered. She'd never needed to give a fake name on a robbery. But as a little girl, she'd spent a lot of time imagining last names for herself. It had been an obsession. Endless lists, scanning phone books, copying down ones she liked into a notebook. But she'd loved one above all others.
"Just call me Swan."
"Excellent! So, Swan. What are your partners going to think when you come back with only a fraction of the goods?"
"Partners?"
"In crime."
"Don't have 'em."
He raised an eyebrow, grinning broadly. "You're cracking safes, in a house you fully expected to have a silent alarm, without a partner?"
"Safe." When he looked confused, she added, "I only cracked one."
"Still, to risk it alone? That's still not very...isafe./i" He whispered the last word like it was a delicious innuendo, instead of a terrible pun.
"I don't have to share the take."
"You've been hurt in the past," he said. "By people you trusted very much." It wasn't a question. And even in the darkness, she could see his eyes change. His voice change. There was genuine sadness there.
Slowly, he lifted his hand. To touch her face? Her lips? A thrill rippled through her stomach.
Then he laid a single finger on the keychain that hung around her neck. He took a breath like he was about to ask a question.
She jerked back. "We'll be clear soon. Get ready."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he picked up his bag. She had just let out a silent sigh of relief, when she felt his lips right against her ear.
"I like you, Swan. You know how we're talking about splitting the take?"
She worked to keep her voice even. "Yeah, what?"
"I like you so much, I'm going to let you have this magnificent poncho."
*
When the coast was clear, they slipped down the back staircase. It took them to the edge of the party. Outrageously costumed guests milled around carrying drinks. There was music and dancing in an adjoining room. Waiters snaked through the crowd with trays of h'or d'oeuvres.
A security guard was stationed at the front door. Emma pointed out a secluded hallway to Hook.
"That's our stop. It leads to the basement exit."
But he ignored her. "Drinks, Swan!"
Before she could stop him, he'd looped his large bag of stolen property over one shoulder to free his hand, and slid into the costumed crowd. He appeared again a few seconds later clutching two skinny champagne flutes.
"Cheers!" he said.
"Seriously?" She watched as he set down the flutes on an end table, then held his jacket pocket open, inviting her to peer inside. "Here, I'll even let you have a cut of the bacon-wrapped shrimp!"
His pocket was stuffed to bursting with napkins full of h'or d'ouerves. He popped one of the bacon-wrapped shrimp in his mouth. She gritted her teeth. At least he wasn't wearing the poncho.
"We are leaving," she hissed. But just as she turned to head down that hallway, two security officers hurried out.
"Knew that was going to happen," he said, and ate another shrimp. "I've robbed parties at this place before." He winked. "That's why they have extra security tonight."
She groaned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You look all nervous and twitchy whenever it seems like I know what I'm doing. You would have drawn suspicion, Swan!"
"So you stole thirty or forty shrimp as an ingenious criminal ruse?"
"Oh, no, we could have just stood around with drinks. But I really wanted the shrimp."
*
"So you never told me how much of a cut I'm going to get."
"Is now really the time?"
"An exemplary time!"
Emma glanced down. They were dangling out of a window on the side of a house. It was about ten degrees outside, and the wind was howling at least twenty miles per hour. The rope whipped back and forth, and Emma clung on with white knuckles. She had to disagree that now was the time.
Security had blocked the basement route faster than expected - surely thanks to the colorful history of thefts at house parties here. No guest was allowed to leave without being searched. So they'd locked themselves in a bathroom, and climbed out.
"I'm thinking seventy percent," he said.
Emma lowered herself another foot, gritting her teeth. "You did less than half of the work!"
"Ah, but I'm not turning you in. That takes an awful lot of work. It's very, very hard work indeed."
"Saying things like that is going to get you in trouble someday."
"Sixty-five?"
She didn't answer.
Once they touched down, they dove into some bushes. They scratched and pulled at their skin and clothing. While Hook complained, Emma worked. She pulled out her tablet from inside her dress, and began the work of shutting down the security cameras. Because of course, she had to do this, too.
"And...they're down," she said.
"Good work, Swan! And the guy at the gate who's watching those screens?"
"I put a sleeping pill in his coffee. And with the roads this icy, the cops will be a few more minutes."
He lit up. "Oh, brilliant! Perfect! Thank you, Swan! Thank you!" And with that, he popped out of the bushes and started running towards the gate.
"Hey!" she chased after him. "What are you thanking me for?"
At the security entrance, the guard could clearly be seen sleeping in his lit cubicle. He was slumped over, head on the desk. Hook stepped out of the darkness and strolled up to door.
"What are you doing?" Emma hissed, still hovering in the darkness by the fence.
"Taking my trophy, love! Thanks for setting it up for me." And he slipped into the cubicle. A few seconds later, he popped out.
"Jesus Christ," she breathed. She put a hand on the fence to steady herself. "No." A pair of security-guard handcuffs were dangling from his hook.
"To commemorate the start of a beautiful partnership," he said. "Get it?" He waved them in her face, jingling them, grinning with dorky delight at his own joke. "It's symbolic!"
"It's not symbolic of anything. Are you trying to get arrested?"
He lowered his arm. The cuffs dangled on the hook at his side, silent. He stepped closer to her. His his eyes twinkled with mischief.
"So tell me, love," he murmured. "If you never want to see me again, why'd you wait when I was taking the cuffs from the guard? Why not just flounce off, over the gate? You were home free!"
She hesitated. His smirking grin spread across his face. He stepped closer, so close she felt his breath warm her lips. She could see individual eyelashes. His eyes were so blue. And sincere. His lips looked soft.
"What's the keychain mean?" He asked.
She took a shaky breath. She looked right into his eyes.
iClick./i
She stepped back. His eyes widened, and he straightened up with a start. He looked down at his hand, startled, then at her.
"What-"
He yanked his hand. There was a loud clang. She'd done a good, clean, careful job of it. His hand was handcuffed to the fence.
"I can't risk you selling me out when we split up," she said.
"So you're just going to leave me here?" his jaw was clenched in anger, but beneath that, he was genuinely surprised.
In a swift movement pulled the bag of stolen goods off his hook-covered arm. He was so startled, he didn't even tense his arm until it was too late. In her defense, she was taking the bag so the cops wouldn't find it on him. They'd just find a pirate handcuffed to a fence.
"That's why I waited," she said. "That's the only reason."
And then she ran off into the dark.