DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
-Chapter Sixteen-
It was a Gallardo. There were no words to describe how beautiful and panty-dropping it was. The lines were sleek, and the engine was fast, visible in the car's rear, only covered by a single plane of glass.
It was worth nearly half a million dollars, and I couldn't stop drooling.
Two things in this world made my heart beat faster and slower and gave me wet panties: Edward and this car. Combine them, and the effects were explosive.
"Is this car even possible to steal?" I asked, my voice dripping with doubt.
I stood back a safe distance, still intimidated by it, with my stomach twisting in knots. The sheer magnitude of what we were about to do was crushing me. The anticipation and excitement coursed through my veins, and a flush of red-tinted my skin. I felt too hot. Sweat was soaking my shirt and rolling down my forehead.
On the other hand, Edward was composed, and his eyes were everywhere: at the ceiling, exits, the cars next to it, and the wall opening leads over and out into the street below. He was taking in all of his surroundings.
"Yeah..." he said, sliding his hand along the side of the car and down towards the back wheel. He briefly looked down at the end of the garage, his eyes flashing to mine. "This might be a bait car."
"Shit," I whispered, holding my hand out to him. "Let's go then."
He ignored me and continued his hands along the side, casually bumping his hip against it. The car moved slightly, and I prepared my legs to run.
"No alarm. It must be a silent one," Edward said, rechecking the garage for people before dropping to his knees. He looked under the car, clicking his tongue in displeasure. "No Lojack, either."
I counted them. It matched three out of the six criteria.
He rose to his feet and whipped off the smudges he left on the car with the bottom of his shirt. He took hold of my hand, and we quickly strode back to his Chevelle. He didn't attempt to unlock the doors or get in; we just stood outside with our asses pressed against his back bumper.
"Were not leaving?" I asked, confused.
He shook his head slowly."We're going to wait here for a minute and see if anyone comes to check on it. If there's a silent alarm, they'll be heading this way. I need a moment to fucking wrap my head around this."
He was uneasy about the situation. The car was sitting there, primed and ready, begging for someone to steal them. But it was too good to be true. Any car thief, no matter how amateur or idiotic, would take a pause or run away as fast as they could.
Edwards's brows furrowed, and he chewed on his lip ring, deep in thought.
I smiled at him. So madly in love with how predictably cute he was in his habits. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking: why is this car even parked here? Why didn't they just go through valet? I mean, look around, kid," he said, his eyes flashing to the ceiling. "There are no cameras in this garage or security guards on watch. There's no alarm. No Lojack—well, that doesn't mean shit. Lojack is a poor man's security system. These cars have some new high-tech gadget GPS embedded underneath the engine." He was rambling off to himself. "And no one has passed through this garage in the last ten minutes. It's deserted."
Point after point, his list was being checked off, but it needed the most important criteria: The risk factor of the boost. If it rated over a five, it was a no-go. This car, with these circumstances, was off the charts in the risk department.
"It could be a bait car, which is very, very fucking likely, and we could end up spending ten years of our life behind bars if we get caught," he said.
That could have sounded more appealing.
"Or," I hedged, sensing another possibility.
He looked down at me. "Or this could be our lucky night."
I laughed. "Yeah, well, in that case, it's definitely a bait car."
Edward dug into his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He reached my eye level and held up George Washington's face.
"Heads, we say fuck it and steal it. Tails, we bail," he said with a mischievous grin."Wanna play our odds?"
I glanced at the car, lit with a bright neon blinking sign: Steal me.
I shrugged resignedly. "Sure, why not."
He kissed the tip of my nose and flicked the coin off his thumb. We watched, almost in slow-mo, as it spun and turned in the air, landing back down into Edward's awaiting palm. He flipped it over and placed it on the top of his hand.
It faced heads up.
"Seems like fate has decided," he said, placing the quarter in my hand. "You're my lucky charm now."
I would keep it forever. The money value would never match how much it was truly worth to me.
"Okay, first things first." Edward walked over to the driver's side and opened the door. He reached into the backseat and pulled out a silver Slim Jim, a police scanner, a few of his 'tools,' and a non-scratch paint microfiber towel from his duffel bag.
"The Lambo will have a push-start ignition, and you'll have to pop the trunk as soon as you get in. Then, I'll wire the engine to get it to start. I need you to stay focused and listen out for me to tell you when to go. After I do that, push the button. You got me?"
My chest contracted and tightened, and acute nausea had set in - like stage fright. I wanted to do it, but I didn't think I could. The last time I tried stealing a car, I got a gun pointed at my head. Granted, it all worked out in the end, but still, lightning does not strike the same place twice.
"I got you," I said as he set the long, thin Slim Jim into my awaiting hand. "What's my time?"
"You have less than a minute to get it unlocked and gone."
My jaw dropped. "You want me to boost my first car, a difficult and possibly a bait car, all in sixty seconds?"
He nodded, waving my concerns off. "It's more time than you'll need."
"I don't know," I said, biting my nails nervously. "I'm not sure if I can do it."
"Baby," Edward said, gripping the back of my neck and pressing his forehead against mine. "You fucking got this. I trust you."
The faith he had in me was extraordinary. I took fistfuls of his shirt and pulled his lips down to me, kissing them softly. His belief gave me the courage to do what we'd practiced for nearly a month. He reminded me in that one sentence that I could do this. I knew how to unlock a door better than Edward. Better than anybody.
Hell, I was almost better than Rose.
"Sixty seconds?" I reaffirmed.
His eyes lit up, and he smiled. "Starting...now."
The clock was ticking as we jogged back up to the 'bait car' and foolishly took our chances. Edward watched as I walked up to the driver's side and slid the jimmy in the window. It was easier to handle than the hanger but slightly more complicated than the Chevelle. The angle of the window made the door lock slanted. It was taking too long, and Edward offered up tips. He told me to tilt the Slim Jim down and to the right. After fifteen seconds of trial and error, it clicked over. The door popped out, hitting me in the thighs.
"Edward," I whispered and half-shouted at him.
His eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "You in?"
"I'm in," I said, opening the door and falling into the plush leather seats.
My hands shakily gripped the steering wheel as I glanced around, getting acquainted with my newest obsession. My mistress of the night was beautiful. The tightness of the space was cocooning me, and the bucket seat hugged and conformed to my body, making me feel snug in its embrace.
I sighed blissfully. "Hello, gorgeous."
"Pop the trunk!" Edward poked his head into the car suddenly. It scared me, but I needed to stay focused. "You got thirty-five seconds."
Taking a deep breath and holding it in, I pulled the trunk latch. It made a faint, robotic whine. Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see Edward working. My finger hovered over the red push-start button as I waited in complete silence for the go-ahead.
"Go!" Edward shouted.
I pushed start, and the car roared to life with a vibrating hum.
The engine in the back shook the seats, and I laughed, thrilled and on the verge of fucking hysterics.
Everything on the dash lit up in beautiful neon blue, red, and yellow. The touchscreen over the center console greeted me with a pleasant, 'Good evening, Kyle,' as my seat shifted forward and the steering wheel came down.
"Holy shit," I said, running my fingers over it, idly pressing buttons. Then, finally, the radio came on, the AC blasted away, and the car told me it was eighty-nine degrees Fahrenheit outside.
"Baby, you can do that later," Edward said as he plopped down in the passenger's seat. He grabbed my hand and placed it on the stick shift. "Right now, you gotta fucking move."
"Right!" I snapped back into warrior mode. Putting my foot down on the clutch, I shifted the Lambo into reverse.
When I was fifteen, Phil taught me to drive a manual, but Edward reinforced that skill with the Chevelle. He showed me how to race using the stick shift without grinding the shit out of the gears. The one thing I had yet to anticipate was the sheer power of this car. It spun out of the parking space fast, scaring the living fuck out of me. I yelped, slamming on the brakes and almost rear-ending the car behind us.
"Jesus, kid," Edward laughed.
"Sorry," I said, pressing down on the clutch and putting the car in first. It jerked forward a couple of times, tires barking until we rode smoothly.
We drove down the four spiral levels with my eyes wide and my heart racing. I was hyperventilating, and no matter how often Edward told me to calm down, I knew that until we were out of there and on the road, I'd never be able to dull my anxiety.
"Well, it's not a bait car," Edward said, rummaging through the glove box and side door pockets.
"What? How do you know?"
"If it was, we'd be arrested already."
"That's comforting," I said as we neared the front entrance of the garage building.
The streets were virtually empty. There were no cops, partygoers, and no source of life anywhere. I stopped the car, looking at Edward for some needed direction.
"Turn right up here and head south," he said, lifting his hips and pulling out his handheld police scanner. He turned it on and adjusted the frequency. "These things are pieces shit, but it'll give us a heads up if this thing goes out on the wire."
"That's good," I said, easing the car into the road.
It was low to the ground, and even the slightest dips and bumps, shook the car and scraped the undercarriage.
I cringed, but Edward was as cool as a cucumber, like always.
"Head towards the freeway and take the 101 west up to the I-17," he said. "I want you to take this puppy out and stretch her legs."
I nodded in response and shifted the car into second. We cruised down the street with the windows rolled up but continued to get stares as we passed. People would stop what they were doing and watch us. I knew how stupid it was to steal such a stunning and visible car that practically screamed: look at me!
If the cops questioned anyone, they would remember the black Lamborghini heading north on Scottsdale Road.
What the hell was Edward thinking?
Once we got out on the freeway, I let out a calming breath. I got into the fast lane and stepped on the gas. It jerked us forward with such velocity and strength; I could've sworn that we'd attained a minor whiplash.
"Baby, what the fuck are you doing?" Edward asked a few minutes later, cocking his eyebrow.
"What?! What's wrong?" I asked, glancing in the rearview mirror. There was no car in sight. "Is there a cop? Should I slow down?"
He narrowed his eyes at me, shaking his head. He placed his hand on my knee and nudged it forward. "Either you fucking increase your speed and show me what this baby can really do or we ditch it somewhere and call it a night. Because we didn't fucking steal a two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar car for you to putts around in it."
"But…" I glanced down at the speedometer. "I am already going seventy-five."
"Seventy-five?" He groaned. "Seventy-fucking-five? Jesus, this is a performance car, Bella. It's an insult to her to go this fucking slow. Show me what she can do."
"But what if there is a cop sitting somewhere?"
He nodded in understanding and tapped his finger on the touch display. Then, he pulled up an options screen and clicked on the computerized radar detector.
"Fuck, I love this car," he said, turning to me with a huge shit-eating grin. "What else you got?"
"Fine," I huffed. Then, out of excuses, I shifted into fourth gear and stepped on the gas pedal. "But if we get caught, Edward, you'll owe me big."
"If we get caught, baby, I'll buy you that diamond ring," he said, winking.
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Oh, sure, now you'll marry me, but just as long as I'm being put behind bars for ten years. That's romantic."
"Hey, I'll be a good husband to you," he said, cupping my face and rubbing my cheek with his thumb. "I'll make sure to break out of prison and come give my wife some needed conjugal visits."
"You better," I said, feeling the chills roll down my body and to my feet, where I stepped on the gas pedal until it was flush with the floor.
The car smoothly and effortlessly flew down the freeway. It zoomed past the housing districts, echoing off the walls and reaching back to us. The engine roared and vibrated. I shifted it into fifth and sixth gear, rolling over into the hundreds and eventually the one-thirties.
I'd never been in a car this fast. It gives off a weightless feeling. As if the Lambo was floating down the road.
My chest heaved rapidly and deeply with excitement, and my pulse quickened, the thrill inflaming my body with every loop and turn. The sheer adrenaline that circulated in my blood was immeasurable. It was a rush, and I wanted more.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward watching me intently, and my nipples hardened under his gaze. he couldn't miss my arousal, my shirt was practically see-through, and I wasn't wearing a bra. The car and Edward mixed as one and made me dizzy with lust. The intense throbbing and yearning between my legs were only getting stronger by the minute, and I squirmed in my seat.
But nothing I was doing was going to take this feeling away.
Only Edward could.
I wanted his fingers.
I wanted his mouth.
I wanted much more than he was willing to give me.
Everything at that moment was intoxicating.
"Fuck it!" Edward growled in frustration, startling me. I glanced over at him, and he was shifting in his seat and adjusting himself. "Take the Pinnacle Peak exit and make a right."
"Okay," I said slowly, slightly confused, as I eased my foot off the gas and turned onto the exit. "Can I ask why?"
"Because I really need to fucking touch you right now." He reached out and stroked the side of my neck with his knuckles. "And I don't want you to crash the car."