Thief

I touch the two live wires together. Nothing.

Leaning my cheek against the wheel, I try again. Still no dice. The next try yields a brief grumble from the engine.

“Work with me, baby.”

I touch the two wires again. This time, the engine roars to life, deafening after the silence of the empty street. I let out a whoop.

The passenger door opens. I’m not expecting anybody, so I whip the car into gear. Before I can slam on the gas, a man slides into the car.

“Nice work,” he says. “It didn’t even take you two minutes to get in and start the engine.”

I swallow. This guy doesn’t look like a cop, but he might pass as a fed.

“It was a compliment. No need to worry that I know so much. I’m not a cop.” He pauses, eyeing me. “Or a fed.”

“How do I know that?”

“If I were, would I have gotten in the car with you?”

“Fair enough.”

“Word on the street is you can steal any car you want.”

Pride puffs out my chest. “Oh, yeah?”

“Is this true?”

I shrug. “If I prepare, yeah. Every system’s got flaws.”

He nods, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “In that case, I’d like to offer you a job.”

“What kinda job?”

He slides a picture across the dash. “The kind where you steal a very, very expensive car.”

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