Jack and I hop into his rental, his own bag for the night is tossed in the back seat. When I slide into the passenger side, I can feel him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, likely trying to figure out if I’m on the verge of chickening out.
I’m not.
The entire ride there is in silence as both of us prepare ourselves. I’m pretty sure Jack is used to partaking in illegal activities, but I’m not. Part of me feels like I’ve stuck my finger into an electrical socket, and I’m going to vomit, and the other part of me is, dare I say, excited.
Excited that tonight, I might actually have a chance to find what I’ve been searching for.
Adrenaline vibrates in every cell inside me when Jack parks a few houses down from Zach’s house.
“Let’s do this,” he breathes as he pushes out of the vehicle.
Now for the hard part—finding a way in without alerting the authorities. With covert glances over our shoulders, I follow Jack down the silent street and up Zach’s driveway. We stay toward the edge, trying to keep hidden by the shadows.
The neighborhood is almost too peaceful for a man like Zach to be living in. I literally hear nothing except for crickets, my soft footfalls, and the distant sound of the ocean. We close in on the front door, but instead of following the paved path, Jack keeps to the left, toward the side of the house. I idly wonder if he’s looking for a power box or something he can use to cut the power.
I guess we are taking my dead sister’s advice tonight, after all.
I pause at the side of the house, peering into the shadows. I stay hidden behind Jack, using his body like a shield of sorts as I try to tamp down the adrenaline and fear swirling violently in my gut.
Jack is the first to step forward toward the darkness. It’s pitch-black back there and almost impossible to see, but I don’t see any other way around the house, and quite honestly, staying hidden will prevent Zach’s neighbors from seeing us. I swallow thickly as the darkness starts to engulf me, the streetlight no longer illuminating this area. Digging into his bag, Jack pulls out a flashlight, tossing it at me, and a pair of wire cutters.
“C’mon, give me some light back here, Mack.”
I twist the head of the flashlight, keeping the lighting dim, but it’s still bright enough to light the way for us. I notice something up ahead and shine the light toward it, and I release a shocked breath.
No way.
There’s a power box there. The only issue is the padlock. Unfazed, Jack steps up to the power box, and before touching it, he digs into his bag again.
“Here,” he says, tossing a pair of black gloves at me. They’re a little big, but for the most part, they fit. “We don’t want to leave any fingerprints behind,” he replies to my unspoken question. Jack lifts the padlock, twisting it around with his brows tugged down, deep in thought, as he works out how to get it open. He sifts through his bag again, and I almost roll my eyes. I swear, the bag is a fucking bottomless at this point. He’s quite literally thought of everything.
Jack opens a kit with silver tools, one being a long tension tool with a curved edge and another that’s just as long but skinnier. A lock pick, I’m guessing.
With an anxious glance over my shoulder, I shine the light onto the padlock, trying to make it easier on Jack as he works the tools, wiggling here, turning there, almost expertly. It takes Jack a few tries, his frustrated grumbles the only indication things aren’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped. After some time, the damn thing finally unlatches, and the wicked grin on his face is not one I’m familiar with.
“Why do I feel like I’ve just awoken the beast?” I whisper as he makes quick work of pulling the fuse blocks out.
He shoots me a smirk over his shoulder. “Because you have, baby girl.”
I shake my head, letting him get back to work. I wonder why he’s bothering with the blocks and not cutting the color-coordinated power lines, but in the event that he accidentally electrocutes himself, I figure he probably knows what he’s doing. With each block out, I look at the house, checking to see if anything happens inside, but the blackout curtains are drawn, keeping us from seeing anything in there.
Once all the blocks are out, I shine the light on the rest, keeping it trained on the lever that’s labeled generator. The tip of the handle is up in the “on” position, so Jack yanks it down, shutting it off. I watch with rapt fascination as he flips off the switches that are labeled, too, just in case he missed anything.
“That should do it.” He takes a step back, admiring his handiwork.
“What now?”
“We break in. Now c’mon.”
I consider walking back around and using the front door, but obviously, that isn’t Jack’s plan. He keeps walking to the back of the house to remain hidden. I follow, slowing behind him, when he pauses in front of the fence that leads into Zach’s backyard.
“Hope you can jump, white girl.” Jack hauls his body over the fence with the ease of a man who’s jumped more than one fence in his life. I shake my head, rolling my eyes.
“Couldn’t even give me a boost. Such an asshole,” I grumble, tossing the flashlight over the fence toward him. Gripping the top of the wood, I use the side of the house as leverage to help me climb over.
Even though I’m small, it isn’t an easy feat. Not at all. I hiss out curse words, scraping my entire arm in the process. I drop to the ground unceremoniously with a loud thud. Jack barely catches me before my head smacks the pavement. For a second, I rest there, staring up at the star-speckled sky, trying to catch my breath.
“You’re a dick.”
He chuckles, tugging on my hand. Clambering up from the ground, we sneak around the back of the house, Jack with finesse and me with an awkward limp. He pauses when we come up to the back French doors. Moving toward the glass, Jack tries to figure out how to get it open.
“Shit,” he hisses. “There’s no lock to pick.”
“Well … there has to be something we can do, right?”
Jack glances at me over his shoulder with an agitated expression plastered across his face.
“No, there isn’t. Nothing short of breaking this damn glass to get in, but that’s off the table. It’ll draw way too much attention.”
My eyes slam shut. After everything, I can’t believe we’re going to give up. My hands ball into fists, and I clench my teeth hard. I swear I hear a molar crack. I’m just about to say to hell with it when her voice stops me.
“You can’t stop here. We can’t let them win.”
Heaving a tired sigh, I glance down at one of his limestone rocks near my feet, and slowly, I glance up at the French doors. Jack is still off to the side, racking his brain, trying to find another way in. With the smooth rock gripped in my gloved hand, I toss it at the glass. It shatters. The sound is deafening in the quiet neighborhood, so I pause, listening to the shards crash down. There’s no blare of an alarm, and I can only hope none of the neighbors heard.
“What the fuck!” Jack hisses, his iron grip clamping around my arm.
I yank off his hold on me and pad forward. “Problem solved,” I toss over my shoulder in passing.
Covering my head with my scraped arm, I climb through the glass hole in the French doors and pause just over the threshold, glancing around. Jack grumbles behind me, glass crunching beneath his shoes.