Sins & Needles (The Artists Trilogy #1) (16 page)

I couldn’t lose it. I passed by the quaint white bungalow that was his neighbor (thankfully not the ones who we had a close call with the night before) and suddenly there I was. Even though he had kept a light on in the garage and in the kitchen window, his jeep was gone. I had more than enough time now, I had to remember that.

I did a quick, casual sweep of my surroundings before making my way to his front door. As I thought, it stayed dark and he didn’t have any motion sensors. Still, I kept my head down low, just in case there was a camera mounted somewhere. It was extremely unlikely but it was better to be paranoid than dead.

When I saw the road was deserted and I grinned at the hedge of desert roses that kept me hidden from the occasional car going down the main street, I got to work on his lock. All deadbolts were five-pin tumblers and his was a Kwikset, which was as generic as you could get. Normally, lock-picking took a lot of time and patience, but when you grew up with a family of con artists, you were given locks to practice on more than you were given a Barbie or Lego.

I selected my trusty Allen wrench from the key ring, and as casually as someone just putting their house key into their house lock, inserted it. It took only a few seconds for me to locate all the pins from the first to the key pin and push them up past the sheer line inside. The cylinder turned and the door opened with ease.

I knew there wouldn’t be any alarms going off since he didn’t have a system, so I quickly shut the door, not locking it, and crept to the office. Even though I knew he wasn’t home, it was best to be quiet anyway. It was a habit I didn’t like to break.

His office was cold at this time of night and there was a small lamp lit in the corner, casting the room in an eerie glow. I did a quick once-over of the office, trying to see if there was anything else of value. My eyes hesitated on the computer as I thought about going through his files, but I was already invading his privacy enough. Besides, I knew all I needed to know about Camden McQueen. Anything more might work against me.

I opened the closet doors and crouched down to the safe. I turned the dial to zero, then started going through the codes I came up with. I tried the usual suspects, then his birthday, then his son’s. I tried his license plate number, then the area code. I tried more things and more things and more things. Nothing doing.

After about thirty minutes, when the sweat began to collect on my forehead, I was about to resign myself to actually trying to crack the safe through the harder and more tedious methods when I had an incredibly vain thought. Camden used to like me…an awful lot. What were the odds of him picking my birthday? I had a single digit birth day and a double digit birth month, so it would work.

I turned the dial to one. Then two. Then nine.

The safe cracked open.

Shit. Camden had actually used my birthday as his code. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out. I decided on the latter, since any thoughts about the former would only hold me back. I had to stay focused and keep going. I was in way too deep at this point.

And it didn’t matter. I had done what I came here to do.

I slowly opened the safe door, and with my heart in my mouth, peered inside.

There was nothing but cash. Ziplock bags of cash. Some of them a mix of notes, others all hundred dollar bills. There was
at least
twenty thousand dollars piled up in the safe. It was an obscene amount and I almost started salivating at the sight, which was great since my tongue had started sticking to the roof of my mouth.

Originally, I was going to take it all. It was the only way I could make the robbery look natural. But perhaps if I threw a couple of bags by the door, as if I had dropped them during my escape, I could make it look like an accident. That way I’d still leave him with something. I mean, serves him kind of right for keeping this much cash in a safe. What, didn’t he trust the banks?

I took in a deep breath and with hands that trembled ever so slightly, I pulled my canvas Safeway bag out of my boot and began to pile the money inside in neat little bundles.

I was so engrossed in making the bag look as clean and as inconspicuous as possible, wrapping the excess plastic over on itself, that I didn’t hear the door open.

The only thing I heard was a sound that you never forget.

The sound of a Magnum’s hammer being pulled back.

The unmistakable cocking of a gun.

It echoed around the small room in slow motion and my actions reflected the pace. When you know you’ve got a gun aimed at you, everything moves just a little bit slower.

I turned my head in the direction of the sound, knowing it was a dicey move. I saw a blinding flashlight illuminating my face, my hands, my bag of his money, and the empty open safe. I saw his silhouette in the doorway, barely lit by the room’s lamp. I saw the glint in his eyes and the matching shine of his smile as he pointed a gun at my face.

“Gotcha,” he said. His teeth gleamed white.

CHAPTER TEN

I was breathless. Speechless. Immobile. I could only stare at him, at Camden McQueen, as he held the Magnum like it was just an extension of his arm. This had to be a bad dream. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t in his office, catching me in the act of robbing him blind.

“Put the bag down, Ellie,” he said, his voice emotionless. With the light blinding me, I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. I didn’t know how to play this. “Put the bag down, then slowly stand up and put your hands in the air.”

I tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Camden, I—“

“Shut up. Just shut. Up. Put the bag down. Stand up slowly. Put your hands in the air and face me.”

Fuck, I couldn’t move.

“Now!” he screamed in shaking rage.

The shock of his voice made the feeling come back into my limbs. I put the bag down, raised my hands, and slowly got to my feet. I turned to face him, squinting at the flashlight.

I heard the metal click of a handcuff and saw him bring out a pair from his back pocket.

Oh shit.

He raised them in the air. “Now here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to turn around and put your hands behind your back. Then I’m going to cuff you. Don’t you dare try any funny stuff because I just loaded this gun. The bullets are ready to go. I don’t have a problem shooting you if you don’t cooperate. Maybe in your other leg to make things more even.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Shocked wasn’t the right word. It didn’t convey enough of what I was feeling. None of this made sense. This wasn’t the Camden I knew. I didn’t know who the hell this was.

He was terrifying.

“Are you an undercover cop?” I asked, picking up my voice from the floor.

“Turn around, Ellie. I cocked the gun to make a point. The next point I make will involve pulling the trigger.”

I did as he said. As he walked toward me, I ran through my ways out of this. I could chance it. I could predict where his gun was and turn and knock it out of his hands. I could go low and kick him out at the shins. Or the balls. Anything that would get him to drop the gun, anything to reverse the roles.

But I’d never done that to someone with a loaded weapon before. I didn’t trust my reaction time. I couldn’t count on my limbs to do the job. It was too much of a risk and I’d already taken too many.

I felt him stop behind me, his breath tickling the back of my neck. It was no longer erotic, it was horrifying as hell. His hands went for mine and he slowly placed the cold cuffs over my wrists. When they clicked shut, it was the sound of defeat.

“No, I’m not a cop,” he said to my neck. His voice was so flat, so inhuman, he might as well have been a robot. “I’m just a tattoo artist. I’m just a guy who used to be in love with a girl. I’m just a fool who’s been fooled too many times before. I’m just a man who’s finally getting his revenge.”

“You’re a monster,” I spat out.

He laughed, cold and sharp. Then he placed his hand around my throat and squeezed hard. My windpipe crushed, I could barely breathe.

“Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror?” he asked, his voice rising. “Do you like what you see?”

I fought for breath, trying to squirm away under his hand but it only made him tighten his grip. Those wonderful strong fingers would be the death of me.

“I made an assumption about you,” he said, his voice calm again. “And I was right. If I’m a monster, then you must be the creator of them all. You’re my Dr. Frankenstein.”

And like that, he suddenly let go. I bent over, trying to get air into my aching lungs, trying to think past the burn in my throat. My heart was pounding so loudly I was almost deaf.

“Come here,” he said, and grabbed me by the elbow. He threw me roughly into his desk chair where my hands were crushed against the seat. With the gun still on me, he bent down and scooped up the Safeway bag.

“You know, if you needed the money, you could have just asked me.” His voice was a little gentler now. “I would have given it to you, no questions asked.”

“Why?” My hat fell off my head onto the floor and my hair obscured my vision.

He walked over to me, putting the bag on the desk, and crouched down in front of me. Through the strands of hair I could only see the shiny barrel of the gun in his hands.

“Because it would have meant that you changed. That you found the decency to be honest. I would have rewarded you for that.”

Being busted and cuffed with a gun pointed at you isn’t the best time to get annoyed about things outside the big picture. But I couldn’t help but snarl at his patronizing tone.

“How did you know?” I asked stiffly.  “How did you know I was going to scam you?”

He smiled. Beautiful. Wicked. “Because the moment I told you I was successful, the moment you saw my shop, the moment you saw the money I brought in, I saw the same look in your eyes that you used to give the popular girls in high school. The very same look you gave them that day in the cafeteria when you turned on me. The day you
humiliated
me. The look that said ‘opportunity’.”

“So you set me up?” It was too much to take. I couldn’t believe that Camden had been playing me this entire time.

“Yes, I set you up. I hoped you’d fail. I hoped that I’d lie on the couch all night and never hear you breaking into my house. I hoped that you’d prove me wrong, that you liked me for me. But I was right. Fuck, Ellie. I’ve never hated being so right in all my life. You’re a con artist. A liar. A thief. An unredeemable soul. You can’t be reformed. You can’t be saved. You’ll die trying to make the world pay for what it did to you. And you’ll die alone.”

My heart clenched at his words and the inside of my nose grew hot. The tears were back.

He brushed my hair behind my ears and I flinched at his touch. He observed me curiously.

“Crocodile tears?” he asked with a shake of his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I swallowed. A hot tear ran from the corner of my eye. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“Good. Neither have I.”

He stood up and reached across the desk, bringing out a stuffed animal that had been hiding near the wall. It was a goofy looking bear. I had seen it earlier but not really
seen
it. I must have subconsciously figured it belonged to his son.

“See this?” he asked, making the bear dance in front of me.

“Is it Ben’s?”

“It’s a video camera.”

Double shit.

“It’s one of those nanny cams that you set up in your kid’s room. To catch the weirdos. I don’t get to take care of Ben and I probably never will, but if I ever had to hire a babysitter, I’d use one of these. You can’t trust anyone these days.” He smirked at me. “So, I pressed play at about eight o’clock. It’s been recording ever since. No matter where you go or what you do, I have all of this on tape. You’re done for, Ellie. They’re going to lock you up and swallow the key. You’re going to follow down the same path as your family, except you won’t be able to run. You know, sometimes I look at you and I see this…cornered desperation.” The phrase rolled off his tongue like smoke. “Think of how cornered you’ll be when you’re living in a jail cell.”

I’d had some low moments in my life. I’d been scared to death. I’d had the shit kicked out of me on two different occasions. I’ve had my fingers broken once (a poorly thrown punch). I’d been humiliated, cheated on, cast aside. But other than the moment I got my scars—the moment that put me on the path I was on—I’d never been so scared as I was sitting there handcuffed in Camden’s chair with my entire future resting inside the bowels of a teddy bear.

I looked him in the eye and took a steady breath. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” he repeated, placing the bear back on the desk, facing me and out of reach.

I sighed loudly. “Yes. What do you want? Are you turning me over to your dad or do you just feel like torturing me for a bit first?”

He leaned against the wall and bit his lip. “I do feel like torturing you, Miss Watt. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time.”