Repo Chick Blues (The Leah Ryan Series - Book One) Read online

  “Did you follow me around?”

  “A little.” He grinned. “You didn’t seem to be very dangerous.”

  There was that grin again. I felt a little light-headed. “You don’t know me yet.”

  “Well, let’s hope you’ve got a backbone, lady, because in this job, you’re gonna need it.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. You just teach me the basics and I’ll be just fine.”

  “Good. First, a recovery agent should never work alone if he … or she, can help it. It can be a dangerous job, like I told you earlier.” He leaned over his wheel and watched the left side of the street. “Our target should be coming around the corner any minute.”

  “Good timing.”

  “Oh, Will and I have this skill down to an art. He watches the target for days, getting their routine down pat. People are pretty predictable. They’re comfortable with their patterns, which is good for people like Will and me.” He winked.

  I looked around up and down the street which was flanked with old mansions. Most of the homes were Victorians, though there were some Greek Revivals and a couple of Gothics. “Doesn’t seem to be the kind of place where someone wouldn’t be able to make their car payment. Most of these folk could probably easily buy any vehicle they’d like in cash.”

  “Well, yeah. Most of them can. However, even the rich can have money problems. It isn’t difficult to live beyond your means. Especially if money is new to you. These places aren’t cheap to keep. Heap on top of that vacations and whatever other toys they have.” He snapped his fingers. “Suddenly you’ve got a bit of a cash flow problem.”

  I nodded. I’d never really considered that, never having had a lot of money to play with. My parents are Scottish immigrants who ran an Irish pub. We never had much, but we did okay financially.

  “Doesn’t look like the kind of place where a disgruntled vehicle owner would come at you with guns blazing.”

  Callahan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got a lot to learn about people.” He turned his head back to the street. “Here he comes. The man of the hour.” He smiled as he pulled out of the church parking lot. We waited until the pearl-white Lexus S.U.V passed us, then followed it as it headed up the hill. It turned into the driveway of a gigantic, grey Gothic style house. Callahan parked against the curb directly across the street. He reached into the backseat and came back with a small black box that looked like a television remote.

  “I was here earlier in the week with a box that’s basically like this one. When the target opened his garage door, the box scanned the code, enabling me to program the code into this little baby so we can use it to open the door and get to the vehicle. We do the same thing with his car and house alarms.”

  I knew what it was. I’d seen them before. I nodded just the same. I shifted in my seat and began rubbing a knot that was quickly developing at the back of my neck.

  I followed his eyes to the man in the Lexus who was in the process of pointing his remote at his garage door.

  “I suppose knocking on the door and asking nicely for the car keys doesn’t usually work.”

  “Not usually, no. Why don’t you go on up there and ask him yourself?”

  “This is definitely not legal. You actually get away with this stuff?”

  “The line between right and wrong has always been a tad blurry for me. Like I said, you’ve gotta be creative in this business. Willing to take risks. So if you have some ethical issue with this, you’d better bail now.” He watched me for a moment. “Or if you don’t want to know, don’t ask. Or look the other way. Whatever helps you sleep at night Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies, sweets.”

  Seemed simple enough. However, I’m a voraciously curious person. So there’s no way I’m not going to ask questions. Besides, I needed this job.

  “Don’t call me ‘sweets’.”

  The Lexus disappeared into the garage. We both knew that the man would go directly through a door that led inside his house. Fancy shmancy. Lucky bugger. I was beginning to feel a petty kind of glee at the prospect of stealing this man’s vehicle.

  Callahan waited a few minutes before heading toward the house. The place was surrounded by an intricate wrought iron fence and guarded by two stone gargoyles. There were no doors blocking entry to the estate. Callahan didn’t hesitate in pulling into the driveway, which seemed to stretch out for miles.

  “Holy shit,” was all I could think of to say. I’d walked or driven by this house countless times and had always wondered what lay beyond the scowling gargoyles.

  I really liked those gargoyles, and had on many occasions wondered how feasible it would be to steal them. I’d never had a vehicle that was big enough. I suppose I could have hit up a couple of friends who had criminal tendencies, of which I’d had several growing up, but I had no place to put the gargoyles. Still, I vowed that some day I’d have a couple of those babies of my own. It was a dream of mine.

  Callahan used his handy little remote to open the garage, then turned the tow truck around and smoothly backed up to the Lexus. The tow truck was equipped with an automatic tow lowering system which allowed us to stay within the safety of the truck. It slid under the target vehicle and had clamps which gripped the tires. Although I’m not one to duck and run, I also don’t go looking for trouble. So I’m very much in favor of this particular system.

  As we drove out of the garage, I turned to watch the door just in time to see Mr. Target coming through it, wielding a golf club and screaming like a girl. He’d had just enough time to get out of his suit and into his silk pajamas and plaid slippers before he realized that someone was driving his Lexus out of the garage.

  I couldn’t help laughing. “You’d better move it before he does some damage to his nice, shiny car.”

  “Are you kidding? He’d sooner clobber himself than put a single scratch on this thing.” Callahan pointed the remote toward the garage door, closing it on the man.

  “Thank God you closed the door before he could come charging down the driveway at us in his slippers. That wouldn’t have been pretty.” The image made me smile.

  “Wait for it.” Callahan glanced in the rear-view mirror as we made our way toward the entrance. I watched in my side mirror.

  Sure enough, the man flew out of the front door and down the stairs, pajamas billowing. He was still waving the golf club in the air and screaming something incoherent as we turned out of the estate and onto the road. I turned and watched him out the back window and was amazed at the behavior of the rich. The man jumped up and down like a three-year-old having a tantrum. He then switched to a kind of stomping jog on the spot while throwing his golf club across his lawn and punching himself in the head.

  “Oh, how undignified,” I said. “I wonder what his friends at the country club would say if they saw him now, doing that jig in his slippers and jammies while his Lexus is being repossessed.”

  “Any of his buddies would be doing the exact same jig. Only they might be wearing a different style of jammies, and perhaps the slippers would have a paisley pattern on them.”

  “Do any of them ever come after you in another vehicle?”

  “Sure.” His smile was broad. “That’s all part of the fun.”

  I laughed. He was right. This was more fun than I’d legally had since … well, ever.

  But then, I’d always liked stealing cars. Just didn’t like the price of getting caught.

  Chapter Three

  “Nice part of town.” I chewed my lower lip. A habit which had begun in juvie. For some reason, it was proving to be a hard habit to break.

  We were in downtown Albany, in the area most lived in and traveled by prostitutes and drug dealers. This part of town was not unlike the area that I’d grown up in. Our street wasn’t bad. Just working class people trying to get along. Not far from there was an area most people would want to avoid. I scanned the street and felt my back straighten, becoming stiff. Most people wouldn’t walk in this area during broad dayligh
t. The ones who do usually have a weapon of some sort, or a mean looking dog. “Who is the target?”

  “A very scary fellow.” He peered through his windshield at an old row house. “His name is Brent Woodard, and he’s one mean S.O.B.”

  “I guess he’s not concerned with getting enough sunlight in his home.” I observed the plywood covering the windows.

  Cal chuckled. “His only concern is selling drugs to make enough money to keep up his bad-ass image. We’re looking for a black Chevy Excursion. I’ve already staked this guy out for the past week.”

  Two pit bulls stood at attention on either side of the front stairs, waiting for a reason to become nasty. They weren’t chained.

  “I’d hate to be a cat in this neighborhood.” I shuddered inwardly. “Those things aren’t tied up.”

  “Those things are trained to guard the house. Mr. Woodard keeps his drug stash in there. The dogs won’t budge until you step foot in the yard, then you’ll be lucky if you can hop back out on one leg.”

  “Nice. Doesn’t look like he’s home.”

  “Naw. I figured he wouldn’t be but I just wanted to make sure. The last thing you want in this job is a surprise.” He looked at me, his face deadly serious. “You need to be prepared for anything, but maintaining control is top priority, and surprises compromise your grip on control.”

  I was getting a little tired of the stealing cars 101 routine. The annoying truth was, unless I wanted to divulge a whole lot of information about my sordid youth, I had to shut up and listen to it. Besides, I did like looking at Callahan. And watching him intently as he tried to teach me to be a good car thief was an excellent excuse. But now I was staring. Probably looking like a goofy schoolgirl. In a moment, I’d start giggling and batting my eyes if I wasn’t careful. I pulled my gaze from him and looked at the street.

  “So where is he?” I watched a pack of teenagers glare at us from across the street. We were obviously not welcome here.

  “Probably at the Night Life, a dance club a few blocks over.” Cal drove passed the house and down the street.

  When we got to Night Life, a shiver ran up my spine. A group of clubbers were hanging around outside. Most of them were watching the road.

  It’s not easy to be inconspicuous in a black tow truck. There was a good chance that at least some of these people knew Brent Woodard. What if one of them ran in to get him while we were merrily towing his truck down the street?

  Cal lowered his window and peered out.

  “Open mine too, would ya? I need some air.” I couldn’t even wait until the window was fully open before shoving my face though the opening and taking in a huge gulp of air. I was jittery. I’d stayed out of trouble for a long time, but you never lose the prickly intuition which tells you that danger is just around the corner. It had been many years since I’d felt the adrenaline rush of stealing a car. Yet all my time in and out of juvie hadn’t dampened my enthusiasm for it. The rush was like an addiction for me.

  It was out of concern for my little brother that I’d stopped. I hadn’t exactly been acting like the role model I should’ve been, either being in juvie or out running around with a rather unsavory crowd. Without having a mother around and with a father who was too wrapped up in his own denial to care, Jesse really had nobody watching out for him. So I’d stopped cold turkey. By then it was already too late. He’d gotten himself on an addictive path of his own. One which would eventually land him in prison.

  So I guessed it would take me a little time to get back into the swing of things. I pulled myself together and glanced at Cal to see if he’d noticed my minor panic attack. Thankfully, he was too busy searching for the target vehicle.

  The real issue for me was that if Woodard did come out after us, he wouldn’t be wielding a golf club. I was certain that his weapon would do a hell of a lot more damage.

  “There it is.” Cal moved the tow slowly through the parking lot. He pulled ahead of a black Excursion which had been lowered and given super large rims.

  I winced. “Um, do you think it looked like that when Mr. Woodard bought the vehicle?”

  Callahan snickered as he maneuvered the tow truck so he could easily slip the tow device beneath the S.U.V. “No. Many of the original parts have since been replaced with other, shall we say, hotter, items.”

  “Does the bank want the vehicle back like this? It’s not really the same vehicle.”

  “Sure they do. They’ll sell it at auction for whatever they can get for it. If there’s a deficit remaining, then Mr. Woodard is obliged to pay the remainder of what he owes.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m familiar with that part of the process.” My stomach was doing flip-flops and I kept glancing toward the street to make sure Mr. Woodard wouldn’t be joining the party. I wished I hadn’t eaten so many crackers with cheese. They wouldn’t taste as good coming up as they had going down.

  As we exited the parking lot, a wide man with a shaved head came barreling down the front stairs of the club. He wore a full-length leather duster, which was purely for show. It was humid as hell out there, and even from my seat in the tow truck I could tell this man spent a lot of time pumping iron. And he was not amused. He came charging down the sidewalk toward us, his face a mask of rage. I squinted, my memory working. I’d seen his face before but I couldn’t place where from. Three of his cronies followed close behind, looking every bit as enormous and perturbed.

  “Oh shit,” I croaked. My heart was in my throat.

  “Nervous?” Cal said beside me.

  “No.” My shaking voice betrayed me.

  “Shit!” Cal’s finger groped and found the button to raise the windows.

  The tires screeched on the road. Woodard came at us, a wild look shining in his eyes. He used some harsh language and made a few promises I hoped he wouldn’t keep; one which involved ripping my breasts off. Then I remembered him. We’d spent time in the same juvenile detention facility at one point. He’d changed his name since then. The hairs at the back of my neck stood straight up. He was not a nice guy. We sped off, Cal jerking the wheel dangerously to the left, then to the right.

  “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?” Gunshots exploded all around us. I ducked, covering my head.

  “We’ll be screwed if one of those bullets hits a tire, or our heads.” He put the pedal to the metal. The tow truck shot forward at top speed. I looked out the back window just in time to see Woodard and his gang piling into a red Porsche.

  “We can’t out run a Porsche.” Cal’s voice was tight. “I know a couple of little hiding spots around here.” His eyes darted around like frantic birds.

  “Yeah, problem is, they know them too.” What self-respecting criminal wouldn’t? I kept looking behind us, trying to gauge the distance closing between Woodard and us.

  Lady Luck must’ve been smiling on us. Train tracks ran across the intersection we were heading toward. At that moment, the shrill sound of a warning bell rang out and the red caution lights blinked, as if in a panic.

  “Go, go, go!” I screamed, but it sounded like a whisper.

  “We’ll never make it!”

  “Yes we will!”

  Not willing to wait for him to decide, I jammed my foot over his on the gas pedal and floored it, squeezing my eyes shut. I felt a cold breath caress the back of my neck as the train sped down the tracks behind us, missing us by a hair. If I’d ever believed in guardian angels, it was right then.

  Callahan slowed to a stop on the side of the road, and we sat for a moment, breathing hard and watching as the train made its way to who knew where. He looked at me, shaking his head. “You’re one crazy lady, you know it?”

  I nodded. “Yup. I get crazier by the day.”

  “You could’ve killed us.”

  “But we had a chance. We would’ve definitely been killed if we’d stayed back there. They were gaining on us.” I sat for a moment, catching my breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “So what’s your plan now? Wait fo
r the train to pass so they’ll have another shot at us?”

  Cal blinked. With a shaky hand, he turned the key in the ignition and the tow truck came back to life.

  I patted the dashboard. “Nice, reliable truck you got here.”

  “It gets me places.”

  Chapter Four

  “So what do you think? Will I do as an Auto Recovery Agent?”

  We sat in my driveway. We’d decided we’d had enough excitement for one night.

  “Yeah.” He nodded his head, clearly still shaken.

  We both were, but I wasn’t showing it. What I really wanted to do right then was climb over the seat, sit on top of him and kiss his face off. Since that would be an inappropriate way for a new employee to act, I figured I should wait at least a couple of days first. “So when do I get a vehicle? I can’t very well travel to target destinations by bus, can I?”

  “At least you’d be sure to have a ride back.” He cracked a twitchy grin.

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “I’ll be with you for the first while, to make sure you’re okay. Then I’ll give you a truck to use. I’ve got a couple.”

  “You mean you’re going to baby-sit me.” Although I gave a short, mirthless laugh, inside I wanted to whoop and holler in delight. We’d be in the same car together! Like, a lot! I couldn’t let him see my excitement. “I’m the one who saved both our asses tonight, remember?”

  “Yeah, we were lucky. Anyway, in the meantime, you’ll need to peruse this manual.” He handed me a worn book of photocopied pages bound by a large staple.

  “Manual?”

  “Believe me. It’ll come in handy. It’s got a lot of tricks and tips for the new repo ma—uh, agent.”

  “Like how to break into cars.”

  “Yeah. Among other things.”

  I handed the manual back to him. “Cal,” I said. “I could’ve written this book myself.” In truth, I could probably have added several things.