The Thief Redeemer Read online

  by

  Leigh Clary Abdou

  The Thief Redeemer

  Copyright © 2013 by Leigh Clary Abdou

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  *** This is a New Adult title - Meant for readers 18 & older***

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  About the Author

  To My Sister

  I still don’t have my answers-

  But at least we know you’re free.

  And countless minutes later-

  My mind and soul agree.

  My thoughts are deep as valleys-

  Under miles of endless sea.

  That if you hadn’t left so young-

  Today, who would you be?

  STEALING CARS WAS never my life’s ambition.

  I never stated this as my dream job during grade school career day. It sort of happened. Well, more like it happened out of necessity. Marcus and I started doing this for the money and found we were good. Really good. As a team we can steal almost any type of car. And we make a killing.

  I watch the driver remove himself from the car. He has no idea that I’m watching or what’s about to happen. But that’s okay. I’m a professional, and as long as he cooperates, no one will get hurt.

  I hear Marcus behind me, breathing heavily. His hand is raking the cross pendant on his necklace back and forth, back and forth. I hear it grinding against the chain, and the sound is a mix between therapeutic and annoying. The necklace was gift from his late mother, and sliding the pendant across the chain is a nervous habit. I’m pretty sure Marcus could hijack cars in his sleep, so I don’t know what makes him nervous.

  He’s easily 300 pounds and not someone you would want to cross in a dark alley. Thankfully, he’s on my side. We’ve been in business for years. We’ve been best friends since high school when we were both in foster care, although he endured more years than me. After high school, we decided to team up. He helps me run a car theft operation throughout lower Atlanta.

  We have yet to be caught.

  And that says a lot when you’ve been in this business as long as we have.

  I hear the man’s heels move across the pavement as he leaves the parking garage. His car beeps indicating the alarm has been activated. Marcus and I wait for an entire minute before we make our move. I peek my head around first to make sure the man is gone and then I am off. I am light on my feet, weighing only 190 pounds. I’m the one who chooses the victim and makes the calls. Marcus uses his strength to open the car and jump it off. From that point, I have less than fifteen seconds to dismantle the car alarm. Any longer and people start to look in our direction. Once successful, we put the car in drive and get the hell out of there.

  I start my descent on the car and feel Marcus behind me. He whips out his crow bar and starts working his magic. We’ve got this down to a science. Our target is a Mazda Miata, and I’m pretty sure we can have this bad boy out of the garage in forty seconds flat. I hear the door swing open and I make my move to find the alarm. The horn starts beeping, echoing off the walls, and I pull out my tools to work magic. Within ten seconds the alarm has been deactivated and Marcus is jumping off the car. I hear the vehicle hum to life and know this mission is complete.

  Marcus puts her in reverse and drives out of the garage. Neither of us glances behind. Maybe we should be remorseful or paranoid about what we do, but as with any sin, the more times you commit it, the more numb you become. I no longer feel the remorse, and because of that I hate myself a little.

  We say nothing as we head towards our destination. There’s really nothing to say. Marcus knows the drill as much as I do. I own two garages in downtown Atlanta, and they’re both in full production at least five days a week. We drive for twenty minutes before pulling into one of the alleys. This leads to a garage door, which Marcus opens with the click of a button. We ease the car into the garage and quickly shut the door behind us. The lights illuminate the area, and I see our men sitting at cardboard tables, smoking and playing cards. They’ve been waiting on us to bring in the last car so we can get started. We have ten cars running in each garage tonight. It’s our job to fix them up for resale on the black market. Hopefully no one jumped off a car behind a repair, and we can get these vehicles out and put some cash in our pockets.

  I step out of the Mazda and glare at the employees.

  “What’s everyone sitting around for?” I yell. I know exactly why they’re sitting around, but I like to yell and keep them on their toes. The more intimidating I appear, the more respect I get. I’ve discovered this the hard way, considering I’m 28 and some of these men are more than ten years older than me. I run a tight ship and most ask “How high?” when I say jump. It’s the way it has to be when you’re as young as I am. They’re also scared as shit of Marcus, and Marcus always has my back. He’s like my brother now that I’ve lost communication with my real brothers.

  “Sorry, boss. We were waiting on you to bring in the Miata.” Carlos, my main man in charge at this garage speaks. I nod to acknowledge him.

  “Okay then, get their lazy asses to work. The Miata has arrived.” I don’t yell at Carlos. He’s a decent enough guy and I want to keep him around. He’s a little rough around the edges, but I like that. It’s why he’s in charge.

  “We need to get all ten cars running and out of here by dawn, got that?” I yell at all the men, putting the fear of God in them. No one breathes a word as they jump up and run to their positions. Within minutes, the warehouse is alive with activity while the cars are being rewired.

  I phone my other warehouse to check on the manager there, Simon. I hear a good report from him, and as my finger presses end, my phone instantly rings.

  It’s Richard. He’s my right hand man when it comes to the authorities, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s a bigwig politician in Atlanta. Yeah, he’s corrupt, but aren’t most? He helps me because he’s my cousin and our blood runs thick. I wish I’d have had this connection ten years ago when I needed him, but we’ve only just now become reacquainted. He was what my family called a black sheep. They didn’t speak to highly of him when we were growing up. Now he’s my right hand. I guess this fits since I’ve turned in to a black sheep myself.

  Still, I groan seeing his name flash across the screen. Hearing from him is never good. He’s always the bearer of bad news.
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br />   “What’s up?” My voice is flat.

  “Hey Brandon. I guess you know a call from me is never a good thing, right?” He laughs his fake politician chuckle into the phone, and I cringe.

  “Yeah, that’s why I sound so excited to hear from you. What’s the problem?” I listen while Richard gives me the run down. I stop in my tracks and swear under my breath as he explains that a big-name cop in town is working hand in hand with the man I hate more than anyone else in the world: a lawyer named Peter Birch. They’re trying to find the link to all the car theft and then make settlements to all the rightful owners.

  “Shit.” It’s the only word I know to say. I know the cops are always after me, but I didn’t know a specific cop named Sawyer Hamilton and the hated Peter Birch had teamed up to go after me specifically.

  “How did they get my name?” I ask Richard because they’ve never been after only me, just the car theft in general.

  “I don’t know, man, but what I do know is this. I was in the police department yesterday and saw your mug shot on the board. In your favor, it’s a picture of you from when you were eighteen. You don’t even look the same, but the bad news is they know you’re the leader in all this and they want it to stop.”

  I take a deep breath and let the exhale relax my body. This is bad. I’ve gotten too greedy over the past five years. We started out with one warehouse and about ten cars a month. Now we’re at two warehouses and sometimes fifteen cars a night per warehouse. Each year I’ve gotten bolder, and now I’m starting to see some of the consequences. But how am I supposed to stop? This is more than a job. It’s a game and I’m addicted to it. How do you stop the rush?

  “Okay, man, thanks for letting me know. New project for you: Find the snitch who gave the cops my name…and let me know if you hear any more information. This is getting serious.”

  “Sure thing, Brandon. I’ll call you soon.” Richard hangs up and I pace the floor. Who ratted me out? Who the hell is this Hamilton cop and why is Birch back on my ass again? I need to Google them both to find out about Hamilton and see what Birch has been doing over the past ten years. Like the mafia used to say, I need to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.

  “Marcus.” I yell his name above the noise as I walk over to his vehicle. I hear his breathing and I see the grease covering his clothes. “Birch is back on my ass.”

  His face contorts and he lets out a sigh. “Why?”

  “He knows I’m the leader of this car theft ring, and he’s teamed up with some cop named Hamilton. Richard says there’s a mug shot of me at the police station.”

  “Damn. What you gonna do?”

  “I’ll think of something. I just wanted you to know. You know my situation with Birch, and I wanted to keep you in the loop.”

  “Okay, boss. Let me know what you decide and I’m with ya.” It’s all he says as he turns around and bends back under the hood. Marcus is a man of few words. It’s one of his many shining attributes.

  CARLOS AND SIMON have all twenty cars delivered without a hitch by dawn the next morning. I hand out the cash to everyone who deserves to get paid and we called it quits. Since we made more than enough money, I give everyone the next three nights off. I don’t mention I need to lay low due to a target being placed on my head. Marcus is the only one who will ever know the truth. I don’t want this information getting out; one of my stellar employees just might turn me in.

  In this business there’s few you can trust. I sleep with a knife under my pillow, and I know Marcus is always packing. It could have been anybody who ratted me out. It’s amazing what people will do for money. Hell, they’ll sell their soul just to make a profit. I know this all too well.

  I am one of those people.

  My soul is lost for good. My body is filled with too much money, too much greed, and too much power. It’s a bad combination.

  But I can’t stop the obsession.

  The pull is too strong and each high is too high. Every month that passes and each year beneath me leads me closer to my destruction. It’s only a matter of time before I implode…that is, if the cops don’t catch me first.

  I use to think I was invincible.

  I use to think I would never be caught and those who tried to warn me were pussies. But now I know the truth, and it’s staring me square in the face. I will never let anyone else know the truth: I’m scared. I’d never let up on this tough guy façade. I’ve invested far too many hours and far too much time to quit here. Besides, what would my men say if I walked away? In this business walking away isn’t an option. You keep doing what you’re doing, or you go to jail.

  End of discussion.

  Marcus and I live above the warehouse. It’s a spacious apartment we share with our married friends, Tommy and Sally. I have a tiny room with a double bed and a chest to stick my clothes in. I have a small bookshelf packed with John Grisham books in the corner, as well as my own bathroom. It’s nothing to write home about, but it’s safe and there’s a roof over my head. Tommy and Sally take up the master room and we have a kitchen and living area in the front. Tommy is a mechanic by day but helps me when needed at night. Sally keeps the three of us fed. I’ve known Tommy and his brother Tim for years.

  This is actually their place and we rent from them. It helps keep our names off bills and helps keep our profiles low. Tommy owns the warehouse since my name can’t be on the books, and I pay him a nice rent check each month. He keeps his day job in case our ring gets busted. That way he would have an alibi. He’s never come out and said that, but I know it’s the truth. He keeps his ass covered and I don’t blame him. If I had a wife to protect, I would do the same.

  For convenience, Marcus and I do most of our operations in this particular warehouse. I keep a close watch over Simon in the other garage and make sure to show up for plenty of unannounced visits. Keeps all my employees on their toes.

  The nice part of working in this warehouse is that once dawn approaches, I can take my cash and crash upstairs for a good six hours. Sally never asks questions. She provides the food, and we pay Tommy the rent money. She’s good at being Tommy’s wife. Not every woman would turn a blind eye to what’s happening. Sally’s one of those women whose looks are deceiving. She’s tattooed up and down her entire body, yet she’s one of the sweetest human beings I’ve ever met. She’s twenty years older than us and looks after Marcus and me like we’re her sons. I don’t complain because it’s nice to have someone care about you.

  Marcus and I have lived here with them for the past five years.

  I close my eyes and the next thing I know, it’s eleven am. Damn, I’ve overslept and it’s almost time for lunch. I pull myself out of bed, take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes. I walk into the den and see Marcus sitting on the sofa, staring at the television.

  We acknowledge each other as I grab my laptop off the table. First I decide to investigate Hamilton. I discover he’s been a cop for the past fifteen years and he looks to be in his early forties. I stare at his picture for a while, familiarizing myself with his face. His brown hair and mustache make me want to scream out the word “Douchebag!” His office is at the downtown police department.

  Once I have read everything I can on his bio, I Google Peter Birch. Hate runs through my veins at the mere thought of this man. He’s the reason I have lost all communication with my brothers. Just looking at his smiling face on the computer, makes me want to punch a hole in the screen. I stare at his picture for what feels like an hour, reliving that day in the courtroom when he took them away. He’s messed with the wrong guy. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m going to punish Mr. Birch. I’m going to make him wish he had never met Brandon Wilson. His picture smirks back at me with his perfect blonde hair, perfect blue eyes and perfect smile. He makes me sick.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Marcus’s voice breaks into my hate-filled thoughts as I return to the present.

  “I’m going to destroy Birch.” My voice is matter-of-fact a
nd deadly all wrapped up in one.

  “How do you expect to destroy the biggest and baddest lawyer in Atlanta?” Marcus is mocking me but I let it slide. He’s all I have left, and I can’t lose my temper with him.

  “Give me a minute to think,” I say. I close the computer screen and stare out the window. Birch has access to the sealed files of my brothers’ location somewhere in his filthy rich law office. The idea hits me, and I know what I can do to make this man pay. I’ll beat him at his own game.

  “How’s this idea? I’m going to go to Birch’s office and look for the files on my brothers. I’m going to find out where they are and throw it back in his face.” I smile to myself because this sounds like a perfect plan. I’ve been searching for my brothers for the past ten years. I’ve been such an idiot. Why haven’t I thought of this before?

  “You’re really not going to show up at Birch’s law office are you?” Marcus asks with concern in his voice. This huge hunk of beef actually cares for me.

  “Yeah.” I open my computer and start to fish around his website. I need an idea of how to get inside his office undetected. I search around until I see the tab for their interns. This is perfect. I can access his office as an intern. Summer has just started, and they won’t know everyone’s faces yet. I click on the tab and my eyes zero in on the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

  She has blond hair and blue eyes and a killer petite body. Her name is Claire Peters and she’s in charge of all the interns. Okay, this intern idea is looking even better now. Maybe I can stay on for a few days and have a little fun with Ms. Peters. I don’t even care if this girl is married, I would do almost anything to feel her body beneath my own. I search out the names of the interns proudly posted online, and see that they start tomorrow.

  Perfect. I’ll pose as an intern and discover the files. I’ll learn where my brothers are and laugh in Birch’s perfectly chiseled face. Oh yeah, and do some major flirting with Claire Peters. I should be fine by way of disguise because Richard said they have my eighteen-year-old mug shot at the police department. I look very different now. Ten years of my lifestyle will do that to a person.