Plotting to steal something worthwhile was the closest thing to a real job Remy had ever had. To pull it off successfully, the right people needed to be in the right place at the right time. If you needed to travel, you better have a getaway driver ready in something unflashy and legally registered; if you needed to break into a vault, an inside guy at the organization would save you a lot of time; if you needed to bluff your way past some folks, a pretty face with a heap of charisma would be nice. With a good team, even a small group could infiltrate the world’s most secure locations like a treasury vault or a casino and get out without a complication. If there were complications… Well, Remy had spent enough time locked up underneath Vegas to sincerely hope for no complications.

  Unfortunately, Remy didn’t have a quality team. He didn’t have any team. The first rule of any heist was to scatter after it was done. Kept the redcaps guessing, that way. On the whole, they were a dim lot, but even a blind pig could sometimes find itself a mud bath. He had no idea where most of them were. One was serving time in a freezer way up north, and two others got hitched and lived on one of those real beaches somewhere. He used to get postcards.

  Josie was the only one left. Their getaway driver. There was none better than Josephine O’Malley and the woman damn-well knew it too. Even so, part of him felt wrong bringing her into a job to help him and Stefanie skip town. Of course, she’d known something was up when he’d come home the other morning stinking of cinnamon in the rumpled clothes of the night before. She had simply clacked her gum and raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Josie could be a real pain in his neck but at least she didn’t make their relationship into something that it wasn’t. It was professional and that was it. In moments of weakness, he could admit a fondness for a friendship he didn’t realize he had missed but then that fucking cherry gum would smack again and she’d tell him he put the dishes away wrong. A man didn’t need that much aggravation in his life.

  He tapped the side of his beer bottle, thinking it through.

  “Oh! And that’s another kill for Peter the Ripper! He’s really having a nice season for the Free Patriots.” The gladiatorial announcer described the Ripper’s kill in detail. Remy winced, setting his beer down on the table.

  “It’s always hot irons. Why is it always hot irons?” Josie muttered next to him. He shrugged, but tried to study his hands instead of the screen. Peter the Ripper’s nom de guerre was well-earned.

  They sat on the rooftop of Bo’s Bunker, a no-frills bar like the School House, but far away from the hustle of Revolution Plaza. A heat net kept the falling snow at bay, as a server came by to collect Remy’s empty bottle.

  “Can I get you another one of these?” He asked.

  “Sure, I’d take another. Jose?”

  She nodded, finishing off her own to hand to the man before he walked away. She had recovered from her own injuries well, and only a faint scar could be seen if you knew where to look. Remy still looked like someone had taken a hot waffle iron to his face, but he was glad Josie’s recovery went more smoothly.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “…and that’s halftime! The New Madison Free Patriots are down one kill to two, but they may have maimed enough of the Cobras to make up the difference. Let’s take a look at the first half highlights…” the announcer droned on as the waiter returned with two beers and a small basket of popcorn. Josie tossed a cred chip onto the tray.

  “Keep ‘em coming.” She winked at him.

  “Of course.” The waiter winked back. Remy frowned, clutching a fist in his lap before he caught himself. It was a wink, and it’s just Josie, man.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Remy said as the waiter moved to his other tables. He fumbled in his coat pocket for some credits and she waved them off.

  “I can pay for it if I want to pay for it, Remy. Besides, you bought last night and I’m still at your place. Let me pick up some beers, you dolt.” She pulled gum from her mouth and stuck it in a cocktail napkin.

  “Thanks.” Remy nodded, picking up his own fresh beer. They sat watching a holographic marching band cross the field as groundskeepers scrubbed away the first half blood. The beer was cold, seemingly colder by the snow following from the sky.

  “Reminds me of the Water Lily.” Josie looked up at the heat nets as well. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

  Remy laughed, shaking his head. She turned to him with a confused look.

  “Yeah, I don’t know. Jumping through broken glass and ending up limping home is pretty much par for this lifetime since you’ve been in it. Hard to imagine that racing the Beltrider might not be the dumbest thing I’ve done this year. Now, a lifetime ago was just beating up junkies for tips.”

  “And getting thrown in jail for it?” She challenged back, fighting to keep a smirk off her face. How had she heard about that one?

  She shrugged. “I suppose you’re right though. Part of me is afraid that if I leave, we’ll each simply die of boredom. You sure keep it interesting for a girl, huh?”

  Remy snorted into his beer and wiped drops from his stubble. “Well, if I remember correctly, it was your ex we were stealing from, yeah? I think you’ve done plenty to keep things interesting yourself.”

  “I suppose I do.” Josie cocked her head and looked at him sideways. “You doing okay?” She brushed his knee with her hand. Her fingers were warm.

  “What?”

  She shrugged again.

  “You just seem…I don’t know. Distracted? Quiet? I don’t know, just a hunch. You can tell me I’m wrong and I’ll leave it alone.”

  He sighed, thoughts of Stefanie floating by aimlessly as he remembered. She’ll find out anyway and I need her help.

  “I have a new job,” he said glancing around to ensure no one was listening. No one was.

  “Oh. Is it dangerous?” Why did her eyes sparkle at “dangerous?”

  “Not as bad as the Beltrider, I suppose but yeah, it’s going to be dangerous.” He drank slowly, collecting his thoughts. “I was actually hoping you’d be interested in helping me out with it. If you can’t, or don’t want to, that’s fine. I understand you’ve got your own business to get back to and stuff.”

  It felt stupid asking her now. They’d worked together a few times, a long time ago. But that was a long time ago. She didn’t owe him anything and had her own life to move on. God, he hoped she moved on to her own life again. Having a couch without a mound of blankets and empty food cartons - well, at least only his own empty food cartons - would be luxurious. He didn’t expect Josie to say yes.

  She smiled and those damned eyes twinkled again.

  “I’m in. What is it?”

  Remy frowned.

  “You don’t want to hear about it first? It could be stupid or something you’d rather not do.” He was positive it was both, but for Stefanie, he’d do anything.

  Josie laughed and tossed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She replied through broken kernels.

  “If you asked me and looked this nervous about it, it has to be good. I’m in, what’s up.”

  Remy didn’t realize how much he’d been dreading her reply until the knot of tension between his shoulders loosened and a smile crept back over his face.

  “You remember the job at the spaceport near old Boston?”