Of course, any facade she’d managed to maintain was obliterated when Z lifted a surprised brow at her, a challenging light shining in his eyes. She’d blushed from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. And from that day on, they’d taken great delight in one-upping and insulting each other. But it had always been in fun, in jest, a battle of the wills that left her titillated and excited and looking forward to the next clash.
Then something changed. Something that had added a sharp edge to all their encounters. Something that made them skittish and unsure of each other. Something that—
Oh, who are you trying to fool, sister? You know what happened.
Yes, she did. And to this day, she regretted it with her whole heart.
Shaking her head and lamenting all the things she couldn’t undo, she reached up to disable the interior light that would come on when the doors were opened. That was pretty much lesson one in stealing a car. A blinking interior light could draw unwanted attention on a cold, dark night such as this one.
Lesson two was to check the sun visor, the glove box, and beneath the floor mats. No use going to the trouble of hot-wiring a vehicle if the owner had been kind enough to leave behind a spare set of keys. Going through the motions, she tried to breathe through her mouth. The van smelled strongly of BO and barbecue sauce, evidence that the owner liked his slow-roasted meats more than his showers. She did not envy his date. And unfortunately, no keys.
So we do it the old-fashioned way.
Pulling the little tool kit she’d scrounged from Dan’s backpack out of her pocket, she found the Phillips head screwdriver and went to work on the two screws holding the plastic steering column cover in place. After a bit of elbow grease that had her panting—Holy crap, I need to hit the gym more—it came free. She set it between the seats.
Pulling a little Maglite flashlight from her pocket, another tool she’d pilfered from Dan’s backpack—the man had everything but the kitchen sink in that thing—she stuck it between her teeth and ducked down to study the wiring.
Okay, Chels. She gave herself a pep talk. If they’re going to consign you to being a lowly hot-wirer, then you’ll be the best damn hot-wirer out there!
Shining the light on the innards of the steering column, she saw the standard trio of bundles. It took her a second to identify the wires that led to the signal indicators and the cruise control on one side, the lights and wipers on the other, and those that attached to the battery, ignition, and starter.
She didn’t realize she was muttering to herself around the flashlight until she heard Dan whisper in her ear, “Problem?”
Damn. So much for being the best hot-wirer out there. “No,” she assured him after pulling the flashlight from between her teeth. Come on. You have one job to do. “It’s just been a while.”
“The battery wires are almost always red,” Dan advised. “Make sure you don’t—”
“I know,” she hissed. “You’re not the only one with a little MacGyver in you.”
“Keep the line clear,” Z growled again. “It’s almost Miller time.”
Keep the line clear, Chelsea pantomimed the words. It’s almost Miller time. She wished she was standing in front of Z so she could roll her eyes and tell him, “Oh, please to the power of ten. Your big, bad alpha male operator material is so cheesy Velveeta wouldn’t touch it.”
Maybe after this was all over, she’d let him know how little she thought of—Aha! She finally located the battery wires among all the other wires. And they were not red, thank you very much. They were maroon. And she’d still pinpointed them. Like. A. Boss!
She shot an imaginary fist in the air, replaced the flashlight between her lips, and moved on to the next step. Which was the easy part. She stripped the insulation off the battery wires and twisted them together, careful not to let them touch any metal parts of the van. If they did, they could short out and then she’d be dunzo, having proved to Z that even playing a secondary role, she wouldn’t be up for any Oscars.
And now for the finale. She took a moment to shake out her hands. They were aching from the exertion and from the cold. She blew into them for a couple of seconds. Once the sensation was back in the tips of her fingers, she carefully stripped the insulation away from the starter wire. Holding her breath, hoping she didn’t electrocute herself, she sparked the starter wire against the battery lines.
Hheee-hubba-hheee.
The engine tried to sputter to life, but it sounded like an old man after climbing three flights of stairs. Come on, baby. Show Mama what you got. She sparked the wires again.
Hubba-hubba-hu-vroom!
“Yes!” She slapped the van’s console and sat up in the driver’s seat. Stepping on the gas, she revved the engine to keep it from dying. Then she yanked the wheel hard left and right to break the steering lock. Once it was free, she put the van in gear and slowly pulled from the curb. “I’ve secured the vehicle,” she said. “I’ll park around the block and wait for your signal.”
“Nice work, Chels,” Dan’s voice sounded in her ear.
“Yeah,” Z said. “Good job. Now shut up and keep the line clear.”
Damned by faint praise…
Chapter Eleven