“Ready?” Kristian asked as I double-checked the contents of my bag.

“Looks like it,” I said, tapping my jeans to make sure I had my phone. “I’m all good.”

“No phones. Jazz will give us burners when we get in the car.”

I dropped my phone back on the bed. Then I tightened my ponytail, and blew out my breath while hooking my bag over my shoulder. “I’m ready.” It had been ages since I’d boosted a car, so I was a little nervous, but mostly, I was excited.

“Relax. You’re gonna do great,” he assured me, holding out his hand for me to take.

“I just don’t want to mess this job up. You look amazing by the way,” I said, taking in the suit-sans-tie look he had going on. He was very businessman chic, and all I really wanted to do was find a tie and get him to tie me up and have his wicked way with me. But, we had a job to do: stealing cars from long-term parking at the airport. A contact there had given us the details and exit passes for two SUVs and one station wagon. These were the cars we’d be driving to Sydney so none of our personal vehicles were picked up by traffic cameras. And since no one would know these cars were gone, there was no one to report them stolen. We’d have them back in their designated spots before anyone even looked for them.

“Here are your phones,” Jasmine said, handing us all ancient-looking Blackberrys as we got in her black Chrysler sedan where Abbot was already waiting. “The SIMs are activated, and the only numbers on there are each other’s. Anything goes wrong, you hit the home button three times and an alert goes out to everyone else, letting them know to dump and run.”

“What happens if we need to dump and run?” I asked.

Jasmine turned in her seat. “You get out. You go dark. Then you make your way home when it’s safe. No traceable calls, and no unnecessary risks. If you get caught, you say nothing.”

“So basically, you’re on your own,” I said.

“Only if you get caught,” Kristian said. “Otherwise, one could go down and we’d all go down too. On a job, emotion needs to be set aside.”

“I get it,” I said, turning the phone over in my hands. “You know, I don’t even know how to use this.”

“They’re new to us too,” Abbot said, showing me his screen as he pulled up contacts and made out like he was going to make a call then send a text, explaining as he went along. “We started using them when we began pulling riskier jobs. They’ve been modified and everything we send or say gets encrypted along the way so no one else can intercept it or track us.” He hit send on a message that scrambled on the screen then popped up on mine, still scrambled.

“How do I read it?”

Kristian pointed to the navigation buttons on the keypad. “No touch screen, just buttons.”

Once I selected the message and hit the enter key, the message unscrambled, the words, ‘Don’t fuck this up’ popping up on my screen.

“Thanks, arsehole,” I said to Abbot, rolling my eyes as I worked out how to send his message to the trashcan. “I’m probably better at stealing cars than you are, you know.” I patted the pack on my lap that had my handy tools inside it. I had some shanked keys, a slide hammer and a slim jim. As long as I wasn’t breaking into any luxury car, I could be in and on the road in thirty seconds.

“Seems to me you’d be better off with one of these,” he said, pulling out a boxlike device from his inside jacket pocket. He was dressed in jeans, a button-up shirt and a blazer, a slight departure from the board shorts and T-shirts he normally wore.

“Holy fuck. Where’d you get that?” I asked, reaching out to grab it so I could take a closer look. I’d heard about these magical little boxes, but I’d never seen one in real life before. They basically scanned for a car’s frequency and de-activated the locking system. He could take any modern car he wanted with that thing.

Holding it out of my reach, he twitched and slid it back in his pocket. “It’s not a plaything. It’s serious tech.”

Kristian laughed. “That’s the most pretentious thing you’ve ever said, brother. Here, doll, take a look at mine. When we get a chance, we’ll get you one of your own.”

“Just don’t hit any of the buttons,” Jasmine said from the front seat. “I don’t want you messing with my car’s electronics.”

Kristian rolled his eyes and mouthed, “It won’t do that.”

I smiled and handed the device back to him. “It’s cool. But what happens if the car needs a key?”

“That’s what this is for,” he said, pulling out a tool that looked kind of like an ice pick but had all these moving parts to the handle, reminding me of a bicycle lock. “Basically, you put this in the key slot and turn the dials until it forms the shape of the key and unlocks the door. It can be fiddly, but once you’ve got it, you can get in and put it straight in the ignition.”

“Wow,” I said, taking it from him and twisting the dials. “You guys are impressively kitted out.”

“It’s just smaller and faster than old-school methods. Both work just fine though.”

Returning the tool, I hugged my pack against my chest, suddenly feeling like a school girl in a room full of university students. But after all the cars I’d stolen with Johno, I knew I could hold my own.

Once at the airport, we went through the terminal and caught the shuttle out to the car park, pretending we didn’t know each other the entire time—which was really hard when Kristian kept pressing his dick up against my butt whenever the bus jostled. I shot him a warning look, but he just smirked and kept doing it.

Our cars weren’t all in the same section, so Kristian got off the bus first, and Abbot and I got off second, splitting up as we headed for our individual cars. We already had everything we needed, so it was a matter of getting in and getting out while looking as natural as possible doing it.

Walking along the massive rows of cars, I looked for spot number 435. In it, there was supposed to be a Ford station wagon. Instead, there was a Land Rover Defender, circa 1980s. I could take it, but I was worried about its ability to get us to Sydney, and the fact it was the wrong fucking car.

Since Abbot was the closest to me, I called his number, marked with a simple ‘A’, and put the Blackberry to my ear. “Can’t get in?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Of course I can,” I said in a low voice, “but this isn’t the car I was supposed to boost.”

“What do you mean? Are you at the right spot?”

“435. Right spot, wrong car. I can’t see a white station wagon anywhere here. Do I take this one, or do we leave it?”

His loaded breath filled my ear, telling me he was trying to work out if we could pull this off with only two vehicles. “Take it,” he said finally. “He probably just wrote down the wrong car.”

“OK,” I said before I hung up and took a quick look around the lot. The bus was approaching in the distance, so I made quick work of popping the lock and turning the ignition. The engine rumbled to life and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was in good nick. Actually, the whole car was pretty immaculate for something so old.

Putting it into reverse, I grabbed my hat and sunglasses from my bag—cameras were mounted high and the brim obscured my face, putting most of it in shade. They wouldn’t be able to get a clear picture if they went looking.

There were no issues getting out, and we all got through the exit gate and hit the Tullamarine Highway without a hitch. Now, we just needed to get to the rendezvous point to pick up the others. I gripped the wheel with both hands. It felt good after months of being straight. This was all going to be just fine.

About fifteen minutes into the drive, the Blackberry started ringing, startling me a little. I hit the green answer key and held it to my ear. “It’s illegal to talk and drive, and I don’t know how to put this on speaker,” I said quickly, keeping my eyes peeled for cops.

“You’re worried about talking on your phone while driving a stolen car?” Kristian’s warm voice rumbled in my ear.

“Yeah. It’s the little things that get you busted, dude. What’s up?”

“You aren’t in a station wagon?”

“I know. I went to the spot and this was there instead. Abbot said to take it anyway. Do you think I should just dump it?”

“Jesus. I don’t know… It should be fine. I’ll call our guy and get him to find out how long we have on that one. We’ll make a decision then.”

We said a fast goodbye and hung up, the conversation doing very little for my nerves. After the damage control needed with Maree and Dazza, I really wanted this job to work out perfectly so they didn’t think I was a jinx. Come hell or high water, we were coming back from Sydney with a buttload of cash.