The Rules of Survival (Mercer #1)

RoS Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

It is an unwritten rule as well as common sense not to pickpocket in the places you frequent. At the top of that Big No-No list are places like school and work.

This was probably why I could hear Kalen's voice in my head, calling me an idiot among other things, telling me I was completely insane for even thinking about stealing from the people I ate lunch with, studied with, and bumped shoulders with in the halls.

I assured that annoying little voice that desperate times called for desperate measures, and tuned it out in favor of eyeing the moron at the other end of the crowded hall boasting about the wad of cash clamped between his chubby fingers.

Bronson Something-or-other was another TLF hoodlum, who was usually seen trying to gain favor with Diego and Rafe. As my luck would have it neither were nearby, making what I was about to do that much easier. I didn't even feel guilty at the prospect of stealing from him. A gangster with money usually meant he'd acquired it illegally.

Now all I had to do was wait for him to pocket it and start walking; stealing from someone who was stationary was always bad news. There was more chance of them noticing something wasn't quite right - like, say, somebody else's hand jammed into their jacket pocket. Once he'd finished showing off, Bronson stuffed the cash into the front inside pocket of his leather jacket and conveniently began heading my way. Two guys flanked him, and my hopes of an easy job faltered.

Not that I was about to give up. Steeling myself, I meandered down the hall, keeping a keen eye on his progression.

One of three things was about to happen.

Scenario one: I would totally fuck this up. Bronson's cash would end up all over the school hallway, and I'd be expelled on the spot for theft.

Scenario two: I would totally fuck this up. Bronson's cash would end up all over the school hallway, and I would end up in the ER when he realized what was happening and pummeled me to within an inch of my life.

Or, scenario three: I wouldn't totally fuck this up. By no small miracle I'd lift his cash, keep walking, and he'd be none the wiser.

Epitomizing clumsiness, I tripped with a dramatic flair as Bronson pulled level with me, flailing my arms and bumping into him. It was enough of a bump to warrant putting my hands on his chest to push back off, but not noticeable enough for him to think back and realize I was the one who had jacked him.

His reflexes were faster than I gave him credit for. In one quick move he shoved me away from him with such force I bounced off the nearest locker and hit the floor. Back stinging, I hastily stuffed the cash into the waistband of my jeans. When Bronson hauled me to my feet by my jacket collar, I gasped in surprise. This hadn't been part of my plan.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his dark brows coming together in a fierce frown. "Watch where you're going, dumbass."

"Sorry," I mumbled, and tried to squirm out of his hold. It was like attempting to break a vice grip. Virtually impossible.

"Let go," I snapped, half afraid he'd shake me and send money fluttering to the floor. My heart was positively pounding in my chest, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I could have sighed in relief when I felt his grip loosen, but then one of his friends squinted at me.

"Hey, wait a sec. That's Ioney Mercer you got there."

Oh, crap.

"Shit," Bronson said, dragging me towards him. I did not like the malevolent grin etched into his face. "You're right. And would you look at that, she just walked right into my arms."