Hello! Been a while since I posted on here, sorry about that. I've been doing daily story posts on Twitter (@avitalelizabeth), and thought I'd post them on here twenty at a time, since I know not everyone is on Twitter. Enjoy the story!
Stealing things for a living-no, for your life-was not what Sam pictured when they asked her, ages ago, what she wanted to do when she grew up. Astronaut. Gymnast. Firefighter. WWE superstar. But forced thief-hood? Never.
Professional thief sounds glamorous. Daring. Sexy. Reality? Sweaty, uncomfortable, exhausting. You're never the one who gets to don elegant attire and infiltrate an upper class shindig. No, you're the fake plumber who plunges the toilet as a cover.
Sam heaved a sigh and tossed the plunger into the corner.
"I'm so glad I'm wearing gloves," she muttered, resisting the urge to scrub her hands across her thighs.
Common sense or not, cover as a plumber was the worst.
Maybe not the actual worst. At least plumbers don't generally get sexually objectified while performing their duties. Not in reality, anyway, Rule 34 and all that. But enough stalling. Time to go rogue.
Grabbing the toolbox she had left on the floor, Sam slipped out the restroom door, shifting the box into the backpack that was its original shape. She shrugged her arms through the straps and moved down the corridor, reaching into her pocket.
She flipped the switch on the gadget inside, triggering the scrambler hidden in the handle of the plunger. Quite handy, the security room being right next to the bathroom. Less walking for the guards.
Not that these guards walked much anyway. She honestly didn't even know why they'd sent her here. A job this easy was way below her skill level, but when you're not the one calling the shots you don't get much choice.
Her thoughts skipped and meandered as she crept down the hallway. An easy job wasn't so bad. She could use the break after last week. Surprise dog patrols? Not a good time. More exercise than she wanted on that one.
The door she was aiming for was only a few feet farther. Upon reaching it, she tested the handle carefully. No sense in picking an open lock, but this one was sealed tight. She slung the pack off her back and opened it.
The lockpick kit was right on top. Sam pulled out one of the tools and made quick work of the lock, tucking everything away as soon as she finished. The door opened silently and she slipped in, easing it shut behind her.
The room was opulent and showy. She rolled her eyes and moved further in, ignoring the lavish furnishings and making a beeline for a desk on the opposite side. The portrait was on the wall behind it, as promised. Rich people were so predictable.
There wasn't even a trick to revealing the safe. You just grabbed the edge of the frame, tugged, and the painting hinged away from the wall without problem. The only question was if the safe would be as simple to deal with.
A mechanical number dial? Who even uses those anymore? Sam shrugged and cracked her fingers. This had been part of her training, obviously, she'd just never had to utilize it. Well, first time for everything!
She fished a small flashlight out of her bag and flicked it on, holding it between her teeth so she could have her hands free. Pulling the safe door forward as much as she could, she turned the dial slowly, listening for the telltale click.
There! Once you get that, the rest is cake. Sam grinned as the dial hit the last tumbler and opened. Pulling the door open with one hand, she took the flashlight in her other hand and shined it in, lighting up the contents.
The only thing inside was an envelope. Sam grabbed it, shining her light on the front. The words 'gold star' were scrawled there in an elegantly messy script.
Oh no. She knew that handwriting.
A low chuckle came from behind her.
She gritted her teeth and turned around. "Bryce." It was a statement, not a question, and it ground its way out past clenched jaw.
"Samantha, darling, how I've missed you. I hate how your obligations keep us apart."
"My obligations?" Her voice, though low in volume, grew in intensity. "My OBLIGATIONS are the only reason I'm doing this at all and you know it! If your boss had nothing to hang over my head I'd be gone in an instant."
The smirk never left Bryce's too-smooth face as he sauntered toward her. He was tall, blond, and... shiny. Everything about him gleamed, like pyrite in the sun, beautiful, yet good for nothing more than catching the eye.
"My boss? It's cute how you call my father that. Trying to convince yourself that I have less power over you than he does? Oh, Samantha." He stepped into her space, making an amused sound as she leaned away, blocked in by the wall and desk.