PROLOGUE
HENSLEY
Ipush my hair behind my ears and pull the worn, leather hood of my jacket up. I haven’t been in this store before, so I don’t know where their cameras are, but the usual spots are the ceiling and all of the corners.
Not that I’ll be caught; I’m too smart for that, I just want to get in and out before someone starts to follow me around like they always do.
I get it.
I look like yesterday’s trash because that’s how I live and no matter how hard I try, I know I can never change that.
I don’t care much either, though.
I have everything I need, and I’ve become accustomed to having to steal what I can’t afford in order to survive.
I do my best not to take anything of too much value and make the fastest getaways that I can.
The complete opposite of Tieran.
He’s smarter than I am when it comes to getting what he wants and he knows that he can get in and out, so to speak, in a matter of minutes.
He does his part to keep us fed and I do mine to keep a roof over our heads.
Our lives may suck to anyone looking from the outside in, but it honestly isn’t anyone’s business.
Blowing out my breath, I walk up to the automatic sliding double doors and walk into the pharmacy with my hands in my pockets. An older lady that’s attempting to run over me on her way out immediately makes a face like she can smell something rotten.
It’s the fucking jacket, but I haven’t had a chance to wash it yet so it’s not really my fault.
I’ve been too busy turning tricks for a few bucks here and there to pay the damn rent at the motel.
No matter how much he hates it, he knows it’s all I know how to do and I’m damn good at it, too.
As I walk the perimeter of the front of the store, I glance up quickly to see if I can locate the cameras.
I grind my teeth together when I see myself in the reflection of the obnoxiously, large two-way mirror and let out a sigh as I turn my back to the camera and continue walking.
There are only two aisles I need, but since it’s my first time here, it’s going to take some wandering to find them.
I glance up periodically at the signs, hoping to see what I came for when I finally do.
First aid.
I shuffle my feet quickly toward my first stop. I reach for a bottle of alcohol and then move toward the package of cotton balls. I have exactly ten dollars that I can present at the register, so I have to shop carefully.
The other thing I need costs more than part of the rent.
I look at the price of the items in my hands satisfied that I have more than enough to cover them before I walk around the store a little longer.
Once I find the final leg of my trip, I walk a little slower, glancing at the items before I snake a hand out and quickly grab a box of condoms, and slip them into my pocket.
I linger for a few more seconds, picking through the selections, confident in not having been seen, then make my way to the line up front.
The girl behind the register gives me a bright smile as she helps the gentleman in front of her.
I return the favor with one of my own, then shift the items in my hand from one to the other so I can dig my crumpled ten-dollar bill out of my jeans pocket.
Mom would never approve of the way I look. She’d say that I let myself go—and she probably will when we go back home—but not being under her roof is the most freeing thing I’ve ever experienced.