One priceless diamond. A team of
ruthlessly efficient thieves. A punk rock band and the ride of your life.
EXCERPT
Erika stepped out of the
Fortitude Valley station, bags of shopping in either hand and watched the
majority of the train passengers head to her left, toward all the nightclubs
and bars. It was a Friday, only about 9 p.m. but already the Valley was winding
up for another big night. Erika shook her head and began to head in the
opposite direction, avoiding eye contact with the beggars who were already
drinking from bottles wrapped in brown paper bags under street lamps. She
reached the curb when she spotted a newspaper dropped on the ground. She would
have ignored it except she recognized the face on the front.
Nestling her bags around
her feet, Erika picked up the paper and straightened it. A small grin crept
across her face as Robert Lansbury's face stared up at her in the street lamp.
Possession of stolen goods, money laundering, dodgy banking practices… arrested
a couple of nights ago it seemed. They really were throwing the book at him.
Erika had phoned her uncle as promised to let him know her client collected and
where she would find him. Detective Inspector Holgate must have dropped the
phone, filled the search warrant out in the car and tripped every speed camera
on the way to the Gold Coast to arrest Lansbury.
Erika didn't watch the news
or buy papers much so she quickly flipped through the paper. Not much changed;
muggings, rapes, dodgy sportsman, celebrities going nuts…same old same old.
That was until she came across a picture of The Blood Diamonds. Erika examined
the small article detailing the band's last tour and a handsome shot of the
five boys sprawling in what looked like an antique library. Erika shook her
head in disgust, hurling the paper into the nearby bin before picking up her
shopping and trudging wearily home.
Tomorrow was Saturday,
Erika's first free day all week and she had every intention of sleeping in then
making herself pancakes, ringing Disco to see how she was, maybe finish the
book she was reading or play guitar or do some drawing. She didn't know or
care, she just wanted to chill out. Stamping up the top steps of her apartment
she unlocked the door before picking up her shopping and stepping into the
darkness. Instantly she felt the hairs on her neck prickle as she spotted a
figure lounging on the armchair in the darkness. Dropping the bag she flipped
the light on.
Stretched out in her leather recliner, cowboy
boot-clad feet resting on the coffee table was Patrick. Erika stared at him as
he sat there, looking at home with a glass of whisky in one hand, dressed in
the standard skinny jeans, white shirt and leather jacket. He looked up, his
infamous wicked smile creasing his lips as he lifted the other hand in the same
cheeky wave he did before swiping the guitar out from under her nose.
"You," Erika hissed. To her
relief he seemed to be alone, no Ilesha or band-mates.
"Hi. Can't believe you have
just left this Ballantine sit to waste," Patrick rolled the
liquid around one of Erika's cut crystal
tumblers.
"It's maturing unlike you," Erika snapped. "What are you doing
here? How did you even get in?"
"Ouch," Patrick
grinned before motioning carelessly over one shoulder. "Climbed onto your
patio through the kitchen window, you don't even have a security
system for me to tamper with."
She should have guessed, she used that method all
the time when she locked herself out of her own apartment on an embarrassingly
regular rate. Mind you she was surprised he pulled it off in Cuban heel boots;
kudos for that.
Erika looked back at Patrick to find him watching
her. The way he sat there, smirking and looking all at home, riled Erika in a
heartbeat. She squared up and held the door open.
"Get out."
Patrick tilted his head to one side, pretending to
look hurt. "That's not very nice."
"Get out of my
apartment, now," Erika glared.
"I see your client got
nabbed," Patrick ignored her. "Such a pity, I guess
it's lucky his contracted thief has slipped under the radar. Again too, I might
add. Still paying Gary?"
"I don't pay Gary anything,
you know that," Erika growled,
picking up the shopping and heading into the kitchen after kicking the door
shut. She didn't think she would get
rid of him that quickly but it was worth a shot.
"Oh sure," Patrick grinned.
Erika dumped the stuff on the bench and glared
across. "You have exactly a minute to tell me what you want
then I will kick you out. If it's about the guitar the
Police have it."
Patrick drained his glass before leaning forward to
drop it on the table. "Yeah, I know. Ilesha
and I looked into hacking into the system at the station where it’s being held
but I can't be bothered. Let it go back to the original
owner, I've had my fun. Mind you it was nice catching up
with Bullets again. She still hates me and she's still a better crack shot than
she is cat burglar."
"So what do you want?" Erika pressed.
Patrick got up and wandered over, his boots
clomping on the wooden floors; stopping on the opposite side of the bench and
dropping his chin into the heel of his hand. "I wanted to see how
you were. I mean seeing you drugged up to the eyeballs hardly makes up for–"
Erika held her glare in place. "Stop wasting my time
Patrick, I know you're not here for
sentimental reasons. What do you want?"
Patrick sighed with a gesture of frustration. "Ok, ok. I need your
help."
Erika flicked up an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "Really? What about
Ilesha?"
"I don't want Ilesha involved
in this," Patrick muttered running his fingers through his
dark hair making it curl even more dramatically.
"Oh, so you thought you
would involve me. So considerate but also so typical of you," Erika sneered.
"Please, Erika. You don't think I would fly
down here, break into your apartment and be here pleading for nothing?" he repeated.
Erika leaned on the bench with a frustrated sigh. "What mess have you
gotten yourself into?"
"Someone double-crossed
me and they need to be taught a lesson."
"I thought everyone in
the music industry was out to backstab."
"This isn't the music industry.
He is a night-club owner but he dabbles in lots of other
things too. He owns a bunch of places, but I was going to buy one of his trashier
joints a do it up, a side project to keep me from stealing rare guitars and
getting into mischief. Ilesha loves clubbing, well so do I, clubbing is very
much part of our weekends and having our own would be cool. It was going to be
a birthday present to her; Bat City, I was going to call it too. Anyways, I
picked this place because of its location and the price was good. Money went
under the table and I thought it was sweet, until I turn up there a few days
later to find the place being demolished," Patrick explained.
Erika snorted with laughter. Patrick stopped and
glared. Erika turned the snort into a cough, mumbled an apology and motioned
for him to continue. "Turns out the club was
condemned and should never have been offered for sale. Naturally I can't take it to any legal
person because no one in their right mind buys property off a club owner
without putting it in black and white. But we were mates so I thought we were
sweet. Should have know it was too good to be true."
"So you intend to teach
him a lesson," Erika said.
"Yep."
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