chapter 9

I walked along the bar toward a large man up near the door. He was on the way to the restrooms, so I had a good excuse to pass him. I exaggerated my sway, just a little bit, making myself look drunker than I was. The guy had a goatee, a double chin, and a tiny sprout of hair at the top of his head. I noticed the Rolex first, then the way he leaned toward a much younger, much prettier girl and grinned at her with a creepy hunger in his eyes, and I’d watched him down three drinks since I’d started my first. He was rich, he was trying to impress a girl, and he was drunk, which made him ideal.

It wasn’t a complicated maneuver. Amber stared at me, wild and ready to get up and chase me down, so I hurried a little bit. I turned the corner toward the restrooms and bumped into the guy, grunting as I did it loudly. My hand slipped into the pocket of the jacket he had hung on his chair— found nothing.

“Shit, sorry,” I grunted, and slipped my hand into his pants pocket. It was tricky, but they we