Thief at Heart [On Hold.]

Chapter 7

Hey guys(:

Enjoy. And tell me you don't love the song! I love Maroon 5 for making it<3

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I threw on my jacket, zipped up, and rushed out the door, calling, "Landon, I'm out!"

He appeared at the door behind me, instantly. "Where are you going?" he asked suspiciously.

I raised my eyebrows. "Out with my boyfriend."

There was a slightly irritated expression on his face. "Don't come barging into my house in the middle of the night."

"Right." I walked out the door. Michael waited outside. He greeted me with a peck on the cheek and a blank smile.

"Hey."

"Hey," I said, with a lot more enthusiasm. "I missed you!" Before he could get in the car, I hugged him tight. Michael was stiff for a moment, then he hugged me back.

"Missed you, too."

I slipped into the the passenger's seat. "Liar," I said with a quick smile. He winked. "So what's this house like?"

"Easy," he told me confidently, "you'll have no trouble. Just watch out for the dog."

"What kind?"

He smirked. "Pitbull."

"Pitbull?" I shrieked. I lowered my voice to a hush, "Pitbull?"

"It's...small."

"Do you want me to die?"

"If I answered that question," Michael parried seriously, "I'd have to kill you myself."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you don't attempt that all the time?"

He grinned, shaking his head. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the world flying by as we sped past. We stopped eventually, in a cul-de-sac. The entire area was empty. It was barely ten, so, of course, the lights were on. People moved in the light. Michael and I waited for about half an hour. Eventually, the lights went off - all except one - and six people climbed into a car. Twenty minutes later, I was in the house, sliding in from the back door. It was one of those upper-middle class American houses: two stories, five bedrooms, three-and-a-half bathrooms, two living rooms, a family room, den, kitchen, and game room. The backyard was large, filled with a pool, barbecue, and eight-seater patio table.

Nice.

I made my way up the stairs quickly. I was wearing ballet flats. I had spent hours wearing them down with sandpaper, to get rid of the clicky heel.

"Wow," I breathed, taking in the sight. "This is what I call rich." The entire hallway was filled with relics, with gold and silver plaits and ornaments. I inhaled deeply through my nose. This would be enough to pay off Michael, for the first month.

Unbuttoning my trench coat, I pulled out the woven black sack I had tucked into my inner pocket. Lithely, I crept forward and shoved everything I could find into the sack. Once the hallway had been cleared of all valuables, I moved into the bedrooms. The first was a guest. There was nothing interesting there. The second had a Macbook. I slid that in. The third had some expensive-looking jewelry and an iPad 2. My sack grew.

By the time I was done - which, thanks to my speed - was only an hour after I had come in, I had raided all of the rooms in the house and my sack was bulging and my arms were sore. Heaving it over my shoulder, I slipped out of the house, down the side, to the door that lead me back outside.

Unfortunately, a low snarling prevented me from reaching that door.

I froze.

The snarling grew louder.