Thief: The Scarab Beetle Series: #1 (The Academy) by C. L. Stone Page A

your wallet. You’ll never get it back.
    A palm dropped on the back of my head, nudging. “What are you doing? Spacing out?”
    “Shut up.” I tried to karate chop him in the arm, but he dodged and then swooped in and popped me on the head.
    “Too slow,” he said, with a teasing grin on his face. I grunted, hating that he was being cute. It made it difficult to stick to my initial plan to not like him.
    He glanced around my head. I turned in reaction but slowly, worried he was going to distract me and pop me on the head again.
    My side door opened, and a face leaned in, gazing at the both of us. He had thick brown hair, cropped short, but left a little long in the front near his face so he had a little bit sticking up. Brown eyes, a couple of days’ worth of unshaven growth around his strong chin. His black tank top revealed heavily tattooed arms, one covered in tribal marks and the other an ongoing art depiction of roses, one of a knife and barbed wire, and a few more things blended in I couldn’t see yet because it twisted to the other side of his bicep. He had two earring studs in his left lobe, and a lip ring.
    He took one glance at me and smiled big.
    “In the back, Raven,” Marc said.
    “Scoot over, little thief. It’s tight in the back.” His deep voice had a gruff tone, like he talked a lot. He had an accent. It almost sounded Russian.
    Marc sighed and lifted the middle console. I harrumphed but slid over. I tried glaring at the dashboard, not wanting to be noticed, but despite my being irritated, Raven was pretty hot. The black tank shirt was tight to his body, and he wore dark blue jeans and boots.
    Did the secret police somehow just happen to recruit the best looking guys? I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I kind of didn’t mind this. What really drove me crazy was they knew more about me than I did of them.
    Marc pulled out of the lot. Raven stabbed his seatbelt into place and then planted an arm around my shoulders, holding onto the side of Marc’s headrest.
    “So this is our thief?” Raven asked. “I expected someone ...”
    I turned my head, meeting his dark eyes and dared him to say blond or with bigger boobs ... or that he expected me to be a boy.
    He smirked, his lip ring protruding. “Uglier,” he said, thickening the accent.
    “I could show you ugly if you’d like,” I said.
    Raven huffed once. “With that face? I doubt it.”
    I didn’t have a comeback for that, but my insides were squirming. “Where are we going now?” I asked.
    “We’ll go meet up with the guys,” Marc said. He picked up his cell phone, and started poking at the screen. “Let me wait to talk about it there so I’m not repeating myself.”
    “You need to call the boss and wake him up,” Raven said. He nudged his side into mine, leaning a little into me, more than he needed. “He wanted in on this.”
    “Who’s the boss?” I asked. “You mean that old man?”
    “Dr. Roberts,” Marc said, still poking a text message while he was driving. He didn’t seem to struggle with handling both, but it still made me nervous.
    “Do you mean Dr. Roberts? He’s your boss?”
    “No,” Marc said.
    “Is it the tall guy?”
    “Huh?”
    “The guy who wore the red jacket yesterday?”
    He poked at his phone more. “Nuh uh.”
    I glanced at him and then the road. I wasn’t sure he was paying attention to me or the road. He was following another car way closer than I was comfortable with. Since he was still playing with his phone, I snagged it from his hands.
    Marc grunted. “Give it back, Bambi.”
    “Stop calling me that. And I’ll text for you. Keep your eyes on the road.” I glanced at the screen. “Who’s Jenny?”
    Marc scowled at me. “Ex-girlfriend.”
    Jenny: I want to talk to you.
    Marc: I don’t want to talk.
    Jenny: I just need to know.
    “A clinger, huh?” I asked.
    Raven laughed next to me. “All American girls are like that. Even a few of the boys.”
    “How would you know?” Marc