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Chanse and Angela weren’t exactly the type to make rules. They really only had two: make money, and don’t get caught. It worked fantastically, right up until it didn’t.
The result was that after five incredibly successful years, Angela was finally sitting inside of a jail cell. She had always wondered what it was like. Mostly it was boring. From what she’d heard, prison was where things got interesting. Jail just meant sitting around with nothing to do surrounded by obnoxious people, none of whom were Chanse. Angela couldn’t say she had a problem with the gender binary before that day, but now that it was responsible for the only person in the world she actually cared about being placed in a different holding cell, she suddenly wished it were a real, physical thing that she could make explode.
Angela never actually checked what the punishment was for bank robbery, but there was no way it was pretty. Especially not when Chanse’s favorite gun was extremely illegal and Angela kept grenades in her back pocket. They had to be looking at two decades apart. Angela hadn’t gone longer than 24 hours without seeing Chanse since she was nineteen.
She really should have spent less time learning how to make explosives and more time researching prison breaks.
Angela didn’t know anything about how legal proceedings worked. Knowing would give her something to be afraid of. She ran best when she barely let herself think, much less overthink. Chanse would know the details. Chanse could probably guess exactly how they’d be sentenced. Hell, if Angela could just manage to sneak over to the men’s side of the jail, he probably already had half of an escape plan formulated. Angela didn’t know how she’d get over there, but it didn't matter. Whatever the goal was, as soon as she got going, her instincts and muscle memory figured it out. Their rendezvous would have to wait until the middle of the night, though. Until then, she was stuck with nothing to do except watch the randos in her cell.
At least, that was what Angela thought. Instead, one of the guards approached the bars, unlocked the door, and announced, “Angela Giarratana. Your bail’s been posted. You’re free to go.” Given that she spoke to exactly one other person and he was in the other holding cell, Angela had no clue who could have paid her bail, but she wasn’t about to let a good thing go to waste.
The first thing she saw when she made it to the lobby was a wide-eyed Chanse. She resisted the urge to hug him long enough to see what he was staring at. There were three people standing in a line. All appeared to be women. One was white and blonde, one was Asian, and the last was Black. They were unarmed and dressed in t-shirts and jeans, but Angela still knew gang members when she saw them. People held themselves differently when they knew they were threatening.
Before Angela had even stopped working, the blonde spoke. “I’m Boho. This is Butterfly and Andromeda. We’ll answer all your questions as soon as we get in the car.”
“Excuse me? I don’t know you and you expect me to get in your car?” Sometimes Angela wished she thought before she spoke. This time, she was pretty damn sure everything she said was entirely reasonable.
“Well, we just paid half a million dollars to get you out of here,” answered the one that Angela thought was Andromeda. “If you just pay us back, you can head on your way.” She flashed the kind of smile that wasn’t supposed to look sweet. It was supposed to look like a threat. It worked.
“After you then, ladies!” Chanse exclaimed, shooting Angela a glance. As soon as the three others had their backs turned, Angela slipped her hand into Chanse’s. He squeezed lightly, and she squeezed back. It wasn't a hug, but it would have to do. In that moment, Chanse's touch was the one thing that made any sense.
They were led into a black SUV. Boho and Andromeda took the back two seats and Butterfly took the driver’s, leaving Angela and Chanse trapped in the middle. At least sitting together meant Angela could keep hold of Chanse’s hand.
Before the car was even moving, Andromeda began to speak. “We’ve had our eyes on you for a while.” There was a flirty edge to her words.
Chanse had clearly been trying to keep his face somewhat pleasant while they were still in the police station, but any hint of friendliness slipped right off as he responded. “First, I’m gay. Second, we work alone.”
“We know,” Boho cut in. “You already told Shayne. He’s the short, buff blonde guy.”
Angela looked towards Chanse and raised an eyebrow. He’d told her that he’d gotten an offer from someone while he was making a supply run, but not what they’d looked like. Chanse gave her a nod in return. So that was Shayne. These people had been following them for at least a few days. Angela wasn’t known for her brains, but she could put two and two together. Clearly there was a reason this latest heist had failed, and it wasn’t that the cops had suddenly gotten good at their jobs. From the sudden widening of Chanse’s eyes, he knew it too.
“You snitched on us so we’d have no other option,” Angela said.
Boho shrugged. “You’ve got options. If you’ve got half a million to pay us back and can get yourself found not guilty, you’re free to go.”
“You can get us out of the charges?” Angela wasn’t exactly buying it. Their old gang had been crafty, but their bribes held no weight in the courts. Everyone knew that if they got caught, that was it. No one would come to save them. That was part of the reason Chanse and Angela had left. What was the point of being under someone else’s control if they didn’t even keep you safe?
Andromeda smiled. “As soon as you say yes, our hackers will erase your charges from the system. It’ll be like you were never in jail at all.”
So one of the problems of working with others was solved. This crew could guarantee protection. Angela might as well ask about the other. “How much autonomy will we have?”
“You’ve got a system that works,” Boho said. “We don’t want to get in the way. We just want you going after our targets. We’ll get you more training, and we’ll pull you into our team for bigger jobs. But as long as we get a cut, you can keep doing your thing on the side.”
Angela looked at Chanse again. They didn’t exactly have a choice, but it didn’t sound bad, either. It was really just riding on what he thought. Knowing Chanse, he had to have at least one thing to ask.
“Is that Shayne guy gay?” Angela shouldn’t have been surprised that was the question. She was surprised, but she shouldn’t have been.
“Chanse,” Angela hissed. “You’re taken, remember?”
“Not for hookups I’m not,” Chanse responded.
As they pulled into a red light, Angela was suddenly aware that both Boho and Andromeda were giving them a certain kind of look. That look was the third reason they’d stopped working with anyone but themselves.
Butterfly turned around. “So, he’s gay, but you two are dating?”
“Olivia!” The look on Boho’s face said that this wasn’t the first time they’d had to tell Butterfly—Olivia—whoever—to watch her mouth.
“Erin and Spencer will kill us if we don’t tell them,” Olivia responded.
“Olivia! The light is green!” Andromeda shouted, and Olivia whipped back around to accelerate hard.
Theoretically, Chanse and Angela could take advantage of the pause to change the subject. From the look on his face, Chanse was thinking of ways to do just that. Angela knew better. It would come up eventually anyway. “We’re exclusive. We’re not dating. Don’t pretend to understand it. Nobody does.”
The silence that followed was impressive. Her relationship with Chanse was the only thing Angela ever found that could shut up gang members.
Finally, when everyone had enough of being stunned, Olivia asked, “so who wins the bet, then?”
“We all know that when Erin says ‘dating,’ she means fucking,” Andromeda answered. “Let Spencer have it.”
Chanse squeezed Angela's hand. She didn't have to look at him to know what it meant. They'd survived the scrutiny. For the moment, they were in the clear. When they met the rest of the gang, they'd no doubt have to answer more questions, but for at least five minutes, they could breathe. Angela closed her eyes and tried to let the nervous energy leave her system.
Chanse took the next question. “So if she's Olivia, do we get to know your real names?”
Andromeda started off with “Well I'm-” before Boho cut her off.
“Are you joining us?” Their tone was harsh. The other two seemed to joke some, but at least then, Boho was all business. “We’re almost to the penthouse. We need a decision.”
Angela opened her eyes again and turned to Chanse. He nodded. She nodded back.
“We're in,” they said in unison without even trying.
“Awesome!” For the first time since they met her, Boho gave them a smile. It was wide and warm, the kind of smile worth waiting for. “I'm Courtney.” She extended a hand out over the seat for them to shake.
Andromeda put her own hand over the seat, too. “I'm Jackie. Nice to meet you.”
Angela shook Courtney’s hand, and Chanse shook Jackie’s. Then they turned back to each other. Chanse looked nervous, and Angela knew she looked the same. The best plan was to look cool and professional, but Angela couldn’t manage that for much longer. They’d been pulled into one hell of a mess. Instead, Angela did the one thing she’d been longing to do all day and pulled Chanse into a hug. “Let’s do this,” she whispered.
“Let’s do this,” he whispered back. When they pulled apart, Chanse was smiling. Angela was too. Whether this new gang would be any good or not, at least they were in it together.