Their thief was young, fast, agile, and clearly knew the Historic District as well as they did, which made catching him a challenge. The Historic District wasn’t just full of tourists, but also countless side streets, narrow alleys, walls, hedges, and fences. Buildings were clustered together, trees and shrubbery obstructing their view. Most of the buildings were low, a large number of which sported wood balconies, like the one their thief had just vaulted himself onto.
“I’m on him,” Joker shouted before whistling. Chip emerged from an alley on the other side of the brick road Joker had just turned off of.
“Joker’s not going to make it,” Maury said from Jack’s right.
“He’ll make it,” Jack assured him.
“That balcony is way out of his reach,” Sil added, concerned.
“Everything is way out of his reach,” Megan offered. “My grandmother is out of his reach.”
“You wanna say that to his face?” Maury teased.
Megan paled at the thought. “Oh hell no.”
Jack’s team was all too familiar with Joker and the many chips on his shoulder, none of which were the cute furry variety. Despite his height, or lack thereof, Joker was a natural gymnast, had even won trophies in school when he was younger. There wasn’t a sport his best friend hadn’t mastered, everything from baseball to golf.
As the smallest kid in their school, Joker had decided he wasn’t going to be bullied. Years of foster care in environments no kid should ever experience had taught him to fight like a lion. He had something to prove to himself and the world. Jack had always admired that about him. No one told Sacha Wilder what he could and could not do, and heaven help the poor bastard who tried.
Joker picked up speed, and Jack’s team leaned forward, gaping in awe as he jumped onto the steel railing of the ramp with his right foot and used the high white fence to his left to launch himself toward the green wooden balcony on the far right, grabbing the bottom of one of the beams before vaulting himself up and over.
“Holy shit!” Sil shook his head in disbelief. “He’s like a tiny ninja.”
That was a pretty apt description. Unlike Joker, athletics had never come easy for Jack. He’d been the science nerd, the kid fascinated by technology who’d avoided PE at all costs. He’d done a great deal of running as a kid. Not for sports, but to get away from the bigger kids looking to shove him into a locker or beat him up. When he and Joker joined the Army, Jack had feared he’d never make it through basic training, much less what came after, but Jack and Joker shared a stubborn streak.
The more anyone tried to beat Jack into submission, the harder he fought. He’d been determined to prove he wasn’t the loser the bullies claimed him to be. It might not have been the best motivation to become a soldier, but at eighteen years old and desperate to be more than what he was, it seemed like the right decision. To this day, Jack wondered if he’d have made it without Sacha by his side, or the men he now called family. Life might have presented Jack with a regret or two, but serving alongside his brothers-in-arms wasn’t one of them.
Just as Joker made a dive for their guy, the thief flew off the balcony onto the balcony of the martini bar.
Megan opened a packet of Skittles and popped a couple into her mouth. “Shit. If he makes it to A1A, he’s either going to get hit by a car or catch a ride on one of the trollies.”
“Forget the trollies,” Jack said, frowning at his screen as he carefully steered the drone between two buildings, crowded palm trees, and screeching seagulls looking for scraps of food left behind by messy humans. “He can’t keep this up. The heat’s going to take him down long before the guys do. Heatstroke is real, my friend.”
Ace, Joker, Jack, and the rest of the Kings had been trained to endure adverse weather conditions through the roughest terrain while carrying loads of heavy equipment, and in Joker’s case the addition of a furry soldier. Early June in Florida meant the temperature outside was still in the eighties, but the stifling humidity and scorching summer sun could do some real damage.
Jack held out his hand, and Meg poured Skittles into his palm. “Emmett?”
“You know it.”
“Why does he only give you candy?” Maury asked, sounding affronted by the very