Free Fake: The Scarab Beetle Series: #3 (The Academy) by C. L. Stone Page A

underneath the staircase and break into the garage.
    Guess where Axel headed?
    “There could be a security alarm,” I whispered to him as I followed.
    “Quiet,” Marc said, surprising me by responding at all. “And stay close. Go where I do.”
    Axel walked up to the door, jiggled the handle and waited. He did it again and then waited again. He examined the door closer, pulling out a keychain with a flashlight attached. He aimed it at the door, examining the lock.
    I turned around, scouting the area. We were shadowed by the staircase, and there weren't any front lights on. I angled to keep myself between his light and any neighbors that might be snooping.
    Breaking and entering was worse than getting caught pickpocketing. I was on edge, waiting for an alarm. I turned, trying to look the other way when Marc materialized in front of my face, closer than he’d been before. My heart leapt.
    “Ugh,” I whispered. “You scared the sh—”
    “Shh,” he said.
    “Come on,” Axel whispered.
    I turned, and Axel had the door open. He was holding it and gesturing I should enter. He was going to play courteous Southern gentleman now? I smothered a groan and walked in. Maybe he wanted me to get shot first if the widow got spooked and came down with a loaded gun.
    The garage was wider than I thought with two cars parked on either side, one was a minivan. Yup. Family. There were kids. Shit.
    “We can’t be here,” I whispered. I wasn’t going to spook some mom when her husband just died and with kids here.
    Axel moved forward, close enough that his chest pressed against my back. His hand slipped over my mouth, covering it.
    His breath fell against my ear. “Listen,” he whispered. “We’re going to get some information and slip out again, but I can’t do it if you’re talking. I need you as quiet as possible. Please.” He wasn’t fooling any more. He was begging.
    I nodded against the hand pressed against my mouth. When he released me, he moved to the lead. I looked behind us. Marc was at the door, holding it open, keeping an eye on the street and the neighborhood, being a lookout.
    There were boxes stacked together on shelving near the back. Trash bins were against the wall. There was old workout equipment in the corner. The cars were newer models, the inside of the minivan was spotless but there was a car seat. There were a couple of bicycles, one with training wheels, and a tricycle.
    Axel tucked his head around the other car, a smaller SUV. He tried the handle, no luck: it was locked. He was lucky the alarm wasn’t set to super sensitive.
    He was so quiet, he could have been floating. He went over to the boxes, examining the different ones. He pointed to me, and then pointed to the trash cans.
    I shook my head. No way was I digging through trash.
    He pointed again, more insistent this time and I scowled. Kayli Winchester went from pickpocket to trash diving. Not exactly a promotion.
    The trash bins were big, blue, and there was a recycling bin next to it. I tried the recycling first, old cans, newspapers, glass wine bottles…a lot of them. Poor lady. Her husband was dead. Couldn’t blame her. For that reason, though, I had to leave the recycle bin alone. The cans and bottles made it impossible to move much around without them clanging against each other.
    The blue bins held black trash bags. I gazed in at them, trying to figure out the contents just by looking at the outside. What was I supposed to do with these?
    I glanced back at Axel, he pulled a box down, opened it and examined the contents. He closed it again, pulled another down and then opened that one.
    I groaned. He was making noise. I listened, not hearing anything coming from the house, but not trusting my ears. Kids were a problem. They wake up easily. They move quietly and could spot us and alert their mom. 
    Taking too long would get us caught. I ripped open the trash bag on top, examining. This one was filled with typical kitchen garbage, the