Dare to Dance: The Maxwell Series Read Online Free Page A

the signs above the aisles, spotting the cold medicine near the pharmacy in the back of the store. I hurried down the outside aisle, away from the cashier who was ringing up a customer. I skirted a display of foil pans, boxes of pumpkin bread mix, and other items for Thanksgiving. At one time, I couldn’t wait for Mom’s turkey on Thanksgiving. Now, I hated the holiday that was only weeks away. While everyone stuffed themselves with turkey and said thanks for the things in their lives, I was dumpster diving for fresh scraps.
    Once in the aisle with all the cold medicine and pain relievers, I searched up and down for single packets of Advil.
    A short man, donning gold-rimmed glasses and a lab coat, walked up with a box of NyQuil in his hand. “Are you looking for something specific?”
    I’d like that box of NyQuil. “Do you have a packet of Advil?”
    “They’re located at the counter up front.” He placed the box of NyQuil on the shelf next to the cold medication.
    Somewhere, a phone rang, then the overhead speaker announced, “Pharmacy, call on line two.”
    “If you need anything else, let me know.” He darted out of sight.
    I kept my eyes on the man in the lab coat. He had his phone to his ear, reading a computer screen. Then I put my hand on the box of NyQuil. The price was way more than the three or so dollars I had on me.
    Norma’s voice blared inside my head. “Please don’t steal.”
    I didn’t want to, but she was in dire need of medicine. I looked up and down the aisle. The box of medicine seemed to burn in my hand. My heart sped up as it always did before I stole anything. Winter was the easiest time to steal since jackets and big coats could conceal most items. No one else was visible, except maybe the cameras somewhere in the store.
    In lightning speed, I grabbed the box of NyQuil, slipped it inside my coat pocket, then casually strolled up to the front counter. I was careful not to run even though my adrenaline was rushing through me like the rapids at Niagara Falls. I blew out a breath, trying to calm my racing heart as I dug into my pocket and retrieved my money.
    A young guy with zits all over his face smiled. “Can I help you?”
    “A packet of Advil?”
    The phone behind the counter rang. Zit Face picked it up. “Yes.” After a second, he glanced at me, drawing in his eyebrows.
    Busted. I bolted out of the store.
    “Hey, stop,” Zit Face shouted.
    Cold air stung my heated face as I sprinted across the street. Horns blew as I almost collided with an oncoming car. Someone was yelling, but I didn’t dare stop to look behind me. After running several blocks, I ducked into an alley to catch my breath. As my lungs expanded, I spotted a light seeping from underneath a door near a dumpster. A faint aroma of grease carried on the wind. I sniffed like a dog searching for his next meal, the scent pulling me deeper into the alley. The closer I got, the more my stomach growled. I peeked inside the door. Loud shouts and whistles trickled out along with heat, spice, and more grease. I licked my lips.
    The sound of an engine rumbled at the mouth of the alley. I skirted a box and hopped into the dumpster, a feat I’d become extremely good at. I landed on a bag of trash and something wet. The engine noise got louder, the lights of the vehicle spraying out. I crouched lower, holding my breath. A car door slammed. Then another. Deep male voices peppered the air. Please don’t let it be the cops.
    “The fight should yield us close to fifteen thousand dollars,” one guy with a gruff voice said.
    “Just make sure she shows. I’ll be taking your nuts if she doesn’t,” a deeper male voice added.
    Two beeps echoed before the voices disappeared.
    I poked my head out an inch above the dumpster and let out a sigh at the fact the dark-colored vehicle didn’t have lights on the hood or “police” written on the metal somewhere. At the same time, the need for food waned as my mind spun with the