I stood at the foot of the unmarked grave, looking down at the wooden box; the dirt cast aside forming a loose pile on the dead grass. This place hasn’t been visited in decades, being abandoned by the old church.

This is the fifth grave I’ve dug up, and it better be the one. I’m tired, and panting heavily as I try to catch my breath. Sunrise is coming, and I need this done soon.

I slowly lifted the lid, the old, rusted hinges creaking loudly. If I wasn’t found out yet, I was now.

Bingo.

The skeleton lie bare, nothing but musty bones left. A golden chain wrapped around the spine, just above the shoulders. This is the one.

Right as I’m shifting his skull, giggle the chain free, I hear the familiar thump of footsteps behind me.

Shit.

Without care for the remains, I yank the chain free and stuff it into the pocket of my dust-caked pants.

“Who’s there?” I call out.

The footsteps cease.

Silence.

We’re playing this game? Fine.

I climb out of the grave, and dust myself off. As I look up, I’m met with the sight of a woman. Not just any woman though, one that looks like me.

We’re sporting the same style cargo pants and a black hoodie. Is she here for the same thing I am? Probably.

“Good luck, I’ve been searching all damn night.” I scoff, feigning ignorance of the chain nestled deep in my pocket.

She looks me over, a single eyebrow arches in curiosity.

Then, she speaks.

Her voice is gruff, toned with years of hardship and experience.

“You’re lying.”

So, she is here for the same thing. Well, goodluck to her; I found it first.

“I’m lying? Why would I lie when there’s four other graves desecrated around me? If I had it, I wouldn’t stick around to let you take it.”

There’s only one thing on my mind—who does she work for? Not many people know this place still exists, and even less know of the object. The chance that we both would meet tonight, for the same thing, is odd.

“You’re still lying,” she states, no hesitation; she doesn’t even have to weigh my words to know the truth.

“Who do you work for?”

Another thing that wasn’t common: grave robbers for hire. Most weren’t willing to risk the high-felony for desecration. But I am, and apparently so is she. Or maybe not. Maybe she waited until I did the dirty work.

“Jamison,” she answers.

“Me too..” I step closer. Why had he hired both of us to find the same item? Did he believe I wouldn’t succeed?

“You’re lying, again,” her word take on a more irritated tone.

“I’m not. I have his card to prove it.”

I toss a small card at her feet. His logo and number is printed on the face of it. Not many would understand, but I know she will.

“Huh..”

“Do you finally believe me?” I take another step closer; her beauty becoming more apparent with each decrease in distance.

“Maybe.”

She is short and to the point, careful not to speak too much. I like her.

“That’s better than no.”

I study her, allowing my eyes to trace over every inch of her. She’s gorgeous. Her even, brown hair falls gracefully over her shoulders. She holds herself with confidence and pride—she knows what she’s doing.

Her eyes do the same, but definitely for different reasons. She’s analyzing me, trying to deem if I’m a threat or not. While I’m admiring her. She’s not scared of me; I’m not scared of her.

“Come.” She gives me no time to respond before she’s stepping away.

Rude.

I follow in tow. I want to conversate—get to know her—but I highly doubt she’ll give me more than a few words.

“Sooooo… what’s your name?”

“Lisa.”

“Great! I’m Marco.”

She turns slightly, looking me over. Oh, jesus christ!

“Why another lie?”

I stop, raising an eyebrow. Did she just claim I was lying about my own name.

“I’m not. Marco’s the name, grave robbing’s my game.” I smirk, proud of my little quip.

“It’s Marcus.”

Okay, how the HELL does she know that?

“Not anymore. Don’t call me that.”

“Okay.”

Wow, she’s so damn dry; it’s kind of hot.