As quickly as I hit the turf, I’m up and using my hands to propel me further as I take off on a dead sprint, headed straight for the trees. I run as fast as I can, knowing every step. I run the estate often. It isn’t just for the exercise; it’s to do some recon and learn everything I can about this place. You never know what information might come in handy one day.
I suck in a breath, evening it out as I get closer to the edge of the property. The hardest part of sneaking out of here is the wall. It wasn't until the first time I’d scaled it that I realized the top was lined with electricity. A lesson I’ll not soon forget. I grab the stone and climb quickly. Then I grip the top edge and maneuver myself so that I can clear the pinnacle without touching it. No need to shock the hell out of myself again. Once was more than sufficient for me.
When I start to make my move, my left foot loses its grip, and I almost tumble into the bushes below. Out of desperation, I grab the top of the wall. I wince against the shock, but nothing comes. I pull myself up.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. The electricity must be off today. I make note of the time because maybe it’s a maintenance thing. When I jump down the outside, the car I called is there waiting for me. I run to it and hop into the back.
“Where to tonight?” Jewels asks. I met her the first night I snuck out. She drove me, and I paid her. Whenever I call, she comes. We’ve slowly formed a friendship. It might be one-sided. I’m basically paying her to hang out with me.
“Know any pawn shops?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says as she pulls away.
I drop my head back, catching my breath as I pull the necklace out to look at it. My eyes go to the giant stone. The necklace really is breathtaking. I can tell that it was crafted with love. That thought has me gripping it tighter.
If Cesar planned to give this to his favorite mistress--though I’ve never seen any other women at the estate--she’ll be sorely disappointed. Good. I stow it in my pocket and imagine the look on Cesar’s face if he ever realizes I’m the one who stole it. Fear and warmth mix until I can’t help but smile, because I may not be able to strike my captor directly, but I can give him hell all the same.
3
Cesar
The car moves expertly through traffic, but I follow at a reasonable distance. My little mouse never knows the cat is always on the prowl, and that’s the way I want it. She lives in the cage of my estate. She has to for her own safety. But we’ve never had that discussion, and I don’t intend to do so anytime soon.
So, instead, I watch her, keep her safe, and try to be a better man. Watching her is easy. The other two? Not quite as much. She hasn’t picked up a tail today, other than me, but some days I have to destroy her enemies at the end of my knife. It’s all worth it.
The car turns onto the highway, and I follow as Jewels jets down the fast lane, eventually getting over to exit in a seedier area of town. They stop in front of a dingy pawn shop with a flickering sign that promises to buy gold and guns for fair prices.
My little mouse never sells what she steals. Why is she starting now?
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as she and her friend, Jewels, walk into the store. A few guys down the block get rowdy as a train rolls past a few streets down the road. I want to know what she’s doing, but I can’t go into the store. She may not see much of me, but when she does, she seems to make a study of my face. Staring, memorizing, hating.
After a few tense moments, they return to Jewels’s car and pull back onto the street, then head toward the highway. I’m tracking them, so I can spare a moment to inquire about what they were doing in the shop.
Parking out front, I jump out of my car and hurry inside.
“--idiot girl selling this to me for a song.” The proprietor laughs as he holds the necklace I chose specifically for my darling mouse.
“I’ll buy it.” I stride up, and the man looks up at me with bloodshot eyes.
“Not for sale.” He gives me a suspicious glare.
“This is a shop, is it not?”
“No.” He stands. “Not for you. Get out.”
“Why?” I don’t reach for my weapon. I don’t do anything except stare down at the skinny man with my mouse’s necklace clutched in his sweaty palm. I’ll have to have it professionally cleaned after this.
“Because it’s mine. Now leave.” He reaches under the counter for what I’m certain is a shotgun. “Or are we going to have a problem?”
I hold my hands up. “No problem.”
He relaxes. Like the fool he is.
I jump the counter and bring my knife down on his hand, piercing it as he screams and drops the necklace. I catch it, pocket it, then wrench his arm behind his back and force him face down to the floor.
“Quit screaming. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
He doesn’t stop, so I pull my pistol and use the butt to knock him out. Rising quickly, I wipe my bloody knife on his shirt, then enter the back of the shop. His cameras are hard-wired to a recording system. I destroy it and snatch the hard drive—no cloud to worry about. Once I’m done, I retrace my steps and check his log book that lies open on the counter.
“Five hundred dollars? That’s all you gave her?” I have the inclination to kill him for giving her so little for the necklace that is clearly worth six figures. Instead, I pull out five hundreds and drop them on the counter, then walk into the breezy night.
I catch up with them half an hour later as they sit in a greasy spoon near the northern edge of town.
My mouse likes her burgers and fries, though she seems to burn them off with her daily laps in the pool and constant practice in her makeshift gym. She stretches, tumbles, and climbs like she was born to be a trapeze artist. I could watch her for hours, and sometimes I do.
Another car pulls up to the side of the diner, the BMW’s dark windows hinting at trouble inside. It’s been a while--eight months--since anyone’s found her, but here we are again. I suspect it must be because of Jewels. Not that she’s snitching on my little mouse, but that someone knows Valentina has struck up a friendship with her.
If I were a colder man, I’d get rid of Jewels to keep my little mouse safe, but it would hurt Valentina too much to lose her only friend, so I can’t do it. Which is why--I pull my gun and slide my knife into my other palm--I have to keep an eye on her.
The BMW doors open, and a man steps out, a lit cigarette in one hand as his eyes linger on my little mouse. I will kill him for that alone, because I see the hunger in him, the way his mind calculates whether he can get away with tasting her before ending her life. Red swims in my vision at his impertinence.
He tosses his cigarette and blows a plume of smoke before reaching behind his back and pulling his gun.
I open my car door and step out, then stretch as if I’m simply a weary traveler looking for a meal. A streetlight nearby flickers on at the exactly wrong moment. I can only hope my little mouse is too preoccupied with her food to look outside.
The man’s gaze flits to me then away as he takes two steps toward my Valentina.
I’m on him before he can turn around, and I shove my knife so deep inside him that his heart’s blood coats my hand. “You come for the Cruz women, then you come for death.” I twist the blade as he shakes a little, then I drag him back to his car, throw him to the ground beside it, pop the trunk, then deposit him inside.