Page 12 of Run, Little Thief

I wait with my eyes closed, pretending to nod off.

I wait until Reaper’s breathing calms down.

I wait until I’m one hundred percent sure he’s fast asleep.

Then I get up slowly, ever so slowly, grab my clothes and my bag, and sneak out.

Cold air hits me as I close the door quietly behind me. It must be early morning, because the first glimmers of sunlight are painting the sky pink.

I put on my clothes and bind the pieces of my shirt into a knot over my stomach. Then I take the bag and run.

I don’t turn around. I don’t look back.

I know the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands on my skin, and what he feels like deep inside of me. But I never saw his face, and I don’t know his real name.

And I never will.

It’s better that way, or I might turn up dead for real.

So I run, ignoring the small part of me that already misses the feel of him . . .

CHAPTER 6

REAPER

Something’s wrong. I know it the second I wake up and snap open my eyes.

Thick, grey stone walls, enormous windows partly boarded, and dim lighting.

I’m still in the abandoned church, sprawled on the floor behind the altar, mostly dressed but freezing. Because the warm body next to me is gone.

“Fuck.”

I jump up, my heart pounding in my ears, and frantically search the area, my gaze darting from corner to corner but coming up empty. There’s no sign of her or her stuff.

She’s gone.

And she still has the files.

My body moves before my brain can catch up. I zip my pants, snatch up my jacket, and follow the footsteps across the dusty floor. Footsteps that didn’t come from our brief fight yesterday. Footsteps that are fresh and lead straight to the doors.

I push them open and run outside.

Bright daylight hits my eyes. It’s cloudy as fuck but still too damn bright after the dimness of the church.

How late is it? How long was I out? I haven’t slept so deep and peacefully since . . .

Shit, I don’t even remember.

It wasn’t part of the plan to fuck the little thief in an abandoned old church and fall asleep with her in my arms. Nothing like that has ever happened before. My target is usually the only thing on my mind—there’s no place for anything or anyone else. I’m completely focused. Completely in control. It’s always been this way.

But I fucked up royally this time.

And the worst part? I don’t even regret it.

The chill wind tears at me, and the air smells like rain. The ground is dry, though, so I can follow her footsteps through the grass toward the street—but all trace of her ends there.

I take a quick look around. Green hills and a winding road, some houses in the distance, but no people. No cars. No sign ofher.