Page 3 of Hide, Little Thief

Heart in my throat, I grab my keys tighter and speed up. There’s pepper spray in my bag for emergencies, but taking it out seems a bit overkill. Especially since it’s illegal—but then again, so is stealing.

I’m not quite a law-abiding citizen anyway.

When I’ve almost reached the end of the alley, I hear footsteps behind me.

Slow at first, then faster.

I run toward the multi-lane street, toward other people and cars passing by, toward safety and⁠—

Arms grab me from behind.

A horrified scream rips from my body until a big hand slams down on my mouth, cutting me off.

My survival instinct kicks in, and I fight back fiercely. My elbow hits something, but my attacker doesn’t loosen his grip. Instead he pulls me even closer. I gasp for air, and everything stops.

The scent of ice and burning wood fills my nostrils. The scent of danger, death, and sin combined. It’s so familiar it’s almost painful.

This can’t be . . . It can’t be him.

La Guadaña.

The Grim Reaper.

Blood rushes in my ears. My muscles tremble from adrenaline and tension, but the fight leaves my body in an instant. Only my heart beats at an erratic pace, like it’s the only thing left in me still fighting.

Last time I saw him was in an abandoned church in the middle of nowhere, months ago. I might have prayed that night, but certainly not to God.

After all the dirty and downright sinful things we did there, I got away from him, and I covered my tracks, as I always do. When he didn’t come after me, I began to feel safe, sure I’d never see him again.

Until tonight.

Until now.

His hand’s still covering my mouth as he whispers in my ear: “You can’t hide from me, little thief.”

CHAPTER TWO

Fear and an irrational excitement blast through my veins. My blood runs cold, and my muscles tense, yet against my better judgment, I lean into him instead of fighting my way out.

“Reaper.”

It’s him. It’s truly him. The most dangerous man I’ve ever met. The cruel and deadly enforcer of Los Castillos, the Argentinian Mafia, who I stole something valuable from.

I got away from him last time, but now he’s found me again.

“It was you, wasn’t it, watching me all night working in the pub?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” His hot breath caresses my neck, and his dick hardens against my lower back.

Finally, my common sense rushes back in, and I ram my elbow into his ribs again. Then I step on his foot as hard as I can.

Thank God for high heels.

He cusses behind me but loosens his grip for just a second.

That’s all I need.

I break out of his embrace—and run.