Page 5 of Hide, Little Thief

Blood thunders in my ears. Fear coils in my stomach.

I should fight. I should run and hide, scream for help at the very least, because this . . .

This is the stuff nightmares are made of.

But I don’t do any of these things. On the outside, I stay calm, not moving an inch, even when Reaper’s grip loosens a bit.

On the inside, however? I’m fucking terrified. Terrified of them and what they’ll do to me, but also terrified of another emotion lingering in the dark, right under my fear. A rush of adrenaline. A sizzling heat I shouldn’t feel in this situation. Definitely not when it comes to Reaper and his friend.

Reaper grabs my elbow. “Now, be a good girl and come back inside with us. Or do you want the entire street as witnesses?”

I swallow hard, fighting the lump in my throat. “Depends on what you two plan to do to me.”

If they want to torture or kill me, then hell yes, I want some witnesses. As many as I can get.

But if things take a different turn tonight, like back then, in the church . . .

Oh well.

Wet heat pools in my core when I think of all the possibilities. But deep down, there’s still a healthy dose of fear, because I don’t know these men. Not really. Even Reaper, the man who fucked me senseless in an abandoned church, remains a mystery to me.

He’s dangerous and deadly. And he’s loyal only to his Mafia boss.

I will never allow myself to forget that.

“So, what’s it gonna be, little thief?” Reaper’s hand feels warm and firm at the small of my back. He’s not forcing me, but I know he will if I don’t comply. He has the means and the motive to do anything he deems fit to get what he came here for. And in the end, that’s not me. He didn’t show up here because he misses me or can’t stand another second without me by his side.

He came for the files I stole from his boss.

And to punish me.

I nod slightly, forcing my legs to move, and set one foot in front of the other, heading back to the pub. Both men flank me, one beside me and the other behind me, blocking any chance of an escape.

“I’ll take that.” The stranger slips his index finger under the strap of my bag, slowly dragging it from my shoulder as if he expects me to fight him for it.

I don’t. I let him take it even though my phone is in there. My car keys. My pepper spray. My ID.

With a quick glance, I make sure the camera above the back door still works and is recording everything. Should I go missing tonight, I want to make it as easy as possible for the police to find my murderer.

Then I unlock the door and lead them back into the bar.

My heart thunders in my chest, and my mind races, imagining each possible and impossible way this could go down. Imagining how I might get out of this alive—though I’m still not sure I even want to get out. The dangerous mix of fear and excitement is like a shot to my veins.

My mind screams at me that this is a terrible idea, but I go on with it. It’s not like I have any choice.

As we head through the pub, I catch sight of the corner table and can’t help but wonder. Was it him? Was that Reaper without his mask, hiding in the shadows, watching me from afar? Or was it this new friend of his? Is this all a setup?

But how did he find out my real name, let alone where I work when I’m not running around stealing stuff for my clients?

My boss’s office is off-limits even for the staff, but it’s also the only place I might find something to help me get out of this alive. A hidden weapon. A phone. Anything.

Once we’re inside, I flick on the lights. My eyes scan the small room: on one side the desk, on the other a bright green couch. An old map of the UK hangs on the wall above it, though it sadly doesn’t help me plan my escape route.

No weapon in sight. Not even a phone.

Reaper closes the door with a soft click behind us, and I freeze.

Each of these men are intimidating on their own, but together? In the same room as me? Watching me like hungry predators just waiting for their turn to play with their prey?