Page 39 of Daddy's Obsession


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“Why did you leave the Red Ravens?” I ask as he searches folder after folder. I have no idea if he’s getting close to finding the blueprints. “Is it because of your daughter?”

“My daughter didn’t come into the picture until many years later.”

I nod slowly. “Ah, so you left because of a woman.”

Gabriel huffs. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that’s the way it usually works,” I answer with a shrug. “Dad almost left the life behind when he met my mother. At least, that’s what he told me.”

“I remember. Hailey used to give him grief about always being away on jobs.”

I blink up at him, curious. “You knew my mother?” I shuffle a bit closer to him, grasping him by the elbow. “Was she a thief, too?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “No. She was a civilian. A cop, actually.”

My head spins, marveling at this new information. Dad never talks about my mother, not because he doesn’t love her, but because he loves hertoomuch. I was obviously too young to understand what had happened, but her death had apparently shaken him to his core. I have very few stories about her, so I’m always thirsty for more.

“She was a cop? That’s so… ironic.”

Gabriel chuckles. “This was back in the early days of the crew, before we’d even given ourselves a name. Chet and I were working our way through Vegas, conning snake oil salesmen at a massive convention in town at the time. Hailey caught a whiff of our work and chased us up and down the Strip trying to catch us.”

I’m thoroughly enthralled and eager for him to go on, but Gabriel pulls up a file with a triumphant smile. It’s blindingly beautiful.

“Here it is,” he says, sounding relieved.

“Don’t tell me you were worried,” I tease him, already scanning the blueprints. “Can you send this to me? I’m going to need a copy to study once we get back to the hotel and—”

The sound of voices cuts me off. It sounds like there are two or three of them, growing louder and louder as they approach the office. Someone’s coming and there’s no time to hide. Gabriel and I exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. We’ll be in deep shit if we’re caught.

The door opens. In step two town hall clerks, one man and one woman. They’re even more surprised than we are when they see us. The man opens his mouth like he’s going to yell, but before he gets the chance, I vault over the desk and throw myself at him. I slap my hand over his mouth and wrap my arm around his throat, squeezing his windpipe in the crook of my elbow.

He bats at me, steps back and jams me against the wall in alarm. I don’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper harshly. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

The woman, wide-eyed and trembling, dashes for the heavy metal three-hole punch on the desk. She winds her arm back like she’s going to try and clock me over the head, but Gabriel’s too quick. He speedily hits her on the back of the neck, just below the base of the skull. Her eyes roll back as she falls unconscious. Gabriel catches her and lowers her to the ground gently while I struggle to knock my guy out. I’m not strong enough to do it and he has a stupidly fat neck.

Gabriel lunges forward. “Rocky, duck!”

I release the man and drop to the floor behind him just as Gabriel shoves him back. The man’s head hits the wall, the impact enough to render him unconscious. I catch the poor guy before he can hit the floor, carefully placing him on the floor so he doesn’t hurt himself. I run a hand over the back of his skull. There’s a small bump, but thankfully nothing too serious.

“Dammit,” I hiss. “We’re not supposed to hurt civilians.”

“We didn’t hurt them,” Gabriel quips. “We were helping them take a nap.”

I let out a soft laugh despite myself. “You know what I meant.”

“They’ll be fine, don’t worry. It was either this or they’d sound the alarm.”

I nod slowly. It was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Let’s get going,” I say. “We have what we came for.”

Chapter 16

Gabriel

“Shit,” Raquel grumbles, rubbing circles against her temple like she’s trying to crack a combination safe. “Shit, shit,shit.”

We’re back at the hotel. She’s set up a little workstation for herself, and by little, I mean she’s claimed the whole lounge area of our suite for herself. Raquel sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning over the glass coffee table that hosts at least five different cups of coffee —with cream and sugar, of course— a copy of the Van Straus property blueprint, and my laptop conducting several Google searches all at once. Her space is chaotic and messy, yet she looks right at home.

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