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Strap Dubois was back, and there was no way he was ever going to lose his freedom again. He preferred death to prison.
Because of the rush of excitement and the glee of regaining his autonomy, Strap missed out on asking General Nydia why she was so interested in finding Mick. She kept her reasons quite vague, which was a curious thing.
Was Mick still up to his old ways? And if he was, had he managed to amass even greater wealth than what Strap could recall?
Rage slowly seeped into his veins. His claws unsheathed, imagining himself tearing into Mick’s torso once he found the old man. For being a traitor. A damned Benedict Arnold.
Encircling the condominium complex where Hidalgo lived, he spotted a figure dressed in dark clothing emerging from a door on the rooftop. The person glanced around, spinning a few times on their heels to make sure they weren’t being followed.
There he is. He zeroed in on the figure, recognizing those agile movements and overt caution when no one else was around to see.Mick.
Using a drone, Mick flew a cable to the neighboring building that would allow him to zipline across.
He can use technology? He isn’t as senile as I remember.Strap shifted his flight pattern, taking him closer to the other building. Mick was already ziplining across.
He’s in better shape too. He wasn’t doing all this the last time I saw him. Lazy ass.
Upon landing, Mick ran toward the door that gave roof access. Strap landed soon afterward, shifting into his human form, bare and vulnerable but with a fire in his eyes for revenge.
“Mick!” Strap yelled, voice echoing.
Turning, Mick sent him a quick look through his mask before shooting his gun. Strap dodged narrowly, cursing under his breath before shifting into a panther. No way this old piece of shit was going to escape him. He had waited years for his chance at vengeance.
Thankfully, felines were much faster than humans. Stronger too. It didn’t take much to tackle Mick at the door. Strap was surprised his bones didn’t break on collision, and with a secure hold on the man’s torso, Strap shifted back to his human form.
He sniffed a few times, impressed by the smell. “New cologne, Mick?” He cracked a grin, pressing down on Mick’s forearms and reaching for the mask. He wanted to see his expression. He wanted to stare into his eyes and tell him how the tables have turned.
But a woman stared back at him when he snatched off the mask.
“What the fuck?” Strap blurted out.
The woman gritted her teeth. She responded with an uppercut to his chin, sending him sprawling to the ground.
TWO
MICKEY
SHIT!
Michelle Stienkamp nearly tumbled down the stairs from the roof in her attempt to get away. Tossing frequent glances over her shoulder, she felt certain that she had lost her pursuer long ago when she toppled him onto his back on the rooftop of the building.
Who was that?The image of the shifter etched itself into her mind, serving as an unyielding grip on her thoughts.And how did he know my name? No one calls me Mick besides my mom.
Regardless, she zipped to the ground floor of the building, where her getaway vehicle awaited. She cracked her knuckles, then her neck. The car’s headlights woke with a press of the key fob button, and she tossed herself into the driver’s seat.
He must have been security for the building, she thought, shaking off the jitters that came from the close call.Still doesn’t explain the name drop, though, but whatever.
Then, she reached inside her jacket’s inner pocket and pulled the blade out of its sheath. She placed it on the passenger’s seat and kept the valuable little item in her peripheral as she started the car and made her way home.
“Why can’t I have one of those cool helicopters like the politicians do?” Mickey murmured to herself, adjusting her rearview mirror and fiddling with her radio. “It would save me so much time.”
From Lourdes to Barcelona, the drive was around five hours long. Whenever she was driving, she found herself too consumed by her thoughts to notice how the surroundings changed around the car.
Mickey’s blue eyes swept across the clearing. Not many cars were in her way, allowing her to zoom across the country lines without much regard for the speed limit.
Dangling from her mirror, she kept a small cross. It was gifted to her on a trip to Greece once. She stumbled upon a monastery and encountered an older woman who told her the cross would protect her.
Ever since then, it seemed like her heists had proceeded without fault whenever she kept the cross nearby.I’m stealing for a good cause,she said to herself, but she sometimes wondered what the man up above had to say about that.
