AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Every moment of that drive pulled those tendrils of tension so tight, it’s a wonder I didn’t shatter.
Once I’m done showering, I choose my clothes carefully.
This is done best in something loose, with places to hold all my tools. But rocking on up to a mansion of a mafia crime lord, a member of the Quinate, well, it’s going to take something slightly left of field.
I’m going to see Jac.
He’ll have security. But he’s not going to be as meticulous as Hendrick. Jac’ll have the biggest and best with him. He likes a show.
But beneath it all, he’ll have guards and a decent security system. He’s a man who doesn’t have to worry about someone rocking up. After all, most don’t have death wishes, and if they do, they don’t have one for their friends and families.
Quinate members aren’t known for threats.
They’re not even known for promises.
They’re known to keep their word. Cross them and die. That kind of word. Those who’ve tested that learned the hard way.
I’ve read all the fucking stories.
It’ll be easy to get in. But it’s not like it won’t come with its own challenges.
I choose black stockings, underwear this time. And a dress that has flow, but not too much. It’s evening, cat burglar-style. Long sleeves, fitted bodice. Last, I pin up my hair, fit a long sleek black wig and apply the red lipstick, and dump the Heart of Dark Desires into my glittery black bag that I can sling on as a makeshift backpack.
It’s got everything I need.
Finally, I slide into black pumps I can move in.
I look exactly like the kind of woman he’d have coming up to his front door.
With a breath, I head out.
* * *
People never think about the back door when it comes to places like this.
Jac Miller doesn’t live at the old Miller family mansion deep in the richest part of the suburbs, on the opposite side to Hendrick’s place.
Five suburbs. All with a mansion that houses a Quinate member.
It’s all so pissing contest machismo that I almost roll my eyes. Almost.
Because their pissing contest is one where people end up dead, enterprises decimated across not only Delacroix, but the country.
The city island is different. It’s where the heart beats. Where they meet. And no one owns it. Or rather, they all do, however it’s split. They own it. And other criminals who operate here do it within the laws set by the Quinate.
Not people like me. Because I’ve never had a need to steal from a Quinate member, or work for one.
Until now.
Jac’s property is on the highest part of Millionaire’s Way, named back in the previous turn of the century when a millionaire was beyond rich. Now it’s populated by billionaires, rich kids, the young, the old, the beautiful. His three-story mansion is modern and surrounded not just by a stone wall, but properties of fellow billionaires on three sides.
No one goes in through the back.
In the burbs, he’d own all the block and call it his. Rather, he owns the block there and calls it his. But city is city and land is premium. So the mansion’s huge, the grounds small in comparison.
Big oaks and other curated trees and garden-scapes take up a lot of the space. There’s a giant courtyard with lights built into the ground and a state-of-the-art outdoor kitchen.
I move past all that and up at the back door. The alarm system’s not difficult to spot and it takes me five minutes to dismantle all four alarms, including the hidden one.
