Page 1 of Run, Little Thief

CHAPTER 1

Who would’ve thought stealing from the Mafia would be so easy?

At least, it was easy enough for me to get into the building unseen, avoid the patrolling guards, and find the right office. I suppose it’s useful my middleman is a hacker who can crack passwords and bypass security systems in seconds.Thanks, Trace.It looks like this will be one swift mission and I’ll be back home with my cat and a glass of champagne in no time.

From behind the massive desk, I watch the bar onscreen getting bigger as data transfers onto my flash drive. Data an anonymous buyer is paying a lot of money to get their hands on.

“Almost there,” I murmur to myself. “Just a couple more seconds . . .” My gaze wanders across the room, barely lit by the screen.

On the surface, this place looks like any normal office in a London skyscraper: desk, chair, shelves, and filing cabinets. Simple, yet efficient. But unlike other offices, this one is heavily guarded, with guys patrolling the perimeter every couple of minutes, and an alarm system to die for. If I had more time, I’d love to analyze it properly, but this job needs to be completed fast. If the guards catch me, they won’t just call the police andturn me in. This place belongs to the Argentinian Mafia, Los Castillos, and they’d kill me in the most brutal way.

For a second, fear coils in my stomach despite the adrenaline rushing to my veins.

I love my work. I really do. Stealing from the rich and the crappy—or, to be honest, from anyone, if the price is right—is a special talent of mine. It doesn’t matter if it’s data, art, jewelry, cars, or anything else. I love danger. But that doesn’t mean I want to die with cement shoes classic Mafia-style, or whatever the hell their choice of murder is nowadays.

“Come on . . .” I tap my fingers on the hardwood desk, my polished midnight-blue nails making the slightest sound. My skin tingles with excitement, and my leg won’t stop bouncing.

Until now, everything’s worked out perfectly. Almost too perfectly. But as I damn well know, luck is a fickle bitch. It can turn on you when you least expect it.

I watch the bar onscreen with bated breath, counting down the seconds in my head.

The building remains completely silent.

Transfer complete.

The blink of the message sends a new rush of anticipation through my body. I cover my digital tracks, just like my hacker friend taught me, then I get up.

And all hell breaks loose.

An ear-splitting alarm rings through the building. One second later, blinding lights flood the room.

I’m busted.

“Fuck!” I rip the flash drive out and shove it into my small bag. Then I pull the balaclava on over my face and my hair.

I dash to the door, opening it just a crack and looking around carefully. No guards—at least not yet. They’ll be swarming this place any minute now, and I need to get the fuck out of here before then.

The siren’s deafening as I slip out into the hallway. All of London must be awake by now.

I should’ve known the mission was going too smoothly. It was too good to be true—had been ever since I was promised such a huge payment for getting the files.

My heart pounds in my chest as if it wants to flee the scene, but I can’t rush now. If I lose my head, it’ll all be for nothing.

I sneak down the hallway, ready to jump into a corner and hide or run back the same way I came at any minute. When I hear footsteps approaching, though, I take a sharp left and follow the next corridor down. Lucky for me, I know this building inside out after studying it for weeks. Trace got annoyed with me for taking such a long time with all my preparations, but right now? I’m fucking thankful past Riven was so paranoid and meticulous.

When the lift appears in front of me, I breathe a sigh of relief.Almost done.I just need to reach the stairs, then I can get the hell out of here.

But as I turn the corner, my feet come to a screeching halt.

A man is standing at the end of the corridor like he’s expecting me. Tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and dressed all in black, just like me. A skull mask covers his face, but it looks so real from this distance, as if Death himself is making an appearance.

Oh shit.Shit.

I stumble back a couple of steps. I know exactly who this guy is. They call him La Guadaña. Grim Reaper. One of the Mafia’s most lethal enforcers who leaves no victims or witnesses behind.

And he has set his sights on me.

Fuck.