Page 2 of Run, Little Thief
My instinct is to run back the same way I came and lose him to the maze of hallways, but the sudden ding of the elevator behind me stops me dead in my tracks. Any second now, moreguards will arrive on this floor, and I’ll be outnumbered. They have an army; I’m just one little thief. One reckless little thief stealing from one of the most famously dangerous syndicates in the whole damn world. Because I have a death wish, apparently.
Think, Riven! Think!
My mind races, trying to find a way out of this mess, but there’s only one solution I can come up with—even if it’s suicidal.
Instead of running away, I walk straight up to the deadliest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His face shows no reaction, covered by his mask, but he tilts his head slightly as if my boldness surprises him. Or my stupidity.
I’m not a fighter, nor a soldier, nor a hit woman. I’m just a thief, great at hiding and sneaking around, but not so great at hand-to-hand combat. This man will tear me limb from limb if I can’t distract or outsmart him somehow.
So that’s my plan.
What’s the worst that could happen? I get caught by the Mafia? Murdered? Raped? Imprisoned? Tortured? Waterboarded? I have my fingers cut off or my eyeballs gouged out?
Yeah, so not helping.
The elevator doors slide open. The Grim Reaper doesn’t move; he’s still eyeing me like I’m his next victim.
When I try to get past him, he lunges forward to grab me. I sidestep him, pressing myself against the wall beside a door for a second before pushing off from it. But just as I start to run, he grabs me from behind and shoves me to the floor.
Panic and survival instincts kick in. I roll aside before he can jump on me. If I’m lying on the ground and he’s above me, it’s game over. Using our height difference, I kick the side of his knee hard enough to make him stumble, then I get back up as quickly as possible.
And I run.
He mutters a curse, his deep voice following me down the hallway.
I barely hear his footsteps, barely acknowledge his presence. One moment he’s way behind me, and the next he’s grabbing me and pushing me against the wall so brutally a sharp pain explodes in my back, an involuntary cry leaving my mouth.
Bloody hell! That hurt!
Before I can do anything, or even try to fight him off, he rips off my balaclava, uncovering my face. My long brown hair with the blue tips falls to my shoulders, and I stare at him in shock.
His eyes, as black as death, widen behind the skull mask. “You’re a woman.” His voice is gravelly, like leather and whiskey, and it sends an involuntary rush of heat down my spine.
For a second or two, neither of us knows how to react or what to do next. He’s still pinning me against the wall, but he seems indecisive. Or maybe he’s just stunned I’m not some common thug. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t this—it wasn’tme.
I smile. “And you’re in my way.”
Using his surprise as an opening, I punch him in the side with all the strength I can muster. It’s a trigger point, and it stuns him briefly, but that’s all I need to free myself from his grip and run to the stairwell.
My heart’s pounding like crazy. Fear and a dark, dangerous heat twist my stomach.
His footsteps thunder behind me. He may be a deadly machine, killing everyone in his way, but I’m faster.
I race down the steps, jumping over a handrail to put more distance between us.
The blaring alarm suddenly stops, butheis still after me.
And I’m running for my life.
CHAPTER 2
Rain pours down hard, drowning out all sound except the noise of cars tooting in the distance, as I push open the door and step out onto the streets of London.
It’s past midnight on a Tuesday. There aren’t many people hurrying along in the rain. There’s no crowd I can disappear in to lose my chaser. Not even a bloody taxi.
Then I see the familiar red, white, and blue “Underground” sign and start to run again. Water sprays up my legs as I splash in a puddle on the sidewalk, my bag crashing against my side with each step.
The rain’s too loud for footsteps to be heard above it, and I don’t dare turn around.
