“I believe she still has it. There was no handoff, no contact with anyone who could lay claim to the briefcase.”
That narrowed things in a fascinating way.
“The footage from that night shows her and the boy moving through the city around two in the morning,” he continued. “They stopped at a small restaurant. I accessed the footage myself, but they didn’t meet anyone.”
“Anything else?”
“I am tracking her phone so that I can see her movements. I’m waiting for your signal to approach.”
She was working alone. None of it fit. I closed the file and climbed the stairs to the next floor, my mind already spinning through possibilities.
“Should I make a move now?” Akim asked from behind me.
Too many pieces were missing. Motive mattered. People didn’t steal like this without reason. Hunger or inheritance? If her father had vanished years ago, he might have taught her this life before disappearing into it. No trace of her mother only sharpened my attention. People didn’t vanish from records unless someone wanted them to.
The report raised more questions than it answered. Curiosity settled over me instead of rage. She was becoming someone worth studying rather than crushing. And that was the problem.
“Not yet,” I said. “Let them enjoy the money first.”
We had two possibilities: she needed the money for her use, or she owed someone else and would meet them later.
“Watch out for a third party. The moment she meets anyone, I want to know.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Don’t let her feel watched,” I added. “Let them live freely,”for now.
That wasn’t mercy. It was a trap, and it worked best when the ground beneath it felt safe. I would give her the illusion that she had gotten away with it, just as I had with Zachary. I would appear when she least expected it, and then she would learn what it meant to touch what was mine.
If my instincts were right, she was not reckless. She was desperate and clever, a dangerous combination. She stepped into my world without knowing it, and that did not make her harmless. It made her interesting.
Chapter Five
Inna Grace
Luck wasn’t something I evercounted on. Growing up with Dad taught me that much. The universe didn’t hand out favors. It threw surprises like knives, and half the time, you didn’t even feel the cut until you were already bleeding.
Dad never made our house feel like home. We had food, clothes, and a roof over our heads—the practical things. Comfort was something else entirely. After Mum disappeared, something in him shut down. I got used to watching him drift past Cole and me as if we weren’t there. Those years weren’t happy. We were just surviving.
But now, luck had taken a wrong turn and found me. A month had passed since the night I became a thief, and nothing had happened. No call from the police, and nothing from Mr. Torres either. It could only mean one thing: I got away with it.
Hiding out in Little Haiti worked.
I mean, Mr. Torres’s brother was drunk that night. He probably didn’t even remember what happened. And honestly, if he got in trouble for it, I didn’t care. He has been stealing longbefore I ever touched that briefcase.
Renting a studio apartment meant I had to find a way to earn money. Otherwise, we’d burn through what I took and end up right back where we started. So it was time for Plan B.
Cole, somehow, had settled into this life with ease. Maybe it was because, as a kid, he expected little to begin with. I envied that.
I tore my gaze away from the mirror where I’d been standing too long and found Cole on the floor. He lay on his stomach, pencil in hand, wrestling with a math problem I’d given him.
Homeschooling became our rhythm. Rich people paid strangers to homeschool, so why not me?
He was focused, serious, and proud in that stubborn, nine-year-old way.
“Do you need help, kiddo?” I asked.
“I’m nine,” he muttered, eyes still locked on the page, counting under his breath. He clearly hated pet names.