Happy Hunting (Season’s Readings #4)

Chapter 1

THE RABBIT’S FOOT,

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS YEAR’S HEIST, AND WHAT BETTER WAY TO CELEbrATE THE HOLIDAY THAN WITH AN EASTER EGG HUNT.

THE FAMOUS DESIGNER BAPTISTE PRECIEUX COMPLETED HIS CHEF D’OEUVRE ONLY DAYS BEFORE HIS UNTIMELY DEATH.

HIS FINAL GOLDEN EGG WAS THOUGHT TO BE LOST TO TIME, BUT IT HAS RECENTLY RESURFACED IN THE MERVEILLE DE L’ART MUSEUM’S NEWEST EXHIBIT.

THIS YEAR’S GAME IS SIMPLE. THE FIRST THIEF TO brING THE GOLDEN EGG TO THE BELOW COORDINATES WILL WIN THE CASH REWARD.

THERE ARE NO RULES. BY CLICKING ACCEPT, YOU’LL BE OFFICIALLY INCLUDED IN THE GAME’S ROSTER. MAY THE BEST THIEF WIN.

HAPPY HUNTING.

Do you see all those zeros?” Peter asked through the phone’s connection.

Sable had never met Peter face to face, so she had no clue how old he was or what he looked like.

She didn’t even know if Peter was his real name, but he was a wizard with technology.

There wasn’t a firewall in the world he couldn’t beat, a code he couldn’t crack, or a defense system he couldn’t hack, and for some reason, he’d taken a liking to her.

They’d met electronically years ago while she was on a job.

He’d been working for her mark and had found her snooping somewhere she shouldn’t have been.

But instead of turning her in, he’d helped her rob his employer blind.

They’d been electronic friends ever since.

“Sable? You still there?” he asked when she didn’t answer.

“I got an invitation,” she whispered into the phone. “Peter, I got an invitation!”

“Of course you did,” he said. “You’ve made a name for yourself these past few years. Did you really think He wouldn’t notice you?”

“I hoped He would.” Sable stared at her laptop screen with a dropped jaw. “Every thief worth their salt hopes He notices them. His yearly games are legendary, but I never expected to make it on his radar.”

“Well, you are, baby!” Peter whooped so loud that she had to yank the phone away from her ear. “You’re in the big leagues now, and the cash prize has more zeros this year than any other.”

“I don’t know.” Sable clenched the cell against her shoulder. “I can’t do this. Can I do this?”

“Girl, don’t make me leave my climate-controlled, comfortable, high-tech basement to smack you upside the head,” he chuckled. “If He invites you, you accept. Need I remind you of those zeros!”

“I know, I know.” Sable moved her finger over the trackpad until the curser came to rest on the accept button.

No one knew who He was, but every year, He organized a legendary heist where He invited the world’s best thieves to compete.

The rules were always the same. He selected an item of incredible value that was nearly impossible to steal and offered a cash prize with too many zeros to the first thief who delivered it to him.

It was every thief’s dream to get an invitation.

It meant you’d made it to the big leagues.

It meant everyone who was anyone knew your code name, and that The Rabbit’s Foot had received the invite signified that Sable’s skills had finally brought her luck.

“It’s just that The Merveille De L’art isn’t a normal institute,” she said. “It’s a Fae museum. The wards and protection on that building alone will make it impossible to steal the Precieux Egg.”

“Hence all those zeros on the reward,” Peter said.

“And the building will be only half the defense,” Sable continued. “The Fae they hire to run their security are all ex-special forces. Not only will stealing that egg be impossible, it’ll be deadly.”

“Maybe for most, but not for you,” Peter said. “Come on, Sable. Is an Easter Bunny really afraid of a few Fae guards?”

“Kind of.”

“Says the woman who climbed a skyscraper at night using only suction grips.”

“A: That was a human building, and B: You recommended those suction grips. I knew I wouldn’t fall.”

“They call you The Rabbit’s Foot for a reason, Sable. You’re lucky. You always come out on top.”

“Probably because you help me.”

“Well, the rules said no rules, so I can still help you. He noticed you. He sent you an invitation. You can’t turn Him down. Think of all those zeros. You could share the reward with your good friend Peter. There’s a new computer I’ve been eyeing.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “No need to lay it on so thick. I’m doing it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sable smiled, and with that, she clicked accept.

“In other news, there was a break-in at The Merveille De L’art Museum last night,” the reporter said from her perch behind the news desk, and Cash’s eyes snapped to the TV screen, his coffee halfway to his lips.

“The perpetrators were apprehended, and authorities confirmed nothing was stolen, but some suspect this attempt was the first of many. Designer Baptiste Precieux was renowned for his gold work, and his final piece went missing shortly after his shocking and sudden death, where it remained lost for decades. The Precieux Golden Egg was recovered during a police raid earlier this year and placed in a newly designed exhibit at The Merveille De L’art Museum, but many are concerned about the priceless egg’s safety.

It would seem that after last night’s failed robbery, their concerns were warranted.

Merveille De L’art issued a statement early this morning saying that they are taking every precaution necessary to protect the Precieux Egg, but officials are worried the museum isn’t equipped to guard such a national treasure.

Some are also worried about the public’s safety while visiting the exhibit, and the question is, are these fears unfounded, or will they become collateral in another theft attempt? ”

“Mervil La art?” Clover chimed in from where he was eating cereal at the kitchen counter. “Isn’t that where you have that interview today?”

“Merveille De L’art,” Cash corrected as he turned off the television.

The last thing he needed was his ten-year-old son worrying about this potential job.

The boy was one reason he’d left the special forces after his tour ended.

He was the only parent Clover had, and he didn’t want his son growing up worried that every day might be his father’s last alive.

“And yes, that’s where I have my interview,” he continued. “But it doesn’t mean I have to take the job. I won’t decide anything until we discuss it, because taking that security position would mean moving.”

“I know.” Clover shoved a giant bite into his mouth, milk dripping down his chin, and Cash rolled his eyes as he downed the rest of his coffee. “But I looked up where the museum is when I was doing homework. That city is a lot nicer than here. We could get a house.”

“Oh, we could?” Cash asked, adjusting his glasses as he stared at his son.

“Yeah,” Clover said as if he’d be footing the bill, not his father.

“I liked this apartment when I was little, but I’m big now.

I want a home with a yard, and we learned about the golden egg in school.

My teacher said it’s priceless. That means it’s worth sooooooooo much money that you can’t put a number on it.

So, if my dad gets the job protecting it, we should get a house. ”

“Finish your breakfast,” Cash chuckled as he tussled his son’s hair.

He was a brunette like his father, but the similarities didn’t stop there.

Clover was his spitting image, their shared genes so strong that Cash never bothered with a paternity test when the boy showed up on his doorstep.

Clover was his son, through and through, and he was his pride and joy…

even when he tried to hustle a new house out of his dad.

“You’re going to be late for school if we don’t get moving.

Did you manage to fit your homework in last night between all your internet searching? ”

“I did.” The boy jumped down from the kitchen island and swiped his empty cereal bowl off the counter.

“Did you need my help with anything?” Cash asked as his son placed his dirty dishes in the sink.

“Nope.”

“Are you lying so that I don’t check your backpack?”

“No, Dad.” Clover playfully shoved his father, but Cash caught him and dragged him into a hug.

“Are you ready to go, then?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Okay, then get your butt in the car.”

“Thank you so much for coming. Would you like something to drink?” the interviewer, Mr. Lepus, asked.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Cash answered. “I had coffee on the drive over.”

“I hope it wasn’t too far,” Lepus said. “Please, take a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk, and Cash obliged him.

“Two hours.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize you lived so far.

If you took this job, would you commute or move?

I only ask because I’m sure you’ve seen the news.

Baptiste Precieux’s final design didn’t go missing by accident, so keeping it safe and available to the public will be no easy task.

The head of security needs to live close to the museum in the event of an emergency.

There was a break-in last night, and as ex-special forces, I don’t have to tell you it won’t be the last.”

“You don’t,” Cash said. “It was sloppy, but they’ll learn with each attempt until they succeed. And to answer your question, I would move if I took the job. My son researched the city. He’s all for living here.”

“Well, I can agree with him on that front,” Mr. Lepus said.

“There’s so much culture here. It’s low on crime too because of the Merveille De L’art.

The Fae keep a close eye on the museum since many of their artifacts reside there, meaning we benefit from their protection…

well, it’s normally low crime. The egg has rattled the status quo but only at the museum.

The city is great for families. Parks, restaurants, museums, amazing school systems, and safe neighborhoods.

That alone should encourage you to take the position. ”