Chapter 14
DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH (HOLDEN)
Iwas in bed when the alert hit my phone, just drifting off a couple hours after getting Kit settled and brooding too much.
Mistake number one.
The camera to the basement door pinged first. The closest one to the vault.
Of fucking course.
Somehow, the bastards got past the perimeter, all the other cameras near the gate, plus the extra motion sensors I installed after Leonidas was gone and I knew this house would be vacant for a while.
It’s not an imminent disaster. They can’t possibly know where we’ve stored it, let alone how to break through bank-grade security.
It takes approximately one second to clear my head and scrub the grit from my eyes.
Another half a second to process what’s happening.
One more to remember Cleo and my daughter are in the house, where we’ve now got at least one intruder.
I’m up like a bolt, grabbing my gun, running.
Charging out the service door, down the stairs for the fire escape, just a short walk to the basement and the vault.
I know I’ve been slacking lately with my knees and all.
That’s why it takes me more than sixty seconds to reach the bandit I fling through the door. He must’ve been searching on the other side, checking the little service door for entry to the rest of the house when I burst through it.
I’m on him before he regains his balance. Before he knows what the fuck just hit him.
Big guy, mean shoulders, probably in his thirties, athletic build. Ski mask.
He goes down with a muffled grunt.
My chokehold has him wheezing faster than I can breathe.
It’s the sort of weakness you only learn from years of experience taking down big guys like him. Only, this guy is strong as a buffalo and far more skilled.
Before he blacks out, he hooks his foot around my leg and twists.
Fuck!
I go down hard, bringing him with me.
An elbow plows into my solar plexus as he scrambles up.
Double fuck.
I’m losing precious seconds as I force pained air back into my lungs and roll. He’s leaping over me now, sprinting into the house.
I’m back up before my body’s ready, but there’s no time to adjust. Just a mad flight after him up multiple flights of stairs.
He’s heading for the second-floor balcony.
The door snaps open so hard the glass shakes.
Then he’s pounding down the stairs to the garden, looking for his escape.
So the asshole’s not willing to stand his ground and fight. I wonder if it’s the Hera Egg he’s after at all, except no petty jewelry thief should be that good at sniffing at perimeter security or throwing me to the floor.
I pelt after him, a ground-eating run, shooting down the hall and passing a very confused Cleo emerging from her room.
Predictably, she screams bloody murder.
I’m lucky she didn’t walk out a second or two earlier, or she’d have barreled into the invader.
I barely register her, hoping she knows to stay put. I can’t bother with that, not until the house is secure and this fuck goes into custody.
There’s no way around trusting Cleo Blackthorn. It’s up to her to console Kit, too, if the commotion wakes her up.
Fuck, I should’ve given her a quick self-defense talk, a practice round or two, never mind how much contact that would’ve meant for us.
On the other hand, there never should’ve been a need for that.
Knowing this ninja got past my frontline defenses has me panicked and sick.
The plan to protect her, to protect this house, wasn’t supposed to have these vulnerabilities.
And as I plow outside, stumbling back a foot every time I’m almost close enough to grab him, I’m grossly aware that I’m leaving them alone in the house.
If there’s someone else—
No, none of the sensors went off. I’m certain. Whoever entered the property went straight for the basement first, almost like they knew.
They never made it to the other floors, short of Speedy Goonfuckass bolting off like a startled rabbit.
It’s early dawn now, thick grey mist blowing in from the ocean.
The intruder pulls ahead, just a broad shadow, flanking a second man who leaps out of the hedges.
Two of them.
Goddammit, there are two—and they’re moving rapidly.
My knees pick the perfect time to mutiny.
Not the usual ache.
A sharp, blinding crunch, pain ripping up so hot and sudden it’s almost blinding.
Fuck me.
No way can I close the gap, much less keep them visible in this fog.
Snarling, I reach for the gun at my waist, bring it up, and aim.
Shit visibility.
Exhaling slowly, I squint and squeeze the trigger.
One man bellows, but he keeps moving.
Not good enough.
I only grazed him.
So I push faster, ignoring the invisible shark that’s ripping my knee apart with its teeth, ignoring blinding pain so intense it makes me want to vomit.
The mist swirls around me like a curtain, damp and unsettling as we get closer to the shore.
I barely see them now.
They’re galloping too fast for me to catch up. Not in this state.
No point in firing aimlessly when it won’t take them down.
Then my leg fully seizes and drops me.
I go down hard in a patch of mud, slamming my side. Wheezing.
My whole body groans, angry and spent as I haul myself back up. I should be an expert at ignoring agony by now.
Not today.
The violent, stiff throb in my leg makes it impossible to press on, and by the time I reach the fence in this soupy fog, there’s just a loud squeal of tires and a black SUV darting down the back road.
Mission aborted. But for how fucking long?
I curl my fingers around the cold metal fence post, panting. My lungs heave fire.
Not even a license plate to go off of. I’m skeptical perimeter cameras could’ve captured anything in this mess.
No distinctive features. They hit us at the perfect time.
The camera over the basement door would’ve captured their basic build and eyes behind the masks, but that’s it.
How the hell did they make it inside with nothing else tripping?
I slick a hand through my hair, swiping it back, wet with morning gloom and my sweat.
If I had a team at my disposal, I’d have them out combing the property while I had someone else swooping in to usher Cleo and Kit off to a safehouse, along with the cursed egg.
But it’s just me, myself, and I.
Jaw clenched, I turn back and plod to the house, pulling out my phone and scrolling the security app, looking for any disturbances missed, any movements, cameras pinging, anything.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
Fuck, I can’t do this alone. Not against two assailants—two.
Apparently, professionals who put serious thought into this break-in.
Goddamn rusty fucking knee.
If I’d just been able to catch them—
No, they might’ve gotten away even if my knee hadn’t flared up.
And were they armed? How would I have handled the second man hiding while I got Thing One down and out?
Worry knifes through me, mingling with the pain.
Sweat drenches my shirt as I close in, mentally putting my shit back together, focusing on the factors I can control.
First, make sure Kit and Cleo are safe.
Everything else comes later.
The house looms out of the gloom, which must’ve thickened in the five or ten minutes I’ve been outside. Everything appears buttoned up except for that damn balcony door—which now has two women standing there, staring as I step into view.
“Get back inside!” I roar, already dialing 9-1-1.
They’re safe for now, thankfully.
Kit’s face looks pale with terror, but it’s Cleo who scares me when I get one good look at her.
Kit doesn’t know what’s going on, but Cleo does.
She understands.
That’s why she’s frozen, watching me, arms folded tightly and trying not to panic in front of the little girl.
Dammit, she knows what’s at stake.
And if she caught a hint of these men, she knows what they came for. Just like she knows I didn’t get them, I—
I can’t protect them.
“Hello, police?” I growl into my phone. “I need to report a break-in on Cormorant Drive…”
I knew the second I heard the alert that it was going to be a shitty morning.
I just didn’t know how shitty.
It only takes fifteen minutes for the cops to show up, long enough for me to walk the house and make damn sure there are no stragglers around.
Then it’s the usual tedium, questions and statements and lots of waiting. Only this time, there’s something rotten underneath it all.
Fear.
A foreign emotion.
I’m not used to fighting a threat that’s so fucking close to home just hours after I brought my daughter into it.
My job always carries risks, but as I walk the officers through the evidence I’ve already noted—a tampered lock, a few boot smears in the mud, and a faded blood spatter on the lawn—I’m already spent.
Barely sunrise and I’ve had enough.
It’s not that the cops don’t take this seriously. Now, the treasure that’s caused all this trouble is doubly compromised.
Cleo has to tell them what the men were after. They don’t understand the egg’s significance, but they do know it’s valuable.
They speak to me like the professionals they are, asking for my camera footage, taking down my insights.
These men are highly trained. They’ll do their due diligence and file their reports.
That’s not the part that bothers me. We all knew this shit could happen, one way or the other, the second we revealed the egg to Fairfax.
Clearly, there was a leak somewhere.
A leak that turned into a spraying flood.
If two, three, however many men decided to pick a fight with guns instead of running, we know what would’ve happened.
I couldn’t have protected my principal in this house or my own daughter.
Fucking unforgivable.
As a father, I have one job.
One thing I owe her, and that’s safety, a chance to grow up and be the best woman she’s meant to be.
One damn break-in.
Just one and my knee locked up like a brittle hinge.
I brought Kit here. I put her in danger. I severely underestimated how fast Mischief by Fairfax would fuck us over.
Leonidas should’ve called in backup when I’m not up to snuff.
The second the cops leave, I find them sitting in the library.
“Time to pack up, girl,” I tell Kit. “We’re going home.”