Hunt Her Down by Roxanne St. Claire Read Free Book Online Page B

gun from her hand. “And I
    thought you were elegant.”
    The dig stung, but at this point, she didn’t care. Her heart rate was up and her palms were
    damp. She was so close. So, so close to finally winning Alonso Jimenez’s biggest game.
    Con stood, reached into his pants pocket, and pulled out a tiny silver cell phone, which he
    set on the desk, then a key ring, which he squeezed, popping out a short metal prong. He put it
    in the lock, twisting once, then again. The lock released with a soft ping.
    She took off the lock and slowly lifted the dented lid. Her father used to tell her that
    sometimes the most valuable treasures were hidden in ugly places.
    Of course, he said that when he squeezed her face and tried to erase the insult by jostling
    her chin. The heartless bastard.
    There wasn’t much in the box, but that was okay. What she wanted was very small. But all
    it held was . . . papers.
    She lifted one after the other. Insurance. Deeds. A birth certificate. A passport? A wedding
    license?
    That was it. Legal papers.
    She sifted through again, checking corners, fluttering the documents. “It’s not here.” “It’s
    nowhere else in her house. I looked in all the places where women keep things.”
    Glaring daggers of accusation, she leaned forward. “If you doublecross me, you lying,
    thieving bastard, you’ll be sorry.”
    “Calm down, Lola. I have to get to her another way than a B and E into her house or bar. I
    have to talk to her, which I would have easily done if that Bullet Catcher hadn’t beat me to it.”
    “I agree, and I have just the thing to make her talk. Leave.”
    “What?”
    “Go out in the hall. I’ll let you back in. I want to show you something, but you need to
    leave first.”
    He got up with an amused look on his face and walked out, closing the door with a solid
    click, but she followed him and double-checked the lock. You couldn’t trust a thief.
    Then she headed to the wet bar, crouched down, and opened the cabinet, which, of course,
    didn’t contain a drop of alcohol.
    Reaching into the back, she touched the digital pad hidden behind a false door and entered
    the passcode. At her desk, a soft snap told her it worked. She returned to her chair, placing her
    hands under the front of the desk and inching out the false bottom.
    There were two items on the left side. She picked up one, a photograph of a boy not more
    than twelve. She closed the drawer, closed the wet bar door, too, then buzzed Con back in.
    She handed him the picture. “Use this to get it.”
    He glanced at the boy, then up at her, disgust in his eyes. “A kid?”
    “I suppose you’d want more money.”
    He set the picture down, making no effort to hide his disgust. “No, thanks.”
    “Oh, please, you’re suddenly developing morals?”
    “I’m suddenly developing a deep distaste for your style.” He picked up his phone and
    headed back to the door. Damn it, she had no choice.
    “Seventy-five thousand,” she said quickly.
    Con hesitated and looked over his shoulder, his silvery stare cold. “A hundred.”
    “Fine.” What was a hundred thousand when she stood to make a hundred million? “Take
    it,” she said, waving the picture.
    “I don’t need it.” He left without another word.
    Alone, Lola sat back down, disappointment seeping through her. Not because of the money
    she’d just spent, but because she thought she had Viejo beat. But the momentum in the game
    was definitely not on her side.
    She lifted up a crispy parchment deed, the marriage license, the birth certificate, and let
    them flutter to her shiny desk. Useless crap that didn’t . . .
    For a moment, she didn’t breathe. She just stared at the words in front of her and felt her
    jaw loosen.
    Constantine Xenakis might just have earned his ten thousand dollars. Because if
    information was power, this little tidbit was a nuclear plant.
    Magdalena Varcek. You little vixen .
    The game had just shifted Lola’s way.

CHAPTER FOUR
    BY FIVE