Page 50 of Hell Breaks Loose

Throwing another dress onto the bed behind me, I slam the hangers back the other way. There are too damn many clothes in here. None of them are the look I’m going for, though…

Fuck it.

I’m throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt as I hop out through the doorway, passing a very confused Margaret on the way out.

“Miss?”

“I’ll be right back. Find me an outfit that says “I’m in charge, big-boss-bitch energy, please?”

“Of course!” she stutters, hustling into the explosion of fabric lying all over the floor and furniture.

I’ll have to make it up to her later.

Slipping and sliding along the hardwood in my socks, I avoid the two guards making rounds on the upper level and dart into a long hallway. It’s the only way up to the third floor and past a pretty little art gallery along the way.

At the top of the short staircase, I ease the door open and slip into the storeroom.

It’s jam packed full of the old owner’s stuff.

Overflow from the statues and furniture Marco’s guy’s made off with from raiding rich peoples’ houses in SH. Most of it has already been forgotten about.

Including an old desk that looks like it survived the last two World Wars.

Fumbling with the latch behind the top drawer, I feel the side wall click open. Wiggling it free, I set the piece down, careful to avoid damaging the finish, revealing the secret compartment I discovered two days ago.

Full. Of. Cash.

As shocking as the revelation was, I couldn’t for the life of me think of what to do with it.

Not initially.

Of course, the typical ‘run away and buy a new life’ came to mind.

Hire a hitman to kill Marco.

But he probably owns most of them, anyway.

And from my position right now, it does me no good. Unless I use it to buy favor and loyalty.

Money talks.

And every one of these gun toting blockheads plays poker, gambles. I’ve overheard them grumbling about not having spending cash for the strip club in town. Apparently, the girls there are more than happy to extend their services after hours for the right fee.

Stuffing a few stacks in my shirt, I slide the sidewall back into place and check to make sure no one sees me coming or going.

It’s no good if they figure out where my piggy bank is.

But as usual, no one is patrolling this level. Figures since there aren’t any exits and the windows are too small for anyone to sneak in or out of.

I’m huffing and puffing a bit when I skid back into my rooms, startling Margaret.

“Marge, make me look like a badass!”

“Right away!” She smiles, getting caught up in my enthusiasm.

By the time Sing returns, knocking carefully this time, I’m clad in a smart, flowy, and low-cut blouse, coat, and slacks that billow just enough to give me an air of fabulousness and sex appeal while hammering home that I mean business.

Paired with a carefully coiffed updo, I examine myself in the mirror, nailing my own eyes with a look that I hope will inspire confidence. Maybe just a hint of fear.

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