Page 27 of Reckless
I heave a sigh.
Well, that was totally unhelpful.
The girl’s fiery red hair ripples when she swivels her head to the right, looking down an especially dark street with anticipation. “If I’m keeping you from something, by all means…” I gesture to the stretch of darkness she seems so intent on running into.
“I’ve got to get there before the match ends. I haven’t made much today, and the bets should be pretty high tonight.” Words tumble out of her mouth while I struggle to keep up. “There’s a new favorite, so that means lots of people.”
She starts to step away, my question only halting her for a heartbeat. “A new favorite? What’s the new favorite?”
“Not what.” A childish grin lights her face.“Who.”
“Abigail,” I say, my voice deceptively calm, “I’m going to need a little more information than that.”
“Ugh.” I can practically feel her eyes roll in the darkness. “Come on. I’ll just show you.” She spins to point a tiny, accusing finger at me. “But keep your hands to yourself. These coins are mine. I need shillings to bring back to Momma.”
I bite back my smile. “Ah, yes. You’re quite the thief now. Though you still need some practice. Your hands are too heavy.” A frown tugs at her lips as we walk, so I simply add, “The best thieves know how to distract who they’re stealing from. Get their mind off the money in their pocket, and it’s yours.”
She looks up at me, head tilted. “How doyouknow so much about stealing?”
I’m silent long enough to let my thoughts wander back to the person who distracted me more than any other. “Because,” I sigh, “even I’ve been the victim of a great thief.”
She stops before a crumbling building and the cellar door that opens beneath it. With a tiny fist, she wraps her knuckles in a series of knocks. I look around, seeing no one in the dark alleyway while wondering what the hell this child is leading me into.
“So,” Abigail says confidently, “once I can steal from you without noticing, then I’ll be one of the best?”
The corner of my mouth kicks up. “That’s wishful thinking, kid.”
She scowls. “Hey. I still have a knife, remember?”
The doors to the cellar suddenly swing open with a clang. Tying the bandanna back around my nose and mouth, I watch Abigail spin on her heel before descending the stairs beneath.
I shake my head at her retreating form.
The fire in her eyes. The thieving instincts. The blade with a hilt engraved with swirls.
What have I created?
The similarities between them are startling.
Was this whatshewas like so many years ago? Teaching herself how to survive on the coins from another’s pocket? Refusing to focus on the fear she felt?
I can’t seem to escape the thought of her, the sight of her in those surrounding me.
It’s infuriating.
And what’s worse is that I may have just helped craft what will soon be another version of the thief who got the best of me.
CHAPTER 11Paedyn
I now know why they call him Slick.
My knuckles drip with sweat that was once coating the man’s jaw before I forcefully wiped his face with my fist. Slick’s blood coats my hands, stinging the raw knuckles I shake out as we circle one another.
The crowd jeers, their shouts echoing in the cramped underground cellar. Faces I don’t have time to focus on press against the wired ring separating us from the rowdy audience beyond. The bets are especially high tonight, emboldening the onlookers to rattle the cage or stomp in time to the rolling thunder outside. Considering how anticipated my match against Slick has been since spending the past several nights defeating each of his opponents, I would expect nothing less.
He’s suddenly charging at me, and I fumble to comprehend a suitable adjective to describe his sheer size. Slick may be the largest and most slippery man I’ve ever encountered—but also the slowest. I duck under the giant fist he swings at my head, narrowly avoiding the second one aimed at my stomach. My foot connects with his bareside, his body so solid that I may have done more damage to myself.
A sweaty hand clamps around my ankle before he yanks me forward with a grunt. Slick is about as predictable as he his gigantic. With the leg that’s still planted on the ground, I drive my knee up into his groin. At that, he does more than grunt while the surrounding crowd sympathizes with a synchronized oof.
