CH- 16

CH- 16

Amelia’s POV

I knew I was playing with fire—rich, dangerous people who always had something nasty up their sleeve.

That’s why I needed a card to play, something to hold over them if they tried to burn me. I’d seen enough of these high-society types to know nobody played fair.

Downstairs, I wrangled my little brothers along, their heads swiveling toward every shiny thing that caught their eye—snacks, toys, whatever.

Mom was glued to the TV, same rerun she’d been watching for hours. I’d almost lost it once and told her to get out, but I bit my tongue.

Family first, right? To keep the boys busy, I grabbed waffles from the kitchen and shoved one into each of their hands. It bought me five minutes of quiet while my brain churned on how to make this plan stick.

Next stop: the hardware store. I rang the bell, stepped in, scanning the shelves with one eye while keeping an ear out for the kids.

There it was—a slim pen flashlight, perfect for what I had planned. I snatched it off the shelf and headed to the counter.

“Such cute boys,” the clerk said, giving me a warm smile.

I forced a quick nod and smiled back, but my mind was miles away, plotting angles. He got the hint, rang me up without more small talk, and handed over the bag.

I gripped that flashlight tight as we left, feeling its weight like it was packed with dynamite. Power in a tiny package.

I’d watched too many spy movies as a kid, and now it hit me—this double-game felt ripped straight out of one of those undercover missions.

Today, we were mixing things up: new neighborhood, different car.

No patterns, they said. I respected that, played along.

Sure, seeing Nathan crash and burn gave me a sick kind of satisfaction, but the real prize?

The money. It’d pull us out of this dump—better schools for the boys, a decent neighborhood, and Mom could veg out on soaps all day without driving me insane.

I was tired of scraping by, tired of the side-eyes and sneers, like hard work meant nothing unless you were born rich. If anyone asked, I was just taking what should’ve been mine all along.

The car idled across the street, sleek and black. I’d ditched the all-black ninja look today for a brown coat and matching sneakers, gray stockings peeking out.

Maybe it was time to upgrade my style too. I crossed slowly, heart pounding, hoping my steps didn’t scream nerves.

Tonight wasn’t just about handing over the goods—I had one extra trick tucked up my sleeve. Swallowing hard, I yanked the door open and slid in without looking back.

“You’ve proven yourself efficient and resourceful, Amelia,” Mr. Blue Suit said from the shadows. “You deserve more credit than you’ve ever gotten.”

We were parked in some dim alley not far from home, the kind where deals went down without anyone noticing. I was starting to get used to this leather-seat life, which surprised me—it should’ve creeped me out more.

“It was nothing,” I muttered, itching to move on to the cash part.

He noticed my fidgeting. Out the window, a couple of teens were locked in a sloppy kiss under a streetlamp.

Heat crept up my neck; I’d never even had my first kiss, and admitting that?

Embarrassing.

“You got the flash?”

“Yeah. But deal’s a deal—you honor it first, or no dice.”

He eyed me, testing. I held steady; no backing down.

“You sure? Not knowing who’s pulling the strings keeps you safer, anonymous.”

“I decide my own safe.”

He sighed like I was being difficult. “Fine. One minute.”

First time I’d seen him step out—he paced, phone pressed to his ear. Up front, the driver sat stone-silent, same as always. Guy was a statue.

\-------------------

Mr. Blue Suit's POV (Marco)

“What the hell, Marco? Don’t play dumb—you know how this works,” Andre’s voice exploded through the phone, sharp as a knife.

I wiped sweat from my brow, glancing back at the girl in the rearview mirror. Cool as ice inside, but out here?

My gut twisted. She’d pushed hard for a name, and I’d caved just enough to keep her hooked.

“I tried shutting it down, boss,” I said, forcing my tone steady despite the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“But she wasn’t having any of it. She wouldn’t hand over the flash unless she knew who she was dealing with.”

“And that’s on you, feeding her that ‘middleman’ crap. She wasn’t supposed to sniff this close.”

I bristled—hated when he treated me like hired muscle with no game.  “Well, she did,” I shot back, my voice tight.

“The girl’s sharp, Andre. Smarter than most people give her credit for. She reads people like an open book. If she weren’t solid, I wouldn’t have tapped her in the first place.”

Silence stretched, then: “She got the flash?”

“Certainly.”

“And she’s our best shot?”

Exasperated, I bit back a snap. “Told you—yes. Or we scrap and start over.”

“Good. Bring her. And scrub her clean—no tails.”

And just like that, the call ended with a sharp click, leaving me staring at the phone in my hand. Like I needed the reminder. I straightened my jacket, slid back in, forcing calm.

\----------------

Back to Amelia’s POV

“Well?” I asked, eyes locked on him as he settled in. “What’d he say?”

He flashed a tight smile. “Buckle up, Miss Amelia. You got your wish. Long drive ahead.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but when we pulled up to that sprawling mansion and I came face-to-face with Andre Iguodala—Nathan’s arch-nemesis—my jaw dropped.

“You?” The word burst out, half shout. Why him? Pure business grudge?

Andre smirked, leaning back in his massive leather chair like a king on his throne. “Me. And thanks to your nosy streak, you’ve waded into the deep end, girl. You’re expendable now—loose end.”

My stomach knotted tight, sweat beading despite the AC chill. “Expendable? What the—”

"You're a smart lady, Amelia; you should know what expensable means. Now that you know I'm behind this, it will be very easy for me to hurt you too." He paused and stood up from his large seat. The house was literally a mansion.

"Don't look so scared, Amelia; I don't want to hurt anybody unless I'm pushed too. But since we have a common goal, I think we can be friends now." He smiled wickedly.

I swallowed hard, nodding like my life depended on it—which it probably did.

Small fish in shark-infested waters? Yeah, that was me now.

No turning back.