➵ Chapter 53-1

It was hard to remember when I had last felt the sun glaring down at me with such ferocity, throwing angry waves of heat all around. The warmth was a welcome change, but it seemed to be bothering Jace. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and popped the first button, fanning himself with a laminated menu. Like me, he wore a pair of sunglasses and a hat to keep from being recognized. But I, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease in my dress. We were seated outside a little restaurant across the street from a bodega that the target, Matthias Young, frequented. The local that Jace had bribed fessed up - there was an illegal game going on around back that was to begin in thirty minutes. Dog fighting. Naturally, my eagerness to shoot him had multiplied ten-fold upon hearing that particular bit. Crossing one leg over the other, I adjusted the hem of my dress before leaning my elbows on the table. "You don't like the warmth, do you?" "I thrive in cold winds and gray skies." "How bleak," I said, plucking up and skimming my own menu. "You look like the Wicked Witch of the West, you know. I wouldn't be surprised that if a puddle of sweat is all that'll be left of you in five minutes." Deciding on the ropa vieja, I set down my menu. "What's Wales like?" "Beautiful, though I don't think you'd like it much." "Why not?" "You love the city. You thrive in its atmosphere. Wales has big cities, but it's not even slightly comparable to your city. It's much calmer. We own a villa in the countryside. It was wonderful there. Very peaceful. No vigilantes breaking into rich people's homes." "Corrupt rich people," I chimed. "Astraea stole from the corrupt." "It alarms me when you speak in the third person." "It alarms me when you look like you're about to have a heat stroke." I glanced at the man who was sitting close and lowered my voice. "And selectively forget you stole art." Jace set down his own menu, leaning his elbows on the table, mirroring my posture. "You know the money I donated to Aliyah's fund?" His voice had taken on a more urgent tone. "Yeah." "Where do you think that even went? Why do you think she didn't just kill me?" "Ask Logan." "Like he'll tell me." "This just suddenly started bothering you? Now? It's been months." "No, it's not that it's bothering me. I just want to know the truth so I'm not wondering later." He moved his hand, cupping it over mine. "Fresh start and all." "I get it." "You do?" "Yeah. And your hand is sweaty." He smiled, grabbing my other hand with his too. "Too bad." I made a face, turning my eyes in the direction of the bodega. "He's here." "I don't like this plan." "It's a good plan," I said, standing up and heading straight toward him. "Come on." "I've got this," Jace told me, matching my pace as we crossed the street. "Doubtful. Besides, I don't think you're his type." "Really?" "Want to see who gets in his pockets first?" "ID and wallet. Go now. Loser pays for lunch." I didn't remind him that I couldn't use my credit card. There was no point - I was going to beat him. I got there first, bumping right into him. My hand brushed against the breast pocket of Matthias Young's shirt, seamlessly pulling off the badge clipped to it without him realizing. "Oh my gosh! I'm so, so sorry!" Matthias Young couldn't have been much older than either of us. His skin was tanned, features narrow in a way that made me think of Elaine. "Why can't you Americans ever watch where you're going? You damned-" He looked down to glare at me. "Oh." I smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'm a complete klutz. I-" "It's... It's fine," he said, smiling back. Jace swept past him, going into the bodega without looking at either of us. "How rude," Matthias said, glancing at him. "Tell me about it," I agreed. "I'm really sorry, by the way." He started to turn away, but seemed to think better of it. "You can make it up to me." "I apologized, didn't I?" "I'll make it worth your while." I smiled again, keeping the playful mask intact. "What did you have in mind?" "Drinks tonight." "Only if you pay." "Well, of course. Have you got a pen?" I pulled one from my purse and handed it to him. He grabbed my wrist before I hand a chance to pull back, scrawling something down at my palm. "That's the bar. I'll see you at..." "How's ten?" "Perfecto. What's your name?" "Lucy." "I'm Matthias. Adiós for now." He took one last look at me before turning on the heels of his polished loafers and heading around the building to the back. Jace stepped out the bodega once he was out of sight. "So?" "I got his ID." "Don't look so smug," he said. "I'm always smug." I waved the card in front of his face, grinning. "I win." "I got his wallet." "What?" He pulled it out his pocket. "Don't look so smug." He held up a plastic bag. "I got you crisps." "But it was a tie." "That's why I used his credit card." I frowned. "What?" "How's he going to pay for my drinks?" ➵ "Ten o' clock." I kept my eyes closed, head leaned back against the passenger seat of Tyra's rental car. There was a bag of chips in one of my hands, half empty even though I'd opened it two minutes ago. "I know. I just need a minute." Letting out a slow breath, I opened my eyes. "Why are you wearing sunglasses at nighttime?" Tyra pushed her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose and ignored the question, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "How are your ribs?" "Fine." I held out the bag of spicy chips I was eating. "Want one?" She plucked one out and popped it into her mouth. "Fine? They were, like, smashed with a baseball bat." "I wasn't aware you knew the details." "Well, I do." She drew a handful of chips from the bag, not minding that the powder would stain her white manicured nails. "Where'd you get these?" "Bodega."