Chapter 4

"You've got no real position here, no badge, nothing—what gives a pickpocket like you the right to pull the internal security feed?"

"I said you stole it, so you stole it!"

I let my expression go cold.

"Manager Walsh, thirty thousand dollars a month from Mona to look the other way. Does that money burn your hands yet? That's real blood money—hundreds of customers paying for real gold and getting garbage in return."

Walsh's face went bloodless. He had no idea how I'd gotten into his private account statements.

Mona had been hit right where it hurt, and her fear curled into a screeching, humiliated fury.

"Who do you think you are! You went digging through my accounts too?!"

"Break her wrist! I want to hear her scream something other than that smart mouth of hers!"

Mona jabbed a finger at me, shrieking.

The two guards closest to me raised their solid rubber batons and swung for my arm hard enough to shatter bone.

Just as the baton was about to land, there was a crash. A deafening bang.

The security office's metal door had been kicked open from outside.

The man who came barreling through the door was heavyset, dressed in a sharply tailored, expensive suit. It was Deputy General Manager Derek Sharpe.

The moment Walsh saw Sharpe, he tossed the baton aside and rushed over, face oozing with flattery.

"Mr. Sharpe! You came down here yourself?

"Don't worry, we already caught the inside thief who's been stealing the jewelry—she's being interrogated right now, just like you asked. She's about to sign the confession."

Sharpe was breathing hard, his eyes bloodshot.

He didn't even look at Walsh's fawning expression. He just raised a hand and slapped him across the face, hard.

The sound cracked through the room.

Walsh spun half a turn from the force of it, blood welling up at the corner of his mouth.

"Who the hell told you to go stirring up trouble right now?"

Mona saw the mood shift and hurried over, swaying her hips, trying to press her body against Sharpe's arm out of habit.

"Aw, Derek, honey, why are you so mad? It's just some petty little thief. Gary's just trying to clean up after us."

Sharpe shoved her away, hard.

"Petty thief? Do you two have any idea the sky is about to fall in on us?"

Sharpe pointed up at the ceiling, his finger shaking.

"Corporate headquarters just issued a red alert! The one they're calling the Hatchet—the risk control inspector sent down straight from headquarters to audit the books—walked into our store half an hour ago! Her signal's completely gone dark right now!"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to freezing.

Walsh clutched his swollen face, his legs shaking like they'd give out under him.

"An... an inspector?"

Everyone in this store knew what the risk control division meant—they were the highest-tier operatives corporate sent down when heads needed to roll.

Sharpe yanked his collar open, popping two buttons.

"She's got veto power and the authority to fire anyone on the spot! If she finds so much as a dollar missing from the books, she'll pull every thread, and the entire store is going to be lined up for the unemployment office! Every regional executive is on their way here right now, and you two are down here causing a scene!"

Sharpe paced in a tight, frantic circle.

I was still sitting calmly in that metal chair.

Watching the three of them make fools of themselves, I couldn't help it—I burst out laughing.

I raised my right hand, unhurried.

"Mr. Sharpe, you can stop looking. That inspector you're talking about is sitting right here."