The Monarch Read Free Page B

dark and the house was quiet, knowing Natalie was safe in her bed. After a while he turned on some quiet Etta James and looked at some photos he’d taken of Samantha and Natalie a few months before they’d found out she was sick. Samantha had known all along but had kept it to herself.
    Jonathan had first met and fallen for Samantha twelve years ago. He’d tried then to leave his life as the art thief known only as The Monarch, pissing off his partner, Lew. It hadn’t worked. They had made too many enemies over the years. One night, while on vacation in Paris with Samantha, his past had come calling. He’d managed to protect her, but his secret was out. He explained everything to Samantha when the ordeal was over. He had to know if she could handle what he was asking her to endure. She said she could, but Jonathan had seen the doubt in her eyes. After one last night together, Jonathan had slipped out of their bed and into the dawn light. He left a note saying how sorry he was and how to contact him if she should ever be in danger—­especially if it was because of their time together—­but he never saw her again.
    That is, until five years ago when she placed the ad on Craigslist that was actually a call for help. He couldn’t believe it when he saw that ad.
    The same way he couldn’t believe that thanks to that last night, he had a six-­year-­old daughter.
    â€œH ANG ON. I ’VE got it here somewhere,” Jonathan said, digging through his pockets. The lights in the all-­night grocery were ridiculously bright and right now each bulb seemed to be focused on him.
    He was sure he’d grabbed the five-­dollar bill off the table before walking up the street to pick up some milk for Natalie’s cereal in the morning, but now all he was finding was pocket lint. He smiled apologetically to the ­people behind him in line who were feigning either ignorance or patience.
    â€œHere it is!” Jonathan said with a little too much enthusiasm. He knew he shouldn’t have gone out after having a scotch on top of the drinks he had at dinner, but they needed the milk. It was why he’d walked, and while he wasn’t drunk, he certainly didn’t have all his wits about him.
    The teenage cashier smiled condescendingly at his triumph as she gave him his change.
    â€œHave a nice day,” she said around her bubble gum.
    Jonathan grabbed his milk and rushed out of the store, almost knocking over a carpet cleaning display in his rush. Not just from the embarrassment, but because he wanted to get home to Natalie. The house was locked up tight and she was sound asleep in her bed, but he still hated when he had to leave her alone. The reality of being a single dad continually pushed him farther out of his comfort zone than any day had as a thief.
    On the walk home he thought about Natalie’s dreams again. He was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice two men fall into step behind him as he turned the corner off the main drag onto the sparsely illuminated side street that led to his house, still several blocks away. It took his instincts a few minutes to wriggle through the scotch haze in his brain.
    Jonathan abruptly stopped and pretended to search for something in his pocket. The men stopped too. He started walking again when his charade was over, and so did his shadows.
    Shit.
    Most likely he was about to be the subject of a good, old-­fashioned mugging. But what were they waiting for?
    He looked up the dimly lit street ahead of him and saw the answer to his question. While sparse, the lighting on the side street was sufficient enough to ward off danger. But up ahead two streetlights were burned out. He knew if he waited until they were out of the light, bad things would happen.
    He thought about running. He was still in reasonably good shape and it was only a ­couple of blocks, but nothing said the guys behind him were meth heads. With his luck