The instant Hunter pulled off his helmet, Slater froze.
Standing before her was a man younger than she'd ever imagined.
No—
'Big boy' would be more accurate.
After all, Asians generally look like they bloom a little later than Europeans.
Not so obvious in build, but glaringly clear in face and skin.
When this man who'd saved her had held him on the bike, Slater had assumed he was powerfully built.
Now, seeing that face, she caught a hint of lingering youth.
'He can't even be twenty yet…?'
The thought horrified her—and made everything feel even more unreal.
'Let's go; I'll explain who I am in a minute,'
Hunter had noticed Slater's startled stare but paid it no mind.
She'd only just been rescued, so, full of questions, she simply nodded.
'All right.'
They walked into the motel; Hunter asked for one room at the counter.
'Why just one room?'
Slater whispered, leaning close.
Hunter explained, 'These motels usually have gang ties.
A young, pretty woman staying alone…'
'You wouldn't want to wake up with a couple of strangers in your bed, would you?
Or step out of the wolf's den just to be snatched off to some black-market auction?'
Slater opened her mouth, but in the end said nothing more.
She'd had an excellent education; though her father had been an international thief,
it was Old John's illicit gains that, for more than twenty years,
had let Slater live in comfort and attend the best schools.
She'd even been able to open her own Locksmith Company in land-poor downtown Los Angeles—
all bank-rolled by her father, international burglar John Brief.
Because of that, her feelings toward her father had always been complicated.
On one hand, she'd grown up with every privilege money could buy.
On the other, her education had taught her that what he did was wrong.
She had, however, heard plenty about America's darker side.
Her company often worked with the police,
and over time she'd met senior people inside the Los Angeles Police Department and learned things most never would.
Seeing her quiet, Hunter led her into a suite, ignoring the owner's odd look.
Motel rooms were tiny—barely four hundred square feet.
Once Hunter locked the door, Slater burst out, 'Who are you? How did you know Steve had kidnapped me—and why did you save me?'
Hunter sat on the parlor sofa and motioned for her to take the opposite chair.
Slater, itching to scrub the grime and stench away, could barely stand it.
But not knowing who this Asian young man was made her uneasy.
He'd just rescued her, yet he remained a mystery.
She knew nothing about him, while he seemed to know everything about her—
and that terrified her.
When she finally sat, Hunter smiled and answered.
'Allow me to introduce myself, Miss Slater Brief.
My name is Hunter Sun, Chinese-American, and I'm a thief.'
'A thief?'
Slater stared, scrutinizing him; she'd never imagined that.
Hunter's grin widened.
Long before, when he'd first planned to steal the gold from Steve,
he'd begun crafting a new identity for himself.
After learning Slater had vanished and guessing Steve had taken her,
he'd lurked around Steve's villa, preparing the rescue—and during that time
he'd rehearsed every line he would need once he'd freed her.
'Exactly,' he said with a nod. 'Like your father, John Brief, I'm a thief.'
I simply don't have your father's exquisite Lockpicking Skill or reputation.
Slater's brows knitted slightly; she clearly hadn't moved past her father's death—how Charlie's invitation had drawn him into the job that killed him.
Hunter instantly realized he'd stepped on a landmine, so he softened his tone and apologized to her.
To my shame, Miss Brief, your present trouble is something I brought upon you.
As he'd hoped, the remark diverted Slater's attention. She stared at Hunter in surprise. "What do you mean?"
She was no decorative vase; inspiration struck in a flash.
She looked at Hunter and asked urgently, "Was it you who stole Steve's gold bricks?"
Clever!
Hunter smiled and nodded, admitting it readily.
Steve has been selling gold bricks stamped with the Paris dancer on the black market for a long time.
Quite a few people—myself included—had our eyes on him.
Some time ago I noticed you and your people were also after Steve's bricks, Miss Brief.
I just never imagined that after I lifted them
Steve would trace them to you, and abduct you.
When I heard, I felt deeply responsible.
Since Miss Brief suffered on my account, I slipped back into Steve's villa and got you out.
Slater's throat moved, but no words came.
She hadn't expected the situation to turn so convoluted.
Charlie had mentioned he'd used contacts to learn someone was selling Paris-dancer gold bricks on the black market, which led him to Steve.
That was why he'd asked Slater to move against Steve together.
They'd never realized how many others were also watching Steve.
And this man had even managed to hide the truth from the internationally notorious thief Charlie.
Not only had he stolen the gold with superb skill,
he'd also come back to rescue her after Steve discovered and kidnapped her.
Caught between Hunter's truths and half-truths, Slater—ignorant of the real facts
drew a mistaken conclusion!
That idiot Charlie keeps telling me he and his crew are world-class.
Turns out they're nothing special.
If not for him, John wouldn't have died at Steve's hands.
In that instant her already-shaky opinion of Charlie sank even lower.
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