Page 25 of Abra's Acquisition
I roll my eyes. “No. I wouldn’t betray you. I kinda think those assholes got what was coming to them. I was just making an observation. This place is hidden and well-protected. I don’t think anyone could imagine the treasures you’re keeping inside. What happens when you run out of room on this floor? Do you have more upstairs?”
“I don’t. I also don’t plan on keeping these items forever,” Abra says, tapping me on the nose. “Eventually, I hope to see all these pieces back in the hands of their original owners.”
As Abra talked, he directed me back into the elevator before selecting the third floor.
“Did you steal the items with that intention?” I ask. “Why didn’t you just call the cops and report them?”
“I didn’t originally steal the items with the intention of returning them. That idea came later. At first, I just enjoyed the act of stealing. It’s invigorating. Before I started performing, I stole to eat. After I made my fortune as Lucifer’s Heir, I stole for fun. Stealing from assholes was my way of easing my conscience. As Lucifer’s Heir, I gained access to the wealthy and powerful in this city. I learned quickly that I didn’t like them any better than their equals as I did when I was the person they spat on.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out when I get a view of Abra’s apartment. The space is entirely open with floor-to-ceiling windows gracing every wall. The view is tremendous. The elevator opens into a comfortable sitting area with sleek leather couches and oversized chairs. There’s even a chaise lounge that beckons to me. I can almost see myself curled up on it with a cup of tea and a book. Tucked into the far corner is a gleaming kitchen, with a dining area adjacent to it. Opposite the room is a gorgeous wooden desk, surrounded by bookshelves and intricately carved filing cabinets. Tucked into the corner is a massive king-sized bed. “This place is gorgeous. Do you live here? I thought you lived at the clubhouse?”
“I do live at the clubhouse, but I stay here when I need solitude.” Abra moves into the kitchen and opens the wine fridge. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
I do, but I shake my head. There will be no drinking for me in the foreseeable future. ‘No, thank you, but I wouldn’t say not to some water.”
Abra frowns, but grabs a glass out of a cupboard and fills it with ice and water from the refrigerator. He pulls a beer out for himself before joining me on the couch. The couch allows us to look out into the night. “This view is breathtaking,” I say, taking the glass of water.
“It is. The warehouse has only three floors, but each floor is taller than average, so technically we’re about five floors up.”
“What did this place used to be?”
“I have no idea. It was empty when I gutted it. It took me close to a year to bring it up to my standards. I mainly purchased it to house the collection.”
“You said you wanted to return the items. How many have you returned?”
Abra winces at my question. “None. It isn’t that I don’t want to return them, but I’m having trouble identifying the previous owners. When I stole the items, I only thought about hurting the assholes. The story of the young man pawning the jewelry was the turning point for me. I looked at those pieces and thought about him and his wife. The problem is that I don’t know where to start. There’s also the potential legal trouble that I could find myself in when I return the items.”
“Maybe what you need is someone to help you conduct research. Someone who specializes in historical documents and has access to archives that civilians can’t access.”
Abra frowns at me. “You have someone in mind?”
I bob my head. “I do. Me.”
“You?” he asks in surprise. “You’d help me locate the owners?”
“I would love to help. Not only can I help you with the research, but I can protect you. As your lawyer, client confidentiality binds us. We can devise a way to return the items without revealing you as the source. I have some ideas about how to do that.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because I think what you’re doing is good. As I told you before, justice is more important than the law.”
Abra grins at me before leaning forward to give me a gentle kiss. He leans back but only slightly; we’re still so close that I can feel his breath on my face. He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I gratefully accept your offer.”
His buzzing phone breaks the moment. With a sigh, he leans back and pulls the phone from his kutte and reads the text on the display. “The coast is clear. We can return to the clubhouse.”
After he cleans up, he takes my hand and leads me back to the elevator. Downstairs, we get on his bike and head for the freeway. No one bothers us as we make our way to the clubhouse. When we arrive, I’m surprised to find Max’s car parked outside.
“That’s Max’s car,” I tell Abra as I hand him my helmet. “I wonder if he has news.”
“Let’s go find out,” Abra says, taking my hand.
When we enter the clubhouse, Max twirls, and the look on his face has me stopping my forward momentum. He holds up an evidence bag containing a single item that has my stomach flipping.
“You’re fucking pregnant!” Max bellows.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: ABRA
I grab Rey and pull her behind me as I face off against her angry brother. “Don’t fucking yell at her!” I feel Rey trembling against my back. I want to pull her into my arms, but I also want to punch Max in the nose.
