So, using her claws, Livy began climbing the building’s wall, sure that Shen had already dealt with the security cameras surrounding the area.

She moved quietly and quickly as she was trained to do. It wasn’t an easy climb, but at least she didn’t have to go all the way up to the penthouse floor this way. She could do it, but it would be a drag and an excessive amount of work.

Finally, Livy reached the air duct near the twenty-third floor. Holding on with one claw and the balls of her feet, she used her free hand and a small screwdriver to remove the bottom screws from the metal screen. Once done, she lifted it and pulled her body inside. The space was small but Livy could maneuver her way through almost any space. Yes. Even with her broad shoulders. Of course, sometimes she was forced to dislocate her shoulder, which she hated doing. It was not pleasant and just because she was a honey badger didn’t mean she was into pain. Because she wasn’t.

Dislocation unnecessary, Livy quickly made her way down the air ducts and into the back stairwell until she was at the emergency door that led up one flight of stairs to Allison Whitlan’s apartment. Livy eased that door open and crept up the stairs until she reached another emergency door. She checked for alarm wires, found them, and disabled them. Then she went in, through a small hallway until she reached a service entrance.

According to Vic’s contacts, tonight was the staff’s night off, and the mistress of the house was at some charity event with other rich people like herself. But Livy still listened at the door for a moment before getting out her tools and picking the lock.

She waited another breath before opening the door and taking a step inside the dark hallway. She waited again, heard nothing; so she slowly closed the door, and began moving through the apartment.

The place was enormous. Had to cost several million. A place where Livy would love to crash some night when she needed a new temporary burrow.

Livy checked her watch. She had time, so she moved through the apartment carefully, looking for any signs that the woman was in touch with her father. With the infamous Frankie “The Rat” Whitlan. A man Livy could not care less about. But how could she turn Barinov down when he’d filled her office with all those baskets?

Livy stopped in front of a Picasso. She leaned in, studied the signature. Nodded. It was a real one. Not a Kowalski replica that most art experts would be hard pressed to prove wasn’t a real Picasso.

Livy checked the bedrooms first. The apartment had nine. She took the most time in the woman’s office. She found tons of information about Allison Whitlan’s finances and her charity work, plus lots of handwritten notes on Post-its, but nothing that screamed, “My daddy, Frankie Whitlan, is at the corner of Fifth and Broadway!”

Checking her watch again, Livy realized she was running out of time, so she did a quick sweep of all the bathrooms, and then the giant kitchen.

Livy’s last stop was the TV room and the living room. She did the living room first, sweeping through quickly, before walking toward the exit to head to the TV room.

Livy stepped into the hallway, but stopped, blinking slowly, her mind processing.

After nearly a minute, she slowly backed up into the living room, stopped again. Waited another moment, took a breath, and turned.

Livy stared, studied what she saw, her mouth slowly dropping open, her heart racing hard.

Then, after several minutes of studying the stuffed animal carcass standing hideously beside Allison Whitlan’s fireplace, Livy said a word she hadn’t said since she was a toddler . . .

“Daddy?”

CHAPTER 8

Vic checked his watch again. Now he was getting worried.

“Where the hell is she?”

“We should have wired her,” Shen said, his focus still on his laptop.

“I tried. She said no.”

“Your girlfriend is not big on communication, is she?”

“We both know Livy is not my girlfriend.”

“She’s constantly in your house, making you breakfast, and eating honey while naked. And you don’t slap said honey out of her hand like you do with me. What else would you call her?”

“My friend whom I find considerably less annoying than you. And you don’t eat honey.”

Vic opened the van door and stepped out. “I’m not liking this.”

“We’d hear sirens if she’d been caught. Just relax. Your girlfriend knows what she’s doing.”

Vic glared at Shen. He thought about knocking that bamboo stalk out of his mouth but knew it wouldn’t really help the situation.

Glancing at his watch, Vic debated his next move . . . but that was when he realized he didn’t have a next move. He had nothing. This was all Livy. All she’d wanted from them, all she’d allowed, was Shen handling the security cameras, getting her the intelligence on the building, and the two men accompanying her to the target site. Other than that . . . she’d had no use for them.

And, Vic realized as he saw a limo he was guessing had Allison Whitlan in it turn the corner to park at the front of the building, he was now going to pay for this stupidity when Livy was busted and ended up doing hard time for . . .

His increasingly panicked thoughts faded off when he saw Livy come out of the dark alley and head toward him.

Sighing in relief, Vic smiled and stepped farther out on the sidewalk. But as Livy neared him, Vic’s smile faded. It wasn’t just the expression on her face, which was . . . disturbing. It was her entire body. He’d never seen her so stiff before. Normally, Livy moved like a very loose lumberjack. She didn’t amble like Dee-Ann. It was a street-savvy walk. Like she could handle anything that came her way.