The Bandit (The Stolen Duet #1)
B.B. Reid
Dedication
To all the Daddy’s girls.
Mian’s name is pronounced
My-an.
Prologue
Once a Daddy’s girl…
MIAN
“I’m going to prison, Mian.”
I can’t remember a time I ever hated my father. Not even when I grew breasts and noticed boys. But when he uttered those fateful words…
I raged inside.
Theo Ross was a notorious thief and playboy, but he was also my father. My fist struck the table, and I turned my glare on full force. “You cannot give up this easily. I’m not.”
Eyes greener than the amazon stared back at me. I had my father’s eyes. Maybe that’s why I could read them so well when no one else could. I recognized remorse in the depth of his striking gaze, but I also saw pity. He thought I was naive. A clueless girl with my head stuck in the clouds.
But I wasn’t naive.
My father just didn’t know me anymore.
After Mom had died, the only thing that mattered to him was the next job. He’d say it was all for me, but after so many years, I knew better.
I couldn’t keep my mother, and now I knew I couldn’t keep my father, either.
“I can’t be there for you anymore.” He reached across the table and enveloped my hands. I couldn’t stand to see the defeat in his eyes anymore so I fixated on the slight tremble of his large hands. It was the only sign that he was far from calm. My father was best at concealing his emotions and thoughts so he’d give nothing away. In his line of work, the ability to master it meant life or death. No one had ever been able to read him except Mom and me. “I regret that the most. I just want you to know that.”
Should I remind him that he hasn’t beenthere for me since Mom died? For months at a time, he pushed me away so he could chase riches. Or maybe it was the other way around…
“We still have a chance.”
He shook his head in defeat, so I closed my eyes to block the sight. My father had always been a man larger than life, but I was not seeing that man today.
The guards.
The walls surrounding him.
The bars that would imprison him.
It weakened him.
“No, baby girl. It’s over. It’s time I paid back what I’ve taken.”
“Why are you giving up? You can’t leave me!” He hung his head, and I could see the slight tremble of his shoulders. When he finally lifted his head, he seemed to have regained himself.
“I’m sorry I have to leave you, but I’m not sorry for what I’ve done.” His lack of remorse made me flinch, but he didn’t notice. “I’ll never be sorry for taking care of you the best way I could. I love you, Mian. Never doubt that.”
The shield I carried cracked. “Mom loved me too, but she left, and now you’re going away, too. I’ll be alone.”
“You won’t be alone. Your Aunt Gretchen and Uncle Ben will take care of you. They’re family.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. He wouldn’t listen if I reminded him of the truth. He’d assume it was my emotions speaking. My aunt and uncle were evil, vicious people who hated kids, hated me and hated my dad even more. They never approved of how my father made his money. They were God-fearing church folk who stayed true to their hypocritical faith.
Daddy may be a criminal, but he always took care of me, and he had loved Mom fiercely. “It won’t be the same,” I answered instead. I was never comfortable speaking badly about anyone—even if it were true.
He used his thumb to wipe away a tear. “You’re going to live a better life than I did, Mian. Your mother would be so proud of the young woman you’re becoming.”
“But who will read me a bedtime story?” I sniffled and hoped my attempt at a joke would win him over.
He chuckled and flashed the smile that used to make my mom sway on her feet, once upon a time. “Nice try, Mian. I haven’t read you a bedtime story since you were ten years old.”
Just before Mom died.
I was sixteen years old now, and despite his absence in my life for the last six years, my birthday was one day he refused to miss. A late breakfast visit to Tabitha’s Frozen Treats was our tradition that had remained unbroken. Until now.
We both shared the first laugh for either of us since he was arrested. My father had lived lawlessly since he was nineteen, but this time, he’d gotten caught.
“Daddy, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why do they think you killed Uncle Art?”
Daddy killing my godfather should never have been a possibility. They had been best friends and partners for almost twenty-four years. I’ve even heard the story of how they met.
Daddy saved Uncle Art.
My father may not have been perfect, but he was loyal. Killing him didn’t make sense.
“I—I’m not sure I should answer that.”
What?
“Don’t you think I need to know?”
“No, baby girl. I don’t.”