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The Thief (Bad Babygirls #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Zoe Blake

Book Information:

I will stop at nothing to get the information I need.
No matter how much she fights me… I will win in the end.
My little thief cannot steal away, I don’t care how hard she tries.
Daddy’s in charge now.
She either follows my rules, or there will be consequences… painful ones.

This is a dark romance daddy dom series. There are no sweet hugs and kisses from these domineering daddies. Note: This is part of a continuing series and not a stand-alone.

Books in Series:

Bad Babygirls Series by Zoe Blake

Books by Author:

Zoe Blake Books

Chapter One

Lyla – Five years ago

I was going to get us all arrested.

We were all going to go to jail, and it was my fault.

Stop. You got this. Just breathe.

As I knelt on the cold cement front step, I pulled out the lock picking kit I had made. It was rudimentary, only an underwire from a bra and a straightened paperclip. I had saved up for months to buy that Victoria Secret bra I’d ripped the underwire out of. It was identical to the one Lily Aldridge wore in this year’s fashion show.

Since my super corrupt father died, there wasn’t much money to buy brand name clothes anymore. I now spent my weekends in thrift stores searching for dresses and accessories I could restructure to still appear fashionable, except when I saved up for a splurge, like on my Victoria Secret bra. When I was out on my own, I would never wear a cheap knock-off again, and the only time I would sew my own clothes is if they were of my design.

I couldn’t wait till I was older. I would do anything in my power to make sure that I never wanted for money. Money. It always came down to money. Those who had it and those who wanted it.

Any money we did have went towards my mother’s endless chase for youth and beauty: chemical peels, Botox, hair extensions. The list went on and on. So did the list of her boyfriends and husbands. I’d had so many stepfathers and uncles over these last few years, I had lost track.

They were all the same. Sleazy men more interested in trapping me in a dark corner than being with my mother. I learned quickly how to defend myself watching endless hours of karate and self-defense videos on YouTube. It wouldn’t take them long to leave my mother after I made my distaste for their slimy hands on me clear with a swift upper kick to their junk.

They would leave and she would blame me.

If it weren’t for my friends, I would have gone insane. Piper, Quinn and Mary meant everything to me. So did Julie. She was the glue who kept our group together, but now she was gone, and it was David Lloyd’s fault.

My eyes began to tear as I thought back to a few days ago at her funeral. There was no mention of the baby she had been carrying. Everything was a rushed affair, all the adults looking embarrassed and uncomfortable even being there. The horrible legacy of suicide. No one wants to talk about it. Everyone wanted to pretend as if it were some horrible accident. Like Julie had tripped while cleaning a gun and somehow managed to knock over a bottle of bleach that poured into her mouth. Sure. An accident.

I still don’t understand why she did it. Why she didn’t reach out to us. We would have done anything for her. She had to know that she could have come to any one of us for help. That was the other devastating legacy of suicide. The not knowing why. The aching fear you had missed something: a sign, a look, a forgotten comment. That somehow you had let down a person you loved by not being there for them when they needed you most.

Well, we were here for Julie now.

No one as strong as Julie could have been pushed to such an extreme without help. David Lloyd pushed her into this as if he had held the bottle of bleach to her mouth himself. It was his careless attitude towards her and the child he had fathered that drove her to desperate measures. His countless lies, broken promises and deception. Well, tonight he was going to pay.

Brushing the back of my hand across my eyes, I focused. After inserting the underwire into the lower portion of the lock, I turned it left then right, feeling for the tiny dip in pressure to indicate which way the lock turned. Once I felt it, I inserted my paperclip hook. I would need to feel for the five pins of the lock. These were the pins a key depressed when it pushed in. Careful not to apply too much pressure, I pushed down on the wire, I heard the first pin click into place.

“Car,” called out Quinn.

Leaving my wires in place, I dove into the bushes with the other girls.

“All clear,” Piper whispered as she emerged from the shrubbery. I followed.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied the hook and felt for the second pin. It pushed into place with another faint metallic click.

“Can’t you go any faster?” urged Piper.

I didn’t take offense at her harsh tone. I knew she was as nervous as I about tonight’s plan.

Giving her a quick glance, I teased, “Patience is a virtue. Besides, you suck at picking locks. We both know it, so you’re stuck with me.”