Catwoman: Soulstealer (DC Icons #3)(23)

He shook his head at the phone, the mess, at her, and strode off.

Crouched on the ground, Selina watched him go for a heartbeat. Waited for him to pat his jacket and figure it out.

He didn’t, too busy being angry about his destroyed phone to care. Selina finished gathering up her things, slung her backpack over both shoulders this time, and headed for the opposite end of the park. Mika was waiting there, Ani in tow.

Selina cast a searching glance around the park, the streets, for any signs of uniforms or patrol cars. Found none.

She slid the man’s wallet over to Mika, who gave her a firm, approving nod.

As they launched into a casual walk that would take them quickly away from the area, Ani said, “I thought you were supposed to be some kinda gymnastics freak.”

Selina said nothing. She’d been with the Leopards for three weeks now and she already knew to keep her mouth shut.

Ani just chuckled, clapping her on the back. “Next time, do some flips and shit.”

“Not exactly covert,” Mika countered.

The Leopard’s Second only shrugged. “Yeah, but it’d look cool.”

A week later, Ani had gotten her wish. They’d robbed an electronics store that required some careful, flexible maneuvering to disable the alarms and cameras. And as the only gymnast among them, Selina wound up assigned the task.

And wound up with two hundred bucks when the night was done.

Those first robberies had been over five years ago now. She’d learned as much from Mika and Ani as she’d learned through her own trial and error.

But once she’d gone to the League, Nyssa and Talia had taught her far, far more.

Bring Gotham City to its knees.

The burglaries would begin that process. That undoing. And the cash was a wonderful addition. A bonus, as it were. All hers.

And tonight…

The universe had a sense of humor, Selina decided as she went to the gym to limber up, a combination of her old gymnastics warm-ups and what she’d been taught at the League. Because the big prize tonight…Well, its owner lived across the hall from her.

She’d picked the apartment for its proximity to one of Gotham City’s richest and most popular. No one could question her credentials when she was Luke Fox’s neighbor.

In the East End, she’d often witnessed the substandard treatment endured by so many black people in this city—and part of her wondered if Luke himself had ever faced any. Yet from all she’d seen and heard, everyone treated the Foxes like royalty.

To her, Luke seemed like nothing more than a pretty boy used to getting what he wanted. Who probably had those muscles just to admire them in his mirror. There was no shortage of those types here in Gotham City, and now that the summer had ended and gala season had begun, all the trust fund brats and titans of industry would be returning to the city from their beach estates. Starting tonight.

Selina strode into the gym, smiling at the news reporter on the screen above her favorite treadmill, the one that allowed her to keep an eye on the door. The news was reporting live from the museum’s red carpet in anticipation of the gala in a few hours.

Where that ten-million-dollar painting, no larger than a sheet of paper, had just been loaned to the museum—courtesy of Luke Fox’s private collection.

Selina smirked as she stepped onto the treadmill and tied back her ridiculous blond hair into a heavy ponytail.

Luke Fox could afford to lose it.



* * *



—

Selina had been to the Gotham Museum of Art before.

This week, obviously, had been one of those times, while she’d scoped out the entrances, the skylights, the various windows and surrounding streets under the cover of darkness. To anyone passing by, she would have likely only appeared as a gargoyle crouched on the lip of one of the nearby buildings, or as a ripple in a deep shadow of an adjacent alley.

Five days now, she’d monitored the museum—five days of marking the guards’ rotations, their physiques, the weapons they carried. Five days of constructing her plan, as if she were sliding pieces on a chessboard into place.

The other League assassins relied on their tech, their fancy devices, to help them. But those things could fail. And while she’d certainly use them tonight, once the gala guests had left and Holly Vanderhees slipped into something more comfortable, Selina wanted to be able to navigate every inch of this museum blind.

The planning was as much of a high as the heist itself. Had always been. Figuring out a way in, figuring out the puzzle of alarms and security and exits…It sparked something in her. Even now, after her training had been so thorough that it was mostly muscle memory.

A low thrill was still coursing through her as she let the CEO of one of Gotham City’s biggest hedge funds waltz her around the ornate, cavernous grand hall of the museum.

Step one of the plan: let Gotham City see Holly here, believe her to be one of them—while she took these hours to get a first glimpse at where the painting had been displayed, how they’d guarded it. They’d waited until just before the party to set it up in an adjacent hall, where revelers might drift, champagne in hand, to admire the work of art in solitude and reflection.

Or some ridiculous reason like that. But it made it easier for her to get close enough to casually assess the painting. Which she’d do as soon as she finished charming the preening idiot dancing with her.