“Yes,” Archie whispers, nodding solemnly. “Sheriff was having a hard time gathering evidence that would stick. Every avenue he searched didn't pan out or they lead him to another dead end. Too many people are being paid to keep silent, and the only witness is too fucking scared to talk. She’s currently being treated in a psychiatric facility well away from here. Besides her initial statement she gave to the police when she was found, naming the Senator as her abductor, the prosecution has no other evidence. It’s looking pretty fucking likely the Senator is going to walk if we don’t find some damning evidence against him. Your brother got ahold of a lead on an object that would convict him.”
“Okay. Here’s the million dollar question, what did he go after?” I heard about this case on the news, and the few details that were given out were disturbing, to say the least. Fuck, my skin has goosebumps just thinking about my brother in connection with this case. I know Sheriff is ambitious, but hell, even he should know to stay away from the serial killers. Especially the ones he knows are guilty.
“The dagger the Senator used to carve up his victims with. Your brother got word it was being moved last night into a safe place. I guess so the sick fuck could make sure it’s not found until after he gets off, then continue on his killing spree unhindered. It was pure luck that girl got away and was found by the authorities, and even luckier that she was coherent enough to name the Senator in the first place.”
I’m trying to piece together what Archie is saying, but the holes in the story are making it a total clusterfuck in my head. “So this dagger, do you know where it was last?” I question, feeling a tad overwhelmed, which is bad. I was always in complete control of how I feel.
“No, Sheriff wouldn’t tell me. He only contacted me on a secure line letting me know he was meeting with a contact who knows of the whereabouts of the dagger, and before you ask, I don’t know how or when this person contacted him. Despite what you think, Sheriff doesn’t tell me everything. He only gives me the barest details so I can keep track of him if..,” he breaks off. You can practically see the sadness reflected on his face. His beautiful eyes, usually bright and full of life, look lackluster. “If something were to happen to him,” he continues.
I have to give John credit. He’s been remarkably quiet while he listens to us talk. Not once did he interrupts us, even though I know there has to be like a thousand fucking questions running through his head right now. Before I can ask another question, the doorbell rings and I frown. Both Archie and John cocks a brow, and I just shrug. Apparently, I’m Miss Popular today. Stalking out the room, my possessive ‘I don’t know what to call him’ caveman goes to answer the door. Ew. Wait, why did I call him ‘my possessive I don’t know what to call him caveman'? He wasn’t mine. More specifically, I wasn’t his. I mean, I didn’t even know we were fucking exclusive! This is a load of shit, man. When he returns, he has a manilla folder in hand and he hands it to me.
“Someone just left this on your doorstep,” he states gruffly.
As I look down at the envelope my stomach starts to turn. A package, specifically a fucking yellow envelope left at your door very much like this one, is never a good thing. Usually, it’s a bomb or pictures of you getting freaky with a person other than your significant other. Since John made it inside safely it isn’t a bomb, and neither Sheriff or I are involved exclusively with anyone. Well sort of, but still, the feeling still wouldn’t subside. I just know whatever this is has something to do with my brother. Sighing, I just go for it and rip the top open. Inside is a 5x8 color photo of a dog with dirty blonde fur and brown eyes. He’s cute as shit, but the dog is not what frightens me, and has my blood running cold while my hands shake as I hold the picture up. It’s the collar around his neck and the bronze tag that reads Sheriff.
Chapter Four
Robyn
“What’s wrong, little bird?” John asks all concerned and shit. Within seconds, his strong arms are wrapped around me and I hold on to him for dear life. My hand curls around his forearm, and I try to match my breathing to his heartbeat.
“What is it?” Archie asks. My eyes meet his, and despite him trying to hide it, his eyes flash to the arm around my waist. I so don’t have time to analyze that right now.
Pulling out of John's arms, causing a frustrated sound from the bastard, I show Archie the picture and he frowns. I know exactly when he notices the tag and I watch the blood leaves his face making him nearly albino pale. “Have you ever seen anything like this?” He asks in a shaky voice.
I have, and I know exactly what he’s asking, ‘what does it mean’? Because it’s clear someone is trying to send a message. One very personal to me. The real me. My alter Red Robin. That network I was telling you about earlier? The complicated one that I have my clients use to contact me? It’s a website to a pet store. Different animals are code for the services I provide, and a dog is the code I use for a person. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, I steal… people. More to the point, I steal people back to save them from assholes who as usual were taking what they aren’t supposed to. People? Jewels? All the same to me. But yes, the animals are code. Whatever the dog looks like is the person’s description. Dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, because they probably couldn’t find a picture of a dog with hazel eyes or they're just lazy fucks, and of course the tag with my brother’s name. It's something I would have recognized immediately.
“They left me a message on my website,” I whisper. I don’t need to check to confirm. More importantly, they knew who the fuck I really am because they sent the same shit directly to my house.
“Who? What website?” John finally speaks up.
No longer content to stay silent. This is it. He’s about to learn who I am. No way can I continue to keep my secret, especially as soon as I log onto my website to confirm my thoughts. I wonder will he be mad? Or act like a douche when he finds out I’m a better thief than him? To be honest, I’d prefer that because if he gets upset at me for not being honest with him, I’m going to fucking punch him. We’re not dating. Maybe I should make a fucking poster and push it in his face. Except, if I’m being honest with myself, truly honest, the worst part? I feel guilty about not telling him, and I hate that. I never wanted to owe anyone anything.
Turning back to Archie I say, “can you give us a minute?”
Archie’s jaw clenches as he looks at John over my shoulder before answering, “I’ll be in the office.”
As he leaves, I nibble on my lip thinking through how I’m going to do this.
“Robyn.” John’s voice has me turning as I look up at him. Those eyes are heated, filled with concern. My stomach turns as I swallow my urge to just throw myself at him.
“I wasn’t going to meet anyone tonight,” I murmur. Maybe this will pad what I’m about to tell him?
He frowns, “what? What the hell does that have to do with your brother?”
I see the padding method is not working. Well, then.
“I was going on a job.” I tell him gaging his reaction. “My brother... he was… taken.”
I breathe through my nose and force out the rest. “He was on a job. His job obviously did not end well and now I need to check my website because whoever sent this, contacted me through there using the code I have in place for when they hire me.”
“Hire you for what?” John’s eyes darken.
“To steal stuff,” I mumble, looking at his shoulder, anywhere but his eyes.
His hand grips my jaw as I growl at the forceful movement, but his expression has me stilling. “Is this something that's been going on for a while?”
“I’ve been doing it longer than you have,” I throw out the next piece of information.
His brows goes up as his grip drops and he steps away. I could feel my heart beating uncomfortably fast. I try to not rush my words when he asks his next question.
“You knew?” He states in a furious whisper.
“I was already in before you joined,” I blink smoothing out my e
xpression.
He shakes his head. “Impossible. I know most of the people who are worth mentioning. The only two I don’t…”
Realization dawns on his face as I brace myself. His entire body is frozen with tension for a moment as he traces my face and then I see it. I see the pain as he speaks. “The Red Robin. Yeah that makes fucking sense. Not sure how I didn’t connect that before.”
“John,” I whisper because I could see it. I could see the distance growing between the two of us, dangerously fast.
He shakes his head, and runs a hand through his hair. “No, you know what Robyn? It’s all good, because we’ve both been keeping secrets, and I am sure you got a good laugh out of knowing mine.”
I go to open my mouth, but he speaks harshly, “none of this has been real, has it?”
Oh. Well… I didn’t think that’s true. Fuck. I can practically feel myself shutting down. This is what happens when my stepmother gets angry. I know he has a temper, but more so, I know how much lying bothers him, and he has tried so many times to tell me. To tell me his secret, and each time I’ve forced the conversation elsewhere.
“That’s not true,” I mumble.
He snorts, and offers me a cruel smile. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, Robyn.”
Pain lances through me. Pain I don’t know how to deal with. Then he’s walking from the kitchen, and I wish I could tell you I didn’t follow after. But I did. Fucking shit, this is why I don’t do emotion.
“John,” I shout clearer as he grabs the door handle and pins me with a look.
“Don’t,” he shouts. “I have never asked you to tell me everything. To give me everything, but I can’t do this. I can’t be with someone who won’t even fucking tell me that they are going to do a job instead of fucking someone else. You didn’t want a relationship? You’ve fucking got it.”
The door slams as I feel my chest sever. Fucking shit.
Honestly, I have no idea how long I stand in the hallway, my matte red hair wet against my neck as a chill overtakes my body. I’m fighting the urge to fucking run after him. Shit. Did I fuck up? That’s a stupid question. But isn’t this what I’d wanted? Oh man… this is fucked and so not what I have time to focus on right now.
“Sweetheart?” Archie drawls from the opposite end of the foyer. I swallow and blank my emotions before turning back to him. His brow furrows as he looks over my face in confusion.
“Did they?” I asks, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Yeah,” Archie drawls distractedly. I make my way across the foyer and nod. Where did we go from here? Steal my brother back? I can focus on that. I am focusing on that.
“I’m going to go get ready,” I mutter. I need out of this robe, and then decide what to do about my job tonight.
“Hey,” Archie catches my shoulder and turns me so I’m looking up at him. Those stunning eyes darken at something in my expression. He shakes his head and breathes out, kissing my forehead, causing me to lean into him. Why can’t everything be this simple? I breathe in his warm familiar scent as his hand moves through my hair in a relaxing pattern. I know this isn’t about John storming out. I mean I’m sure he can tell I’m upset, but his comfort is about so much more than that. My brother, the only person besides my father and Archie, I have as family… was gone. He’s been taken away from us. From me. I feel a furious spark jump through my skin.
I pull back, but before I can say anything Archie speaks. “There’s something else.”
“What?” I ask, frowning.
“The message they sent was left with a letter,” he says softly. “If we want to know where your brother is we need to meet them tonight. They’ve sent a location.”
I grunt and pulled away, heading towards my bedroom. Well, I guess my concern about being bored wasn’t a big fucking problem anymore, now is it?
Chapter Five
John
I’m not good with emotion. Not as bad as my little bird, but definitely not good. I’m a toxic mix of regret, anger, and frustration. All of them because of, and directed towards her. I didn’t fucking mean what I’d said to her. The fact that I even alluded to us not being together anymore is making me feel fucking awful. Mostly because I know what little hold I have on her. She’s elusive and closed off. She may be named after a bird, but she can never be caged… so I essentially told her to fuck off. I’ll be lucky if she even talks to me again. It was so fucking stupid. All of it was.
I saw her surprise when she realized I considered us exclusive, and it infuriated me she’d been walking around this entire time thinking she wasn't. I don’t care that she knows I’m a thief. In fact, I’ve been trying to tell her for around a month now. What I do care about is that she lied to me. It makes me feel like I’ve been imagining this entire fucking relationship the two of us had. I’m not though. She’s mine. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
The worst part? I know I haven’t been imagining the things that have kept me pushing through her absolute refusal to open up. Her words told me she didn’t want me in her life besides for fucking. But then, when her guard is down or when she’s sleeping, it’s different. Most of the nights we spend together, I wake with her wrapped around me like a fucking vine, and her head tucked into my neck. Her muffled words fuel my decision to keep trying with her every time she murmurs my name or whispers something affectionate in her half-awake state. Then there are the moments where she looks to me for comfort, even if she’ll never admit to it. Wasn’t it only two weeks ago that she showed up at my place to spend the night because her stepmother had called to yell at her about something stupid? Mind you, she didn’t fall asleep or relax until I’d practically fucked her into the next day, but still. She came to my place and sought me out.
Maybe I’m the one who's crazy?
Of course, I didn’t go far from her place. Instead, I’m sitting in the coffee shop outside Central Park as I try to decide what the hell I’m going to do. A sick thrill goes through me knowing she’s not seeing anyone else tonight, well except for maybe Archie. I swallow down a growl, because no matter what she thinks, Archie’s feelings for her are far from innocent. Yet, the bastard is the one in her house comforting her over her brother's disappearance. Not me.
I need to know where she’s going tonight. If I don’t find out, it’ll drive me crazy.
With ease, I flip open my laptop and log on. I can admit easily she’s a better thief than me, but there is quite literally no one better at hacking than myself. I know because MIT is still bitter I chose Columbia over them. I don’t regret it, and now that I've met Robyn? Yeah. The best fucking decision I’ve ever made. Still, I keep my skill set fairly quiet, and in times like this, I’m thankful. Her and her brother set up a fairly good network security system, but I was in within minutes.
My jaw tenses as I pull up her website’s admin page. I’d chosen a while ago to not peak into her life out of respect, but I’m past that shit now. Now that I know the type of danger she’s in? I don’t give a flying fuck if she’s pissed. She can just add it to our list of current problems.
My eyes run across the messages as I shake my head. The picture is there along with a location. I look at my Rolex and pack up my bag. I have a few errands to run before the meeting tonight. I’ll be there just to make sure everything goes smoothly. If they do, her and I will be having a long fucking chat later.
Chapter Six
Robyn
My over the knee boots are tightly tied to lace up my legging covered legs, and I zip up my nondescript black jacket tighter, keeping my eyes on the approaching location as Archie’s voice echoes in my ear piece with smooth candace. “Remember Robyn, if anything…”
“I know,” I whisper. “Nothing is going to happen Archie. I promise.”
He’s in the Cadillac SUV parked down the block I arrived in. The snow is falling steadily in fluffy patterns as I move towards a warehouse that houses a series of yachts for the winter, one of them being my family’s. Whoever took my brother, knows us well. That
makes the list very small, and once I have time to sit down, I’ll be figuring out who the fuck sold us out.
Instead of using the door, I wedge open a small window and easily slide through, landing with the softest sound on the cold concrete. I tuck my hands into my jacket and try to remind myself of my gun is sitting snugly underneath my jacket.
A sound has me stilling as my eyes travel upwards. A man stands with his arms crossed as he watches me from the staircase railing. I quickly gather he’s wearing a nondescript suit, and everything about him screams unremarkable. Which is probably why he does jobs like this, no doubt.
I take in my surroundings. I’ve been here a million times, but now I’m here on his terms, so I’m not taking my chances. I haven’t gotten where I am by being stupid. I take note of every exit, every landmark, and all the ways out in case I need to leave in a pinch.
“I heard you were able to find the dog I was looking for,” I call out to him casually. My calmness is a front. I’m actually studying as he stealthily comes down the stairs without making a single sound. His dull grey eyes watch me like a lion does its prey before it pounces.
“Yes and he’s a beauty too. In his prime and capable of great things. Maybe a little nosy, but I’m sure a firm hand will help him get him out of that. Bringing him home will make you very happy.”
“What do you want for him?” I ask through clenched teeth. Which is the only sign that alludes to what he said hitting home. We might as well skip the psychological bullshit. It’s getting late, and I’m anxious to get my brother back, so I can move on and solve my own fucking problems, like John. I need to figure out where I stand with him. Shit, if I still even have a standing. He made it pretty fucking clear he was done when he left.
“Price,” he laughs. “More than what you can pay, but you’re lucky my employer is feeling generous, and wants something far more important than the hate he holds for your family.”
Stolen Hood Page 3
