The Cunning Thief (Stolen Hearts Book 5)

by Mallory Crowe

  By Mallory Crowe

  Copyright

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Fonts used with permission from Microsoft.

  Copyright © 2018 by Mallory Crowe

  Mallory Crowe (2018-1-10). The Cunning Thief (Stolen Hearts Book Six)

  Want to get more FREE from Mallory?

  Sign up for the author’s New Releases mailing list and get a free copy of Part One through Three of the Cross Falls Saga AND a free bonus scene showing April and Sam’s first meeting years before the events in Teaching The Boss!

  Click here to get started: mallorycrowe.com/free/

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Join Mallory's Mailing List!

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Deadly Thief

  Check out all of Mallory Crowe's Books!

  Tristan tried to think of a worse situation he’d been in but came up short. Nope. This looked pretty bad. “I can explain—” he started before the thug in front of him slammed his fist into Tristan’s face once again.

  He winced and moved his jaw back and forth, happy that it wasn’t broken. Mother fucker. If this bruised, he was going to kill someone. He didn’t care whether his new boss had rules about that sort of shit. Heads were going to roll.

  Before he could think about some other way to talk himself out of this mess, two guys came up behind him and tugged his wrists together, connecting them with a thick plastic zip tie before they started to drag him away.

  The new construction was a great place for shady activities. Blackthorne Group, who he’d been sent here to investigate by his new boss, Scott Hart, had seemed kind of shady before, but now that they were dragging his trespassing ass toward a dark room and not calling the cops like a normal corporation, he was sure that Hart’s suspicions were right. Blackthorne was no legit company.

  And he was sure as hell going to bring them down.

  One of the guys pulled a door open and threw him inside in an ungraceful heap, grunting as he landed.

  “We found your backup,” said thug number one. “No one is coming to save you now.”

  He frowned at that. He didn’t have any backup. He’d come alone on a simple reconnaissance mission. And then he scanned the room and realized what was happening. He wasn’t the only prisoner here.

  He was surprised it had taken him this long to see the woman curled into a ball at the other end of the little windowless room, but she seemed to be trying her hardest to be invisible.

  And then the door behind him swung shut and they were in absolute darkness, making her wish come true.

  It was night and the construction site had shit for lighting, so he couldn’t even tell whether there were any cracks or crevices in the room he could exploit. But first things first. He needed to get out of the zip tie. “Hey,” he whispered as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. The guys who had dumped him in here hadn’t even checked him for ID. A sign of their inexperience, which kind of made him all the more pissed that they got the jump on him.

  There was no answer from the woman, and he could practically feel the fear vibrating off of her. This would require a softer touch if she was going to be of any use to him. “Everything is going to be okay. I have a bunch of guys on the outside monitoring me. They’ll be breaking in here any second to get us out of here.”

  He couldn’t see her well enough to know whether she believed the lie or not, but she still wasn’t talking. Fine. He didn’t care if she didn’t help as long as she didn’t get in his way. He pulled a credit card out of the wallet and jerked his wrist to the side hard enough for the leverage to take over. From there, it was just a matter of time before the ties would break.

  “Who are you?” asked the woman, finally breaking her silence.

  Her voice was husky. Not really what he was expecting. Not in a bad way, though. She didn’t really sound like a dude or anything. Just really... sexy. Maybe he should be nicer to her.

  “My name is John. I’m a private investigator who was sent here to look into some questionable activities. What’s your name?”

  She was quiet, and for a moment he thought she’d changed her mind about talking to him. But then she finally answered, “Shae.”

  Shae. Pretty name for a pretty voice. She didn’t give him a last name, but he hadn’t given her one either, so he got it. “Shae, can you tell me what you were doing here?”

  “I... I was being stupid.”

  “We’ve all had our stupid days.”

  “One of Damask’s guys threw a brick through my window. I came here to give the brick back. It didn’t go as planned.”

  Tristan snorted at the thought of this little woman storming this massive high-rise with a brick in hand. She was probably lucky she wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t she dead? Hostages served a purpose, but only in very particular circumstances. He worked the credit card harder against the ties and could feel the plastic start to give way. A few more minutes and he’d be out of here. He tried to keep her talking. “Why would Damask want to harass you?”

  She seemed to wise up. “Who hired you to investigate him?”

  “I pride myself on my confidentiality. What’s it to you?”

  “Enemy of my enemy and all,” she murmured. “Damask seems to have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. It’s nice to know that there’s anyone willing to stand up to him at this point.”

  That was the point. Hart’s cute little mission statement. Take down the guys no one else could. Shae said that people seemed to eat out of the palm of Damask’s hand, and that was probably because the dude was rich and money tasted fan-fucking-tastic.

  Though he owed Shae a thanks. Before today, they had no name to go behind the mysterious Blackthorne Group.

  He heard the satisfying snap of the zip tie breaking and smiled in victory. Boom.

  “What was that?” asked Shae.

  “Place like this has all kinds of strange noises.” Tristan stood and started to feel around for the door.

  “You’re standing. What are you doing?”

  He didn’t have time to calm her down. If he wanted to get out of here, he needed to act fast. Because he was guessing that the only reason they were hostages was because the thugs didn’t have the balls to kill them right away. As soon as the boss man found out they were here, the death order would be placed and their time would be up.

  He found the door handle and turned it, but the cold metal didn’t give. Well, the thugs had known well enough to lock the door. Damn it. He knocked on the door lightly and confirmed that it was hollow and not solid wood or metal. That was good. Considering the only tool he really had available was his body, that would have to do.

  He remembered from being tossed in here that the door opened outward. If it was the other way around, kicking the door down would be next to impossible. Once he felt for the knob and located the closest spot to the knob where his foot wouldn’t get in its way, he stepped back just far enough. Then, driving his back heel into the ground, h
e threw all his momentum into the door. The door didn’t magically fall open like in the movies, but it did splinter and start to cave in. From there, Tristan kept on kicking until the hole was big enough to allow him to leave.

  “What the hell?” whisper-yelled Shae at him.

  “It’s been fun, babe, but my time here is up.”

  “Wait! Untie me.”

  “I'll be right back.” He stepped through the hole in the door.

  “You son of a—”

  He rounded the corner as one of the thugs, who probably heard the sound, ran right at him. Tristan knew what he looked like. He put in a lot of time at the gym, but he wasn’t exactly the bulkiest guy, and bulk seemed to be what Damask favored in his men. But Tristan was fast, and best yet, he was smart. So as the thug ran at him, he curled his hand into a fist and shot it into the other man’s throat in one devastating blow, using the man’s own momentum against him. As the thug fell to the ground, gasping for air, Tristan bent over him and plucked a phone from his pocket.

  “Thanks, man.” He dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’m at the new construction on St. Pete Beach. The one by Blackthorne. And I just saw some guys pull a woman in against her will. Yeah, fifth floor, east wing. Thanks.” He hung up before they could ask any more questions and ducked into a room as more thugs ran by. They started to look around, either for him or for the woman if she had gotten away too. And then there it was. The sound of sirens in the background as they slowly approached.

  Strange. That sound should have terrified him. He used to be on the opposite side of those sirens. He supposed in some ways he still was. But now they were coming here because he called them.

  Tristan stayed in the shadows as the sirens got closer. He knew he should be getting the hell out of there, but he felt the strangest need to stay. Usually the lies rolled right off his tongue, but he kept thinking to when he’d told the poor girl that he’d be right back. He’d promised her everything would be okay, so he stood there in the shadows until he heard the telltale footsteps. It took longer than he expected. But he supposed that with a building this size, with who knew how many hostiles floating around, the police would want to wait until they had a suitable amount of backup.

  His other thought was that if there were dirty cops on the payroll, it would be easier for them to instigate a cover-up if they waited long enough for Blackthorne to clean up. As soon as he saw the bouncing flashlights of the police, he made his swift exit. The construction site was big enough that it was too easy to slip out unnoticed. Once he was outside, he found a small gathering of bystanders and slipped in. He stood there for a while until he saw the squad of policeman bring Shae out. Immediately the paramedic met her and put a blanket over her shoulders. Tristan squinted to get a better view through the darkness. She was pretty. Pretty face to match a pretty voice. He’d barely been able to see her face in the darkness. The only view he’d gotten was one shapely, muscular leg.

  He forced his gaze away from the girl and looked back to the building. There was no one being brought out in handcuffs. Considering how easy it was for him to get out, he understood that a lot of these guys would’ve given the police the slip, but the one he knocked out hadn’t been going anywhere soon. If the guy did manage to evade arrest, he had to have someone helping him. Probably someone on the police force.

  Whatever was going on with Blackthorne, it was bigger than this girl, bigger than this police force. In other words, it was the perfect assignment for Hart Securities.

  He was just about to take out his phone to give Hart the update when the girl turned around. Tristan knew logically that he was too far away and it was too dark for her to recognize him, but he swore she stared right into his eyes.

  “Someone’s out there.” Shae scanned the crowd. From this distance, everything looked blurry, but she knew without a doubt that she was being watched.

  The paramedic reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, which tore her attention away from the crowd of onlookers. “It’s okay. That feeling will stick around for a while, but I’m sure eventually it will pass,” said the man comfortingly.

  However, Shae didn’t feel any comfort at the moment. She pulled herself away from his grip. The paramedic, a handsome young guy in his twenties, probably only meant to reassure her. But after what she’d been through, she didn’t want to be touched right now. She just wanted to go home. The home that caused all this mess in the first place. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just want to give my statement and get out of here.”

  The paramedic looked at her skeptically, but he didn’t argue. “I’m sure the detective in charge will be here soon.”

  As if on cue, an older cop approached them. He wasn’t in uniform, but the badge clipped onto his belt and his holster were visible whenever he took a step forward and his jacket fell open. The winter breeze at St. Pete Beach wasn’t exactly cold, but it was chilly enough to require something. Which was why Shae pulled the blanket tighter around her as she prepared herself to give her statement.

  She mentally went through the events of the evening, trying to get her story straight. She’d been finishing up a tough day’s work, getting the new floors in, when the brick had crashed through her window. There hadn’t been a note with it. That’s why she didn’t call the police. They would’ve never believed her when she said it was Blackthorne who was threatening her, but she’d had enough phone conversations and angry letters to know that they were escalating their demands for her to leave.

  She’d angrily called the Blackthorne office, but the secretary had just given her the runaround. No, she wasn’t going to make a stupid appointment to tell them they couldn’t throw bricks through her window. All they would do was tell her again that she needed to sell the property or else. So Shae’s temper had gotten the better of her, and she’d angrily found herself driving south until she got to Blackthorne’s latest pet project—the new resort he was having built, so tall it was sure to be an eyesore on the coast. And right as she’d been about to lob that brick right through one of the windows, Damask’s men had grabbed her.

  At first, she’d been terrified they were going to call the police. She didn’t have a police record and had no idea what would happen when a vandalism charge showed up. But then her fears escalated drastically when, instead of calling the police, they bound her hands and feet and threw her into a supply closet.

  As the detective approached, she squared her shoulders and ran her fingers through her hair, only to be stopped abruptly by the tangles that had taken over after the whole ordeal. So she might have to give up looking nice, but she could still try to be charming. The detective nodded at the paramedic in a subtle dismissal. She nodded a thanks to the young man as he disappeared and then turned to fully face the detective. “Hi. I’m Shae Grant.” She held out her hand, which he looked down at but didn’t take. That wasn’t a good sign....

  “Ms. Grant,” he said in a disinterested voice. “I’m Detective Perlman. I hear you got yourself into a spot of trouble tonight.”

  She was almost confused how he could sound so condescending in so few words. “I got myself into a lot of trouble tonight?” she said. “I have no idea what those men would’ve done to me if the police hadn’t shown up.”

  “Ms. Grant, do you want to tell me what you were doing here tonight?”

  Shae knew that she had come here with the intention of breaking the law, but she had no idea why this cop was acting so accusatory toward her. It’s not like he knew that.... Did he? “I came here because Blackthorne has been trying to buy the house that I’m working on right now. They have been getting more aggressive, and I was hoping to have a reasonable conversation with somebody. I called the office, but nobody answered.”

  “So you were trespassing?”

  Shae’s eyes widened, and she tried to figure what she had done so wrong so quickly to get this interview going downhill so fast. “I was barely on the property when the guards picked me up. And besides, if I
was trespassing, they should’ve called the cops. I was thrown into a closet and tied up. Why don’t you ask me about the men who did that?”

  “Now, when you were in there, was there anybody else with you?” he asked, pointedly not asking about the men who’d assaulted her.

  Once again, her temper reared its ugly head, and Shae had to ball her hands into fists. She had never once punched a guy she just met, but now she was damn tempted. “When I was thrown into the closet, it was empty.”

  “And it stayed empty the whole time?”

  Shae frowned. He wasn’t interested in her. He was interested in the man who had been with her. The one who’d abandoned her. But how would he know? “Were you able to catch any of the men on the property?”

  “Except for you, the building was deserted when we got here.”

  Shae knew that was a lie. When they’d gotten there, all the Blackthorne men had gone running. She’d heard the panicked footsteps. More disturbing was that if none of the men had been caught, there should be no way for this cop to know that she wasn’t alone in the closet. So if none of the bad guys were caught, and she hadn’t told anyone about the other guy, and the other guy was long gone, there was only one way Detective Perlman could have been getting this information.

  Shae didn’t lie. He was asking questions he already knew partial answers to. “There was another guy who was thrown in there with me. He was the one who knocked down the door, but it was too dark for me to see his face. He said his name is John, but I’m pretty sure he was lying.” As far as she knew, he’d lied about everything. Until the police had come in, she’d been half convinced that he was one of Blackthorne’s men sent to interrogate her. That would explain why he left so quickly.

  On the other hand, the only reason the cops would’ve shown up when they did must’ve been because he called. So was he the man who abandoned her, or was he the one who saved her?

  It wouldn’t matter. She’d probably never see him again. “I don’t understand what he has to do with anything. Don’t you want to find the men who locked me in there?”