by Milly Taiden
“Because the air currents for the air conditioner bounce off the wall and ceiling,” she answered. “If there’s large dust particles or anything detected in the current, it will set off a false alarm. Two feet out allows for gravity to take out anything that large.” She studied him for a second. “Why are you so interested in the security here? You plan on robbing it?” Not able to help herself, she laughed at the irony of their conversation.
“Of course not,” he replied. His smile was different, saying something she couldn’t figure out. He was excited about something. “How did you get into the security business?”
“My father started the company with an old armor truck he bought at a junkyard and fixed it up,” she replied. “He worked hard. Too hard.”
“When did he have the heart attack?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know he had a heart attack?” Was he stalking her? Had he investigated her entire background? What did he want?
“Lucky guess. That’s what most working men die from.” He swallowed a drink from his new glass and looked at the crowd. That could’ve been true. She had nothing to add. But he did. “So you joined him after school?”
“Something like that,” she replied. Her mood was going downhill fast. Her nervousness had become irritation.
“What university did you attend?” he inquired.
“I didn’t go to college. Funds were short at the time.” Among other things she had going in her life when it came time to leave the academy and Sister Helen.
“With such a successful company, you could go now,” he suggested. “Money shouldn’t be an issue.”
She snorted. He was one of those who thought money was made to spend on himself. Everything he wanted, he got. To hell with others who needed it more. “I have better things to spend my money on besides an education that won’t teach me anything I don’t already know.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Helping homeless children, for one,” she blurted louder than she intended. She set her empty glass on a side table. The drink must’ve gone to her head.
“There are foundations for that,” he replied. “I heard some royals in Cloustien have an organization to help children and others.”
How the fuck did he know about that place? She began to doubt his claim of being in law enforcement. There was something about him he wasn’t saying. “Yeah, I called them once for assistance, several years ago.”
He stepped back, shock on his face. “You did? Who did you talk to?”
She recalled that disastrous phone call. The result was what started her life of crime. “I don’t remember. A manager or someone.”
“Didn’t they help?”
“Ha,” she answered. “You want to know what they told me?”
His face turned serious. “Yes, every word.”
“His words were ‘children on the street are a waste of time and money.’ Can you believe that?”
His brows dipped and his pained look turned toward the floor. “I’m sorry that’s the answer you received. I thought they were better than that.” The champagne flute in is hand cracked. She quickly grabbed the stem between her fingers in case it shattered in his grasp.
“You okay?” She took it from him and set it on the small table where she set her flute.
“Maybe you can explain something for me,” he said. “Being from Europe, I must have a different up-bringing than Americans.”
21
“I’m sure you do,” Robyn mumbled. “What is it?”
He scooted closer, almost touching her. His fragrance filled her senses. She breathed him in and her body relaxed. The tension building in her drained. His heat warmed her body. Yes, this was what she’d miss about him. Everything.
“Why would someone steal objects and not money? Why go for museum things when banks have ready cash?” He looked down on her, his nose inches from hers. She glanced at his lips and licked hers. She wanted another taste like last night’s. He didn’t move, waiting for her answer. How the hell would she know? He continued. “People are greedy and deserve nothing.”
That hit a nerve. “Deserve nothing? Children without a home or food don’t deserve help? It isn’t their fault they are without. You can thank an adult for that. And the reason isn’t greed. Maybe someone steals museum things because it doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s not taking money out of a person’s hand that they need to buy medicine or food. You’re not stealing the livelihood of anyone.
“Most of the shit in places like this is old and handed down with no money involved. So no one is out any dollar amount. Besides, only big corporations and nonprofits own stuff like that. And the items could finally do some good instead of people standing around staring at them doing nothing.”
He chuckled at her long, convoluted speech. Shit, she needed to keep her mouth shut. He said, “I guess you’re not into jewelry or money?”
“No. I couldn’t care less for material objects. I have what I want in my home. I’m comfortable and want others to be blessed as much as I was.”
“Then why are you here if you don’t care for the items?”
He was being a pain in the ass now. “It’s called networking, making business contacts. That’s how it works here. Who you know, not what. I also saw the exhibit when my crew delivered it. No big deal. It’s stuff.” Time to get this over with before he sucked her in again with his charms.
She placed a hand on her stomach, pretending to be sick. “I’m suddenly not feeling well.”
“Should I call for medical assistance?” he asked, concern in his voice.
“No!” she said, lifting her hands. “It’s not really my stomach, but more intestinal...if you get my meaning.” His eyes widened. Was that worry she saw in them? Why would he worry if he didn’t want to see her again? “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a while. Just need to pass it all, you know?” She almost wanted to get graphic and gross him out so maybe he’d go away. Well, not really.
She strode toward the restrooms with purpose, hoping some attendees would notice for her alibi. When she turned the corner, out of the security camera’s range, she passed the door with “Women” on it and opened another door farther down the aisle.
On the other side of the door, two offices and a store room were vacant with lights off. Robyn lifted the bottom of her dress and pulled the flashlight headgear strapped to her calf. Sliding it over her bun, she turned the light on. Then from her bra, she took out her watch, surgeon gloves, and lock picks and opened the storage room, relocking it behind her.
To keep this real, she figured she had fifteen minutes before anyone missed or noticed her gone. And when it came to the camera footage of her absence, no one would believe anyone could’ve accomplished the heist in such a short time. The countdown commenced.
Now hidden from eyes in the storage room, she slipped her dress off and draped it over a couple bottles of cleaner. From her leg, she unwound a rope and the hoodie tied around her thigh and short stretch pants. On the other, she untaped the small drill cutter.
In the back corner, she moved an old mop, a couple empty bottles, and stepped around roach droppings. Next, she looked around for the supply boxes Sam said were kept in the storage room.
Finding them, she stacked them in the corner, giving her enough height to cut through the drywall ceiling.
Three minutes down.
Dust falling on her face from the small rotating cutter, she blew against her bottom lip, her breath moving the particles away. Lifting into the attic, she grabbed a girder and hauled the rest of herself up.
From there, she made her way around to the room with the painting she wanted. Thank goodness the gallery was the size of a house and not a museum.
Seven minutes gone.
She draped the knotted rope to the closest rafter and tied it around her waist belt. Then set to slicing a hole big enough for her to fit through, but fewer than two feet from the wall. If she was off in her estimates, the alarm would soun
d, ending her side job prematurely.
If that wasn’t enough, she had to listen for the air conditioning. She wasn’t lying when she explained the air currents to Aitan. During the night hours, the temperature was raised so she had a longer gap in which to cut the ceiling. But it still could kick on any minute and carry dust to the laser wall.
Ten point five minutes.
Pulling up the cut piece, she scooted it to the side and dove head first, skimming the wall. Digging in her bun, she pulled out a razor blade which she used to cut the canvas from the front of the frame. As she hung upside down, voices came from the hall outside the front of the room. With the lights off, she would be harder to see, but not impossible. Her time was ticking.
Slowly bringing her legs down, she rotated, putting her side against the wall and tucked into a ball in front of the frame. If they looked in her direction, hopefully she’d look like a piece of art on the wall. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She held her breath.
Three minutes remained.
The voices passed, and she rocketed up the rope, slicing it from the overhead beam and leaving the end dangling. The balls of her feet barely touching the joists, she leapt beam to beam back to the storage room. Sliding through the first hole and bounding off the boxes, she whipped off the hoodie then wrapped the painting around her thigh and retied the flattened shirt around it. The hood flopped down between her knees. Fuck it.
One minute.
She crammed her toes into the heels and raked the dress over her head. When exiting the utility room, the flashlight came off her head and wrapped around her calf. Opening the hallway door a crack, Robyn listened for occupants, heard nothing, then walked out, smoothing the front of her dress.
Thirty seconds.
She turned the corner where the restrooms were and breathed again. Glancing at her wrist, she realized she hadn’t had her watch on earlier.
“Shit.” She ripped it from her arm and stuffed it down the front of her dress. A woman coming out of the facilities smirked at her as if she were a pre-teen stuffing her bra.
Robyn stepped into the main room and looked around for Aitan. Not seeing him, she refused to allow herself to be upset over him moving on. Sam caught her eye and she threw him a kiss and he waved. That done, she headed for the door.
Home free.
She hurried to her car, her emotions soaring. A perfect score. She could pay for the rest of the kids’ tuition. A van came down the parking lot row she walked. She paid it no mind except to make sure she was out of its path. When it pulled aside her, the sliding door opened, a man grabbed her arm and yanked her inside.
22
Aitan sat in his SUV parked along the sidewalk across from the gallery. From there, he could watch the front entrance and a side door. For a moment inside, he was worried about his mate’s health. But he watched her walk toward the restrooms, the lie she told about an upset stomach hanging in the air.
After his meeting with Alpha Dax, he called Robyn’s office and tried to sweet talk Kara into telling him where her boss was. Kara wouldn’t tell him. And when he mentioned taking Robyn out tonight, Kara hinted that her boss wouldn’t be available because she was attending a gallery opening.
With a little help from Google, he found which gallery and a place to rent a tux. He also had his home office call to add his name to the guest list. Obviously, they gave his official title which included the word “prince.” Good thing Sam didn’t know a prince when he stood next to one. That was a very strange conversation. He’d never had champagne almost come out his nose before.
When Robyn went off with her unsettled stomach, he followed her scent past the restrooms and through a door to others that were locked. He heard her moving around in one room. He had a decision to make. Either stop her from committing the crime or capture her afterward and send her to jail.
His wolf released a heartbroken howl in his head. He couldn’t live without her by his side. Being separated by a door was enough to drive him crazy. But letting her get away would betray all he knew to be right and wrong. His parents raised him with a strong sense of righteousness. He was to govern and lead his people with their best interest at heart, not his own. He was torn.
If his mate was locked away from him, he knew he would become worthless. He’d seen what happened to mates when one died. The separation was hell on the survivor. Oftentimes, the living mate soon followed the deceased, sometimes by their own hand. For once, he was going to be selfish and do what he wanted for himself.
He quietly knocked on the door. If she didn’t commit the crime, then all was good. He would forgive her for taking his family’s other items. Like she said, it was just stuff. Pretty things to look at. What good did they do?
Then he realized exactly what good the heirlooms had done. They had financed the education and quality of life for homeless children. She must’ve sold the jewels to pay the way for kids like the two she took to the academy yesterday. Just like a wealthy woman had done for her when she was a child. Damn. It all made sense.
When Robyn didn’t answer his knock, he put his ear to the door. There were no sounds, no breathing, no heartbeat nearby. Shit. He’d waited too long.
Now, he sat outside to see how she would make her escape. He’d follow her and return whatever she took and would make sure the foundation granted her the money she requested. Whoever she talked to that gave her the incredibly wrong answer would hang from his balls.
To his surprise, Robyn stepped out the front entrance to the gallery and hurried along the sidewalk to the parking lot. She still wore her dress and her hands were empty except for a small purse. Confusion swept through his brain. If she didn’t steal anything, what was she doing in the locked room?
He climbed out of his truck and crossed the street. Getting the confrontation over here and now would be best, then he could follow her home and pick up where they left off last night. That was after he convinced her to at least give him a chance to make up for being so stupid.
The cold vibe she’d been putting off toward him came in loud and clear. He screwed up. She probably thought he didn’t want to see her. Women were so complicated.
When he rounded the corner to the parking lot, he noticed a van slowing and saw his mate being yanked inside the open door. He heard her yelp and the door slam shut. In two heartbeats, he had lunged onto the hood of the moving van and shattered the windshield with his fist.
The vehicle raced out of the lot, slinging him off as they turned onto the street. He hit the asphalt and rolled several times, then popped to his feet. With the van speeding away, he could give chase as a wolf or in his truck. His wolf told him automobile before he had to think.
Keeping his distance, Aitan followed the van north out of the city. He’d been on this highway twice already and was familiar with the area. When he passed the sign for the state park in two exits, he knew exactly where they were.
The van turned onto a small side road. He did the same but worried the guys in the van would know he was following and try to lose him. As he made the corner, he saw he was right, the van was quite a distance away. He stomped on the gas and jerked the SUV forward.
The back end of the truck slid sideways, and he had to slow. As a future prince, he was not trained in drag racing or high-speed chases. And it didn’t help that Americans drove on the wrong damn side of the road.
The lights of the vehicle with his mate turned again. The road was narrower and in worse shape than the previous. They were getting farther into the woods than he thought they would. He pulled out his phone to see if there was still a signal. His wolf could probably get him back to the main highway, but with nothing to scent, he wasn’t taking any chances. GPS was his friend in the States.
Pushing the button on his phone, a white flash of movement on the road caught his eye. He whipped his head up to see a young wolf pup standing in the middle of the road, deer-eyed. He instinctively knew it was a shifter child probably out learning to hunt with the males.
>
Next thing he remembered, men were dragging him away from a blaze. Naked men. One he recognized from the shelter in the village.
“Prince,” the man said, “how are you?”
Except for a headache, he was fine. He looked at the fire to see his rental submerged in flame. Good thing he bought the insurance. “I am alive. Is the pup hurt?”
“He is fine and his father grateful.”
Aitan nodded. “Good. Did you see a van go by before me?”
A bear of a man walked into sight. “Yes, the driver almost hit one of us. And unlike you, they didn’t try to swerve.”
“They have my mate. They took her by force,” Aitan spit out as he stumbled to his feet.
The man he recognized helped him up. “We will find her. We are close to the village and there aren’t that many cabins out this way.”
“I’d be forever in your debt,” Aitan replied.
“Nah,” the man said, “I heard what your foundation is doing for us. We are brothers now.” When Aitan and his helper made it to the village behind the others, the people were already gathered with their alpha talking to the men who pulled him from the burning SUV.
Dax approached him. “My men have a description of the van. We will search the cabins and other human places.” He placed a hand on Aitan’s shoulder. “We will find her. Now rest.”
23
Robyn lay on the floor in the back of a van, her hands zip-tied behind her. From fighting her captor, she’d lost both shoes and torn her dress. There was no concern for modesty since her stretch pants covered the important parts. But that also meant her captor found the painting.
When first struggling in the parking lot, she saw Aitan on the hood with his knuckles embedded in the windshield’s glass. Spider web cracks spread over the entire surface and a small hole whistled as air was forced through it on the drive. Finally, one of the guys stuffed a piece of paper through it.
