Her Prince (Twisted Royals #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “Shit. Okay.” Owen planted his hands on his hips. “Jax.”

  “Who?” Shelby glanced at Owen then Kade.

  “No.” Kade shook his head.

  “You need someone you can trust, and who’d be likely to check out—Jax.”

  “Who is Jax?” Shelby asked.

  “He’s our friend.” Kade’s eyes speared her. She sucked in a breath. Was this what it meant to be Kade’s friend? “He had a rough time of it when he was younger, but he’s different now.”

  “We do need a driver. If it’s someone we can trust…” Shelby shrugged. “I hate to say it, but Sean’s not going to get out of that hospital and go back to work. He’s out.”

  “God damn it. I’ll call Jax.” Kade turned and stalked into the kitchen. He began scrubbing at his hands and arms.

  “How bad is this thing?” Owen asked without looking at her.

  “It wasn’t that bad. Now it’s bad.”

  “I can’t believe his brothers brought this guy here. That’s what happened, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. That’s about it.”

  Owen pivoted, putting himself in her line of sight.

  “Tell me Kade’s going to be okay.” Owen’s blue eyes saw too deep. Like Kade, he read people.

  “Kade’s a big boy. He can handle himself.”

  Owen just kept staring at her.

  Shelby had never had friends, no one to have her back like Kade did. Not for the first time she found herself wanting that. A safety net. A friend.

  “We’ve got all our bases covered,” she said.

  “Good.” Owen nodded, as if that answered his deeper question.

  Kade would come out of this fine. She didn’t have a doubt about that. But her?

  Between this thing with Kade and the chance to catch Ogden red-handed, things were too good to be true. This little incident didn’t begin to scratch the surface of what could go wrong.

  Tomorrow, plans would be set in motion and once they were, nothing could be stopped. She needed to remember that, to focus.

  Her priorities were seeing to the art—both staging and stealing it—and making sure the FBI knew where and when to hit. That was it. So why did her heart have other ideas in mind? Why—when she looked at Kade—did she suddenly find herself wanting something else? Something different?

  Shelby had no room in her life for different. Things, people, jobs, they had to fit into neatly defined categories, or they were pointless.

  Until Ogden was caught, nothing else mattered. Not Kade. Not her. Not anything. At least that’s what she was still trying to tell herself. It wasn’t working out so well. When he touched her, when they were alone, she found herself slipping farther and farther off-target.

  She was setting herself up for failure but she seemed powerless to alter her course.

  “How are our guests?” Iestyn peered into the room.

  A week ago, it’d been a beautiful, Grecian villa. Or at least looked like one. The nightclub transformation was truly uncanny.

  “Good. We have procured all of the set dressing.” Yuri gestured to the lumps of people passed out on the sofas. “The wardrobe you provided has been freshened up and the room readied.”

  “Wonderful work, Yuri.”

  “Will you be on hand to observe?”

  “Not quite. I have a matter to attend to. I’ll leave Sharon in your capable care until then.”

  “Very well, Mr. Ogden.”

  “Iestyn, please.” He offered his hand. “We’ve done business for far too long for formalities. Did you get what you were after?”

  “Yes, yes. Would you like to see her?”

  “Very.”

  Yuri led the way across a seventies-style disco-tec floor to a corner couch. He gestured to a blonde young woman with aristocratic features.

  “What’s so special about this one?” Ogden leaned forward. She was pretty, that was for sure.

  “Her name is Jenelle Freya Thorburn.”

  “Any relation to the senator?”

  “One of his twin daughters, actually.”

  “That is a prize. I’d love to hear how it goes. No, I know you can’t divulge what your other clients are after, but maybe later?”

  Yuri simply smiled, a polite way of saying no.

  Ogden filed that tidbit of information away and turned on his heel. Brent waited for him in the foyer.

  “Are you ready?” Ogden asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road. Let Gil know it’s time.”

  21.

  “No, no, no.” Shelby covered her eyes to keep from having to see the nightmare.

  These people knew nothing about hanging art.

  It wasn’t real art. It was fake, forged stuff, but damn it. They could at least be hung properly.

  “Sorry.” The FBI agent on top of the ladder huffed.

  “Did you look at the diagram? That one doesn’t go there.” She waved a sheet of paper at the guy.

  “I just saw it here and we started working on it.”

  “Look at the diagram.” She shook the piece of paper at the man.

  The gala guests were connoisseurs. There was a certain progression of one piece to the next that they would expect. They couldn’t just stick two pieces up at random next to each other. This sort of thing took consideration, thus the diagram she’d worked up with the museum director for the gala.

  “Relax.” Rusty wandered over next to her. “It’s just for show.”

  “We’re almost an hour behind schedule.” She turned toward him. “Gil is supposed to be here—with Kade—for their walkthrough at two. So yeah, it matters.”

  “Just—”

  “If you tell me to relax one more time I’m going to punch you in the nuts.” Shelby closed her eyes and sucked down a deep breath.

  This was a disaster.

  From the moment they’d gotten Kade’s brother’s phone call until now, everything was going wrong. One thing right after—

  “Shit!”

  She whirled around in time to see the same agent lunge to catch the corner of the six-foot painting.

  The drywall behind it sported a hole and a rip.

  “Oh…no…”

  Shelby stared at the destruction.

  This—this—was what she’d feared.

  The paint hadn’t had time to fully cure. She’d used every trick from paint thinners to oils to drying lights to prematurely age the paint, but under the surface, it was still wet. And heavy.

  She’d asked about the weight load limit of the places set up to hold the paintings.

  They’d assured her it would be fine.

  It would be fine was not a number.

  It was not a weight she could hang a painting on.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Shelby pressed her hands against her temples and closed her eyes, the better to remain oblivious.

  They were going to damage the paintings she’d spent the last two months creating.

  “Okay. Backup plan.” Shelby slapped her palms together and turned toward Rusty. “I need the museum to bring us stands. Big ones. We’re going to have to skip hanging them.”

  “Oh, I don’t know—”

  “I didn’t ask for feedback. I’m sorry, but there’s no way we’re going to get all of these hung—and left up—until game time. Besides, this will make our load-out faster, less chance of things going wrong. You got this?” She pulled out her phone.

  “Me? You’re the one that knows what you’re talking about.” Rusty grumbled and pulled his phone out, too.

  “I’ve got to get Kade to stall.” Last she’d heard, Kade’s friend had to meet with Gil still.

  “Hey,” Kade’s voice was low, a rumble across her senses.

  “We’ve got an issue—”

  “You aren’t still at the place, are you?” Kade asked.

  “Uh, yeah. Why?” She caught Rusty’s eye. Something about Kade’s tone…

  “Get out.”

  “What?�
��

  “We’re here,” Kade whispered. “I’ve got to go.”

  Oh, no…

  For a moment, Shelby just stood there, her jaw hanging open.

  “What? What is it?” Rusty pulled his phone away from his face.

  His FBI badge was clipped to his belt.

  No, so not good.

  “Anyone with a badge has to go,” she blurted.

  “Why? We’ve got—”

  “They’re here.”

  “Who? You mean—”

  “Gil.”

  “Shit. Okay, you—go to that office, the little one. I’ll be there in a minute.” Rusty turned and whistled, snagging every person’s attention in the gala space.

  Shelby ducked around the corner, clawing her laminated FBI badge from around her neck.

  At the end of the hall, the double doors opened.

  She saw a flash of dark hair.

  Oh, no…

  She walked straight into the utility closet and shut the door, practically hugging a still-wet mop.

  Had they seen her? She hoped not, because if they had, Gil would not hesitate to kill her.

  “Here he is.” Kade turned, putting himself between Gil and the on-going gala set up. “This is the guy I was telling you about, Jaxon.”

  Was that Shelby he’d glanced?

  His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted, so he could only hope it wasn’t.

  Jaxon stood just inside the gala space. He looked as nervous as Kade felt. There were any number of ways this could go wrong, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. That they were being taken for a ride.

  “Hey.” Jaxon pushed his hat back and glanced from Kade to Gil. “You’re the guy, right?”

  “Yeah.” Gil peered at Jaxon, as if he could read the other man’s rap sheet on his face.

  Kade hated asking Jaxon to be part of this. It was a shitty thing to do, but this was a chance to get someone they could trust in on things. But it wasn’t like Jaxon had any training. He was a mixed martial arts fighter, turned bartender, who had just enough of a record to lend him an air of legitimacy. It was a past Jaxon was locked in a battle with.

  “He said you can drive.” Gil nodded at Kade.

  “If it’s got wheels, I can drive it.” Jaxon shrugged.

  “Good.” Gil held out a pair of keys. “Out the front door, to the left, go two blocks and take another left. There’s a truck there. Instructions are on a clipboard under the passenger seat. Got that?”

  “What the hell?” Kade glanced over his shoulder. The hall was clearing out, one small blessing.

  Gil turned toward Kade.

  “Do your job,” Gil said.

  Kade stared at Gil, staring at him.

  They were being taken for a ride, and not the fun kind, either.

  “What about the plan?” Kade asked.

  “Your friend has a cousin? Andre or something, right? You’re all friends.” Gil’s tone was a little too…pleased.

  “What the fuck do you know about my cousin?” Jaxon took a step closer.

  Kade held up his hand, staving off whatever mistake Jaxon might be about to make.

  “He’s reminding us that not doing our job has consequences, am I right?” Kade asked.

  “Something like that.” Gil shrugged.

  “Go on, Jax.” Kade nodded at the door.

  “He better not mess with my cousin.” Jaxon glared at the guy.

  Threatening Andre was not a wise choice, not when Jaxon’s preferred line of employment involved recreational beat downs. In a one-on-one, Gil didn’t stand a chance against Jaxon, even if he wasn’t in fighting shape.

  “I’ll take care of it, Jax,” Kade said without breaking eye contact with Gil.

  Jaxon muttered something under his breath and shoved the door open.

  Kade waited until the door shut.

  “What’s going on, Gil?”

  “We’re doing our walkthrough. You can barely explain me, how would you explain your thug friend?”

  Gil’s words had no sincerity.

  Kade and Shelby were being kept in the dark. What about the others? Did his brothers know? What about the rest?

  “Come on. Let’s get this going.” Gil nodded toward the gala space.

  Kade referenced his informational sheet. Shelby had provided that, but as far as Gil knew, he’d stolen that, too.

  “Guests enter through the foyer behind us, there will be drinks out there. In here is the pre-exhibit.” Kade walked forward.

  He’d never been a Fire Marshal, didn’t know what a walkthrough entailed. Rusty or Shelby had at least ensured that upon their arrival, things would clear out.

  “Damn, this is a mess,” Gil muttered.

  One wall was missing a chunk.

  The paintings that had previously sat in Shelby’s loft were leaned up against walls. Two were hung.

  “Well, I guess this makes it easier.” Gil hooked his thumbs in his jeans.

  “What—easier?” Kade’s premonition had teeth and was now gnawing at him.

  “Timetable’s changed.” Gil pulled out his phone.

  “What? When?”

  “Today.

  “What? No.” Kade stopped in front of Gil. “No one is ready.”

  “Everyone is ready. Your new job,” Gil poked Kade in the middle of his chest, “keep people out of here. Got it?”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” And where the fuck was Shelby? If she was supposed to be somewhere, he didn’t think she knew about it.

  Gil finished whatever missive he was writing and glanced up.

  “Figure it out,” he said.

  Somewhere far too close a phone chimed.

  Shelby.

  She was here, with them, and she couldn’t be.

  “Then help me secure these doors.” Kade gestured to the far side of the gala space.

  Holy shit, how were they going to pull this off?

  “How many cameras are there?” Iestyn settled into the leather chair behind the bank of monitors. Yuri couldn’t offer him this—a front seat to the play of the year.

  “Counting the ones outside, forty-five.” The uniformed security guard stuck close to his elbow.

  Ah—there she was.

  Iestyn leaned forward, watching Shelby slip out of a closet right behind Gil’s back.

  It was too much.

  She was so lively. So much like her mother. Sharon had always been the life of the party, full of smiles and adventure. Shelby had inherited that, but she had an edge her mother had lacked. Not that it made Sharon any less, but Shelby—she was perfect.

  He’d often wished Sharon had chosen differently, but if she had, would Shelby have become this magnificent creature? He didn’t think so.

  “You’re transmitting this, right?” Iestyn pushed to his feet. As much as he wanted to be on site for the heist, to watch Shelby, he needed to be elsewhere.

  Indulging his desires could only go so far.

  Being in the same building as his people during a heist crossed a line.

  The way he calculated it, there was plenty of time to get to his suite across town for the show.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Soon, Shelby would be his. As she was meant to be.

  Shelby sprinted down the stairs, her shoulders hunched and head down.

  Did Gil or Ogden have people she didn’t know about watching the building? If he did, she was fucked.

  They were all fucked.

  A car whipped up along the curb.

  “Get in,” Rusty barked from the driver’s seat. “You don’t have a choice.”

  He was right.

  Even on her bike, she couldn’t get close to the staging location in time.

  She dove into the passenger seat. Rusty flipped on the red and blue lights and hit the gas. Shelby ripped at her lanyard, divesting herself of her credentials. She was so not dressed right. Then again, maybe this was the point. Catch them all unaware.

  “What happened?” R
usty demanded.

  “I don’t know.” Shelby buckled in. “I guess—Sean getting shot and bringing someone new on, they wanted to move the timeline up.”

  “They’re going to do this in the middle of rush hour, Shelby. What are they thinking?”

  “I don’t know!” She threw up her hands. “There has to be a plan.”

  “Here’s a tracking device.” Rusty thrust a pin-sized tracker into her hand. “My team is getting ready, but we need you to stall. They’re not all here. Damn it. Do whatever you can to make the load-out take longer.”

  “What about the people in the building?” The whole plan, bringing Kade on, it was to eliminate the body count entirely. How could they do that on a busy afternoon?

  “Fire alarm. We’ll have Kade or someone trigger it, but we’ll tell the department not to answer the call. Kade can tell Gil he…I don’t know. Disabled it or something.”

  “That’s never going to work.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “No.” Shelby thumped her head on the headrest behind her. “This isn’t good.”

  “Don’t stress. We’ve got this. We’re going to get him.”

  “He planned this. He’s had time to plan it.” She stared out at the buildings whizzing by. “This was what they intended to do all along.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah. It has to be.” She blew out a breath and loosened the elastic binding her hair up.

  They’d never needed Kade. She wanted to blame herself, but his brothers were going to pull him in, no matter what. Anton and Sasha couldn’t accept—they couldn’t believe—that Kade wanted out. Had gotten out. And here she was, dragging him further down. God, if she could go back, if she could change things.

  “Are you carrying?” Rusty asked.

  “No.” She swallowed. “They’ll have weapons at the staging site.”

  She liked to have her own firearm, one she knew she could trust. Ogden didn’t particularly care about the shelf life of the people he hired. If he was playing a bigger, more complicated game, who was to say the guns would even be worth the materials they were made of?

  Rusty eased to a stop at the curb and shifted into park. He turned to face her, lips parted, his brows knit together. It was rather touching that he was worried about her. She almost wanted to hug him.