Her Prince (Twisted Royals #2)

by Sidney Bristol

  “This is as close as I dare get,” he said at last.

  “Get back there and help clear the scene. I have no idea what’s going down.” Shelby slid out of the car, glancing up and down the empty street.

  “You do your job, I’ll do mine.” Rusty shifted into reverse.

  Inertia closed her door. She turned and jogged down the sidewalk, keeping her eyes peeled for look-outs.

  Nothing about this felt right. They’d spent weeks coming up with this, only to throw it out the window. Why? Because Sean nearly got killed?

  She slowed her jog as she approached the warehouse. As far as she knew, the owner was indebted to Ogden in some form or another, and repayment came in the form of allowing their team the run of the warehouse. She hadn’t looked too closely at the pallets of bags.

  Voices, loud ones, echoed out of the open bay doors.

  “Hey—what’s going on?” She stepped into the open space, peering into the dim interior.

  Most of the team was there.

  “Do you know what the fuck is going on?” Anton demanded.

  “No.” She glanced around. “Where’s Gil?”

  “Didn’t you read the message?” Sasha sneered.

  “I skimmed. I had to bust ass just to get here.” She pulled her phone out.

  No one was suspicious of her, that was good.

  “Okay, looks like it’s go time. We’ve got,” she paused to count the minutes, “less than ten, if we’re going to make our window.”

  Talk about a tight fucking timeline.

  “Get dressed.” Sasha threw the coverall uniform at her.

  They’d had reproductions of the company used to ferry the art from the gala hall to the museum made. Only problem was, the company had already pretended to deliver the paintings. There was no discernible reason for the team to be back.

  Their entire entry plan was junk now.

  They were relying on Kade to clear the way.

  “Everyone take an extra gun. We’re going to need them,” Sasha said.

  Yeah, that was what she was afraid of.

  Shelby dressed, stepping into the coveralls, and tucked her hair up under a hat. Her original plan had included providing her own bulletproof vest, because again, Ogden didn’t really care about them.

  “What the hell are we going to do about a driver? Has no one thought about that?” Anton’s voice cracked like a kid going through puberty.

  “Don’t worry about it. Kade found someone,” she said.

  “Kade? My brother Kade?” Anton jabbed his thumb at his chest.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you know about my brother, gaje?” Anton scowled at her. He was just looking for someone to pick a fight with.

  “Load up. Now,” Sasha snapped.

  Shelby didn’t argue. She slid into the back of the waiting van. Sasha took the driver’s seat and Anton sat behind him, the better to glare at her.

  She had a bad feeling about this, but there was no turning back.

  If they stalled, if they didn’t show up, this opportunity would disappear. And then Kade would pay the price for her meddling. She couldn’t risk Kade. It’d been a long time since a person mattered to her, but Kade was more important than all of them. He knew both parts of her life. He might not like them, but he got it. He saw her. He maybe even accepted her. For those reasons alone, the thief part of her had to stick to the plan.

  The goal was still to capture Ogden, but it wasn’t the primary objective anymore. Not deep down. Sure, she wanted answers. The truth. But that wouldn’t change the past. It wouldn’t bring her parents back or give her a different history.

  Losing Kade would change her future.

  No, they might not be able to be together. That was foolish. But he would be out there. She could remember him. And that made all the difference in the world.

  The van bumped along, sticking to a zigzagging path through the city.

  Traffic was thickening as the afternoon aged. Soon enough it was going to be near impossible to move at any significant speed. That worried Shelby. How did Gil plan for them to outrun the cops?

  The FBI knew what was going on, but not the local authorities, outside of Kade’s friend. So how were they going to do this?

  It wasn’t her problem.

  Shelby’s role in all of this was to manage the transportation of the art itself. How it got from point A to B wasn’t her concern. So long as she had the tracking device, she had to trust that Rusty would be on their tail.

  “Everyone got their gloves?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yup.”

  “Right here.”

  “We’re a man down.” She glanced over the people in the van. “We’ll need to work as fast as possible.”

  “You think we don’t know that?” Anton kept glaring at her. “We’ve only been practicing moving your fucking plywood for a week. And who the fuck is driving?”

  “Your brother’s friend Jax. Met him?” Shelby glared right back at Anton.

  “No.” Anton frowned.

  “I have. He should be there. Now, before you interrupted me, I wasn’t just lying around today. I was checking out the site. They haven’t finished hanging half the stuff, so it should be easier to grab and go. It’ll help us on our load-out time.”

  “Gil said not to go there.” Anton’s gaze narrowed.

  “And Gil also said not to do side jobs while we were here, but did you listen? From what I saw, it’s a miracle you didn’t get your friend killed.”

  “You think because you’re fucking our brother you can talk to me like that?”

  “Enough,” Sasha snapped from the front of the van. “We’re almost there. Put a lid on it. We’ve got a job to do.”

  Shelby had never liked Sasha more than she did in that moment.

  She took a deep breath and watched the streets.

  Was it as easy for the them to pick out FBI vehicles as it was for her? Or had she merely been straddling the fence for too long?

  Sasha pulled the van into the loading docks.

  A large, white box-truck sat idling nearby.

  “That should be Jax.” She pointed at the driver.

  The driver waved.

  “Okay, don’t go for your gun unless you have to. The more bodies, the harder it’ll be to get out of here without setting off the alarms.”

  “What about the people inside?” Anton asked.

  “What do you think your brother’s here for, dumbass? Go.”

  Shelby just hoped that Kade was on things inside. If not, she didn’t want to consider what else might happen.

  22.

  Kade stalked past the front doors. They were locked. He’d seen to that personally, but he had no idea how many entrances there were to the building. For all he knew, there were a couple hundred employees off in a room somewhere having lunch.

  What if a single person wandered in when the team got there? What then?

  Shelby was pretty certain Gil would shoot an interloper on sight.

  Kade needed to make sure that didn’t happen.

  He slid his thumb over the tracking device Rusty had slipped him.

  Kade glanced over his shoulder. Gil was watching the back, double doors. What if the guy had seen Kade? What if he planned on killing them all? He wasn’t ready for this. This was so far over his head. At best, he was a soldier who went and did what he was told.

  This…

  It was the same, but different.

  Only if he let himself think of it that way.

  He needed to view this as a combat situation, plain and simple. The team was his unit, and it was his job to protect them, even from themselves.

  “They’re here,” Gil said.

  “I’ll make another circuit, ensure security is still doing their job.” Kade had been surprised the on-duty security guard was so easily paid off.

  “Change of plans,” Gil announced.

  Oh, fuck.

  Everyone came to a stop, staring
at Gil.

  “We are only taking a dozen of the paintings. I’ve marked them with green sticky notes. Focus on those. I’m setting the timer now. We will be leaving in fifteen minutes with those paintings.” Gil jabbed at a timer

  “What? We can’t work that fast,” Shelby said.

  “Get to work,” Gil snapped.

  It wreaked of planning.

  Whatever. If the security guard was on the take, that was his problem. All it meant to Kade was another body he didn’t have to worry about.

  Footsteps thumped on the marble floors. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Shelby and the others enter, with clear, plastic cases carried between them.

  This wasn’t the part Kade was involved with. He was just the lookout.

  He pushed the doors open to the rotunda and peered around. They’d cleared the beverage company out on bogus issues to do with their license. Sooner rather than later, Kade expected them back. They’d be pissed. He just hoped that Shelby and the others were done before that happened.

  “Kade! Hey, Kade.” Shelby jogged up behind him, breathless, cheeks red. “We need help.”

  “Okay—”

  “Put these on. Help me get this one in a case.”

  “But I—”

  “Just do it. Kevin didn’t show up. We need your help.”

  Kade struggled to recall what Shelby had said about the transportation. They went in cases, stacking one inside the other, something like nesting dolls.

  “Get this side.” She tapped one end of a six-by-eight canvas. He remembered her working on this one a week ago.

  He grasped the frame with both hands.

  “On three, lift. One—two—three.” Shelby grunted.

  They picked the art up off the ground and walked it to the side. Shelby directed him in placing the frame and canvas into the first case. Her eyes were wide, lips nearly white.

  “We’ve got this,” he muttered to her.

  “Get that side of the case.” She gestured to the lid as she adjusted the foam clamps that would keep the art in place. “This is a disaster.”

  “Shit!”

  Kade and Shelby whirled.

  Anton had his hands on his face.

  Sasha paced away, cursing a blue streak in pure Romani.

  “Oh, no…” Kade didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Fasten the case.” She pointed at the one they were working on before turning her attention to his brothers. “What did you do?”

  Kade got the painting secured into its nesting cases. Since the outer one was on rollers, he nudged it toward the doors. This was going off the rails in a way he couldn’t even wrap his head around. What if Gil discovered the paintings were forgeries? What then?

  “You—you smudged it? How did you do that?” Shelby’s voice rose in pitch.

  “I don’t know!” Sasha yelled back.

  “What’s the problem?” Gil stomped toward them.

  “Nothing. Just get it loaded.” Shelby gestured at the cases.

  “Hurry it up,” Gil demanded.

  “What’s going on in here?” A new voice said.

  No…

  “Hey, man. Sorry about the noise.” Gil’s voice changed. It was nice.

  Kade turned and caught sight of a security guard he didn’t recognize.

  Oh—

  Gil got within ten feet of the guard, pulled out his gun and shot twice before the defenseless man could react.

  Kade’s training kicked in. He couldn’t even react. He just did, all the while his head was across the room just staring.

  “What the fuck, Gil?”

  “We’ve got to go.”

  “That was a bad idea.”

  Voices clashed in the back ground.

  Yelling.

  Feet pounding the marble.

  Clanging.

  Kade pressed his hands over the one wound. The man’s eyes were wide, his jaw moving soundlessly.

  Shock.

  “He only got you once.” Kade kept one hand on the wound, the other feeling for any other injuries.

  Gil had shot low, hitting the man in the gut.

  That was bad. All sorts of internal damage happened when the guts were torn up. It was painful. He could bleed to death. But he wouldn’t. Not with the FBI right outside. Where the fuck were they?

  “Kade? Kade, come on. We have to go.” Shelby tugged at his arm.

  “I can’t.” He tried to shrug off her hold.

  “Yes, you can. The sooner we go, the sooner Rusty can get to him,” she whispered.

  Kade leaned over the man.

  This was the kind of devil’s choice he had to make.

  “The FBI are right outside,” he whispered. “Keep your hands over the wound, help is on the way.”

  “Kade—come on.”

  Shelby dragged him off the man, blood dripping from Kade’s hands, staining his stolen clothing.

  Where had all the art gone?

  “Did you get it all?”

  “Yes, but it’s not all in cases, and we’ve got a problem. Just—go.”

  They jogged straight into the back of the box truck. Sasha pulled the door down and the truck took off, into mid-afternoon traffic.

  “Sit. Here.” Shelby guided him to the wall and helped him sit.

  “His wound, it might have gone all the way through. I didn’t get to check.” He’d been so preoccupied making sure there was only one wound, keeping up dialogue with the patient.

  “You did good.” Shelby sat next to him, her fingers laced with his.

  “I didn’t… I thought there was just the one on duty,” he mumbled.

  “We couldn’t be sure. We weren’t prepared for this.”

  “I should have been.”

  “He’ll be okay.”

  “Who the fuck cares about one security guard. What about us?” Anton paced between the art cases.

  “Calm down,” Sasha demanded.

  “Calm down? You calm the fuck down. We’ve got a wet painting. A wet painting that can’t be from the what-the-fuck-ever year these are from.” Anton whirled, locking eyes on Shelby. “What did you do?”

  “Me?” Shelby flinched.

  “You said you were here earlier.” Anton jabbed his finger at her. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We don’t know that.” Anton loomed over them. He always wanted someone else to blame.

  “Whose idea was it to hit that store last night?” Kade asked.

  “We aren’t talking about that,” Anton huffed.

  “Yeah, well, I want to know.” Kade shoved to his feet.

  “You can’t change the subject. You can’t save her!” Anton pushed Kade’s shoulder.

  Kade pulled his arm back and let one fly, crashing his fist into Anton’s jaw with everything Kade had.

  The pain of it reverberating up his arm felt good. It felt like life.

  “We’re in this because you fucked up.” Kade stood over his brother, years of pent up anger seething out of him. “You don’t get to point the finger at someone else for what you caused, so shut the fuck up or I’ll toss you out myself. Don’t think I won’t.”

  And Kade would.

  Anton had never shown Kade a single lick of consideration. How many times had he thrown Kade under the buss? This was just another instance of his brother’s selfishness. He wanted to talk about how Roma should stick together, how they should watch each other’s backs, but the truth was, Anton was a selfish bastard who never thought about anyone else.

  If Kade had to pick, it would be Shelby. Without a doubt, he’d throw his lot in with her.

  Sasha clapped once, twice, three times. It was the only other sound besides Anton’s groaning.

  “Nice to see you have some balls, little brother,” Sasha said.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Kade flipped his oldest brother off.

  “We do have a problem. Anton’s right. How are we going to pass this off?” Sasha gestured behind him, at one of the paintings
not in the secure cases.

  “Let me see it.” Shelby pushed to her feet and slid between the cases, giving Anton a wide berth.

  Kade didn’t have a solution for that problem. He was just the Band-Aid guy.

  “Get up, princess.” He reached down and hauled Anton up.

  The guy’s bell was rung.

  Kade shouldn’t have done that, but damn it’d felt nice.

  “You hit like a truck.” Anton’s words were a bit slurred.

  Yeah, well, there was a difference between street fighting thugs and being on the front lines of a battle. Kade had first learned to fight to protect himself, then to protect others. Now, he’d protect Shelby, even from his family.

  Shelby swirled her fingers in the paint.

  She couldn’t fix this.

  Damn, why had they picked this one to screw up? Out of the whole lot, this was the one she’d been worried about. The paint had been too thick, the details too layered, for it to dry all the way through. From what she could tell, Anton must have put his hand on the actual painting.

  He wasn’t supposed to do that.

  It was one of the all-important points she’d tried to drill into their heads. Both because if the paintings were real, touching them could damage the canvas and because her forgeries weren’t totally cured all the way through. It took months for oil pants to cure. She’d only had—what? Six weeks to get this all done?

  “Do we know where we’re going yet? How much time do I have?” She twisted to glance up at Kade behind her.

  “No clue.” Kade grimaced.

  She couldn’t begin to imagine how Kade was doing under it all. On the surface, he was calm, cool, collected, and pissed. His good-guy guilt was likely eating at him, telling him he’d been a party to someone getting shot. She ached to tell him it wasn’t his fault, he wasn’t to blame, but right now she had to focus on keeping them alive.

  Gil hadn’t cared, but it wasn’t his job to care. It was his job to deliver merchandise from point A to B. He was a con man. Dealing in forged art was par for the course. He did what he was told to do, no questions asked.

  Which brought Shelby back to the same question that’d been bugging her since day one.

  Why was she here?

  Gil hated her.

  The rest of the guys tolerated her, at best.

  And if they didn’t care about the authenticity of the paintings, why was she here? Transportation wasn’t that difficult. They could have paid her flat fee to consult and that would have been it.