Dirty Thief

by Tia Louise

  She still has the same thick shag of bangs, and while she looks very focused on going home, I can still see that little girl in her face.

  She’s real.

  They’re all real.

  It’s time I come clean to my husband and figure out a way to take care of them.

  Chapter 7

  Rowan

  My eyes spring open in the darkness. The French doors stand open, but it’s been almost a week since I stood looking down at the sea, thinking about my beautiful wife. Starting a family has turned into almost a game. It’s our secret pastime—we’re constantly slipping around attempting to score. Earlier, I half-teasingly suggested we try to christen every room in the palace, and she readily agreed. God, I love my wife.

  Only now something is wrong. Our bedroom swirls with her scent of jasmine mixed with the sea, but Ava is gone. I sit up, straining my eyes in the dim light. Where is she?

  I rip the covers aside and search around for my pajama pants. Stepping in, I jerk them over my hips and go to the bathroom.

  “Ava?” I ease the door open, but the small room is dark and empty.

  Fear twists in my gut. It’s stupid. I have no reason to be concerned. She’s probably in another room reading or watching television, and she didn’t want to disturb me.

  She’s not in the sitting room. I go from room to room on the second floor, but every one is empty. I’m on the verge of shouting her name and waking the whole goddamn palace when I notice a light down the hall.

  Sprinting toward it, I grasp the handle and burst in, causing Ava to scream and jump back, away from the table where she was sitting. She’s visibly shaking, and I’m out of breath as I cross to her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, taking her in my arms. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Holding her against my chest, I slide my hand up and down her back. It takes almost a minute for me to notice she isn’t relaxing. She’s stiff, and her hand is pressed against my bare chest as if she’s pushing me away. Taking a step back, I grasp the tops of her shoulders, forcing her to face me.

  “What are you doing?”

  She blinks rapidly, looking around the room. “I, um… Well… I…”

  That fist tightens in my stomach again. “Ava?” My tone is stern.

  Her eyes are round when they finally meet mine. She hesitates a bit longer before letting out a little plea.

  “I’m sorry. You’ve just been so busy, and then it was the baby and the orphans…” She steps out of my grip and walks to the other side of the room. Her hands are clasped at her waist as she continues. “And you were so angry when it came up before. You’ve had so many things making you angry lately. I was going to tell you.”

  What the hell? I couldn’t be more confused by her behavior. “Tell me now.”

  She stops walking and puts her hands on the table. A fine line pierces her brow, and I can’t tell if she’s afraid or determined. “I’ve been searching for the other girls. I have their pictures and their names and ages. I’ve had them for years, and now that I’m here and everything is like a fairytale, I can’t take it anymore. I feel so guilty. I have to do something for them. It’s not fair…”

  I think I know what she’s saying, but she still isn’t making sense. Crossing the space between us, I reach for her waist. “Come here,” I say, gentling my tone. “I don’t like waking up and finding you gone, but I’m not angry with you. Tell me what you’re doing. Let me help you.”

  Her shoulders drop, and she leans into me. Now her body is relaxed when I slide my palm over the silk of that robe Zelda sent her. We hold each other through another few breaths, and she steps back.

  “Wait here.”

  She goes to the door and leaves me alone in the room. I do as she asks, but I look at the computer screen. It looks like satellite imagery, but I can’t tell of what. A folder is on the table beside the laptop, and I read the card sitting on top. The names Ramona Lewis and Emily Farther are written in Ava’s script beside addresses in Florida and Maryland.

  My eyes are on the computer screen when she returns to the room. “Who are these women?” I ask, but when I look up, I see she’s holding a man’s wallet. The black leather is cracked and faded, and it’s clearly old.

  “I was fifteen when Zelda and I ran away from our last foster home,” she says quietly. “Before we ran, I took this from the man who was keeping us.”

  Her eyes go to my hands, and I realize I’m fisting them. It takes all my will to force them to relax. “Have you found him?”

  I don’t finish my thought out loud. I’m prepared to kill him.

  “I don’t care about him,” she says, and her voice has changed to the way it sounds when she speaks of him. It’s cold and hard as ice. “He doesn’t matter.”

  “He matters to me.” My voice, by contrast is seething.

  She crosses to where I’m standing and opens the wallet. “When I ran away, I took this because I wanted my picture back. He had taken it and made a big show of putting it in his special wallet.”

  The rage burning in my stomach at this man could incinerate this entire palace. I have to steady my breathing before I can speak. “I understand.”

  Her cool hand touches my chest. Her slim fingers open over my heart, and she forces my eyes to meet hers. This time when she speaks, all traces of ice are gone.

  “You can’t hide how you feel from me, and I love you for it. Inside the wallet were three pictures of other girls. I can only guess they lived with him before me. I don’t know what happened to them… How bad he might have hurt them or if they had anyone to protect them like I did.”

  My large hand covers hers over my heart. She’d been right to hesitate before telling me this. My rage is almost more than I can control; however, I’ll control it for her. “You’re trying to find them?”

  She nods, and I watch as she pulls a plastic folder out of the wallet containing what looks like the pictures. It goes in her pocket, and she hands the wallet to me.

  “I didn’t know when I took it, but it has money inside,” she says. “I’ve never seen anything like it, but I researched it… It’s a note for fifteen thousand dollars in gold.”

  Taking out the bill, I step to the lamp and hold it directly under the light as she continues speaking.

  “It’s an antique now and very rare. The right collector would give as much as one hundred and fifty thousand for it.”

  I turn it over in my hands. “I’m not familiar with currency like this, but I can have it verified if you like.”

  “I’d like to divide the amount into thirds and give it to them. I don’t need it, but they might.” She pauses for a breath. “It’s the least I can do.”

  I put the money back and reach for her. She steps into my arms, and I hug her close against my chest as I think about what she’s proposing. It’s a generous idea, and I love her selflessness. At the same time…

  “What if this fellow decides to come looking for it?”

  Not that I give a damn. I actually welcome the idea of that fucking bastard daring to come here. It gives me a sick satisfaction imagining my fist breaking every bone in his face. Still, we should be prepared for the ass kicking.

  “It’s been so long.” She pushes out of my arms again. “That was almost ten years ago.”

  “Still, my love, this is a lot of money. Does he know you took it?”

  Her lips twist, and she looks at the floor. “I don’t think so. He never tried to find me when we lived in Florida. As far as I know, the police were never actively searching for us. He never used that wallet, so it’s possible he figured he lost it.”

  “Maybe.” I’m not convinced.

  “Anyway, I’m here with you now. How would he even know where to find me?”

  As much as I’m thinking it, I don’t want to burst her bubble. At the same time, I know she can’t be this naive. She must have internalized how very visible she is as my wife by now. Reaching out, I smooth my palm over her cheek, tracing my thumb acr
oss her full lips.

  “If you trust me with this, I’ll take it from you and break it up.”

  “I do,” she says. “It’s time.”

  I tug her bottom lip, and my anger is melting into desire. “If that bastard ever bothers you, it will be the last thing he does.”

  Her small nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head. “He’s not going to bother me.”

  I’m not concerned with convincing her. Ava Wilder-Tate is more than safe with me.

  “Come back to bed,” I say, taking her hand. “We have a royal duty to perform.”

  “Who says we need a bed?” Stepping back, she slides the silk belt from her robe. “Weren’t we planning to christen this room?”

  The bright red silk drifts apart, and my lips curl into a smile. She’s completely naked underneath it. Reaching out, I close her laptop and move it aside.

  “Sit on the desk.”

  Chapter 8

  Ava

  I’m lying back on the glossy dark-wood desk with my knees bent. My silk robe is open, and I’m completely nude underneath it. My hand covers Rowan’s larger one on my bare breast. He squeezes it and rolls the tip of my hardened nipple in his fingers. His head is between my legs, and his beard scuffs the soft skin of my thighs, sending little thrills straight to my core. Moans fill the air around us as his expert tongue circles down and up, blowing my mind.

  “Yes…” The pleasure tightening below my waist is almost more than I can bear. My fingers thread in his hair, and I can feel my wetness running down to my ass. He sucks my clit between his teeth, and I cry out. My stomach trembles and my thighs jump. Heat flashes like electricity through my body all the way to my toes.

  He moves higher, kissing my belly, tracing a line with his tongue to my navel. My focus on that decadent journey breaks when his large thumb plunges deep into my core, circling and teasing my wetness, but it doesn’t stop. It trails down, and he cups the side of my ass before that thick digit pushes hard into my tiny hole.

  “Rowan!” I arch off the table.

  He’s over me, cock in hand, and with a firm thrust, he’s buried to the hilt in my clenching insides. The dual sensation blanks my mind. He’s thick and long, massaging and stretching me, and in the back is pressure, teasing and invading. It’s erotic and dirty, and I’m gasping and moaning.

  He leans forward, capturing my mouth in a brief kiss before moving to my ear. “I love that sound.”

  The low vibration of his voice at the side of my neck is another shot of pleasure. He kisses me right at the base of my hairline, and his beard teases my hypersensitive skin. My stomach explodes in another sparkling wave of orgasm.

  “Oh, god…” It’s a shaky cry.

  Rowan makes three more hard thrusts before holding steady, throbbing and filling me deep. His thumb slides out, and his hand goes behind my neck, lifting my back off the desk, sending him even farther into my core as he pulses again.

  My legs are tight around his waist, and I hold our bodies close together where we’re joined. I want all of him. I want all of his come. I want our baby so much. His body trembles, and my insides clench again. He groans, and another little pulse fills me.

  “I love that sound,” I repeat his words back to him, tracing my teeth along his collarbone. It’s true. The sound of my powerful king groaning as he comes inside me is so erotic.

  We’re easing down from the most spectacular high, and he pulls my hair, tilting my head back before covering my lips with his. Our kisses are hungry and slow, tongues curling, mouths melting together. My hands are on his cheeks, and the intensity of the love I feel for him aches in my chest.

  Earlier, when he burst into the room and caught me watching the girls, I was terrified. At the same time, the sight of him dressed in only PJ pants, dark brow lowered, every muscle in his deliciously lined torso flexing along with those fists… He makes my knees weak.

  This man has no idea how erotic the sight of him transforming into a monster of protective rage can be. I’m not sure I’d been fully aware until I saw it. My fantasy of a hero beating the shit out of Dwayne Vega came vividly to life in that moment.

  “What are you thinking about?” His lips move to my cheek, and he takes a deep inhale at the side of my hair.

  “I love it when you do that.”

  “Do what?” He kisses my head, and I trace my fingers along the lines in his arms.

  He does so many things I love, I almost forget which one I singled out. “When you smell me that way.”

  A chuckle ripples through his body. “How is that?”

  My legs are still around his waist, and he’s still inside me. “Like you’re at the top of a mountain, and you’re taking the first deep breath you’ve had all day.”

  He bends down and kisses me. “You’re my favorite scent.”

  As if reading my mind, he glances down to where we’re still joined. “I’m afraid we’ll have to sacrifice your robe.”

  “Not my robe!” It’s more of a shriek than I intended, but it’s my favorite.

  “You’re right. I like it too much.” He steps back and quickly scoops up his pants. “These will do just as well.”

  I can’t help laughing as he bundles them up and uses them to clean us both. He folds them in half and wipes the desk. My robe is around me and tied, but I linger, enjoying the view of his ass flexing. Palm-sized indentions are on the sides of each cheek, and I trace my finger down the one closest to me.

  He catches my hand and brings it to his lips. “That will have to do. We need to sleep.”

  Holding my hand, he uses the bundle to cover his junk. I can’t help laughing. “Good thing your mother isn’t here.”

  “We’ll keep her at bay as long as possible.”

  Back in our room, I drop my robe and crawl naked into bed. I’m asleep before my head even hits the pillow, dreaming of a little dark-haired baby with my husband’s beautiful eyes and smile.

  * * *

  Seeing Grace (almost) in real life is on my mind as Hajib drives me to the enormous white orphanage in the foothills just outside of Monagasco. Seeing her has changed my dream of helping them into an actual, tangible goal, and telling Rowan was a huge relief. He can help me figure out how to distribute the money, and he handled the news better than I expected.

  Hajib parks the car, and Clare meets me at the steps, doing a little bow. Her face is glowing with excitement, and I’m so happy to see her outlook transformed since our last meeting. “I’ve been so excited for your visit, majesté!”

  A few flashes go off, which I don’t even notice anymore. The cameras are omnipresent it seems, and usually they’re harmless. I’m not sure how they will spin this visit, so I say a little prayer for the best.

  Taking her hand, I briefly kiss her cheeks. “Were you able to find anything? I know I sent you several lengthy emails—I was afraid you’d be overwhelmed.”

  I had emailed Clare earlier in the week with more information Freddie had helped me find about relief efforts and administrators. Our hope had been to help Rashida and Clare get closer to who could help them among the Swedish authorities.

  “Not at all! Rashida thinks she might have found a relative of Taimaa’s in Stockholm.”

  “Oh… only one?” I hate to sound disappointed. Even one match is an incredible needle to find in this haystack. “I’m sorry. That’s wonderful! I hope she’s right.”

  “But we will continue making calls! At least now we have a starting point for them.”

  She’s right, of course, and I follow her into the small cafeteria where ten children of different ages are eating bowls of soup with large chunks of potatoes, carrots, and meat. Slices of baguette are placed beside a little platter of cucumbers, and they all have small cartons of milk. One of the boys says something in their language, and another boy laughs. Taimaa is chatting with another girl, and only little Suad is quiet, watching me with those glowing green eyes. A faded stuffed-animal bunny with long ears is clutched in her arm. I give her a smile, an
d she quickly returns to her soup.

  “At least they seem happy.”

  Clare stands beside me watching them. “They’re safe here.” Her eyes glisten when she turns to me. “I’m so honored to help with them.”

  I touch her arm and smile. “I’m lucky to have you helping me.”

  We spend the next hour going through the pantry, planning out the meals. From there, we inventory the clothing and book donations we’ve received. Rashida joins us. Between the two of them, my tiny orphanage meets almost all the needs of these displaced little ones.

  Next is a simple task, but I hope it helps me in my search for families. “I want to set up a dedicated email address for families who have lost children,” I explain to Clare as I log onto the Gmail account. “They can send us their names and when they were lost. We’ll have to verify anything we get, of course, but I hope…”

  Suddenly I’m feeling unsure, but Clare is immediately onboard. “It’s a wonderful idea! I mean, you’re right. We’ll most likely get prank messages, but we might also get real leads.”

  A few clicks and it’s set up. “I’ll keep the passwords. I can have Freddie teach me to do background checks on anything that comes in, and I’ll send a press release to the television stations and media.”

  It’s the most we can do for now, and I walk with Clare to the front door on my way back to Hajib, who is waiting in the car.

  “I hope I can find all of their families,” I sigh, watching them running on the front lawn as I walk to my waiting car.

  “What you’ve done here is so generous.” She stops at the gate while I continue through. “Even if you can’t find all their families, you’ve done so much.”

  With a final glance back, I see Suad sitting on the steps with her stuffed bunny. Again, she’s watching me, and I smile. Again, she looks down at her lap.

  “They’ve been through a lot to be so young.”

  I think about the little girl with the glowing green eyes as Hajib takes us back to the palace. Suad is on my mind as I climb the steps and make my way to our second-floor wing. I think about hope and families. I think about what we’re doing.