Dirty Thief

by Tia Louise

  As soon as my brother arrives, we can retrace my steps, but I want to start at the large pavilion at the point overlooking the ocean. It takes several minutes more before I enter a clearing in the trees. The road curves, and my headlights flash. A tan Fiat is parked off the side of the road.

  Adrenaline spikes in my veins. “I’ve got him!” I shout into the headpiece, hitting the brakes and throwing the car into park.

  Cal answers. “I’m at the park. Where are you?”

  “All the way in the back. The pavilion overlooking the point.”

  “Shit!” my brother hisses. “It’s the perfect place to commit a crime. Watch yourself. Don’t approach him unarmed. I’m coming as fast as I can.”

  I’m not even listening at this point. I have my gun out and the safety off, and I’m picking my way carefully toward the car. When I get to it, I crouch low, making my way along the passenger’s side, which is facing the woods.

  Once I’m at the side, I pop up and look through it. Empty.

  “Fuck,” I growl. “Where the fuck is he?”

  I strain my eyes into the trees, but it’s dark and wet. The only obvious choice is the pavilion, and with my gun clasped in both hands, I walk quickly toward the round structure.

  I’m halfway there when a sound stops my heart. A woman’s scream rips through the night, but my vision tunnels, and I’m running at top speed before my brain finishes processing. The voice was Ava’s.

  “Ava!” I shout, charging up the steps.

  She screams again, and I see the dark heap of two people struggling on the concrete floor. My wife’s hands are on his face, his neck, slapping, and Vega has his hands around her throat. He’s strangling her.

  Without thinking, I race toward him, shoving my gun in the back of my pants. I won’t waste time on inaccuracies. My military training kicks in, and I grip this fucker by the top of the head and the chin. It only takes one swift twist to send the satisfying crunch of breaking bones echoing through my arms up to my brain. His entire body goes slack, and I throw him to the side as I drop to my knees.

  It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why she’s here, but I hold her close against my chest. She’s coughing and shaking and crying. Her entire body is cold and wet, but her arms are around me, and she keeps repeating my name.

  “It’s okay, Ava. Don’t cry.” I move my legs so I can sit on the pavement.

  Gathering her onto my lap, I kiss her head. I hold her close and surround her with my arms as I wait for our backup to arrive.

  * * *

  Back at the war room, Freddie monitors the police scanner as we try and figure out how to handle everything that has happened. Dr. Klein is with Ava, giving her a thorough exam and treating her injuries, which are thankfully minor, the most severe being a bruised hip where that bastard threw her across the floor. So many questions race through my mind, but they will all have to wait until I’m alone with my wife.

  André’s gun is in the center of the table, three bullets missing, and it’s the problem we’re trying to work around.

  “If it’s possible to keep the queen regent out of this, I want to do it,” I say.

  “How did she get my gun?” André is bewildered.

  “How did you not know your gun was missing is more like it.” Cal’s voice is furious.

  “I thought I’d left it in my flat.”

  I hold my phone, studying the chief inspector’s contact information. “I will take responsibility for killing Vega. The injuries to the queen are evidence enough it was a justifiable homicide. I think we can trust him to keep it out of the tabloids.”

  “If the chief knows this man attacked the queen, that will be the end of it,” my brother says.

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. I hope that’s how it works out. At this point, we only have one way to know, but I’m not doing anything until I talk to Ava and have answers.

  Chapter 28

  Ava

  Rowan is beside me in our bed. His strong arms surround me, and the trembling and panic have slowly subsided. Dr. Klein checked me thoroughly and declared my injuries minor. The baby is so small, none of what happened tonight will make a difference, she said. All that’s left is explaining why I left the palace.

  “The way he messaged me, the things he said…” I don’t know if I can ever fully explain why I did what I did. “It was so personal. I had to go back and try to avenge the little girl he hurt.”

  “I was already determined to avenge your past,” Rowan says, and I tighten my arms around him.

  “I didn’t know.” My eyes heat, and I’m so grateful.

  “Why did you think you could confront him yourself?” I hear the frustration in his voice, and I search again for some reason that will help him understand.

  “He was the monster under my bed. Wherever I went, for the rest of my life, he would always be there waiting to come back. Even here, in this beautiful palace with you, he found a way to get to me.”

  Rowan inhales deeply, and I feel him kiss the top of my head. “I’m going to have to tell the police inspector something. I have to account for the gunshot wound.”

  My lips press together, and I nod. “I’d like to go with you.”

  * * *

  Franc Calais sits across the enormous wooden table in the war room, a serious expression on his narrow face. Rowan is at the head of the table, and Cal is to his right. Freddie and André stand at the back wall.

  “This is the weapon?” Calais’s accent is thick, and he uses a pencil to lift André’s gun. A glove covers his hand.

  “Yes, sir.” André steps forward. “I saw him lunge at the queen regent, and I shot in an attempt to keep him from hurting her.”

  “I see.” The chief nods. “And why was the queen regent in the park after hours with this man?”

  “He threatened one of my orphans. He wanted money, and I thought I could catch him admitting it on tape.”

  “Hm…” The chief looks around the room. “Such evidence is not always permitted in court. You should know this.”

  “He admitted to killing the two women whose bodies were found,” I add softly.

  “Oui, majesté, we are running the DNA evidence now, but that still doesn’t explain how the man ended up dead, his neck broken.”

  Rowan answers for me. “As you can see, he attacked my wife. I guess I took matters into my own hands.”

  “A crime of passion,” Calais says.

  “He saved my life,” I add.

  The chief stands and inhales loudly. “I think we can take it from here. As you have requested, I don’t think we will have to bring the queen regent into this matter. It is clear she was involved in no wrongdoing.”

  “Thank you.” My eyes are fixed on the glossy wooden table as Cal escorts the man out of the room.

  “Freddie, André, give us a few moments,” my husband says.

  The two men leave, and we wait until the heavy door closes behind them.

  “What’s troubling you, Ava?” Rowan’s deep voice soothes my tattered insides, but it can’t assuage the guilt.

  “The inspector said I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  My husband rises from his seat and walks to where I’m sitting. Leaning beside me against the heavy wood, he takes my hands in both of his. “You disagree?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s as if the burden of the last ten years, the last several weeks, all of it, is suddenly rolling over me in a tidal wave of emotion. “Didn’t I?”

  Rowan is quiet, and I can see by his eyes he’s choosing his words. “Only you can answer that question. I’m inclined to say no. The only thing I wish you had done differently was let me help you, but otherwise, you were just as much a victim of this man as anyone.”

  I’m going through the evidence, I’m searching through the years trying to see if there was anything I could have done differently that might have changed this outcome. Had there been any point in the timeline where I could have done something to stop what happened? Wou
ld those women still be alive?

  “I stole the money.” I’m looking at my hands, my light fingers clutched in his strong ones. “It was the first thing I ever stole.”

  “You said it was an accident.” His voice is gentle. “Was that true?”

  I think about that morning, the sun rising over the concrete culvert. Zelda had been asleep, her forehead pressed against her bent knees. I’d taken the ancient wallet from the pocket of my too-small raincoat, and as the sun had risen in the bright blue Florida sky, I’d seen the faces of the other girls.

  “I meant to steal the wallet, but I never meant for what came next,” I say. “I wanted my picture, but when I saw them, I knew they were like me. They weren’t trash…”

  Then I found the note.

  He lifts my hands and kisses them. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Blinking away the tears, I look up at him. “I survived.”

  * * *

  Zelda takes the news of what I did much better than I ever would have expected. “I just wish you’d have let me help you,” is all she says.

  Today we’re back in the car, Hajib driving, and we’re climbing into the foothills headed to my orphanage. Clare had called a few days ago to let me know Sanaa’s visit to collect Suad had all been arranged, and of course, I had to be there. Zee had insisted she wanted to come with me.

  “I’m invested now,” she laughs. “I’m ready to cry when this little girl finally goes home with her family.”

  The car rises higher, and the pavilion at Pointe de la Vielle comes into view. Tightness moves across my throat, and I blink down. My sister doesn’t miss a thing.

  She reaches for my hand. “It’s over now, Ava-bug. You have to let it go.”

  I think about her words, and I know she’s right. Still, this weight is pressing on my shoulders. “It’s not over yet, Zee. I still have to give Emily the money. I have to be sure Ramona is taken care of.”

  From the security of her car seat, Belle reaches for me, and I scoot closer, putting my arm around the top of her chair.

  “You need to talk to Rowan about it,” Zee says, handing her daughter a cup. I wrap my niece’s golden curls around my finger.

  “I’ll talk to him about it tonight.”

  “Whatever happens, next time, let me help you. Or him? Don’t go off on your own. We want to be there for you.”

  I reach out for her hand and clasp it in mine. “I promise.”

  The car stops, and Zee squeezes me. “I want you to think about what’s about to happen here and take it to heart. This is what you’re about Ava-bug. This is who you are.”

  A smile lifts my lips, and Hajib holds the door for us to exit the vehicle. Zelda unhooks her daughter, and I’m out the door, looking up at the little girl at the top of the steps. She’s again wearing that white pin-tucked dress with white ankle socks and black shoes. The stuffed bunny is under her arm, and her green eyes glow today with excitement.

  “You’re just in time,” Clare says as I go through the gate. “Sanaa will be arriving any minute.”

  Zee is through the gate with Belle, and I walk up the steps to where Suad waits. Bending down, I hold out my hand toward her. This time, she smiles and takes it. I bite my bottom lip as joy warms my chest. Her eyes move behind me, and I turn at the sound of a car stopping in front of the orphanage.

  The door opens, and a petite woman with dark hair and eyes steps out of the black limo. Small flags are on the front, and I recognize it as the German ambassador’s car.

  Sanaa is through the gate so fast, she’s practically a blur. I step aside as she scoops Suad into her arms, and the two of them hug each other for the longest time. A tear rolls slowly down her aunt’s cheek, and the little girl’s eyes are closed as she smiles bigger than I’ve ever seen. I glance toward the gate and Dieter is waiting at the car, also smiling at the reunion.

  “You are the woman who made this happen?” Sanaa releases her niece and holds out her hand to me.

  “I’m one of them,” I say, taking it in mine. “Clare has been directly involved with the children, and Dieter, you know, made it possible for you to come here.”

  She does a little bow to me and covers my hand with both of hers. “Thank you. Thank you so much for helping me find her.”

  We give Sanaa the tour of the orphanage and let her see where Suad has been living. She doesn’t recognize any of the other children, but she seems pleased with what we’ve been able to do. Clare has prepared a suitcase with several of the donated outfits that fit the little girl, a few pair of shoes, and a small envelope of money. Once she has everything, we hug them both again and wave as we watch them climb into the limo and drive away. Glancing over at Clare, we both laugh when we see tears in each other’s eyes.

  “We can’t be crying,” I say. “This is the whole point of what we’re doing.”

  “I know, but I can’t help it,” Clare sniffs, touching her eyes. “She’s gone, and we have to trust she will be okay.”

  “She’s going to be great.” Zee bounces Belle on her hip. “She has a family who loves her, and she’s seen that there is kindness in the world.”

  Leave it to my sister to put everything into perspective. I step closer and put my arm around her waist. She reaches for Clare’s hand, and the three of us share a moment as we watch the car vanish around the curve.

  * * *

  We’re on the beach at Occitan. It’s a Sunday afternoon, and Rowan and Cal are with us this time. I’m reclining against my husband’s broad chest, his large hand resting on my still-flat stomach, and we watch Cal and Zelda horsing around in the waters of the small bay. She jumps on his back, he grabs her ass, and I can’t help laughing.

  Only a short time has passed since, but with Freddie’s help, we’ve been able to accomplish so much. Rowan’s hunch that the fifteen thousand dollar note had belonged to Emily Farther proved right, and using government channels and help from the State of Florida, we’d been able to anonymously return it to her in Maryland.

  Rowan had also helped me send money to pay for Ramona’s burial. I’d never been able to learn if she had family or if there was someone to take care of her, but I was able to put her to rest. Grace, as I’d later discovered, did have extended family, cousins who had taken care of her.

  The queen mother is back at her spa retreat, and the four of us are spending one last night at the beach before my sister and her family return to their island home.

  I watch as Belle chases the small waves rushing back and forth on the sand. She’s so cute in her little ruffled-butt bikini with her chubby arms and legs.

  She stops and bends down to touch the tiny bubbles left by clams that disappear in the wet sand, and when a wave rushes in and splashes her, she screams and runs up to the dry sand again.

  “No matter what happens, it never stops,” I say softly, threading my fingers through my husband’s. In less than nine months, we’ll have our own chubby baby to watch on the shore, and my days of stealing to try and find control seem like a far-distant memory.

  “What are you thinking?” Rowan’s voice is a smooth vibration at my back.

  “It’s over.” I turn to find his gaze. “I’m no longer a thief.”

  A sexy smile curls his lips. “No more discipline?”

  Warmth floods my lower stomach, and I think about what that means. I think about possible alternatives. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Either way, it’s not true.” My brow lowers, and he touches my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “You stole my heart.”

  I laugh and stretch my chin up to meet his mouth. I might not be a dirty thief, but lying here, in the arms of my king, with family close by and more on the way, I’ve found the calm I’ve always been seeking.

  Epilogue

  Two Years Later

  Rowan

  A tumbler of Jameson is in my hand when I see her. My forearms rest on the polished bar, and my back is to the entrance. Still, in the enormous, golden-framed mirro
r behind the bottles of all colors, shapes, and sizes, she’s impossible to miss.

  A beaded gold dress that stops mid-thigh shows off her sexy, long legs. I allow my eyes to travel up her smooth arms to her bare shoulders. The dress has a halter top with an ornate band around her neck. It opens in the front, giving just a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, and her long blonde hair tickles around her shoulders, the tops of her arms. It’s swept up and away from her face in a way that makes me think of old casino films.

  Her eyes flicker briefly to the mirror, and I look down to avoid contact. Still, I caught the hint of blue-green. She takes an immediate turn away from the bar into the gaming area. I check the clock. She has one minute before I go after her.

  Adrenaline floods my stomach. We have one saving grace in this place—the paparazzi aren’t allowed inside the casino. Otherwise, if she were caught, I’m not sure how I’d explain what’s happening here.

  It’s time.

  I place the crystal tumbler on the bar and straighten my black tuxedo jacket. The dress code at the Royal Casino is strictly formal, which means in addition to my coat and matching pants, I’m also in a bow tie and vest.

  Stopping at an archway draped in red-velvet curtains, I watch as she mingles in the crowd. She’s surrounded by sparkling evening gowns, jewelry, men in tuxedoes. At the Baccarat table, an older gentleman with grey hair and a medal pinned to his chest places his hand on her arm. She stops and smiles up at him, and my jaw tightens. Will it be him?

  My eyes are fixed on her hands. She’s holding that same long, narrow clutch, and when a loud cheer rises from the roulette table, she’s distracted. She walks away from the man, leaving him with his valuables intact—as far as I can tell. The narrow clutch never opens. Still, it isn’t a guarantee.