I MISS YOU ALREADY, AUNT TATIANA. PLEASE HURRY HOME SOON AND PLEASE DON’T BE SO MAD AT MY DADDY. HE LOVES YOU A LOT. LOVE, NADIA.
That snake, using his little daughter to try and butter her up. Sadly, it worked. Just the sight of her gorgeous little niece dragged the first smile of the day from her.
Well, not true. If she had to be honest, she had been smiling the entire morning before the disastrous tabloid photos had ruined everything.
Do not think about Peter, she reminded herself. He refuses to be totally honest, so he doesn’t deserve your patience or attention.
Armed with that anger, she relented and phoned her brother.
“Thank you for calling,” he said. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now—”
“You’re right. I don’t. I’ve already gotten the lecture from Mother and Father.”
“You have to admit, those photos were—”
“Perfectly innocent. We were talking on the balcony. Is that so wrong?”
“No. Of course not. But you had to know it would seal your fate in terms of the marriage arrangement.”
“I can’t marry Peter, Sasha. I won’t.”
“Give yourself time to get to know him, Tatochka. He’s a good—”
“He lied to me.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. If you care about someone and trust them, you should be able to tell them anything,” she said, and hated that her breath caught and nearly strangled her. Before she could control the well of emotion, tears were running down her face again and she dashed them away with her free hand.
“Tatiana, are you crying? Please, please don’t cry. This will work out.”
She sniffled and then sucked in a deep breath, struggling to get the words out. “No, it won’t. I can’t be with someone who can’t share his life with me, Sasha. Especially not after—” She hesitated, certain that her brother would not take the news well.
He surprised her with a heavy, heartfelt sigh that carried across the miles separating them. “I understand, Tatochka. I wish he had used more common sense in how he handled this. Hell, in how I handled it. While I hoped the two of you might hit it off, I never thought it would happen so quickly.”
Quickly was an understatement.
“Why did he hide who he was? And why is he not being open with me about his reasons?”
A long hesitation followed. Even before Alexander spoke, she suspected what his answer would be.
“I love you, Tatochka. I only want what’s best for you, but this is between you and Peter. I agree with you that he’s the one who should be answering these questions for you.”
She pushed her brother, trying to get him to cave on his stance. “You say you love me—”
“I do. Besides, I don’t know the reason. I can only guess at it, so it wouldn’t be fair—”
“Fair?” she bit out. “Nothing about this has been fair to me, Sasha.”
Silence followed her words. “You’re right. And I’m sorry about that. But you and Peter need to settle this. That’s the only way things will ever be right between you.”
“Good night, Sasha. It’s late,” she said and ended the call. She stared at the phone, Sasha’s last words echoing through her brain. The only problem was, she didn’t know if any amount of talking could ever make things right again.
Chapter 15
The small warehouse where Shea was meeting his crew was located in the Port de Fontvieille, just a short distance away from the casinos and the hotel where he was staying. Since parking was an issue in most of this area, he had chosen to walk to meet his team.
The walk gave him a chance to scope out the over-the-top yachts sitting in the marina, the exclusive designer shops along the streets, and the upscale apartment buildings that crept out into the azure sea and up the rocky hillsides. Everywhere he looked, everything was scrubbed clean and shiny. Colorful flowers and strips of perfectly mowed grass brightened the streets and homes.
Fly and Hammer were already in the warehouse. They had wrangled together a trio of boxes as temporary tables and chairs in order to play a game of cards.
He looked around for the last member of the team, but Mouse was nowhere to be found. The wheel man was probably having a hard time finding a parking space. As long as Mouse found spots for their escape vehicles, Shea wasn’t too worried about his delay today.
“Heartman,” Fly greeted him and held his hand up for a high five as Shea approached.
“Fly. Hammer,” he said, returning the high five and acknowledging the men with a quick nod. “Any news from Mouse?”
“Texted me to say he was stuck in traffic. He’ll be here soon,” Hammer said.
Although this heist was really going to be more of a one man operation, all three men had been loyal to Shea, and he intended to share the spoils of this last job with them. To do that, he had worked out an assortment of ways they could assist, even though he’d be the one fulfilling the mission.
“You’ve got the goods?” he asked Fly.
The man nodded, bent, and stuck his hand into a backpack. “Henri swears no one will notice the difference,” Fly said. He pulled out a rectangular box wrapped with plain brown paper and twine, and handed it to Shea.
Shea glanced at Hammer. “What about the cameras for the security system? Were you able to hack into the feed?”
Hammer smiled and wiggled his fingers as if working a keyboard. “Of course, Heartman. I’ll e-mail you a link so you can access the feeds on your smartphone.”
“Perfect,” Shea said and glanced at his watch, wondering at how much longer it would take Mouse to arrive. If this was any indication of the kind of traffic he might face on the day of the event, he’d have to arrange for yet another speedier way of getting out of town.
He had no sooner finished the thought when Mouse scurried into the room and rushed over. “Sorry, Heartman,” he said and handed over a set of keys and a map.
Shea looked over the map and the locations Mouse had indicated. A nondescript black sedan was be parked at each spot. He dangled the keys in the air and Mouse jumped, way twitchier than usual. “You okay, Mouse? Anything wrong?”
“No, boss. The keys will work on all three cars. They’re not your run of the mill sedans, either. I’ve put something extra beneath the hoods, so you’ll be able to outrun most anything, even one of those Formula One cars they love so much in these parts,” he said, referring to the annual May Grand Prix.
“Fabulous, Mouse. I can’t say enough what a pleasure it’s been working with you all.”
Fly jumped up and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Are you really serious, Heartman? This is your last gig?”
“I hope it’s the last one for all of us. Once you see your paychecks, I suggest you all consider a few wise investments and retirement.”
Hammer held out his hand for a handshake. “You’ve been lucky for us so far. I guess it makes sense not to press our luck.”
Mouse jerked again, unnerving him. Something was clearly going on with the guy, but Shea stayed silent. Better to just check out the cars over the next day or so to satisfy himself all was in order. He told himself to ignore the warning bells in his head that maybe there was more to fear. He told himself it was only natural for him and Mouse to be worried about their last job.
After shaking hands all around, the team members left as they always did, exiting the building one by one at well-spaced intervals so as to not call attention to themselves.
Shea took his time strolling back to his hotel, stopping here and there to finalize the last details of what he needed to do to gain access to the backstage area. At one pharmacy he stopped and purchased hair dye. In another store he paid cash for an electric hair trimmer kit. A vintage clothing store held other pieces of his planned disguise and provided him with a punk-looking leather jacket.
Feeling inordinately pleased with himself, he dropped off his purchases at his small, upscale hotel. Like the casinos in the center of
Monte Carlo, it had the lavish gilded corniches and ornate woodwork at various parts of the structure, inside and out. That splendor was offset by the plain egg white plaster of the walls, but those walls were meticulously well kept.
Since it was still early, he strolled to a bar located close to the Jewel of Russia. Over the course of the last week, the assorted dressers and make-up artists working the fashion show had chosen this particular bar as their favorite watering hole. Although there were still a few days until the show, the models, dressers, stylists, and designers had already been here for a week or more, completing details of the outfits, make-up, and hair that the models would wear during the event.
The bar had the feel of an old English pub with rich, dark woods and comfortable booths meant for just sitting and enjoying a pint or two.
He settled himself into a seat in one corner of the bar where the locals had escaped the influx of new patrons. He fit in well with his clean-cut looks and preppy clothing, which was nothing like the flamboyant clothing and over-the-top appearance of those working the show. But although he was enjoying himself, he was working, too. He had been listening to their discussions and discovered the identity of the man working with the designer assigned to the jewels Sergei wanted. That man was part of his master plan. Unbeknownst to the man, of course.
Shea sat there sipping his pint, listening to the chatter of both the locals and the fashionistas, watching the man he had singled out, memorizing his mannerisms and accent. Paying attention to every detail, so on the day of the show he could not only swap out the jewels, he could also swap out himself for this man.
As the man stumbled out of the bar, slightly unsteady, Shea paid for his drink and followed at a discreet distance. He already knew where the man was staying. He had his schedule down fairly pat.
On the morning of Tatiana’s event, he’d make his move.
The guy wouldn’t know what hit him.
…
Tatiana had spent the morning ignoring him.
Again.
With the show now only two days away, Peter had to do something to get her talking to him again. And not just to settle their personal differences. Although she had listened to his suggestions on security much as she would any expert’s, he wanted to take additional steps to make sure she was safe during the event itself.
The jewels might be important to some, but she was more important to him than all of the supposedly precious items in the ballroom.
He engaged his transmitter and called Tony. “Can you tell me where Princess Tatiana is?”
“She’s in the ballroom reviewing the dresses and jewelry with the designers,” the security chief responded.
“Thanks. Can you arrange for a car as soon as possible? The princess and I have to go for a short drive.”
Peter’s father kept a small villa in the hills near Eze, a picturesque village on the Cote d’Azur. He had spent many a summer there with his mother before her illness had ended family vacations. It was a perfectly private and quiet place for him to bring Tatiana in order to explain everything. And to avoid the paparazzi milling around the Jewel of Russia property, eager for more juicy gossip for their rags.
“I can have a driver—” Tony began.
“I’ll drive, thanks. Something secure, but sporty. The road’s a little tricky where we’re headed.”
“Certainly, Detective. I’ll have something ready for you in approximately twenty minutes. I assume you want it by the service entrance to avoid the cameras?”
“You assume correctly, Tony. Thanks.”
He was about to end the call when another thought came to him. “Tony, hold on. There’s one more thing.”
“Yes, Detective?” the security chief said with some measure of annoyance.
“How hard is it for you to get me a Baby Glock?” That particular pistol was small enough for Tatiana to tuck into either her bag or an ankle holster on the night of the event. Although nothing in the history of the Thief of Hearts said he was prone to violence, things sometimes went south. If they did, Peter wanted Tatiana to be able to protect herself—and others, for that matter.
“You mean a legally registered weapon?”
“I do,” Peter said, although if push came to shove, he’d figure out a way for Tatiana to take his Sig-Sauer. It was much larger and the recoil might put her on her ass, but at least she’d have protection.
“I can have one for you by tomorrow morning,” Tony said. “There is also a small private shooting range not far from the hotel. If you’d like, I can also arrange for you to have some time there tomorrow.”
“Perfect, Tony. I appreciate the help.”
With that taken care of, Peter hurried down from the third floor and made his way past the various security checkpoints to reach the ballroom.
When he entered, Tatiana was with one of the designers, who appeared less than pleased, judging from the just-sucked-a-lemon look on his face.
But with a few words and a bright smile, Tatiana smoothed over his upset and the man nodded, walked away, and came straight toward Peter as he stood by the exit.
Tatiana turned and saw him. Her smile disappeared in one swift heartbeat, and her face paled with conflicted emotion.
He hated seeing her look at him like that, and hoped that when he explained, she might find it possible to understand and forgive him. Although he understood all too well how she could feel he didn’t trust her. He’d feel the same if their positions were reversed.
She threw her head back in a regal tilt and marched toward him, her pace steady and measured. When she neared him, she said in a strained voice, “Detective.”
“Peter,” he corrected. “We need to talk.”
“Seems to me you should have been talking to me long before now.”
“Please, Tatiana. All I’m asking for is a little time alone so I can explain. If you still can’t forgive me after that, I’ll understand.” But he’d keep on trying to get her to forgive him, no matter what it took.
She peered around the ballroom and then stared at a point just behind him, avoiding eye contact. “There are still lots of things to do here. I have some designers coming in a little later—”
“An hour or so, no more. It’s almost time for lunch anyway. We can go and get something to eat,” he said. He had phoned the villa earlier that morning and asked the caretaker to arrange for lunch to be ready on the veranda. The man had been surprised, but pleased, to hear from him. Understandable. He hadn’t been back to the villa in over a decade.
She finally inched her head higher to look at him, but there was no quarter in her gaze. “You have until three and not a minute more.”
He’d take it. Motioning for her to accompany him, he walked her down the service hallway, but instead of turning toward the lobby, he guided her in the direction of the back exit in the delivery bay.
They went outside and Tony was waiting with a gleaming red Bentley convertible. The top was raised, but once they cleared the paparazzi, he’d put it down and enjoy the sites visible from the Moyenne Corniche while they drove to his family’s villa.
Tony opened the car door for Tatiana, and Peter took a moment to call the villa’s caretaker to make sure all was going as planned. The caretaker was an old man whom he’d once considered a friend, and whose wife had been almost like a grandmother to him. The caretaker’s voice was filled with glee and he confirmed that all would be ready by the time Peter arrived with his lady. For a moment he wondered if it was a mistake to go there and see how it had changed. In his mind’s eye he still saw it as it had been when his mother was alive, and he feared losing those memories of her and their time together.
But it was time to face those memories and share them in the hopes Tatiana understood and forgave.
Hanging up, he swung around the back of the car to where Tony stood. The security chief handed him the keys. “There’s a GPS in the dash in case you need directions.”
“Thanks, but I think I remember the way.”
>
With a nod, Tony strode off and Peter slipped into the driver’s seat. Tatiana was all buckled and ready to go.
He started the car and eased out of the delivery area, hoping for a clean get away. Luckily, only one or two paparazzi had been lingering in the vicinity and he was able to whip past them and down the road before they could call over the others. He only hoped they wouldn’t try to follow.
The road they were taking had an assortment of dangerous curves with no guardrails. If you missed one you’d find yourself hurtling down a mountainside.
The Bentley was a smooth ride that handled well through the tight turns in the Monte Carlo streets. He imagined what it might be like to be a Formula One driver navigating those turns at racing speeds, the crowds lining the picturesque streets, cheering him on.
When he reached the road to climb toward the village of Eze, he looked back to make sure no one was following. Satisfied they would have no problems during the trip, he pressed the button to put the top down and then gave the engine its freedom, accelerating through the straightaway with a throaty purr of the motor. The landscape rushed by in a blur of spring green and bright floral colors. He had almost forgotten how lovely the gardens were and how they softened the harsh rocky hillsides leading to the monolith at the very top of the principality.
After the turn onto the Moyenne Corniche, he slowed to handle the sharp curves on the road. One wrong move and they could crash and burn,
Kind of like what would happen to his heart if Tatiana didn’t react well to his confession.
…
“Where are we going?” Tatiana asked, holding onto her shoulder-length hair with one hand to keep it from flying around with the gusts of air, which swept through the open convertible.
“My family has a small villa not far from here,” Peter answered. “We used to summer there when I was younger. It won’t be much longer until we reach it.”
Tatiana bit back her reminder that he only had until three that afternoon and they had already been driving for nearly half-an-hour. Besides, it was hard to stay frosty with the warm sun beaming down on her. Resigned to giving Peter the time he had asked for, she relaxed against the seat to enjoy the lovely views of the shore and the beautifully kept homes with their many gardens. The rooftops were awash with greenery and flowers, a quaint Monaco custom so that even those areas were filled with beauty.
To Catch a Princess (Entangled Ignite) Page 13
