From the backpack, she pulled out a screwdriver and manually worked on each joint, removing the screws holding it together. She worked slowly and methodically, making sure not to make any noise. It took her about two hours to remove the frame since she periodically took breaks. I suspected it wasn’t because she was tired, but because she knew the guards’ routes or saw them moving within the room.
With the frame disassembled, the woman easily removed the bottom portion, glass and all. She set it on the ground, leaning it up against the building. After pulling a small fabric satchel from her backpack, she slung it over her shoulder.
Quiet as a mouse and graceful as a panther, she hoisted herself onto the windowsill and slithered inside.
Moving to the window, I stayed to the side of it. I didn’t appease my curiosity by peeking inside, but I could imagine what she would be doing, making clean cuts inside the frames to remove the paintings.
I did constantly check my watch. At the two-minute-and-twenty-second mark, I heard movement. To my utter delight, the black fabric satchel came through the window first, then she dropped it to the ground. I reached over and picked it up, waiting for her to come out.
She didn’t see me until her feet lightly hit the cobblestone, and I had to give her credit… she didn’t even flinch.
Holding the satchel up, I waved it teasingly. “Nice work.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her English accent crisp and no-nonsense. “Now bloody well hand it over.”
“I think not.” I grinned, but she didn’t find me charming. “Meet me at The White Lion for a drink tomorrow night at ten, and we’ll discuss the split then.”
“The split?” she snarled, stepping a bit closer so I could finally see her eyes. A lovely but slightly eerie color… a light hazel. Made her look even sexier. More exotic. “Are ya feckin’ mad?”
“No,” I assured her. “Just really intrigued by you.”
I spun on my heel and raced down the alley, carrying whatever artwork she’d stolen. My intention was to give most of it back to her, but I was going to keep something.
After all, I’d put the work in figuring out her play.
But more than anything, I wanted to know more about her. A beautiful thief who had major skills.
Someone like me.
She met me for drinks. Her name was Sindaria, but I called her Sin. We laughed together over the yin and yang of our names.
She’d later become my lover.
Later still, she’d betray me and send me to prison.
CHAPTER 6
Saint
I’m back at Margeaux’s. Apparently, Julian Mercier’s restaurant is the official ‘gang hideout’. At this point, I’m clueless if Mercier is a criminal mastermind planning the world’s biggest heist or a businessman who dabbles in the dangerous underworld of larceny.
Regardless, there’s no way to know but to continue forward. Having a connection to William and Julian is my best lead so far.
Today, the only ones here are William, Sin, and Neal. Since we’re planning a job meant to test if I’m worthy of joining the club, we don’t need the others.
I’m not happy about the prospect of working with either Neal—who wanted to kill me at one point—or Sin, who had betrayed me and sent me to prison—but what I like and don’t like is moot.
Neal is a dick. I remember that clearly from our time working together. He’s American, too. Kind of stupid, has no finesse. The only reason he’s in this business and able to find work is he has no limits. There’s nothing he won’t do, so he makes for a nice patsy. If there’s ever going to be a scapegoat in a heist gone wrong, it’s Neal.
He knows it, too, yet he stays in the game.
The biggest thing I don’t like about working with a man with no limits is that adding on the fact he has no moral compass makes him dangerous. Thieves, as a general rule, are non-violent criminals. We rely on cunning and stealth to achieve our ends. Neal has none of that, only a brash ego as a strength, and it means he’s unpredictable.
No… never liked the guy. Something is off about him. I only did a couple of jobs with him—at Sin’s invitation to join their crew—and I only did it to spend time with Sin. I didn’t trust him at all. In fact, the Jag heist was the last I ever intended to work with Neal. Sin loved working with me, but if I were being honest… I didn’t like working with her because she had a crew and I didn’t trust any of them but her.
Seems like my trust in her was misplaced, too.
William is busy placing some items on a corkboard with push pins while Neal surfs his phone. I let my gaze move over to Sin, who has yet to make eye contact with me. Hasn’t stopped me from looking on occasion, though.
I hate she’s still singularly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Hate she’s the funniest as well, with her dry British wit. Fuck… okay, she’s the sexiest. Best damn orgasms of my entire life.
Just… fuck.
It was so much easier out and out hating her. Holding her entirely responsible that I hadn’t been able to be with my mom when she died.
So much easier.
I mean… I still hold her responsible, but if what she told me last night is true, I have to give some credence to the small measure of empathy that’s formed within me.
A little bit of pity mixed with understanding that she’d been faced with a horrible piece of information. While her actions were completely stupid, they were admittedly born from a good place within her heart. She thought she was saving me. Instead, she’d ended up causing me the greatest pain of my life.
My mother, Evie Bellinger, was the best human I’ve ever known. My dad abandoned us after I was born, and she raised me all on her own. Had more than enough love to compensate for what my father took away.
My mother raised me even after she got sick—breast cancer. She never slowed down, even with surgery, radiation, and chemo. I watched her go to work every day because she had a kid to support.
It’s why I became a thief when I was thirteen.
Not for the thrill.
Not to buy myself the latest trendy athletic shoes so I’d fit in.
I did it to contribute to our little household.
My first heist was a TV and Blu-ray player from our neighbor’s house when they were on vacation. I jimmied the back door, snuck in late at night, and took the electronics. It was easy to fence—I approached the bad kids in school—and they took it off my hands.
I used the money to buy groceries that week, lying to my mom by saying I’d done odd jobs for some of the neighbors.
It only escalated from there, and I grew to love it. While other kids were making money running drugs for gangs, I’d been learning how to break into houses and businesses for high-end merchandise that would fetch a decent price in the right places.
I’d honed my skills to perfection. With my contacts in the black market, I was hired by others to steal.
By the time I graduated high school, I was earning enough money that my mom was able to retire. I even went to Europe, dabbled in some high-end art thefts for hire.
It all came crashing down when my mom found out exactly what I did for a living. I had never intended for her to know, but I came under suspicion in a local car heist. When the police took me downtown to ‘talk,’ it was her wake-up call.