King of Thieves

by Shea Godfrey

  At least fifteen million had fallen into Casey’s coffers from somewhere, and the timing had matched intelligence reports on the original sale of the stolen paintings, even though it appeared as if Casey hadn’t done much of the heavy lifting. The fact that Finn was fairly certain of who had planned the heist was the picture on the cover of the box.

  It had been almost three years since Finn had started her search for Casey, working from a swarm of haphazard clues and savory bits of information she’d gathered over a very long time. Casey was calling herself Alyssa Stavros when Finn had finally found her, and her papers had been beyond reproach. It had taken Finn several months after that to expose the hidden woman upon the elaborate canvas, though when she did, the person underneath was everything Finn had imagined she would be.

  The truth had been a revelation in more ways than one, and Finn was not oblivious to the power that knowledge now held over her. There were small things, of course, and there were things that shook her right down to the ground and back again.

  She had learned what Casey’s favorite breakfast food was, and how she took her coffee. Finn knew what movies she had given her time to, and that Casey loved to read. Finn knew she loved dogs, but what Casey really had a weakness for were fat cats that liked the sun and too much food. She preferred the BMW, but when it came to speed she went with the Aston Martin, and she had a Vantage GT2 that proved her commitment to the edge. And Finn knew when she was heartsick, Casey would go to the sea and bide her time until her pain eased.

  Such things were random, perhaps, but they added life to an incomplete canvas that had long been lacking in color.

  A man named Eric Werner was the conduit through which Vincent’s paintings had passed, and he had also fenced several items from that rather well-timed Amsterdam jewel heist, including a bauble of white gold and diamonds.

  Werner was the number-one fence in Central Europe, not only for a Van Gogh or a Picasso, but for any work of art that suddenly found itself looking for a new home. For the past twenty-five years, he had dealt almost exclusively in the underground art trade, and Finn knew that his operation was impressive, and extremely well financed.

  Eric Werner had arrived in San Francisco less than a week ago, along with a multitude of possible buyers from around the world. Combined with Casey’s presence, it was the moment Finn had been waiting years for.

  There was a private auction about to happen, and Finn had every intention of either being there or getting what she really wanted from Eric Werner himself. Casey was in town to cash in on a Rembrandt sketch that would fetch her a cool three million, but Finn knew for a fact that the world-class thief was in possession of something much more valuable and far more dangerous than just a wayward Rembrandt.

  Finn’s endgame was in sight, and the man she wanted, the man she had been hunting for over a decade, would come for what Cassandra Marinos had to sell.

  Casey checked her phone, and Finn smiled at the smooth fall of her hair as Casey looked down. Finn was amazed that such a small thing could affect her so easily, and amused that it had done so right from the start.

  Chapter Four

  Monte Carlo, Monaco

  September 2012

  Finn stood in the Salle Renaissance of the Casino de Monte-Carlo and leaned her left shoulder against one of the arches. She pushed at the earpiece nestled within her right ear and felt thoroughly fine in her deep blue Armani suit and black silk shirt. “This thing doesn’t work.”

  “Of course it works, I can hear you just fine.”

  “Well, I can’t hear you just fine.”

  “You just heard what I said, didn’t you?”

  Finn smiled, her eyes taking in the room beneath the warm glow of the wall sconces and the bluish lights of the slot machines. It was an interesting combination, and she felt as if she were somehow underwater. “What?”

  “You just heard what I said, didn’t you?”

  Finn cringed a bit at his raised voice through the pristine sound of her earbud. “Are you there, God? I am in need of forgiveness.”

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  Finn was pleased. “Hey, I know your mother, remember? If she finds out you’re using that kind of language, she will so kick your ass.”

  “Quit fucking around, Finn, please. Vakken is here. Security just saw him in the Salle Médecin. He’s dropping a ton of cash at the wheel.”

  Finn shrugged away from the arch and entered the Salle Renaissance, the sound of the slots rising through the sea of light with a bit more aggression as she neared. She reined in her focus. “Just another bread truck left in his wake.” Finn was unimpressed. “This guy totally mystifies me, and what sort of a name is Viking, anyway?”

  “Vakken.” Malik sighed through her earpiece. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

  Finn chuckled as she turned through the crowd. “You’re so easy, Malik, it’s almost no fun. Whatever his name is, it’s going to be a nice payday, and I haven’t even broken into a sweat.”

  “Security just cleared you for the private rooms, if we need entrance. I’m switching over to their channel.”

  “Thank you. Where is he, please?”

  “The table near the bar, closest to the outside doors. Come in from the Salle Touzet Sud.”

  “Am I going to get lost again?”

  Malik’s affectionate laughter filled her head. “Probably.”

  “Ask…what’s his name again, the insanely beautiful guy with the nice eyes?”

  “Luc Angelos.”

  Finn maneuvered around a group of patrons as they toasted with champagne. “Great name. Ask Luc where we can get some authentic Italian pizza, preferably something that will put me into a coma.”

  “Are you actually asking about food?”

  “I didn’t eat lunch, okay?”

  Finn eyed the hand that touched her elbow.

  “If you wish a good pizza that will put you into a coma, only my wife’s mother can make that,” Luc Angelos said with a grin. His black tuxedo was impeccable and so was his smile. “She is from Sicily.”

  “Good Lord.” Finn was pained at the thought. “With the sweet peppers?”

  Luc Angelos chuckled as he guided her smoothly beneath an archway and into a common area. “Yes…Go through the west door just there, and you will find the Salle Touzet Nord, another common area, if you will, and this will lead to the Salle Touzet Sud. Turn to your left, and at the opposite end, you will find the Salle Médecin.”

  “I wasn’t out of line, calling you insanely beautiful, was I?” Finn asked, feeling a bit like an ass. “I didn’t know you could hear us, so, you know, you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  “I told you they could hear us.” Finn could hear Malik’s happy smile.

  “I don’t really listen to him.”

  Luc laughed, a slight blush beneath his perfectly trimmed five o’clock shadow. He was only an inch or two taller than her own height of five-ten, and his brilliant blue eyes were filled with warmth. “I am far from offended, and if I may say, I find you to be the same. I am wishing I were not Luc.” Finn’s brow went up in surprise as he took her right hand in a practiced move and leaned forward. “I am wishing I were my cousin Esme, perhaps, yes?”

  “Esme Angelos?”

  Luc placed a light kiss upon the back of her hand. “Oui, yes, she would wish to meet you very much, this is my thinking.”

  “And I am thinking I need to come to France more often.”

  “I think you do.”

  “Oh, man, I don’t believe you.” Malik moaned. “Are you flirting by proxy?”

  Finn laughed, and Luc winked as he let go of her hand.

  “Let’s all just take a breath,” Finn said, and followed his directions. “Even if this guy ends up stabbing me in the neck with a cocktail fork, he’s going back to Paris tonight, and I’m getting my pizza…and Luc is giving me his cousin’s number, maybe, possibly. I don’t know, I feel pretty confident in this suit.”

  “Your sho
ulders look really good in that, it’s true.”

  “Thank you, Malik.”

  “There’s a space at the bar, on the near side as you enter. You’ll have a good view.”

  “The Salle Médecin has the veranda, correct? Can he jump?”

  “The veranda’s covered. If he jumps? He won’t get far.”

  “That’s what you say now, Malik, but what’s your excuse after I end up running across all twelve of their manicured courtyards and then ruin my suit because I was forced to tackle him into a garbage pile? That would only be fun if he turns out to be Liam Neeson. The veranda has B movie action sequence written all over it.”

  Malik laughed. “It’s covered.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And if I may say”—Luc’s deep voice echoed within her earbud—“there are no garbage piles at the Casino de Monte-Carlo.”

  Finn almost laughed. “I’m just giving him a hard time. He likes it.”

  “I’m still here, you know,” Malik replied.

  The common space was exquisite, plush blue chairs with television available and waiters that moved through the area. Champagne was flowing and the smell of something delicious had found its way from the restaurant at the heart of the casino. Finn’s stomach tightened and she sighed as she walked through a cloud of perfume. It smelled expensive and heavy, though despite that, or perhaps because of it, it was strangely appealing.

  The Salle Touzet Nord was filled with people as Finn stepped beneath yet another massive archway, and the light was rich and golden. She wandered to her left as she surveyed the art, the huge and heavy frames rolled with plump gold scallops. The renaissance women portrayed were caught within peculiar, uncommon poses that only renaissance women had ever held, though she thought they did it rather well. The curtains in the room were an arcane shade of red and tasseled on the ends, opulent beside the healthy green of the strategically placed plants.

  There were five gaming tables and Finn considered the patrons, curious and filled with a great amount of interest. She saw Texas Hold’em and blackjack, and if she remembered her James Bond correctly, baccarat. She had never been sure how that one worked, but she understood that you could make a boatload of money in a very short time, or lose it, as well.

  The sound of a singular laugh was soft, but loud enough to reach her from across the room, and her eyes were drawn to its source. It was startling and filled with warmth, and not one bit out of place amidst the luxury of the casino.

  Finn’s gaze tumbled along the fall of blond hair as the woman looked down, the light caught within her long, loose curls.

  Finn was surprised, though she wasn’t sure why, and her attention was fierce as her eyes drifted. Her skin appeared to be soft, and the curve of her neck was like an invitation written upon silk. Finn’s concentration was lost then, pulled through the black crepe of her dress.

  The dealer spoke and the blond woman reacted, her interest sharp and her expression alive with anticipation as the cards were pulled from the shoe.

  Finn’s mind spun a bit as she studied the lines of her face, swayed by the high cheekbones and full red lips. Her movements were precise and certain, and the confidence she displayed was unquestioned by those around her.

  Finn felt a bit weak in the knees, and it was a lovely feeling.

  A redheaded woman in a flowing green dress stepped close and set her hand upon the blond woman’s bare right shoulder, her long fingers and pink nails possessive in their touch. The woman turned, and the redhead leaned down and whispered in her ear. She stood as if they were lovers, and when she touched those lovely blond curls, it was with a familiar ease. It was a gesture that caused a pang of anxiety, and Finn had to check herself before she stepped forward.

  A wave of emotion rolled through Finn’s chest, and the unexpected reaction caused her to tighten her shoulders. There was a clear violation in progress, but the offense was given only within Finn’s mind, and not reality. And though she knew it, she could do nothing to stop the feeling.

  “He’s moving. He’s moving to the veranda.”

  Finn tried to place the face, the generous mouth and the beautiful line of her jaw. She felt certain that she’d seen her before, though in the sudden, hard beat of her heart, Finn knew that it couldn’t be true. “I’d remember you,” Finn whispered, and a shiver skimmed along her spine.

  “Finn?”

  Finn blinked and her focus shifted to her left, into the distance.

  “He’s moving to the veranda. Where the hell are you?”

  Finn moved with a purpose, but she didn’t rush. “Does he have a drink?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s taking a breather, trying to decide how much he has left to lose. I’m almost there.”

  The Salle Médecin was a much larger room, with at least a dozen roulette tables. The crowd was good, and the noise level was higher as she moved through yet another archway. She spotted the door she wanted and glanced to her right. Luc Angelos was at the other end of the room, and he waited until she saw him before he moved to one of the veranda doors farther down.

  Finn took a cleansing breath and walked with confidence about the crowded table.

  The handle of the door turned easily, and she saw Tobias Vakken near the high railing, his attention lost to the expansive grounds as they flowed to the sea.

  “Place your bets! No more bets, please!” the nearest croupier called out.

  Finn stepped onto the veranda.

  Chapter Five

  San Francisco

  Present day

  Casey Marinos felt a smile pull at her lips as the tall butch stepped away from the bar.

  She had known she was being watched but she hadn’t returned the attention, biding her time for the right opportunity. She found the woman utterly gorgeous, though she supposed that some might not agree. The woman’s features were strong and clean, and from the stark cut of her suit, Casey could see she had the lean, well-built body to back it up. There were a lot of women who would never find such a masculine energy appealing, but Casey was most definitely not one of them. She seemed familiar, actually, although Casey couldn’t quite place her. And I think I’d remember you.

  She stared beyond the window once more, though with considerable effort. Another time, another place perhaps, she mused, and we might play. She closed her eyes, and the storm within her head seemed to ease at just the thought of finding a respite within the strong arms of such a lover. The soft authority of the right lover could sway her like nothing else, which was why women like that were far too dangerous.

  Casey turned back to the table in genuine surprise as the woman pulled out the empty chair across from her and sat down.

  She favored Casey with a sweetly crooked grin and leaned back as she crossed her legs. The waiter arrived but a second later and set two wineglasses on the table. A second server placed the ice bucket beside her, which held a dark, heavy bottle.

  “It’s not what you ordered, I’m fairly certain, but I have it on good authority that it’s just as good as anything you might find here.”

  Casey couldn’t help but smile at the confident statement, and her mind filled with curiosity as she studied the woman’s face close up. Healthy, slightly tanned skin with strong features and classic lines. Her hair was an amazing tousled mess of black strands, and her amber-colored eyes were filled with warmth. Casey wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen such a color before in a person’s eyes, but then she thought, I must have. They held challenge in their depths, but it was their heat that Casey found compelling. So much so, that for a moment, it threw her completely off her game.

  The waiter pulled the bottle from the ice and poured them each a glass with an expert hand.

  The woman leaned forward and took up her glass as the waiter returned the bottle to the bucket, and then promptly disappeared.

  She held her glass out. “My name is Finn Starkweather.”

  Casey laughed, delighted at the sheer audacity of the unexpected scene
. She took hold of her glass, and they clinked together. “Starkweather? Doesn’t that have something to do with the strength of a wolf?”

  “I’m not sure, it’s all Irish to me,” Finn replied. “All I know is my grandmother had a feud with Thomas Angus Boyle across the fence. They used to curse in Gaelic and throw small red potatoes that would dent your skull if you weren’t fast enough.”

  Casey took a drink, liking the hard, quick feel of her pulse. “Póg mo thóin?”

  Finn laughed, a flush of heat visible along her neck. “Kiss me arse, yes.”

  “Good God!” Casey spoke in shock and eyed her glass with pleasure. “What is this?”

  Satisfaction shone from Finn’s amber eyes. “Tell me your name first.”

  Casey wanted to laugh again, but she held her unexpected joy just out of reach.

  “Too bold?” Finn asked.

  “I’d say a more subtle approach has probably left the station without you.”

  “Yes, but if I’d waited for you, I’d still be standing all alone.”

  “Do you think so?” Casey let out a small breath as another grin slid across Finn’s luxurious mouth. It was one of the loveliest things Casey had encountered in a very long time.

  “I do. Tell me your name.”

  Samantha Drake, Casey thought but didn’t say it. It was on the tip of her tongue, waiting and ready, but she couldn’t do it. She liked Samantha. Samantha was always in charge and never at a loss, never in doubt. Samantha was always in control and would not relinquish her command over any given situation. Control is an illusion. But that’s not what you see, is it, Finn Starkweather.

  “Okay, how about this.” Finn set her glass down and leaned forward a bit. “I buy you dinner and we finish the wine. We could go dancing then, if you’d like, or at least we could find some decent music. There’s a place not too far from here, Biscuits an—”