King of Thieves

by Shea Godfrey

  Finn shrugged out of her black leather coat and tossed it onto the end of the bed.

  Luc had been right about the view. It offered the best line of sight that she could’ve hoped for, which included a long bank of windows at the back of her target’s house, near the pool.

  The owners of the farmhouse had rented to her for a year, and she had paid the price, though it had been dear. She could opt out within the first month, however. If the woman at the bottom of the hill was not Cassandra Marinos, there would be no reason to be there. In which case, I’ll have a quiet little vacation in the French countryside for a month while I figure out how I’m supposed to start all over again.

  She stepped to the SkyMaster, bent down, and peered through the scope.

  The house in the distance was exquisite, as were the grounds, and the tan stone of the house stood out against the young green of spring. The region was filled with orchids, and where the landscaping stopped, the long grass and flowers would begin. The inner property was surrounded by Japanese maple trees, and though they were still young, Finn could only imagine the color they might provide.

  The back of the house supported several additions, and the terrace beside the pool was amazing, with a fire pit and guest house but a short distance away by a path paved with flat stones. The shutters were a purplish red, and Finn wondered if they would match the maples when their leaves were in full bloom. It would make a beautiful pairing and Finn was impressed.

  One of the glass doors along the terrace caught the light as it moved, and Finn nudged the scope to the right just a bit. Her target emerged from the house, and Finn held her breath as she adjusted the focus for a closer view.

  The woman below had been running, her clothes formfitting and black. She had thrown a towel over her shoulders and her hair was in a ponytail. Her face was hidden as she spoke on the phone, but she moved with grace and strength as she walked along the edge of the pool.

  Finn’s heart beat within her chest like a drum, and she took a breath.

  Cassandra Marinos turned around, holding the phone with one hand and freeing her hair with the other. She stepped around a chaise lounge and set the phone on a small table as her hair slid down and covered her familiar face.

  Finn stood up straight, stepped back, and stared down the hill without the advantage of the scope. Her steps were small as she moved away from the window, and when the backs of her legs touched the bed, she sat down.

  Finn could picture her at the baccarat table in Monte Carlo, and she could still see the fall of her hair as she had smiled and looked down at her cards. The black crepe of her dress was still vivid against the bare skin of her left shoulder, as dark as her eyes when she had lifted her face.

  Finn had never forgotten her or the feelings that had crowded her chest, attraction and appreciation, coupled with the peculiar sensation that a closed door had just been opened. The woman in the black dress had been Cassandra Marinos, and for the moment at least, Finn had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do about that.

  Alyssa Stavros was Samantha Drake, and Samantha Drake was Evangeline Wright. And Evangeline Wright was Marie Anne Broussard, and Marie Anne Broussard was Cassandra Marinos. Cassandra Marinos was the woman in the black dress, and the woman in the black dress was gay, but the woman in the black dress was—

  “Finn?”

  Finn heard the voice and turned, surprised to see Luc just beyond the doorway.

  “Are you all right?”

  Finn reassembled the words he had spoken and put them into the proper order. “Yes.”

  “You’re very pale.”

  Finn forced a smile. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just…” What could she say?

  “Just what, my friend?”

  “Just, the world.”

  “The world?”

  “Yes, the world.” She paused as her thoughts took shape. “It’s a truly messed-up place, and yet there are Japanese maple trees the color of purple fire, and dreams that have a life of their own, with or without you.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged, and she knew that he was most likely giving her a pass. “I met Manette on the day my father died. She was wearing the same color shirt that he had worn that very morning, with the same black buttons.”

  Finn held his gaze and then smiled.

  “Is she the one?”

  “Yeah,” Finn answered, and her eyes found the window once again. “She’s the one.”

  “Good. Come downstairs when you’re done here, and I can show you the kitchen and the fuse box. There’s a trick to the alarm system—it is very old.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “This is a good thing, yes?”

  “Yes. It’s very good.”

  “But it’s been a long time in coming.”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sure, but now I am.”

  “I’ll make us some lunch. Take your time, my friend. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She listened to his footsteps as he took the stairs back down and noted that she had not heard his arrival quite so clearly. She hadn’t heard a thing. Nothing but the tipping over of all the days between Monte Carlo and the weakness in her knees as she sat upon the edge of the bed.

  It wasn’t just her knees, either. She could feel the weight of her wonder as if it were a house built of a thousand errant daydreams, and flashes of regret. She had gone back, of course, but the woman in the black crepe dress had been long gone. Daydreams of what might have been, and regrets that life was never very fair, were surprisingly heavy building materials.

  The tickle within her stomach sent a wave of goose bumps along her arms and Finn could feel the lack of strength within her thighs, as well. She set her hands upon her jeans, and the potent memory of cherry-scented tobacco caught within her nose.

  She let out a startled breath of laughter. “Domino’s gravity.”

  Chapter Nine

  San Francisco

  Present day

  Finn stared at the ceiling as she lay on her bed.

  She had changed the sheets, but the coolness of the fresh, soft cotton did little to soothe her. She had put on her favorite T-shirt from a Foo Fighters concert at the Orpheum in Boston, and her softest pair of boxers, but they didn’t help, either.

  She glanced at the TV on the wall across the room, but she couldn’t remember where she’d left the remote. She remembered she’d been reading Havel’s Open Letters when she had turned on Casablanca, and she’d marked her page with the remote, but she couldn’t find Havel now, either.

  She imagined that she could still smell Casey’s light cologne in the air around her, but she knew it wasn’t true and so she tried to avoid even the idea of it. Casey’s presence seemed to float about her, though, like the fog that rolled in from the Pacific, invading every crack and crevice she happened upon.

  Her phone buzzed and she let out a startled grunt as she grabbed it and glanced at the screen. She accepted the call. “Yes?”

  “Did that bacon upset your stomach?” Malik asked.

  “No, actually, it enhanced the flavor of all things.”

  “I talked to Aiyla. The baby’s kicking, every day now.”

  Finn smiled and lifted a knee into the air. “You’re going to be a father.”

  Malik’s voice was filled with joy. “Yes.”

  “You need to be with her at home, not here.”

  “I still have time,” Malik argued in an amiable manner. “The auction shouldn’t be more than a week away. Werner would never stay longer than that.”

  “Maybe this whole thing…maybe it’s all wrong, and I’m making it too hard.”

  “Maybe,” Malik responded. Finn couldn’t tell if he agreed or disagreed. “But you’re very good at this. My son has a trust fund for college now, you know?”

  “I’m glad for that.”

  “Or my daughter.”

  “She’ll need an excellent school. A place that will challenge her.”

  “Yes. Maybe Harvard.”


  “Wellesley is good.”

  “That’s what Aiyla says, too.”

  “You should listen to your wife.”

  Malik laughed. “That’s what Aiyla says, too.”

  “She’s smarter than both of us.”

  “Yes…but hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

  Finn cringed, sensing his purpose. “Yes?”

  “How was your day?”

  “It was fine.”

  “She didn’t really fall into your lap, did she?”

  Finn laughed and covered her eyes with her free hand. “No.”

  “Because that would’ve been, you know, really cool.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Hey!”

  “What?”

  “You’re an honorable person.”

  Finn stared at the ceiling again, but a response refused to form within her brain.

  “Our cause is just. Dimitrovich and Arshavin will come, and they’ll be held accountable for their crimes. I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t think you were right.”

  Finn’s left hand slipped under the soft hem of her shirt and her fingers skated lightly over her scars. “Go to bed—it’s late. She’s not going anywhere tonight.”

  “Do I take point to—”

  “I’ve got it,” Finn interrupted. “Keep trying to track down Werner. If we can tag him in any way at all, I won’t have to worry about everyone else. He’s the center of the wheel. If we find him, we’ll find the auction. And if we find him sooner rather than later, maybe we can get him to give up Arshavin before the whole thing even goes down.”

  “All right, tomorrow then.”

  Finn slid her thumb over the screen and ended the call.

  She studied her spot on the ceiling for a minute or so, and then rolled and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. The phone buzzed within her hand before she could stand, and she answered it.

  “I told you to go to bed, okay? It’s the middle of the night. I don’t sleep, but you should. Aiyla will blame me if you pass out on your first night home.”

  “I have two questions in response.”

  Finn dropped her face into her left hand and shut her eyes as tightly as she could.

  “Why don’t you sleep, and who are you keeping up?”

  “I thought…” Finn began and then stopped. She sat back with a frown and studied her screen for a moment before she remembered. “I gave you my card.”

  “Perhaps your lack of sleep has made you slow,” Casey responded drily.

  “I don’t sense a question mark at the end of that statement.”

  “Did I interrupt something?”

  “No. Just a friend, right before you.”

  “Why don’t you sleep?”

  “I don’t, I mean, I do. Sleep.”

  “That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, and it’s past one in the morning, Finnegan Starkweather,” Casey countered smoothly. “I plan on being out the door by eight o’clock. How am I supposed to make it to all my appointments on time if I have to drag your exquisitely fine but sorry ass with me?”

  Finn smiled and flopped back onto the bed. “Why are you still awake, Marinos?”

  Finn closed her eyes at the sound of Casey’s sexy laughter. “Do you want me to lie, or tell you the truth?”

  “Do whatever is safest for you.”

  After several moments of silence, Finn opened her eyes.

  “Why would you say that? Why do you care what the safest thing is for me?”

  Finn let the question sink in, but she had no idea how she should answer it. “Do you want me to lie, or tell you the truth?”

  “Why would you lie?”

  “I don’t know,” Finn answered. “Maybe that would be safer for me.”

  “Then tell me the truth.”

  “I don’t want anything to hurt you.”

  “Are you planning on hurting me, Finn?”

  “No, I’m not, but…but sometimes that’s what happens, no matter how hard you might try and stop it.”

  “How long have you been following me?”

  An intense discomfort moved through Finn’s entire body at the question. She’d been expecting it, and though she had prepared a thousand different answers, none of them were the truth. And none of them are good enough. “For a while now, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  Finn chased after the words, but her heart kept digging in deeper.

  “Never mind,” Casey said in dismissal, and her voice was content. “Would you like to know why I’m still awake?”

  “Why?” Finn asked in a whisper.

  “I keep thinking about how you looked in those jeans today,” Casey explained softly. “And that’s where it starts, and then other things push their way in, and I can’t sleep. You were right. I have a good imagination.”

  “Would you like to know what else I didn’t say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Today was the best day I’ve had, in a really, really long time.”

  “Even the salon?” Casey’s tone was playful, pleased and sweet all at once.

  Finn chuckled. “Well, it’s an unfamiliar blood sport for me, the salon waiting area. I think I held my own, though.”

  Casey laughed with approval. “Just so you know, you were the talk of the afternoon.”

  “I’m sure there was weeping and wailing over my hair.”

  Casey made a hiccup of sound. “Your hair is made of fallen fucking angels and you know it,” she declared with laughter. “Don’t you dare pull the butch card—I’m just a boy and I don’t know what I could possibly do with my hair.”

  Finn laughed with her, her stomach vibrating with a righteous happiness that echoed down into her legs. The silence that followed was quite lovely and Finn rolled fully onto the bed. She pulled the sheet over her legs and then grabbed one of the pillows.

  “Thanks for making me queen for a day,” Casey said, and Finn could hear the smile within her voice. “I’m not sure that’s ever happened before, especially at David’s. Sometimes, even though I fit, I don’t. Today, though, I really liked it.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you, Casey, for a lovely day.”

  Finn waited, but the silence through the phone was peaceful and soothing. The sheets felt so soft, though she wasn’t sure why. They hadn’t felt that way an hour ago. They hadn’t felt like a thick cloud of promise that she could sink into and be safe. The lamp on the bedside table was warm and low, like the sky just after the sun goes down.

  The pillow was glorious, and the back of her head no longer ached.

  “Close your eyes,” Casey said gently.

  Finn obeyed as her muscles relaxed in a warm manner, and her legs felt almost weightless after she stretched them out. The echo of her heartbeat no longer thrummed within her ears, and the pressure had eased in her shoulders. She felt the drift of sleep arrive, but it was oddly quiet and faint as time lost its hold upon her thoughts.

  “Are you falling asleep yet?” Casey’s faraway whisper tickled at Finn’s senses.

  Chapter Ten

  “So what’s next on your agenda?” Finn asked as she put the last bag onto the pile and closed the trunk. “Your efficiency is impressive.”

  They had shopped, and they had eaten lunch at the Fringale bistro, and they had spent the afternoon at the California Modern Art Gallery. It had been a marvelous day, again, and Casey had yet to discover Finn’s secret, whatever it might be. She had to admit, however, that she hadn’t tried very hard to figure it out. She was having fun, and she was in the company of a woman who made her pulse race and her thoughts spin. She didn’t know how long the spell might last, but she had learned that such things were fleeting at best.

  It was Thursday, and Eric’s auction was on the following Tuesday night. She had arranged a late-night chartered jet to Tokyo within a few hours of the last bid, and after that? She had to admit she was having a hard time trying to envision what would happen after that. Her plans had most certainly no
t included a tall, gorgeous butch who could shake her good sense loose with just a smart-ass comment. Maybe, possibly…probably, she thought with amusement, I’m out of my fucking mind.

  “Hold on,” Casey said as she walked to the passenger window and leaned down. “Go ahead, Trevor, I’ll be okay.”

  Casey returned to Finn as Trevor started the car and they watched as he put on the blinker, waited for his moment, and then pulled away from the curb. The black car eased smoothly into the oncoming traffic and left them behind.

  Finn put her hands into her pockets. “Is he coming back?”

  “No.”

  “Your hotel’s a good walk from here.”

  “We’re not going to my hotel.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever you’d like to take me.”

  Finn met and held Casey’s gaze.

  “You’ve been an extremely good sport for two days, Finnegan Starkweather,” Casey complimented. Finn looked even better today than she had yesterday, and Casey realized she had spent much of her time wondering how on earth she might find the middle ground. How they might find it. She had yet to figure that out. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Casey had not ruled out that Finn might work for Eric Werner, though that particular thought sent a cold tentacle down her spine. Eric understood full well what she had to offer at the auction, and he was one of the most dangerous men Casey knew. She would not have put it past him to pull a double cross. No matter how she considered that scenario, however, she could not honestly see Finn working for Eric. Finn would hate Eric. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. Despite the possible payoff, Casey just couldn’t see it.

  “I would’ve had to go to those places anyway—you get that, right?”

  Casey enjoyed the wry tone. “Yes, but you wouldn’t have had to carry my bags, which was nice of you, by the way. Thank you.”

  “You didn’t have any textbooks.” The wind blew at Casey’s curls and Finn reached out and hooked a dark blond strand about her fingers. She tucked it behind Casey’s left ear with exquisite care. “We could go to a movie at the Castro Theatre, have you ever been there?” The back of her fingers caressed Casey’s cheek in an intimate manner, down the length of her face and whispering beneath her jaw before they disappeared.