Molly Miranda: Thief for Hire (Book 1) Action Adventure Comedy

by Jillianne Hamilton

When I was preparing to be a professional thief, knowing how to dance was close to the bottom of my to-do list, so I was thankful Rhys seemed to know what he was doing.

  Also, he smelled nice.

  Rhys rested his cheek against my forehead as we swayed. The song changed a few times but we stayed in place. More couples joined the floor and the champagne kept flowing.

  I could see Audrey in the corner talking to a man. She glanced over at us occasionally but she was mostly just trying to keep her distance. Ivy was slow dancing with a man who looked about ninety—probably the richest guy she could find.

  Rhys kissed my forehead and I looked up at him, alarmed.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he whispered, “but I’m going to kiss you now.”

  Before I could say anything, Rhys put his hands on my face—like they do in the movies—and brought his lips to mine. It was passionate, intense and made me kind of tingly. My fingers somehow found the back of his neck while his arms were wrapped tightly around my waist.

  I suppose when you have as much practice kissing women as Rhys does, you get good at it. Despite knowing it was all just for show, my heart was pounding and my face was hot.

  He pulled his mouth from mine and cleared this throat.

  “We should go home now,” he said, glancing around at a few couples who were staring at us.

  I nodded dumbly up at him. “Okay.”

  He took my hand and led me from the ballroom. I glanced over my shoulder to see Audrey slow dancing with the man from earlier and not paying attention to us.

  Rhys stopped in the empty lobby and took out his phone. He showed me the screen. Then he just switched off all the security cameras in the building with the press of a button.

  Oh, yes. We’re here to steal the car. I thought we were going to … never mind.

  “Are you ready to do this?”

  I nodded and followed him up the stairs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The rest of the estate was deserted, so we could easily move between rooms as long as we stayed away from the lobby and ballroom. The place was a maze of bedrooms, sitting rooms and squeaky-clean bathrooms. We found a home theater, a spa and a private art gallery.

  “We could take one.” Rhys pointed to a small painting that looked like it was from Holland. “It’s tiny and you have a dozen pockets in that gown.”

  I adjusted one of my gloves. “Don’t get distracted.”

  We made our way from room to room. We were in a hallway when I grabbed Rhys’s arm and pulled him into a bedroom closet.

  “Molly, we don’t have time for a shag right now.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed into the darkness, slapping my hand over his mouth. “Someone’s coming.”

  The sound of footsteps got louder and closer. The steps were heavy, probably from flat shoes and not heels. I put my other hand over my mouth to muffle the sound of my breathing. We froze in place. The person stopped at the doorway and slowly walked into the room. They were three feet from us, just a closet door between us and them.

  “Harold!” someone shouted from the hall. “We’re out of ice downstairs.”

  Harold left the room in a rush, closing the door behind him. We waited a few minutes before silently slipping out of the closet. I surveyed the room.

  It was a grand bedroom with an enormous, ornate canopy bed. A ton of lush burgundy fabric hung from the ceiling. The walls were deep red, with gold trim. Everything in the room looked antique, with a romantic ambience. This had to be the master bedroom.

  A long mahogany chest of drawers lined the back wall with a vanity mirror and a chair at the end. Rhys went for the nearby jewelry box. He pocketed a string of pearls, diamond earrings and a gold watch. He riffled through the drawers and found some more glittery things, but no car keys.

  “My client said the car keys would be in the master bedroom,” Rhys said, sliding the last drawer shut. “They have to be here somewhere.”

  I looked around the room some more and happened to glance back into the closet we’d been hiding in. Sitting on the floor, right next to where we’d been standing, was a safe about two feet high. It was an older model with a combination dial, popular in these big old homes.

  I pawed through my layers of gown and found my stethoscope in a pocket. Rhys looked at me over his shoulder.

  I put my stethoscope around my neck with the earpieces in my ears and the chest piece pressed up against the front of the safe, close to the dial. Rhys stood watch at the door so I could work in silence.

  I pressed my fingers against the cold metal door to feel the clicking motions inside as I turned the dial. I turned the knob slowly the other way until I heard another click. “Sixty-five, eleven and…” I turned it slowly back the other way, listening hard. Almost there. “Twenty-one.”

  I spun the handle and the door popped open. I looked up at Rhys. He grinned.

  “What?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone in an evening gown crack a safe before. It’s kind of sexy.”

  Inside the safe were bundles of British cash. At the back of the safe was a hook. I reached back into the dark safe and pulled the keychain hanging from it. It was a leather tag decorated with an Aston Martin logo, an old car key dangling from it.

  Bingo.

  Rhys found a window we could fit through and checked out our escape route. Now that we had the key, it was probably much safer to exit that way. The party would be wrapping up soon. We had to get a move on before guests started pouring out into the courtyard.

  The bedroom door opened. A security guy poked his head in and stared at me.

  “What are you doing?” he barked, reaching out to grab my arm.

  “Molly!” Rhys yelled from the window.

  I rolled my eyes and slipped my hand into a pocket of my gown. I grabbed the syringe inside, uncapped it with my thumb and jammed the needle into the security guy’s arm. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor.

  Rhys grabbed his hands and dragged him further inside, closing the door behind him.

  “Why did you yell my name?” I shook my head at him. “That was dumb.”

  “I was concerned! When the hell did you steal one of my syringes?”

  “When we were dancing.” I smiled.

  “Clever girl.”

  “I won’t be able to climb down a roof with this dress.” I stepped over the security guy’s sleeping body. “Help me get the skirt off.”

  “Just the skirt?” He smirked.

  “Yes,” I snapped. “And I’m wearing your jacket out of here.”

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and Rhys helped me unsnap and unzip the skirt from where it was attached to the shorter skirt underneath, the one with all the pockets. I slipped on his jacket and tossed the bundled-up skirt under the bed.

  We climbed out of the windows and onto the flat roof, making sure to stay low until we could find a place to climb down. From this end of the manor, we could see the roof of the garage. At the side of the garage was a door. Between the manor and the garage was an enormous oak tree with long overhanging branches. If we could get to the tree, we could climb over to the garage roof.

  If only it were that simple. Located behind the garage and the manor was a grand garden with topiaries, a fountain and everything. A couple had strayed into the garden to get some fresh air and privacy. If either of them looked up, they would see us climbing the tree.

  “Shit,” Rhys whispered, rolling up his shirtsleeves to his elbows.

  I removed the rest of my skirt and left all the other items that were in the pockets on the roof. I wouldn’t be able to climb with them. The only thing I took was the Aston Martin key and my cell phone from my clutch. I stuffed them both down the front of my corset.

  Rhys raised his eyebrows. “You know, I can carry something if you need me to.”

  I readjusted the key so it wasn’t poking me in the side boob. “Nah. I’m good.”

  I felt prett
y damn naked, though, only wearing a corset, Lycra shorts, loafers and a suit jacket that was too big for me. And it was getting cold.

  Rhys stayed low to the ground and pulled himself up onto an overhanging branch. I followed. The branches were thick so the tree didn’t move as we held on to them.

  The bark scratched my bare legs as I held on to a branch over my head. I moved my feet around, trying to get my balance but there weren’t any branches close enough. My fingers were in agony as I held onto a branch. The loafers weren’t offering much of a grip either.

  “Um,” I whispered over to him, “I need help here.”

  Some bark fell from the branch and I dangled by one arm.

  “Molly! Hang on!”

  “Would you please stop yelling my goddamn name!” I hissed.

  Rhys grabbed my arm and pulled me to a thicker branch, and I held onto the tree trunk and let my sore fingers rest.

  “We have to go,” he whispered. “Now.”

  He grabbed a branch and moved towards the garage, but the branch gave way under his weight and he fell with a loud, hard thud.

  “Oh my god!” one of the people in the garden shouted. “Are you alright?”

  Without thinking, I jumped out of the tree and landed on my feet. I stumbled backwards and fell on my ass—on purpose.

  “He’s okay. He didn’t even feel it!” I yelled back. “This is a great party, eh?”

  I was trying to sound as drunk as possible, while still using my British accent. Thankfully, my British accent sounds a bit drunk anyway.

  I stayed low in the grass and hid half of myself behind the tree. They might be suspicious of someone in shorts. Drunk, rich people climb trees all the time, right?

  “Are you okay?” I whispered to Rhys. The grass was cold and soft beneath me.

  “I think.” He winced and rubbed his wrist.

  “Oh my goodness!” the other half of the couple said.

  They were rushing over to see if we were okay. I had to stop them from getting too close.

  I’m going to regret this, I just know it.

  On my hands and knees, I wrapped my arms around Rhys’s neck and made out with him rather aggressively—basically his entire face. I needed to be gross.

  The couple stopped dead in their tracks. “Oh dear!”

  They rushed into the manor instead, seeing as we were all right, just intoxicated and handsy.

  “Get your hands off my ass.” I stood up, wiggled my corset top up further and headed for the garage. “Let’s go.”

  Rhys got to his feet and grinned. “You just couldn’t wait to kiss me again, could you?” He dusted off his knees.

  “Yes. That branch breaking was in my plan all along.”

  Rhys knelt by the door to the garage a few feet away and retrieved his lock pick from his pocket. “We better hurry,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”

  While he was still peering into the lock, I reached over and turned the door handle. It opened with a creak. He glared up at me. I smiled wide.

  Once inside, we locked the door behind us and didn’t turn on any lights. I used the light from my phone to find the garage door opener switch. Inside the unusually tidy garage was a red convertible with leather seats. Although I couldn’t see well, I knew exactly what was parked beside it.

  A blue-gray 1964 two-door Aston Martin DB5, gleaming like it was right out of the factory. Rhys caressed its curves like it was a lady.

  “Oh, Molly.” He sighed. “Can I keep it?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think so. Start it up.” I tossed him the key.

  He opened the door like it was made of glass, slowly sliding into the driver’s seat so he could enjoy every moment. Gently shutting the door, he caressed the contour of the steering wheel. He slid the key in and smiled as the car purred to life.

  I hit the button to open the garage. I slid into the passenger seat and Rhys slammed on the gas as soon as the garage door was high enough to escape from.

  People in front of the building shouted as we sped past them. I heard one of them yell something about the car but I couldn’t make out the rest.

  We zipped down the driveway and then down the country road. Rhys was laughing with exhilaration as we flew around corners and swerved around other cars.

  “We did it,” he yelled. “We fucking did it!”

  I squealed and slapped my hands on the dash. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it—”

  “Don’t slap the James Bond car. You don’t do that.”

  I slumped down in my seat. “Where’s this truck we’re supposed to meet up with?”

  “I think it’s down here.” Rhys’s eyes narrowed as he approached a dirt road and slowed to turn.

  We drove past acres of farmland in the dark. My heart was racing. We finally found the old stone farmhouse where we were to meet Simon.

  Rhys checked the map on his phone. “This is it.” He turned the car into the driveway. A delivery truck was parked in an old dilapidated barn, a metal ramp set up for us leading into the truck.

  We slowly drove up the ramp into the back of the empty truck until the car was completely hidden. He shut off the car, taking the key from the ignition. It was dark in the car, the only light from a dim bulb in the barn. I turned on my phone’s flashlight app.

  “Now what?”

  Rhys took off his wig, his hair sweaty and matted underneath. “Now you and I are going to go meet Simon inside.”

  The doors of the delivery truck clanged shut behind us. Now it was completely dark inside.

  “Rhys, what’s going on?”

  The truck was only wide enough to open the car doors a few inches and squeeze out but we managed to get out of the vehicle. I looked into the pitch black around us. Even with the light from my phone I couldn’t see anything except for a tiny red light mounted on the truck ceiling. It started to blink and beep before spewing thick gray fog down on us from a tiny spout. Rhys coughed and grabbed on to the open car door as his knees gave way. He slumped against the side of the car. There was a smacking sound as his forehead hit the floor.

  “Oh my god, Rhys,” I squeaked as I sank to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath in the darkness.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  My head was pounding when I woke up. Everything was blurry.

  I fought to stay awake. My wrists were tied together behind my back, probably with duct tape. My ankles were bound too. My shoulders ached. I couldn’t hear anything, only silence and the quiet scuffling of my body wriggling against a cement floor as I tried to sit up. My gasps were short and fast and my heart thundered.

  My vision cleared just enough to look around. I was in a warehouse with a high ceiling and a dusty, cold floor. My wig and prosthetic nose were gone. Rhys was tied up next to me.

  With what little energy I had, I wiggled closer to him and nudged his leg with my toes.

  “Rhys,” I whispered. “Rhys, wake up.”

  He moaned quietly and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at my face, his cheek flat against the floor.

  “Where are we?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He tried to wriggle out of his wrist restraints, his neck turning red as he pulled. The restraints didn’t budge. We both looked around the warehouse. The industrial lights overhead were bright, the one on the end flickering. There were no windows, just a wide door at the end with a small square office beside it.

  In the middle of the warehouse was a small table. Standing proudly in the middle of the table was the Egyptian fertility artifact from Oklahoma. (Ya know, the one with the boner.)

  Oh my god. The gunman. He’s going to finish the job. This is where I’m going to die. Right here in this warehouse.

  “We have to get out of here now,” I whispered.

  Rhys rolled over to face away from me. “Do you think you could get the tape from around my wrists?”

  I shuffled over and felt around the silver tape to find an edge I could rip off, my bound hands making it almost impossible to m
ove. The tape was wrapped around his wrists several times. I found an edge and peeled it away, causing a loud ripping to echo through the empty warehouse.

  The door to the office flew open and a woman walked toward us. She was tall and thin and had short, dark hair, long legs and a gun.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she shouted from across the warehouse floor, aiming her gun at us.

  Rhys’s eyes narrowed. “Casey?”

  Rhys’s off-and-on partner kidnapped us? That doesn’t make any sense.

  I looked back at the woman—now close enough for me to see her face.

  This is just unbelievable.

  I gaped up at her. “Tegan?”

  This is what happens when a woman hits on me. She ends up being a psychopath.

  Rhys stared at me. “Who the fuck is Tegan?”

  “Actually, my name is Lisa,” she said, looking down at me. “It’s nice that you recognized me this time, though.”

  I winced, my restraints digging in. “What are you talking about?”

  Lisa/Tegan/Casey laughed and rolled her eyes. “We worked together. Remember?”

  I stared at her. It took me a few seconds but I figured it out—and she was right.

  Lisa/Tegan/Casey was the one Paul partnered me up with years ago. She was that ditzy, disrespectful, useless eighteen-year-old with the ringing cell phone who made me hate working with a partner in the first place. She’d cut her hair short, spoke differently and wore heavy black eyeliner now. That useless eighteen-year-old was long gone.

  “You’ve grown into a lovely young woman,” I mumbled.

  Lisa kicked me hard in the side and I yelped. I doubled over, as much as a person can with their hands and feet bound.

  Yeah, that’s gonna bruise.

  “Leave her alone,” Rhys said in a low voice.

  Lisa put her boot firmly on the side of Rhys’s face. “Say another word, I dare you,” she said.

  I frowned and closed my eyes. “So Simon Brooks isn’t a real person.”

  Lisa burst out laughing. “Voice actor.” She smiled at me. “By the way, I’m straight. Just figured you might be a dyke since you’re friends with Ruby. She will make friends with anyone. Shit, that girl is way too trusting.” She laughed loudly and nodded at Rhys. “So is he, by the way.”