“Hell. How bad was it?”
“Bad.” Rusty’s mouth twisted up. “You sure he couldn’t just be that good of a con man?”
“No.” Shelby shook her head. As much as she’d wanted him to be exactly like his brothers, Kade was different.
“Okay, so we bring him in?”
Shelby bit her tongue to keep from saying no.
It was her pride talking.
She hadn’t yet been able to gain either of Kade’s brothers trust, and time was running out. Her undercover gig was ramping up in a big way, bigger than they’d anticipated, and she needed the inside edge. Especially if they wanted to keep the body count at zero. If bringing Kade in on it, if warning him of what was about to happen, would help her case at all, Shelby needed to get over herself and climb on board.
I’d like to climb on him.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
He’d said the right thing at the right time. That was all.
While much of what she’d said to him had been a lie, there’d been some truth in it. Her parents were dead, and there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about them or the senseless act that had taken them from her. If they’d lived, how much different would her life be? What sort of a life would she have now?
Shelby seriously doubted her list of accomplishments would include art thievery, forgery, and being an FBI asset. At least she’d been stopped while there was still a way out. That was saying something. Besides, working with the FBI wasn’t a bad gig. Rusty treated her well, even if he was more like the brother she’d never wanted. She’d proven herself time and time again, to the point that the FBI had recommended her for a gig with Interpol, starting in a few weeks if all went well here.
“I’d like another day or two to feel him out, but yeah. Let’s bring him in.” She stared at her paint-streaked hands while she made a mental list of everything she needed to do. It didn’t matter how many times she washed, there was paint permanently embedded in her flesh.
“You’ve got a day. Maybe a little more, but we need to get rolling on this. What’s your next move?”
“Well, I already alluded to drinks, so I’ll follow through and play the embarrassed victim.” Not to mention that she’d thrown in a lame attempt to flirt. Shelby shrugged out of the sweater and ruined blouse. She paused only to dig her phone out. “God, these pants are awful. Where the hell did you get these things?”
“He was attractive.” Rusty hadn’t taken his gaze off her.
She glared over the counter.
Having a gay handler was nice, in some regards. She didn’t have to worry if her tendency to paint in her underwear was inappropriate, or that Rusty might take advantage of her. But the trade-off was his far-too-perceptive nature and the fact that they liked the same kind of guy.
She’d assumed for the longest time that Rusty had someone, a partner, boyfriend, husband, but lately, nothing held him back from admiring most men they came in contact with. Their friendship wasn’t quite good enough that she wanted to go poking around in Rusty’s past. Besides, they had a time-sensitive job to do.
“Just saying. If you’re not interested in him…” Rusty shrugged.
“He’s painfully straight.”
“Sometimes you never know. Most people don’t suspect I’m gay.”
“Yeah, but then you open your big, fat mouth.” She tossed the clothes in the garbage and crossed to the bedroom nook, chewing her lip.
“What are you doing now?” Rusty asked.
“Trying to decide what the damsel in distress would say to her white knight.” She fluttered her lashes at Rusty, who barked a laugh.
“You? In distress? I live to see the day.”
“Go fuck yourself.” She flipped Rusty off and grinned. Yeah, she wasn’t very good at leaning on people, so what? That was half her value to the FBI. She was a reliable, one-woman show.
“You should let me text him.”
“No way.” She didn’t want to think about what Rusty would say. The things he’d shared with her about his personal life she could have gone without knowing. “I’m just going to say thanks, and offer to buy him a drink.”
“That’s not how you pick up a guy.”
“I know how to pick up a guy.”
“When’s the last time you did—that wasn’t for work?”
“Seriously, go fuck yourself.” Shelby scowled at the phone and turned her back on Rusty.
Crap.
What was she going to say?
Thanks again for your help.
That was kind of pathetic.
Maybe something…longer?
Thanks for your help today.
“By the way, I’m totally lying to you and about to pull you into one of your brother’s cons.” Shelby squeezed her eyes shut and flopped on the bed.
Nope. Delete.
“How far have you gotten?”
“Shut up, Rusty.”
Thanks for the help. Let me know when I can buy you that drink. :)
She hit send and groaned.
That sounded lame.
Maybe she should have let Rusty handle the communication. It wasn’t like this was real. She was just playing at flirting with Kade. Wasn’t she? Usually, she’d say yes and laugh it off, but her emotions were still all over the place.
Her phone vibrated against her stomach.
“Is that him?” Rusty asked.
“None of your business.”
She tapped the message.
It was Kade.
No problem. Take care of yourself.
She frowned.
He hadn’t even acknowledged her offer for drinks. Was she not his type? Was he into guys?
So no to drinks? Are you more of a food guy?
She hadn’t been that much of a mess.
Either he wasn’t into women, he was dating someone already…or he was just a nice guy.
Just doing my job. No repayment necessary.
“That sounded like a text,” Rusty said.
“Don’t you have important FBI stuff to do?”
“Doing it.” Rusty wiggled his phone at her.
“Can you do it somewhere else?”
“What’s he saying?”
“He’s not going for drinks or food. Maybe you’re right and he is gay.” Shelby tried to not sound so bitter. A lot of the great guys she met were gay, which worked for Rusty. Though lately, he went through them faster than it took for her to remember their names.
“Nah, he was totally straight. He could just be a nice guy.”
And therein lay the problem.
Shelby had a thing for nice guys.
They were like her kryptonite.
She didn’t meet many in her line of work. Good for her. Bad for her libido.
“I guess.” She sighed and tapped out another reply, hating herself. If he was what he appeared, a stand-up sort of person, then this job was about to get a lot harder.
She pushed up off the bed before he replied again. She had work to do.
“Your lucky day. I need to go to the office.” Rusty pushed to his feet and buttoned his jacket. “We still don’t have a handle for where Ogden may be. I’m off to work on that. And Shel?”
“What?” Shelby rolled off the bed and yanked the armoire open a little too hard.
Iestyn Ogden.
She didn’t know why she hated the sound of that name, but she did.
Shelby had never met him, at least not that she was aware of, but it was impossible not to see how he’d altered her life’s path.
“Hey.”
She stopped her search for clothes and turned to face Rusty.
“You sure you can handle this Kade guy?”
“Of course.” The idea that she couldn’t was ridiculous.
“You want me to take over bringing him in, just say the word.”
“I’m fine. Let me know if you find anything else on Ogden,” she said.
It was the normal kind of thing to say. They both kn
ew the chance of the FBI actually getting a hit on Ogden’s location was slim to none. He’d been avoiding capture since before Shelby was born, navigating the complex waters of the ever-changing landscape of the criminal underground with an ability that was uncanny.
“Don’t work too hard, and take something to help you relax.” Rusty slid the loft door open and shut.
She listened for the clank of the lock.
There.
Shelby blew out the breath she’d been holding.
Iestyn Ogden.
She sat down on the edge of the wardrobe and stared at the worn, wooden floor.
Her father had said the man’s name with contempt. Her mother had never let it pass her lips without fear darkening her eyes. Shelby hadn’t paid it much mind until after their deaths. Once she’d fully understood what’d been happening, why the authorities had seized property and money that should have gone to Shelby, it was too late.
Shelby wasn’t the only one who suspected Ogden’s involvement in her parents’ deaths, but there was plenty of evidence he’d made them into criminals.
Why?
It was the one question she wanted an answer to. And if things went well, she just might get the chance to ask him. With Kade’s help.
She set a timer and pulled out an old, over-sized T-shirt before approaching the easel.
With any luck, she’d be conning the con men.
It was a dangerous play, but she felt up to the job. Once Rusty had scooped her up, and she’d been given the option of working with the good guys, things sort of fell into place. To date she’d pulled off some spectacular busts of art thieves and forgers. She was more than a little irked she needed help with this gig. This was her moment to shine, and she couldn’t. Not without some help.
She studied the print of the source art, then her reproduction. With any luck, it would pass. At least until Rusty’s team made the arrests.
That was how this worked.
Shelby passed herself off as an accomplished art thief. The bad guys hired her to do a job. The FBI liaised with the intended victims. Shelby recreated the works to be stolen, and no one was the wiser until it was too late.
She’d done a lot of good work, but they’d never caught the big fish.
Iestyn Ogden.
With any luck, this was her chance. And maybe then she’d have the answers she’d been looking for since the day her life came crumbling down around her.
Iestyn Ogden watched the fluffy clouds passing underneath the plane, while his assistant droned on. The man was good at his work, but he didn’t have the same kind of efficiency as his last man. Too bad that one had died. Iestyn had liked him. The new guy would take some getting used to. He liked to hear himself talk.
“Get Gil on the phone, will you?” Iestyn said over the man’s monologue.
“Er…yes, sir.”
By Iestyn’s estimation, the team should be assembling in Seattle. He was willing to bet Shelby was there, spinning her web. She really was extraordinary. Such a little trickster. She was the spitting image of her mother, down to the sun-streaked blonde in her hair and those green eyes of hers.
She was almost ready.
Iestyn had met Shelby’s mother, Sharon, when she was thirty, before she’d married that loathsome Amos fellow. Iestyn could still remember seeing her for the first time. She’d worn this silky red dress, such a vixen. Women like her were a rare thing.
Sharon should have been his. By all rights, he’d been the better man for her, but for whatever reason, she’d gone and fallen head over heels for a man who couldn’t care for her. Couldn’t keep her like Iestyn would have.
It would be different with Shelby. Iestyn had watched her grow and mature for years, waiting until the eve of her thirty-first birthday. That’s when everything had gone wrong with Sharon.
This time, things would go right. There would be no vying for her affections. He would have her to himself.
“Gil for you, sir.” Brent held out the phone.
Iestyn took the phone and turned back to the window.
“Gil, how are things?”
“Good, Mr. Ogden. Right on schedule.”
“Has the team arrived?”
“Yes, but we’ve run into a hiccup, I’m afraid.”
“That’s not what I like to hear.”
“We’re working on it. Details, sir. I’m handling it.”
“The team is in place, then?”
“Yes, just looking to add another man or two.”
Iestyn considered the problem. He had information Gil did not, and could not be privy to. Everyone Iestyn worked with had a shelf life of usefulness. Gil was at the end of his.
“Tell me, has Shelby arrived?” Iestyn asked.
“Yes, sir.” Gil’s tone was clipped.
Usually, Iestyn let Gil have free rein on who he hired for a job, but this one was special. It required a woman’s touch, and Shelby—for all her faults—was the woman for the job. Gil didn’t like it, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots.
Iestyn couldn’t wait to see her in action.
“I’m going to need Shelby’s personal attention in a few days. Make sure she’s available for me.” It was time he set the stage, see what she was capable of.
“Is it something I can handle, sir?”
“No, Shelby will do.”
“If you say so.” Gil sighed, the most he would dare when it came to vocalizing his thoughts. Ever since the Sudan issue.
“Tell me, how’d she look when you saw her?” Iestyn leaned back and closed his eyes.
“I, uh, don’t know sir. Fine, I guess?”
“What was she wearing?”
Iestyn exhaled, summoning up the picture of beauty in his mind.
Such a perfect work of art, his Sharon.
3.
Kade sat his ass down at the big, communal table in the heart of Trinity Hall. No sooner than he’d propped his feet up on the rung below him did his phone chime.
He didn’t even have to look at who it was.
He knew.
It was Shelby.
The poor thing was really embarrassed about yesterday. A lot of people were that way with accidents and, given what a traumatic day it’d been for her already, he hated that she had more to add to it.
He pulled his phone out and smiled, despite trying not to.
This was an ethical quandary. Yeah, guys on-duty got the number of pretty girls on scene plenty of times, but Shelby had been his patient, albeit for a moment. It was a gray area between right and wrong he didn’t like messing with. But she was so damn cute, he couldn’t make himself not reply.
I see what you meant about it being worse the day after. Ouch!
His thumbs twitched to type out a reply, to tell her that a hot shower would help loosen the muscles, some pain killers would help, and by all that was holy, she should not go to a masseuse. But that was administering unasked-for advice, which he was routinely guilty of. People often just wanted to complain about their aches and pains. It was why he’d made such a pain in the ass patient, when he’d gotten hurt on the job last year, because he’d been required to go to physical therapy.
If he hadn’t met Ryan to run his mouth at, Kade likely would be out a job, because he couldn’t make himself sit through a dozen explanations of why an exercise helped, when he knew full well what he needed to do.
“Who put that smile on your face, love?” Aunt Liv slid a glass of water toward him. “The usual?”
“Yes, please. How are you?” Kade dropped his phone and gave Aunt Liv a quick hug. She wasn’t his biological aunt, but she looked after the pub’s regulars as if they were her own.
“I could have used another eight hours of sleep.”
“John keeping you up late?” Kade grinned. Just a few months ago, one of the guys had tracked down Aunt Liv’s old boyfriend, the one she moved to America to reconnect with, and she’d just had this…glow about her since then.
“He goes to bed at fucking nine.
Nine! Can you believe it?” Aunt Liv slapped Kade’s shoulder. “His oldest had a car problem, so he had to drive to her. I kept him up on the ride there and back.”
“I’m glad you two found each other again.”
“Me, too. God bless Owen.” Aunt Liv shook her head then peered at him. “Who has you smiling like that today?”
“A girl I met yesterday. It’s probably nothing.”
“A smile like that ain’t nothing.” Aunt Liv pinched Kade’s cheek, which she followed up with a light peck. “Let me put the order in, and then I want to pick your brain about that story you told me the other night.”
“Sure thing.”
Kade chuckled and drew in the condensation coating his glass. Aunt Liv treated him differently than the rest. More familiar. Which he appreciated. What with his family so far away and them not getting on so well, it helped having someone who cared. Besides, Aunt Liv was the only person he knew who enjoyed storytelling as much as he did.
“All right, the story.” Aunt Liv slid into the seat adjacent his so they had one corner of the big table claimed. “Is this another of your gypsy tales of luck?”
“I guess you’d say that.” Kade’s family was full of wandering gypsies and travelers. The Romani people were that way by virtue of heritage. He was willing to bet that was where his story telling genes came from. “Mom always called it The Princess and the Forester’s Son. I’ve heard about four different versions, so I more or less picked the one I liked and learned that.”
“Let me see if I remember it.” Aunt Liv closed her eyes. Since her wandering feet had taken her all over the earth, she’d collected stories from people and loved telling them when pub patrons got too far into their drink. “There were three sons, but only two went with the mother when she left her ass of a husband?”
“Correct.” Kade nodded. “The oldest son was too much like his father, so the mother and her two younger sons left to build a better life.”
“And they set off, but when they went to cross a big forest at night they got lost. The—youngest son? Was he the first watch?”
Her Prince (Twisted Royals #2) Page 2