The Secret Thief

by Nina Lane

  “Seems to be your business though.” A dark scowl twists Jeremy’s face.

  “Fucker.” Flynn spits out the insult like a bullet, then lunges past me to grab Jeremy by the shirt.

  I flinch and keep my hand on Ghost. “Flynn!”

  “Go ahead and clock me, asshole,” Jeremy snaps. “I’ll have you slammed with an assault charge so fast your head will spin. I would fucking love to see you arrested. Maybe then we’ll find out what the hell you’ve been hiding all these years.”

  Flynn’s whole body tenses with fury and restraint. He shoves Jeremy hard enough to make the other man stumble and almost fall. Jeremy lets out a laugh, grabs his toolbox, and strides to his car, giving both me and Ghost a wide berth as he gets into the driver’s seat.

  A second later, his car roars out of the driveway, spewing dust and dead leaves.

  Flynn looks at me, his features hard. “You okay?”

  “What in the love of God is with you two?” I stalk into the house, my spine stiff. “Is this all because Jeremy wants to sell the lighthouse?”

  “And because he’s an entitled controlling dickhead who thinks he owns this town.” Flynn slams the door behind him.

  Shock flashes through me. “That’s pretty harsh.”

  “It’s the truth.” He paces to the windows and back. “He grew up privileged, and he wants everyone to see him as Castille’s golden boy. He’s nothing but a vulture. When he started working for King Financial, he pushed out low-income housing in Benton for complexes built by a company that had financed his father’s political career. He likes to pretend he’s all for Castille, but he’s done jack shit around here. His efforts to buy up land and housing haven’t gone through, likely because of his mother. But last year he somehow got ahold of the lighthouse property, or said he did. Now he wants to push his own agenda and no doubt make a hefty profit with total disregard for the consequences.”

  I stare at him, stunned by the tense anger and contempt in his voice. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Allegra would never have willingly given him or her husband control of her holdings, not even when she was sick.”

  “Wait a second.” I hold up my hands in confusion. “You actually know her?”

  “I used to.” A muscle ticks in his tight jaw. “I haven’t seen her in a few years. When I first came to Castille, I got a job doing some landscaping work for her and William. She had heart surgery a few months ago and ended up with severe complications that kept her in the hospital. That was when Jeremy and his father took over. And why he now wants to sell the lighthouse.”

  I frown. “He made it sound like the development would improve the town’s economy.”

  “Sure, that’s what it sounds like.” Flynn rubs the back of his neck, his voice tense. “That’s what he wants everyone to think. That’s why he’s trying to shove the approval through with his charm instead of giving the residents a chance to review it fully.

  “If the zoning codes are broken, the coast and woodlands are in danger, and the residents get slammed with a tax burden. If the experiment isn’t a complete disaster, housing prices shoot up and the people who have lived here for years could be forced out. Not to mention all the things that go along with unreviewed developments—fiscal policy changes, pollution, traffic issues, hits to local businesses. I’m all for economic growth, but not the scorched-earth way King wants to do it. And giving him more power? Fucking disaster.”

  “What about his father?”

  “He’s letting Jeremy take the reins, but he agrees with it. Apparently he’s been showing up at city council meetings as a show of support.”

  “And you’re trying to stop him.”

  “I was…” He rubs his jaw, irritation darkening his eyes. “I was trying to. That was why I needed to come up with another book idea. I was in breach of contract with my publisher because I hadn’t produced anything in years. I wanted the rest of the advance so I could make a case for buying the lighthouse and registering it for historical protection. But there’s no way I can match what the development company is offering. I can use the money as a preservation fund, but only if the zoning change is voted down.”

  “Have you ever gone to the city council meetings?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told anyone this?” I spread my hands out. “Jeremy said you’re trying to stop him from selling the lighthouse, but are you fighting for it? Do any of Castille’s residents know what you just told me?”

  “Yeah, I’ve told them.” He paces back to the foyer. “As you can imagine, no one much cares what the strange guy in the lighthouse has to say about anything.”

  “Only because they don’t know you,” I remind him. “If you’ve isolated yourself up there for fifteen years without getting involved in local politics, can you blame people for not listening to you now?”

  He clenches his hands. “No, I can’t blame them. And that’s the fucking worst part.”

  I study him for a moment. All the urgency and conviction he’s kept stifled is clear in his stiff shoulders and the burning light in his eyes. An idea sparks in my mind.

  “Flynn, I heard there’s another meeting at the end of the month. A final discussion before the city council votes on whether or not to allow the zoning change. We could attend the meeting together. You could give a counter-argument. And why don’t you tell people you’re Riley Flynn? I understand your hesitation, but people would definitely listen to a famous author resident.”

  “No.” The word is sharp, driven like a nail.

  “Why not? You could use your name for good. To advocate for a cause.”

  He shakes his head.

  “But—”

  “Eve.” His eyes turn cold. “No.”

  A chill ripples through my blood.

  “You can’t complain about changes people want to make if you’re not willing to fight for what you believe in.” I harden my tone to make my point. “I mean, you can, but it’s not exactly productive. Do you think it was easy for me to publicly tell people about my relationship with David? To admit I was such a hot mess I couldn’t even read any signals that my lover was married? Then to try and convince them I wasn’t a stalker?

  “You wouldn’t believe the emails and voicemails I got from people, everything from hate mail to hook-up propositions. But I did it because I couldn’t let him get away with spreading lies. And even though I ended up crushed by the shitstorm, I’d still do it all over again because if only a handful of people believed what I had to say, then David didn’t completely win. My truth made a difference. But only because I spoke up.”

  Silence descends. My heart beats faster, my muscles tensing as my body recalls the anxiety and panic attacks I’d experienced during those months.

  Flynn is watching me, his eyes hooded and his shoulders stiff. Irritated, I pace to the windows. I can accept that he has reasons for wanting to be alone, for staying on the outskirts of things, but clearly he’s passionate about what happens to both this town and the environment. And if he’s not speaking up because he’s afraid of Jeremy King—

  No. Just like I couldn’t believe Flynn was a creep, I can’t believe he’s a coward either.

  “Eve.” He approaches, but doesn’t reach out to touch me. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

  Tears sting my eyes. “I never felt brave. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try. But I ended up running away to Castille to hide, so that’s not very brave at all.”

  “You didn’t let any of it stop you, though. And sometimes that’s the only way out. The only way to survive.”

  He puts his hand on the side of my neck. Sudden tension tightens his features.

  “I hate what you went through.” A rough undercurrent edges his voice. “I hate that it caused problems for you here. And I really fucking hate that I could make them worse.”

  I blink. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jeremy King knows you’re with me, which pisses
him off. And now he could make things worse for you than they’ve already been.”

  A humorless laugh breaks out of me. “I’ve been through the worst already. And really, if people are so interested in what you and I are doing, then why don’t we just own it? I can respect the fact that you don’t want to tell people you’re Riley Flynn, but you still have a voice as a resident of this town. We can go to the meeting together, argue against the zoning change, make a point. I have no idea whether or not it will do any good, but at least it’s something. At least we can try.”

  He rubs his thumb against my neck. I sense a reluctant surrendering in him, the twist of a key.

  “Besides…” I place my hand on his chest. The heavy, strong beat of his heart thumps beneath my palm. “Being with you could never make things worse. Ever since I met you, my life has only gotten better.”

  He shakes his head, disbelief mixing with the warmth in his eyes. “You’re unbelievable. I’m still not sure you’re real.”

  As if to prove I am, I thread my fingers through his dark hair and press my lips to his. He yields instantly, grasping my hips and pulling me against him.

  We fall together into the hot, spiraling pleasure, shedding our clothes and dropping them to the floor like falling leaves. Stripping each other bare. Even as I touch the slopes of his chest, spread my legs for his penetration, an understanding rouses in my mind.

  When I first came to Castille, I’d thought I was running away. But now, my body and soul reawakened, my intellect inspired, my heart open… maybe all along, I was running toward him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Like Sleeping Beauty’s castle awakening, everything in the lighthouse is the same and yet completely changed. The atmosphere is brighter, the cobwebs swept out of the dark corners. For the next few days, I continue cataloging the books, and Flynn works in the tower, but the doors all remain open. Elvis’s liquid, deep tones filter through the heating vents.

  I venture into town a couple of times for groceries and to go to the library, but no one asks me about Flynn or even looks at me askance. It’s probably too much to hope that the gossip mill won’t spring into action as soon as people find out about our relationship, but for now all remains quiet.

  Every day, Flynn shows up in the kitchen for lunch, and we work on a crossword puzzle before returning to our tasks. I organize the collection with a renewed enthusiasm borne of knowing that he shared not only a friendship with my uncle, but a love for fairy tales. I reread all the Mirror Mirror books both with my art historian’s eye and with my newfound knowledge about Flynn.

  He’s there, a part of all the books—in the boy Westley’s dark hair and eyes, the complexity of the mazes and puzzles, the hidden pictures only divined through careful searching. Myths and fairy tales thread through Westley and Tugg’s adventures—encounters with ogres and monsters, slippages of time, treks through fantastical lands, magic spells and curses.

  This afternoon, he comes to the kitchen for tea, but we bring our cups back up to his tower office. We sit on the sofa, encircled by the sweeping view of sea and earth, watching the waves break over the cliff.

  “I need to go out of town for a few days, so I’ll give you a key.” Flynn tugs my legs onto his lap and strokes my bare feet. “I’ll leave on Monday. My agent and editor want to talk to me about Fiamma. They love it so far.”

  “I’m not surprised.” I place my cup on a side table and settle back against the cushions, letting my eyes drift closed. “It’s weird to think of you meeting with people, much less an agent and editor. I’m used to thinking of you just… here.”

  “Here is where I’d rather be.” He closes his hands around my foot and rubs gently, sending warmth through my leg. “But considering I haven’t written anything in years, I owe them a meeting.”

  “When is the next Mirror Mirror book coming out?”

  “There is no next one. The series is finished.”

  I open one eye to look at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah. The story’s over.”

  “But…” I open the other eye, my forehead knitting. “Westley never finds his reflection.”

  Faint tension threads his body. “He and Tugg return home again. That’s the end of the story.”

  I frown and tap my fingers on the sofa cushion. “But how can he not find his reflection after everything he and Tugg went through? Shouldn’t he find what he was looking for?”

  He shrugs. “Not all of us do.”

  “What about a happy ending?”

  “The homecoming is the happy ending.”

  He sounds so detached, almost as if the story were an intellectual exercise rather than something personal to him. Which makes no sense—Flynn vibrates through every page. His love of art, detail, puzzles, the sea, the imagination, is evident in every single line and curve of the pictures.

  “I don’t get it,” I finally say. “You said you were influenced by fairy tales. I see them in all the books, but the point of a fairy tale is that the characters get what they were looking for.”

  “Maybe Westley wasn’t looking for his reflection after all.” He strokes his fingers over the soles of my feet. “Maybe he was just trying to get home.”

  “Whoa.” I press my hands to my temples. “Now you’re messing with my mind, Riley.”

  He stops massaging my foot. “It’s not that intellectual, Eve. It’s just a story about a boy and his dog.”

  “Right, like Fiamma is just a story about a girl and a bird.” I eye him pointedly.

  He chuckles, exasperated affection smoothing the tension in his features.

  “This is my penance for getting involved with a brilliant, stunning art historian.” He grabs my arm and pulls me across the sofa and into his lap. “Sometimes a story is just a story.”

  “Mmm, like a cigar is just a cigar?” I let myself fall against him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

  Warmth softens the gray in his eyes. He slips his hand under my chin and lifts my face to his. “And a kiss is just a kiss… unless I’m kissing you. Then it’s so much more.”

  The world shifts the instant our lips touch. I curl my fingers into the back of his shirt and open my mouth under his. It’s so damned easy now, like slipping between folds of silk, like spinning effortlessly into the stars. He cups his hands on either side of my face and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue into my mouth in his unspoken message of claiming.

  Oh, how the man can kiss. Gentle pressure alternating with the tantalizing graze of his teeth and stroke of his tongue. The way he holds my face like I’m precious to him, the way he tilts my head to just the right angle. He tastes like spices and sugar. Our breath increases, a swirl of heat. He slides his hands down to grip my hips and shifts us both so I’m lying underneath him.

  Erotic tension coils through the air. I wrap my legs around him, urging him closer. Little fireworks pop and crackle in my blood. My breasts press against his chest. Just the light contact stiffens my nipples, sending shivers over my skin, eliciting a delicious pulsing in my core.

  I pull away for an instant, my breath puffing against his lips. “It’s the middle of the workday.”

  “I’m giving you the day off.” He tweaks my nose. Amusement mixes with the increasing lust in his eyes.

  “Are you sure?” I frown and tighten my legs around him. “There’s nothing in the contract about days off.”

  “I’m the boss.” He unfastens the top button of my blouse and gives me a stern look. “I make the rules. Rule number one is that you have to obey my orders.”

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  He unfastens another button, his fingers grazing my skin. My heart thumps. A thickening heat presses against the air, ripe with anticipation. We both watch as he slowly unfastens button after button of my silk blouse, revealing the valley of my cleavage beneath my white bra and clinging slip. He pushes the shirt off me, then works the zipper on the back of my skirt and helps me wiggle out of it.

  My hard nipples poke ag
ainst the thin fabric of my lingerie, and Flynn’s gaze locks to the clear evidence of my growing arousal. He strokes my bare arms and shoulders, moving slowly down to cup my breasts.

  Tingles of pleasure wash through me. I love the way his big, ink-stained hands slide with such assurance over my body, as if he’s touched me a thousand times before. As if he never wants to stop.

  Our lips meet again. He slides his mouth across my cheek and lower, gently closing his teeth over the pulse pounding at the side of my neck. I rake a hand down his chest, urgency firing through me.

  He twists the straps of my slip, pulling them down my shoulders to expose my bra. I fully expect him to take it right off me, but instead he keeps moving lower… lower… dragging his lips over my breasts, sucking my nipple through the silk of my bra, running his hands over my thighs before pulling my slip up and finding the waistband of my stockings. He rolls them off me, pressing little kisses to my legs before going down on his knees beside the sofa…

  “Flynn!”

  He looks up at me, his eyes smoky. “Spread your beautiful legs.”

  Hesitation ripples through me. He presses his hands to my inner thighs and parts them. I wiggle to the edge of the sofa. My heart thunders. He slides his finger under my panties and into my pussy. A growl sounds low in his throat.

  Shudders rock me. I force my muscles to relax, to let him in. I expect him to take my panties off, but instead he eases the elastic to the side and leans forward. The first touch of his tongue explodes me with heat. I tighten my grip on the cushion.

  “Oh my God, Flynn…”

  He clasps my hip with his other hand, steadying me. He licks up one side of my pussy and down the other. Perspiration breaks out on my skin. Everything inside me quivers with tension and heat.

  Part of my mind is hazy with disbelief that I’m actually doing this. Just weeks ago I was frozen inside, and now I’m spread out naked on a sofa, flames licking through me at the touch of this man’s tongue.

  I can’t believe he’s doing this either—the mysterious, reclusive lighthouse keeper who was so intent on keeping me at a distance, now worshipping my body with such expertise that an earthquake begins to tremble in my blood.