A Thief In The Night

by K. Sterling

  “You already have a car and we live in London, there are cabs and buses everywhere. Why do you need one, let alone two?” He asked and Roman shook his head. Quinn could be so impractical.

  “I have four cars, the Bentley’s my favorite. This is for us, for romantic evenings and weekend adventures. We wouldn’t take Mr. Bishop with us all the time and I’m not driving you in the limo,” he said obviously and Quinn looked like he was broken as he blinked at him.

  “What’s wrong with the other three?” He asked and Roman snorted.

  “Two don’t have passenger seats and aren’t street legal,” he said then cleared his throat as he traced the stitching on the steering wheel. “I recently rolled the Chiron and it’s still technically very un-drivable,” he mumbled.

  “You rolled a $3 million dollar car?” Quinn hissed and Roman shrugged sheepishly.

  “Have you driven one? The engine’s monstrous,” he laughed.

  “It’s on my list,” Quinn said flatly and Roman pulled in his lips and nodded.

  “I’m getting a new one, you’ll love it. But, in the mean time, I thought something like this would be fun for you,” he said.

  “No.” Quinn shook his head.

  “A Ferrari, then?” Roman offered cheekily. He knew where Quinn was headed but it was tedious.

  “Stop it. This is getting out of hand. The clothes already freak me out,” he said and Roman pushed his lip out as he ran the back of his hand down Quinn’s chest. The grey suit and soft green cashmere v-neck made his eyes so clear and bright.

  “Such a good investment,” he said. “I’m enjoying you in fine tailoring,” he added silkily.

  “A car is excessive,” Quinn stated and Roman winced.

  “I’d say making people disappear and killing them is excessive but maybe that’s just me,” he mused. “This is just money, I can always get more. Buying us a pair of bus passes or one of those tacky bicycles with the two seats isn’t going to make people talk or turn heads. I’m the world’s greatest thief, Quinn. The expectations are…” His fingers twirled airily and he snorted. “Fucking astronomical and I couldn’t care less,” he said. Mostly because you don’t. “But I’m having fun pretending you’d let me spoil you like this then wreck you when we get home,” he said and saw a spark in Quinn’s eyes as they dropped to his lips. Roman purred encouragingly as he curved his hand around Quinn’s jaw and kissed him. He kept it soft and soothing, letting Quinn sink into it cautiously. He waited until Quinn’s tongue thrust against his and he moaned softly to pull him closer.

  “I beg your pardon,” the saleswoman said quietly and Roman raised his hand and shooed her.

  “We’ll take it,” he said and pecked at Quinn’s lips.

  “I’m sorry. Which one did you decide on?” She asked carefully and Roman shushed Quinn as he started to object.

  “Whichever you think is best, as long as it doesn’t have red interior.” Roman gave Quinn a reassuring wink then tossed his bank card over his shoulder. “Take your time,” he said then pressed his finger against Quinn’s lips before he could scold him. “She’s going to sell me the most expensive car they’ve got in stock, let me have my fun,” he urged then captured his lips and completely stole his wits.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to walk you home,” Roman said and Quinn chuckled.

  “I found my way on my own this time,” he said sarcastically then gave up and pulled off the tie and shoved it in his pocket. He slipped on his jacket and took his phone off Speaker.

  “I had a dentist appointment,” Roman muttered and Quinn laughed.

  “You went to the dentist?”

  “It was just a routine checkup and a cleaning,” Roman said defensively and Quinn chuckled as he looked around to make sure he had everything as he left. He grabbed his keys and locked the door on the way out. He searched for any messages from tenants but the floor was clear. He was sure he heard Mr. Hooper outside his door when he was shaving. He shrugged then used his shoulder to hold the phone as he checked his mail again. The box was still empty.

  “I can’t even picture it. I didn’t think master thieves went to the dentist,” he said.

  “We have teeth, Quinn. Who else would we go to?” He asked and Quinn shrugged as he closed the door to his building and checked the street just as Mr. Bishop pulled up.

  “A master dentist?” Quinn asked absently then hung up. He shook his head in disbelief as he ran around the car and got in. Every time he thought his life was bizarre and out of control some new wrong thing became normal. He was getting used to hurrying home and putting on one of the twelve suits or tuxedos Roman supplied him with. He didn’t always see Roman as he walked home but he often sensed him and he’d open the door and find him calmly sitting on his sofa. “Can you fix this?” Quinn asked as he passed him the tie.

  “Scoot over,” Roman said and Quinn leaned toward him and stretched his neck. He felt Roman’s hand brush against his skin twice and a slight tug. “There,” he said and Quinn offered him a nod as he sat up. He didn’t need to check, it would be perfect.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I just got a message. Darius wants to speak to us,” Roman said as he checked his phone and Quinn’s stomach flipped and his hand trembled.

  “He wants to see us?” He asked in concern and Roman snorted.

  “Sorry. He wants to see me but I’m sure he’d love to catch up with you,” he murmured and Quinn relaxed.

  “I’ve been doing this thing where I go as many days as I can without having an appointment with scary crime bosses,” he said and Roman’s eyes flicked to the ceiling of the car.

  “Do you think Darius is scary?”

  “As fuck,” Quinn admitted readily and Roman appeared to be genuinely surprised.

  “Really? Is he scarier than me?” He asked and Quinn wasn’t sure if he was hoping he was.

  “A little,” he said slowly and Roman chewed on his lip and he looked pensive.

  “What if I told you he wore a backpack everywhere he went until he was twelve so he could secretly keep his teddy bear with him?” He offered. Quinn pictured Darius with his loose, prowling stride, his sharp, too penetrating eyes, his inky black hair and tattoos and the presence of a backpack and a hidden teddy bear didn’t make him less intimidating.

  “It really doesn’t make that much of a difference,” he said and Roman’s hand swatted as he snorted.

  “I never needed a teddy bear,” he grumbled to himself as he checked the window.

  “Is this a competition?” Quinn asked as the car stopped and Roman smiled as Mr. Bishop got out.

  “I didn’t meet Darius until I was six, he was eight. It was the first time I met my father’s family and my uncle told us there was one sweet hidden in one of his pockets and whoever could get it from him got to have it. My parents were poor so I was only allowed candy on holidays and birthdays. I found it first and we’ve never stopped competing,” he explained then stepped out of the car as Mr. Bishop waited at the door. Quinn smiled as he opened his door and stood. They were on the other side of the river but they’d still have a long way to walk. He was getting used to walking in places like Hackney and Stockwell at night. He was just as relaxed as he was on Pimlico Street.

  “Poor Darius,” he said and Roman shook his head as he headed toward the train cemetery.

  “My uncle always had two. He believed there was nothing wrong with rewarding effort, if it was honest, but the glory only went to the winner. Competition doesn’t have to be cruel, it can be fun too,” he stated and Quinn pointed as Mr. Bishop drove off.

  “He’s not coming with us?”

  “He’ll leave the car someplace safer and catch up with us. We’ll be fine, too many people know me here,” Roman said and Quinn raised a brow.

  “Why would you even need a bodyguard?” He asked and Roman raised a shoulder as he strolled to a toppled telephone box. He sprang onto it easi
ly and gracefully skipped across then hopped off. Roman was just as menacing as Darius but he was as relaxed, sleek and elegant in Stockwell as he was in a ballroom in Belgravia. “I’m more of a danger to myself, I’m safe everywhere,” Roman said. “Someone might not recognize me in a dark corner by Piccadilly but they’ll realize their mistake quickly and move on. There are people who would rather I wasn’t alive or comfortable and they do pay desperate people well to try and remedy that from time to time, so Mr. Bishop comes in handy. I’m more than capable of handling any trouble but it makes him happy, so I humor him,” he explained and Quinn couldn’t keep his lips straight.

  “You two have a really…peculiar relationship. He’s not as terrifying, once you get over the shock,” he said and Roman turned and there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes as they touched Quinn’s.

  “He’s very sensitive to that, you know,” he said and Quinn stopped.

  “I didn’t realize,” he admitted. Mr. Bishop displayed the emotional range of a boulder. Wouldn’t a man in his line of work want people to be afraid of him?

  “What do you think Mr. Bishop wanted to be when he was a child?” Roman asked and Quinn shook his head.

  “I have no idea.” Mr. Bishop was gentle and compassionate and Quinn could tell immediately that he was extremely concerned about Roman’s wellbeing. Much more so than a typical bodyguard.

  “I assure you he did not dream of becoming a bodyguard slash enforcer slash executioner,” Roman said and Quinn stumbled.

  “Excuse me?” He asked loudly and Roman waved it off.

  “He wanted to be an opera singer,” he said and Quinn gasped.

  “Really? Is he any good?”

  “He would make Pavarotti weep but he was mocked as a young man when he tried to sing for people. I believe he tried to audition a few times but no one would listen because of his appearance,” Roman said and Quinn stopped.

  “Oh, no,” he groaned and Roman nodded in agreement.

  “When Mr. Bishop was nineteen, some rich twat got rolled by King’s Cross and he was picked up and falsely accused. Purely because he looked most likely. After that, he couldn’t get a second chance or a decent job. The only work he could get was as a bouncer and collecting from junkies and gamblers. The work got more and more gruesome and he was nothing more than a big oaf they tossed scraps of cash at to break people’s spines and skulls. They called him Crusher and not a single person knew his name when I asked!” Roman complained indignantly. “He couldn’t let a decent flat because no one would want to live next door to a man like that,” he sneered and Quinn grabbed his arm.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently and Roman relaxed. It was kind of adorable, the way he became defensive and protective of Mr. Bishop. Quinn realized he’d been an ass the times he joked about his size. “I’m glad you found him,” he said and Roman hummed in agreement.

  “It’s amazing how much you get in return when you offer a person dignity, respect and a very generous salary. Mr. Bishop would chew my food for me, if I asked him to, and he’d snap your neck in a heartbeat,” he said silkily and with a flourish of his hand and Quinn jumped as he turned and swung his head wildly. “Calm down, he’s there,” Roman said. Quinn turned and Mr. Bishop was standing beneath the street light just ahead of them. “It’s a very still night, Mr. Bishop,” Roman noted as they joined him. Mr. Bishop gestured toward Darius’ warehouse and waited for Quinn and Roman to pass then fell in step behind them. “If you’re in the mood, would you honor us with a bit of a song, for the rest of our journey?” Roman asked and Quinn did his best not to outwardly display his profound awe and admiration as an aria wrapped around them and filled the air. His voice was rich yet airy as the notes made Quinn’s eyes tingle and his throat catch before they floated off into the night. They reached the warehouse just as the aria ended and Roman didn’t bother to knock, the heavy steel door scraped open and he nodded in greeting as he stepped inside.

  “Lovely as always, Mr. Bishop,” the bald giant said.

  “I think that’s my favorite, Tom,” Roman mused as they passed him and Quinn cleared his throat softly.

  “I haven’t listened to a lot of opera, but that sounded perfect. It was beautiful,” he said and Mr. Bishop’s head ducked just ever so slightly.

  “Thank you, sir,” he rumbled as they made their way through the maze and Darius’ guards. Darius was sitting on the arm of his sofa hugging the remote against his chest and glaring in disgust at the television.

  “Bunică could have blocked that shot!” He swore as he stood then turned off the television and tossed the remote on the coffee table.

  “She would never allow men in shorts to get that close to her but I think she’d make an excellent goalie,” Roman said as he accepted Darius’ embrace. “You promised you wouldn’t get any on the neck,” he complained as he leaned back and pulled at Darius’ collar, revealing a fresh tattoo.

  “You sound like bunică,” Darius said and gripped Roman’s face. His thumb tugged at his cheek, pulling at the taut flesh. “You promised you’d eat. Do something about this before you see her,” he ordered and Roman pulled his face away.

  “You nag like you’re my grandmother,” he muttered. “Is that what I came all the way out here for?” He asked and Darius tried to muss Roman’s hair as he released him but he swayed out of reach. Darius offered Mr. Bishop a wave then gave Quinn a quick once over before turning his attention back to Roman.

  “I don’t know where Dash is hiding but I’ve done some checking. You were right, he’s a party boy and a dealer but he’s the party boy’s dealer. They’re all going through him now and whoever he’s with is the guy. He’s pushing everyone else out.”

  “Is that what he’s up to now?” Roman asked as his gaze became distant.

  “Looks like it,” Darius said then gave him a nudge. “He’s making this easier for us,” he added and Roman grinned.

  “Not too easy, I hope. We have the matter of Mr. Waverly,” he said as he nodded at Quinn. “Have you learned anything about his brother?” He asked and Quinn’s heart slowed and his hands became cold. Darius’ head tilted as he watched him. I’ve learned a lot about you, he warned. He did want to see Quinn.

  “Nothing that can tell me where he is. He was definitely in deep with Dash though,” Darius said and Quinn’s hand shook as it stretched across his lips. Things just got scarier and scarier for Jayce, the more he learned about Dash and Darlington. Quinn could feel it before Jayce disappeared. It was like he was spinning faster and faster and Quinn could see it in his eyes and he could feel traces of the vertigo when they were close.

  “I expect we’ll get more insight into that tomorrow. We’re just going to an auction tonight, I’m in the mood to show him off and buy him something he can’t use,” Roman said as he watched him.

  “What?” Quinn asked in disgust. “Not really,” he said hopefully and Roman raised a shoulder.

  “It’s not impressive or gossip-worthy if I just show up and drink flat champagne and eat dry canapés,” he argued and Quinn shook his head.

  “No, stop buying things. This isn’t supposed to be real,” he said and Darius’ brows jumped before he scrubbed his hand across his mouth thoughtfully.

  “The Hawthorn Collection?” He asked and Roman nodded. “If you see that kui dragon jar I was outbid on, I wouldn’t mind that for the table,” he said as he jerked his head at the living room and Roman’s gaze tightened.

  “Celedon-glazed, Qjanlong period?”

  “Wan symbol band around the neck and lotus flowers around the base,” Darius said as his finger twirled around a small invisible vase and Roman pointed.

  “I know the one,” he said then hooked his arm in Quinn’s and steered them around. “We’ll keep an eye out.” He waved as they left and Quinn turned and held up his hand.

  “Thank you,” he called but Darius ignored him as he went back to his game. “I don’t think he likes me,” he whispered to Roman as
they passed Darius’ men in the maze.

  “What? Of course he does,” Roman said as they waited for the door to open. “Wouldn’t you say so, Tom?”

  “You’re still here, ain’t you?” He said and Quinn’s face scrunched.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” he argued and Roman looked at him as if he’d said it in Swahili and Tom laughed.

  “Would you like to see how he treats the people he doesn’t like?” Roman asked and Quinn shook his head very slowly.

  “God, no. So… He’s looking for a vase for his living…room…thing,” he said and Roman grinned as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

  “He’s quite a fan of the Qjanlong period. Would you like to chip in? I’m sure it’ll win you a lot of points with Darius,” he offered and Quinn’s cheeks puffed out.

  “I guess I could. What are we looking at?”

  “Just £15,000 to £18,000 pounds, I think,” Roman said and Quinn’s head cocked forward as he pointed at the warehouse.

  “To go in there?” He asked in horror. Roman turned and strolled backwards.

  “He’s got a very good eye. That rug’s worth more than my car,” he said and Quinn looked back.

  “Isn’t he afraid someone will take something?” He asked and Roman stopped and grabbed a light post and held onto his stomach as he cackled.

  “That’s a very painful way to commit suicide,” he said then cleared his throat as they continued to walk. “Don’t worry about the vase,” he stated dismissively then pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a message.

  “I’ll find him a nice throw pillow or something,” Quinn said. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

  “We’re going back to where it all began,” Roman said and Quinn chewed on his lip.

  “The house in Belgravia? There’s a party tomorrow night?” He asked and Roman hummed. He stopped and shrugged and shook his head slightly. “What?” Quinn asked and Roman smiled but it was tight.

  “Hmmm? It’s nothing.” It was strained as he pointed ahead of them. Mr. Bishop was waiting with the car. “As I was saying, we’ll be going to the house party, so dress sharp,” he said as he went around the back of the car to his seat then ducked inside. Quinn got into the other seat and Mr. Bishop was watching them through the rearview mirror.