Page 59 of Captive of Outlaws

Tuck smiles. “Okay. Well, as I understand it, Rob’s caught wind of a big-ticket event, where all of Sherwood County’s best and brightest will be in attendance—”

“Tuck, Tuck, Tuck.” Rob shakes his head and sits up straight. “You’re underselling it.” He looks at me. “Maren, have you ever heard of the Fox Hunt Club?”

A chill runs down my spine, despite the warmth of the kitchen. I straighten up. “Yeah. I’m familiar.”

“Ah, excellent. So I don’t need to explain its significance to you, then.” If Rob notices my reaction, he doesn’t show it.

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

“I don’t know much about it,” Tuck puts in. “And I’m feeling a bit left out.”

I soften a little. “It’s a hunting club,” I explain. “At least, ostensibly, it is. But really, it’s just a place for rich men in Sherwood to get together and drink bourbon, smoke cigars, and do...shady rich men stuff.” I give my head a little shake. “I haven’t been there since I was a kid. But my uncle...” I swallow. “Well, not really my uncle. Mylegal guardian.”

“The one who was filing the paperwork,” Rob says.

I don’t deny it. “Yeah. He’s a...regular at the club, I guess you could say.”

“I see,” Tuck says. “So, like a country club.”

“Except with killing innocent creatures for sport instead of golf,” I put in. “But yes.”

“Give those innocent creatures some credit, Maren,” Robsays, his eyes flashing. “I doubt they ever actually catch a fox.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” mutters Will.

Rob claps his hands. “Anyway, point is—there’s a massive charity gala coming up. This weekend. Drinking, dancing, silent auctions, champagne fountains—the whole bit.”

I nod. “Sounds like them. So...what’s the issue?”

“The issue,” Will butts in, “is that Rob is not invited. But somehow he thinks it’s a good idea to crash.”

“Wait just a second, now,” Rob says. “The Locksleys have a standing invitation to any and all events at the Fox Hunt Club. We’re a founding family, after all.”

“And you think that’ll protect you?” Will says. “Come on. The instant anyone there recognizes you—sheriff or not—you’re toast.”

“But that’s the brilliance of it,” Rob says. “They won’t recognize me.”

Will rolls his eyes. “You can’t seriously believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t they recognize you?” I ask Rob. Because—well, full offense to him, but he’s a six-foot-three ginger with a distinctive Virginia drawl. Maybe I just have some kind of Rob-radar, but I’d probably spot him a mile away.

Rob’s eyes gleam. “It’s a masquerade.”

Tuck grins. “Hey, that sounds fun!”

“And you think that’s enough?” Will says, ignoring Tuck. “A flimsy paper mask to conceal your identity from people who are actively looking for you?”

“Of course I don’t think that’s enough,” Rob says. “They’ll also be drunk off their asses. That helps a good deal.”

Will throws his hands into the air, defeated.

“Besides, I can’t just let all that stuff just change hands from rich jerk to rich jerk,” Rob adds. “That’d be a disgrace tomy reputation.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not taking this risk just to indulge your ego,” Will retorts.

“But it’s not just to indulge his ego,” Tuck says. “Right, Rob?”

Rob nods, his face turning serious. “Right.” He glances at me, hesitating. “There’s...there’s a lot of value we can get out of that night. All of Sherwood’s wealth and power in one place. Have you seen what they’re listing for that charity auction?” He ticks things off on his fingers. “Diamond jewelry. Rare coins. Antique timepieces.”

---