Page 27 of Princess of Thieves

I stiffen, swallow, and curl my fingers around the envelope, making it crackle.

How did...how could...

“It’s you,” is all I manage to say out loud.

“Maren,” he says. His voice is low, serious, heavy with something I can’t quite name.

I blink. Shake my head, wishing the panicky, static feeling taking over me would dissipate, would let me focus.

“What are you—how did you find me?” It’s the first question out of my mouth, and not even the thing that’s most important. But I guess my subconscious knows better than I do what I need to know.

“Gisbourne got you,” Rob says, “and we knew he’d be here today, so we just—”

The sound of the plural pronoun makes my heart seize, but I ignore it. I have to. I have to ignore all of this.

“You knew that Guy had me at his house?” I say.

“Guy.” Rob spits the word like it’s something disgusting, and I realize too late that I sound familiar with him. That—oh God, if Rob was the one who won the tournament, who saw what Guy did, then he must think that I’m—that we’re—

“He smashed my cell phone,” I blurt out. “You couldn’t track me.”

“Yeah, we lost the signal.” Rob shifts his weight, his hands resolutely on his hips. Even in his raggedy disguise, he looks...well, he looks good. I hate it. I hate him. I hate thinking about this. I just want to be gone. I just want to be free. I just want all of this to be over and done with so I can be Maren again, whoever she is.

“So then how did you—”

“Pretty dress you’ve got on there.”

I flush in spite of myself. “You’re really bringing up clothes at a time like this?” I spit out.

“Jack,” Rob says simply. “That’s how we found you.”

My train of thought hitches. I glance down at the dress. Jack—from the boutique. I look up at Rob, and the confusion must register on my face because he cracks a bare smile.

“You think there’s a lot of places around here to get good clothes on short notice for a girl on the run? Jack’s no dummy, and he knew your measurements by heart. As soon as Gisbourne’s maid called in that order, he put two and two together.”

Jack. I think of him, the sweet, effusive, impressively stylish owner of the store where Rob took me back when I first escaped, back before anything had happened. I feel a surge of gratitude—not that I wanted him to tell Rob and the guys where I was, but then again, it’s not like Jack knew why I had to leave.

And didn’t I want them to know, just in case?

The wail of another siren shatters through the air. I clench my fist tighter around my birth certificate.

“I have to go,” I say. “You...get out of the way.”

To my surprise, Rob steps to the side, and for a brief moment, I’m almost disappointed that he doesn’t try to stop me.

But no, I don’t want him to. I swallow hard, jump in the front seat of the stupid Dodge Dart, and start fumbling around for the wires again.

“No key,” he says.

I don’t answer.

The starter wires have slipped far back inside the dash, and I can’t quite grab them. “Goddammit.”

Another siren.

Too many this time.

“I don’t think it’s for the parade,” Rob says. “I think—”

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