Page 3 of Princess of Thieves

“But as soon as I saw you that night at the Fox Hunt Club, I knew. I knew who you were. I knew you needed out. I knew you needed help. And then, once I realized you’d fallen from John Lackland into a bad crowd, well, I made it my personal mission to get you into the kind of life you deserve—safe, secure, respectable.”

The car slows. The crank of the emergency brake sounds, and we stop.

My pulse quickens as I try to peer through the windshield. Before us is a bona fide Southern mansion, Antebellum-style, flanked by manicured gardens, with a massive porch—the works. It reminds me of Rob’s house. It’s a lot like Rob’s house, and yet it’s different.

This is a new place entirely, and I’m not sure I like it.

“So when I hear a report over the police scanner that a stolen Mustang has been spotted miles out of Sherwood County, well, I take it on myself to intervene.” He’s staring at me now in the rearview mirror, dark eyes fixated.

“That’s just the kind of liberty you can take when you’re in my position. A courtesy call to help someone in need.”

“I don’t need help,” I spit back. “I need you to take me back to my car. I need...”

But I trail off, my heart squeezing. Daddy’s Mustang, left God knows where and for God knows who. “What the hell do you mean, ‘your position’?” I add, typical of some rich boy like him, whose daddy’s daddy’s daddy was one of the founders of the Fox Hunt Club, to act like he’s hot shit.

“I’m so sorry,” he says with artificial deference. “I assumed you knew. I’m Guy Gisbourne, Attorney at Law, and if I do say so myself, I’m an influential person here in Sherwood County.”

Here. The word resonates in my mind. We’re back. We’re back. I’m back. I’m stuck and trapped in exactly the county I was trying to escape, the one I briefly thought I could make a life in with the four of them—the four outlaws, the fourshifters.

I’m still not used to the word in my mind, but they actually gave a damn about this place and wanted to turn it into something meaningful.

They actually cared for me, or pretended that they did.

“I don’t care who you are,” I say, my voice shaking. “Or how influential you claim to be around here. You can’t just take me like this. I want out. I need to get out.” And as if I finally realize that it’s an option, I lunge for the car door and yank on the handle, but it’s locked—firmly.

I tug and tug, the handle clicking and clunking in my hand, but it’s no good. That door isn’t budging. In the driver’s seat, Guy smiles a wry smile at me, like I’m a dove ramming against the bars of its cage.

“Oh, I can, Maren,” he says gently. “Because you owe me. You owe me a great deal.”

Chapter Two

“Wh-What do you mean?”

It takes me a while to articulate the question, God knows how long, and when I do, anger, frustration, and shock prickles over my skin like an electric sensation. I want to either burst out or jump away immediately. At the same time, my heart is pounding in my chest because he’s the predator and I’m the prey and he knows it.

He smiles, not a scheming smile, but one you could almost call genuine.

“Please don’t worry. I did this for your own good. You didn’t want to be under the thumb of John Lackland for the rest of your life, did you?”

“No,” I say out loud before I can stop myself from responding.

In fact, it was just a few short weeks ago that I ran away from my so-called Uncle John after finding out he was trying to steal from me—the funds my parents had left when they died. He claimed I was mentally unfit and had it all signed, sealed, and delivered over to him.

That night. That night I had gotten the Mustang out of the garage and been chased by...

A horrified realization crashes my train of thought.

“That was you?” I spit out. “Your car was outside the garage that night.” Now that I’m sitting in the backseat it’s stupidly obvious. My stomach sinks.

Guy smiles. “Guilty as charged,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest. “Unorthodox, I suppose. But I only ever had your best interests at heart.”

I must bristle, because he backs off a little.

“Look, I can understand why that’s maybe...hard to swallow at the moment. You’ve been through a lot, and I really only want to make you comfortable here. Give you a chance to catch your breath, get back on your feet, and live a life...well, more on your own terms. The life you always should have lived.”

I shake my head slowly, not believing a word. “So you kidnapped me?”

“Rescued you, more like.” Guy’s eyes flash with what might be amusement behind his glasses. “I knew when I saw you at the Fox Hunt Club that you hadn’t been up to anything good. And once I realized John was involved, got to talking with him...well, let’s just say he was willing to grant your freedom for a price.”

---