Page 70 of Princess of Thieves

Rob doesn’t move, the crossbow still lowered. But now I see there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“I’ll be damned,” he mutters. “I’ll be god damned.”

He shakes his head, and it hits me.

Heknowsthis guy.

“Don’t shoot!” The deputy holds his hands up, palms out, his gun on the ground. “Rob. Don’t shoot. You need to listen to me.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Ican’t believe it.”

Rob shakes his head again, striding forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. “As I live and breathe.”

The deputy lowers his hands cautiously, eyes scanning the scene around him—Will in his dragon form, LJ still a hulking bear, and me, standing breathless in the middle of it all.

“You didn’t tell me you were a...shapeshifter,” the deputy says, shaking his head, eyes wide and jaw wide open in shock.

Rob closes the distance between them and clasps the deputy’s hand with a solid shake. “And you didn’t tell me you’d gone cop!”

Will and LJ, however, aren’t quite as relaxed. I hear a low growl from LJ before he abruptly shifts back, his massive bear form collapsing into his human body. Will follows suit, the red scales melting away as he transforms back into his regular self—now both of them stark naked in the middle of the archery field. Not a sight I mind, especially now that I don’t appear to be in mortal danger.

LJ swipes a hand across his face, still glowering at the deputy. “What the hell is going on?” he mutters, glancing between Rob and the man in uniform. His voice is gravelly, annoyed, like he was just cheated out of a good fight.

Will, far more nonchalant, stands there—unbothered by his lack of clothes—and stretches his arms above his head. “Yeah, Rob—mind telling us why we were just about to throw down with Nottingham’s finest and now we’re in the middle of a soap opera reunion?”

I’m just as confused, of course. My heart rate is slowing down, and now I just want to know what this is all about. The deputy—Rob’s friend, I guess?—clearly isn’t who I thought he was.

And, more intriguingly, he doesn’t seem to be someone the other guys know, either.

Before I can ask, I see Tuck jogging toward us from the house, his glasses bouncing slightly on his nose. He looks winded but relieved as he makes his way over to me, pushing his hair back with one hand, holding a notebook in the other.

“Maren, are you okay?” he asks, breathless, his eyes scanning me for any signs of harm. His concern makes my heart soften. Tuck, ever the studious protector.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, managing a smile. “Just a little, uh, shaken. But what’s going on?”

Tuck turns to Rob for answers, but Rob’s already grinning at the deputy, slapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll get into the details over dinner,” Rob says, his tone casual like we hadn’t just had a car chase and near confrontation between a dragon, bear, and law enforcement. “Crack open the good stuff, Will. Tuck, kill the fatted calf.” His grin widens as he claps the deputy on the back again. “This here’s an old friend of mine.”

WE’RE GATHERED AROUNDthe long oak dining table, which is covered in a feast only Tuck could have pulled together on such short notice. The smell alone is intoxicating—a slow-roasted leg of lamb, perfectly seasoned and dripping with savory juices; creamy mashed potatoes swirled with roasted garlic and butter; a platter of grilled asparagus and caramelized carrots drizzled with a balsamic reduction; and warm rolls, golden and soft, with pats of herb-infused butter slowly melting on the side.

“So, you two met in...prison?” I finally ask, raising my glass and swirling the wine like I actually know anythingaboutwine beyond the fact that this one, courtesy of Will, flows freely—a rich, velvety red that leaves a pleasant warmth spreading through my chest with every sip.

Rob is at the head of the table, looking far too pleased with himself, while Zayn—which is Deputy Rashad’s actual name, apparently—sits across from me, as if he’s just another one of the gang. We’re all relaxed now, gathered in this room that somehow feels far removed from the chaos of earlier.

Rob chuckles, pushing his plate aside. “Not prison,” he corrects. “County jail.” He leans back in his chair, looking around the table with a grin. “I guess you could say it was... a pivotal time in both our lives.”

Zayn shakes his head, smiling. “This dude wasnotwhat I expected. I get this scarecrow-looking motherfucker for a bunkie and...”

“And what?” Rob prompts.

Zayn lifts his palms. “I mean, just saying. Thought you were some kinda, I don’t know, redneck reverse Batman. Using daddy’s money to become a supervillain or something. But then you fucked it up.”

Will sputters a snort. Tuck laughs, genuinely, and I do too. I barely know this deputy—Zayn—but anyone who can give Rob shit like that is a friend of mine.

“Aw, c’mon.” Rob rolls his eyes.

I glance at him, eyebrow raised. “Where’s the lie?”

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