Page 1 of It Takes a Thief
Chapter One: Linc
Last Night, Arcadia
Give a thief an inch and he’ll take a mile. Or, in this case, rob you blind,I think.
Bright moonlight filters in through the open windows as I stealthily creep along the hallway past closed doors leading to fancy rooms—a library with floor-to-ceiling books, a music room with a harp and grand piano, a frilly bedroom that belongs to a princess. The scent of the Mediterranean Sea sweeps in on the salty breeze, lifting the curtains, mixing with the scent of flowers wafting in from the garden.
This place is huge. One of the biggest mansions I’ve ever broken into, and that’s saying a lot. My crew and I have managed to infiltrate some massive, extremely impressive homes owned by insanely wealthy individuals. But this joint? It should be on an episode ofLifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Hell, it probably was back in the day. Because this seaside palace perched on the edge of a cliff belongs to the Fontaines—the royal family of Arcadia.
And I just stole the princess’s crown.Piece. Of. Cake.
Granted, my crew and I are already familiar with the security system because we checked it out and added someupdates. But I still had to use my safecracking skills to open the vault where an array of sparkling family jewels resides.
Talk about tempting.
My fingers itched inside that small room, and I am giving myself all the credit in the world for possessing amazing self-restraint. Particularly when it came to ignoring the urge to pocket an extremely enticing, very shiny ruby necklace and matching ring. Instead, I focused on the prize. And the diamond crown belonging to Princess Merritt Fontaine is now safely tucked away in the messenger bag slung across my body.
Moving forward, staying close to the wall, my boots barely whisper against the cool, stone floor. An excellent skill for a thief to possess, and I’m damn grateful to my past for unknowingly prepping me for my present.
Years of fighting, both underground and professionally, taught me how to be light on my feet and move fast. Once upon a time, I made dodging fists a career, and I was damn good. When Lincoln “Lights Out” Decker stepped into the ring, my opponents knew to be prepared, because my fighting skills were legendary.
Hell, even though it’s been a few years since I’ve officially fought, I’d like to think they’re still pretty epic.
Hooking up with A-Squared Enterprises—Addie and the rest of my crew—enabled me to hang up my well-worn gloves. At thirty-four now, I’m damn near ancient in the fight world, but the real reason I retired is because my last fight knocked the stuffing out of me. It was beyond brutal, a vicious memory, but my opponent beat me fair and square and earned my respect that day.
However, I’d needed to step away and recover. My adversary had hit me so hard in the head, I’d temporarily lost some of my vision. I’d taken thousands of hits in my life, but that had been a damn scary moment. Got me thinking a bum like me can only take so many hits to the noggin before it truly is lights out. I retired from the fight circuit not long after, and I did it with two UFC championship belts and my head held high. No regrets. I had a very good run and made a name for myself, not to mention quite a bit of money.
Not long after retiring, I crossed paths with Addie, and the rest is history. My unsavory upbringing and unique set of skills were the perfect fit with Addison Mills’s team, and I exchanged the boxing ring for her ring of thieves.
I’m The Safecracker, the one with the nimble fingers who stays calm under pressure.
Thanks to my Uncle George, I know safes, vaults and locks like the back of my hand. He worked at a bank and used to drag me along when he couldn’t find a babysitter. So, I found ways to keep busy and taught myself how to crack every safe and lock I could get my hands on.
Lately, however, I’m also The Muscle. At six feet five inches with muscles stacked on muscles from years of training and a rigorous, daily regimen I’ve continued, I know I cut an intimidating figure. That, and my knowledge of takedowns paired with quick reflexes, make me an excellent bodyguard.
I may be retired from the pro circuit, but I haven’t gone soft.
Well, except maybe a little when it comes to A-Squared’s current client. Merritt Fontaine is the most elegant, graceful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, possessing a level of beauty that’salmost ethereal. The first time I saw her, she stole my breath away.
And now I’m her bodyguard, hired to protect her at all costs.
An image of her brown and gold hair fills my head. She always wears those thick strands wound into some elaborate style at the nape of her neck. So smooth and polished. Refined. Ladylike. The first time I looked into her blue eyes threaded with gold sparks that match the highlights in her hair, I lost my ability to speak.
No woman has ever caught me off guard like that. It was unexpected and disconcerting. Especially for a guy like me who has strict rules when it comes to women. Crossing the line with Merritt would mean mixing business with pleasure, and that’s a big, fat no-go.
The sound of a door opening makes me pause, and I freeze when the Princess herself steps out of the room to my left. She smirks, crossing her slender arms under perky breasts that I’ve been trying hard—and failing—to ignore.
Dammit. So close.I’d almost made it out undetected, and she just screwed up my getaway.
“Nice try, but you failed.” Merritt holds out a slim hand. So delicate. My attention dips to her pink nails. Utterly perfect and feminine. I want to feel them scratching down my back. “I’ll take it, thank you.”
“I didn’t fail. And to be fair, you knew this little heist was happening tonight.” My hand covers the front of my messenger bag, touching the crown through the material. “So why don’t you go back into your room and do whatever it is that princesses do while I finish my escape.”
Her eyes narrow. “I caught you. Sorry, Linc, game over.”
Unwanted heat slithers through my gut when I hear my name on her lips. I’d like to hear her scream it in the throes of ecstasy when I’m fucking her, but that’s never gonna happen. Still, I can have my dirty fantasies about bending Miss Fontaine over her fancy throne and pounding into her so hard her crown falls off.
I take a step closer, steeling my expression, crossing my huge arms over my chest, and gritting my teeth together until my jaw flexes. It’s an intimidation tactic which should send her scurrying back into her room. “I could easily overpower you and escape,” I tell her, making my voice deeper. Threatening.
