Page 55 of It Takes a Thief
I raise my hands, debating whether or not to pull the Glock in the holster at my back. Dumas reeks of desperation, and the last thing I want is a shootout. For the time being, I decide it’s best to play it safe.
“You’re putting a lot of faith in me,” I say.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan B,Lights Out.”
The way he says that last part makes the hairs on my arms raise. No matter what he’s planning, though, I can’t let him hurt Mer. No fucking way. Even if that means I have to steal from her.
∞∞∞
Jeffrey gives me zero time to plan properly, so I’m flying by the seat of my pants. He doesn’t allow me to call my team, even though I try to convince him I need their technical guidance.
So, here I am, with the most minimal equipment, on the verge of breaking into the royal estate to steal Princess MerrittFontaine’s diamond and pearl encrusted crown. Two words best describe this situation: Fuck. Me.
Since I’m very familiar with everything from the royal guard schedule to the security system to the floor plan, I’m pretty sure I can get in and out without incident. Of course, if I get caught that opens up a whole new can of worms.
Hell, I’d love to go straight to the King and Queen and blow this whole plan up in Jeffrey’s smug face. But that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. The man reeks of desperation and swears to me he has a mercenary with eyes on Mer. All it would take is one call—one text—and the most beautiful light I’ve ever had the privilege of basking in would be snuffed out forever.
Absolutely not fucking letting that happen.
Relying on my stealth and expertise, I decide to go in—or rather up—the back way. There’s a small beach at the base of the cliff and Jeffrey drops me off there.
“Hurry up,” he says.
“You can’t hurry through a burglary.” The man is an idiot. His name really should be Dumbass instead of Dumas. “It requires care, precision, planning—”
“We don’t have time for all that,” he interrupts. “Get me that crown and get back down here.”
Rolling my eyes, I hoist my backpack on and walk over to the base of the cliff. There’s a small, rocky pathway—and I use the term lightly—that curves up to the edge of the Fontaine’s estate.
The climb is steep and treacherous because the rock is loose. Merritt told me no one uses it because it’s too dangerous. I also know there aren’t any cams here, so no one will see me.After what feels like forever, I reach the top and hunker down behind a huge boulder.
It’s very dark tonight, the moon barely a sliver, and that works to my advantage, helping me blend into the shadows. For a moment, I run through the sketchy plan in my head. Is it great? No. Do I have an option here? Also no.
I glance down at my watch and see it’s nearly three AM.Perfect. That means a skeleton crew of guards will be monitoring the perimeter. I’ve watched them work and know once they pass my position, I can easily race across the back lawn, sneak through the gardens and be on the veranda.
It’s not long before a lone guard walks by. I silently count to thirty, waiting for him to reach the other side of the property and turn the corner. Then I pull my neck gaiter into position and yank my hood up. Keeping my head low, I run through the dew-covered grass to the garden ahead.
My boots crunch over the garden’s gravel pathway, and I slip into some hedges and pause. I know exactly where every single camera perches because I helped Ryder install them. I won’t need to bother looping or scrambling them. All I need to do is stay in the blind spots.
Granted, we fixed every blind spot we could, but a camera’s range can be limited due to structure, trees and other external factors. And fortunately for me, I happen to know exactly where those spots are. So, the couple of blind spots remaining will provide adequate coverage. The rest of the time, I’ll keep my head down and stick to the shadows. Even if they do watch the footage back and see me slinking along a corridor, they won’t see my face. Just a masked man.
The real challenge is cracking the safe. But they don’t call me The Safecracker for nothing.
Avoiding the back sliding glass doors, I make my way over to the window. No need to worry about motion detectors in the main house because the king and queen didn’t want them—too many people constantly walking around the estate day and night. However, there is a new alarm and a motion detector in the vault room that I’ll need to deactivate. Same goes for this window.
When you hire A-Squared to tighten your security, we don’t miss a thing. At the same time…nothing is ever truly secure from a thief. Especially when that thief knows the system intimately.
Yanking my backpack around, I quickly unzip it and pull out my phone. I open an app, override the current alarm code chosen by Alain, choose a new password and reset it. Once I enter it, I turn the system off, jimmy the window open with a crowbar—because sometimes old school is the best way in—and slide over the windowsill. Since the cameras run on a different circuit because it provides an extra layer of security, I still have to avoid them as much as possible.
After lowering the window, I hurry through the music room and pause at the closed door to the hallway. Very quietly, I turn the handle, open it a crack and peer out. The palace is dead silent, so I need to be, too.
My goal is the upstairs vault. Stepping out, I close the door behind me, move down the hall and climb up the back staircase. The vault is at the far end of the hallway and around the corner. It means I’m going to have to pass Merritt’s room, and the temptation to sneak inside is nearly overwhelming.
Even though I shouldn’t, I pause outside her door. She’s like a magnet to my soul, drawing me dangerously close.Keep going, a voice whispers.You’re doing this for her.
I force myself to start walking again, but I swear, I smell her alluring scent. It’s probably just the island itself. I noticed she smells like her home—sea-salted jasmine. Even when she was in New York, she still smelled like Arcadia. It’s a scent I’ve grown to love.
Memories flash. Moving up behind Mer while she prepared a meal and wrapping my arms around her. Curling her hair before the fight. Burying my nose in those long, brown tresses as we came together in her bed.
