To Catch a Princess (Entangled Ignite) Page 4

  “I have my reasons, Sasha. Reasons I can’t really talk about.”

  Alexander nodded, but Peter saw he didn’t agree. “You need to tell Tatiana the truth about your identity before she discovers it on her own, especially now that our parents are pressing for this marriage.”

  “I know,” he said. He had been thinking of how to break the news to her, but the other part of the secret, the part about his family, he wasn’t ready to reveal. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be ready to share that part of his past with anyone.

  “Once you do, you’ll learn to make time to spend with your family. Nothing is more important than family.” Alexander rose from the sofa and clapped him on the back.

  “Let’s go. Kathleen is cooking tonight and I apologize in advance for that.”

  Peter chuckled. “I guess you really want to test what I’m made of.”

  Alexander eyed Peter’s midsection and playfully slapped it. “Or maybe what your gut is made of. Steel would be good for tonight.”

  He shook his head and laughed, well aware that despite the comments, Alexander wouldn’t trade a fancy meal for dinner with his wife. It was one of the things he liked about the prince. Below his regal surface, he was really just a regular kind of guy. Peter hoped the time spent with Tatiana would also show her that he was a regular kind of guy. But coupled with that hope was fear about what might happen if she discovered his real identity before he could explain it to her.

  He’d always gotten the sense that Tatiana had trust issues. He understood. When you were rich and royal, there were people who would do all kinds of things just to be close to you. Plus, he vaguely remembered that something had happened with a roommate during her freshman year that had rocked her ability to believe in others.

  She would feel betrayed if she found out on her own. Could she possibly even begin to understand that he had kept it from her for so many years for a variety of valid reasons? Maybe even because deep down he wanted her to love him for who he was rather than what he was?

  He shoved aside his indecision as they neared the door to Alexander’s private quarters. Peter’s one hope was that by the time this was all done, Tatiana would think of him as something more than a comfortable pair of old shoes.

  …

  Shea had to give it to Prince Sergei. This nighttime heist would normally be the perfect tune-up for the Ivanov job. But Shea had a totally different idea on how to steal the jewels being displayed at the fashion show.

  He glanced at his two associates on the roof of the museum. They had zip-lined down from a dark rooftop to this location. Clearly the museum had not expected anyone to be able to reach the rooftop since the large skylight possessed minimal security measures. A few magnets and they created a loop that allowed them to open the skylight without tripping the alarm system.

  Strapped on his harness, he glanced at his two men as they assembled the rigging system that would let him descend through the skylight opening and hover over the display cases holding the pieces they intended to steal.

  “How much longer?” he asked, glancing around the quiet city streets to see if anyone had noticed their descent on the zip-line. They had waited until the early morning hours to avoid too many passersby. So far luck had been on their side, especially since it was a cloudy night, bringing deeper darkness to hide their activities.

  “Just another minute,” said Fly, the team member responsible for the bulk of the rigging work. He drove lag screws into the rooftop to secure the small powerful winch that would allow him to fly down into the museum.

  The second man, Hammer, was wiring in the panel for the winch and the descender controls.

  While he waited for them, Shea secured the harness around his legs and tightened all the straps to make sure they wouldn’t slip while he did his flying act. He also double-checked the buckles and the small bags of sand secured to the harness. Each one was filled with enough sand to offset the weight of the jewels. The display pedestals holding the jewelry were pressure sensitive.

  Lift the jewels and the alarms would go off.

  He also made sure the suction cup and glass circle cutter were likewise well-secured. No smash and grab here, but precision and care to get through the display cases to the fortune beneath the glass.

  “Ready, Heartman?” Fly asked and handed him the trio of cables to connect to his harness.

  “You know how I hate that name, Fly,” he said with a chuckle. With a quick glance at Hammer, he said, “You’ve got the smoke ready to deploy?”

  Hammer nodded and motioned to the quartet of canisters he had tied to thin wires that would be lowered and discharged before he made his descent. While the smoke would make it a little harder for him to see, it would also hide his presence and hopefully keep the guards distracted long enough for him to finish the job.

  The flying act with the wires was necessary because he had also discovered that the entire floor in this area was pressure sensitive. The slightest weight on the surface of the floor would sound the alarms.

  He and Fly finished connecting and testing the cables and with a nod, Shea said, “Let Mouse know we’re moving in. When I’m on my way up, call him, and have him swing around back as we planned.”

  He engaged the communications gear he wore and said, “Check, check.”

  Both of his men nodded. “Hear you just fine through the headpiece,” Hammer confirmed. Shea sat on the edge of the skylight and climbed into the opening, bracing himself carefully as he slowly slipped through it. When the cable held his full weight, he looked at Fly to confirm the lag screws were holding, and at his nod, Hammer set off the smoke canisters and quickly lowered them through the hole.

  Clean white smoke soon filled the area beneath the skylight and wafted across the display area, hiding the canisters as Hammer lowered them.

  “Let’s roll, Fly,” Shea said, and a second later, he moved downward quickly, the harness tight against his body as he stretched out vertically, hands and legs spread to keep balance. His muscles strained as he fought for balance through the descent.

  “Slow, Fly,” he instructed through the headset. The smoke disoriented him for a moment and he lost perspective on how far down he had gone. But then a swirl of smoke provided a clearing, which allowed him to gauge his position.

  “Fifteen feet, Fly,” he said.

  His descent proceeded smoothly until he was about a foot and a half above the display cases. By now the canisters had done their job, creating a thick layer of smoke throughout the entire area, but as planned, he was close enough to see without much issue.

  He worked quickly, cutting precise holes in each of the display glass tops before re-securing the tools to his harness. He removed the first sand bag and hefted it in his gloved hand, a final check of its weight.

  Carefully he slipped the weight through the hole and flexed his fingers, preparing for the dangerous transfer. He’d practiced this a thousand times, and had successfully accomplished it during his heists at least a half dozen more, but it always made him sweat. With sure movements, he delicately allowed the weight to slip into place, bit by bit while he lifted the diamond and aquamarine tiara from the pedestal.

  When the transfer was complete and no alarms had sounded, he breathed a sigh of relief, withdrew the tiara from the case, and tucked it into an empty bag tied to his harness.

  “How we doing, Hammer?” he quietly asked.

  “Getting the pinions for our escape into place, Heartman. I’ve tapped into the security guard’s transmissions. They’re still trying to figure out if there’s a fire or not since the alarms haven’t tripped. They’re disarming the floor system and sending someone in to check. I say we have another couple of minutes at most.” Shea would have to work quickly. He cut through the glass above the second piece of jewelry in the next case, removed the glass, and with no hesitation, swapped out the sand bag for the necklace.

  Beautiful silence filled the air for seconds, but then came the foot-slaps of boots tramping down t
he hallway.

  The guard on his way to check for fire. Shea had one bracelet left to steal, this one for him and his crew. He had already grabbed the two that Prince Sergei wanted for his collection.

  The safe thing to do would be to call Fly and have him haul him up.

  But Shea wasn’t one to play it safe.

  Hands flying over the glass, he cut and worked his way in. Deftly traded worthless canvas and sand for priceless diamonds and gold.

  He had barely cleared the glass with his treasure when he was calling out, “Pull me in, Fly.”

  The sudden acceleration was almost disorienting, but he kept his position and trained his gaze on the spot where the guard had walked into the hall and was waving his arms around to dispel the smoke, causing ripples and giving away his location.

  As Shea reached the skylight, Hammer and Fly pulled him from the opening, and together the three of them swiftly undid the cables on his harness. A second later, the guard’s excited shouts drifted up from the skylight.

  They raced to the edge of the rooftop where Hammer had secured three sets of cables. Connecting to them, they rappelled over the side of the building and were halfway down when the shrill chime of the alarms sounded from within the museum.

  A large garbage truck filled with foam rubber pulled up directly beneath them and Shea called out, “Drop.”

  The three men released their cables and plummeted the last ten feet into the bed of the truck, which continued on its way through the back alley. Once they had recovered from the fall, they worked quickly to pull a tarp over the opening on the truck bed to hide them from sight.

  “Report, Mouse,” Shea called out as the three of them settled into the foam blocks to remove their harnesses and black clothing, and switch into civilian clothes.

  “So far, so good, Heartman. I’ll be out of the alley in two shakes. I hear sirens coming our way, but no sign we’ve been made,” Mouse reported.

  The truck rumbled and rattled before coming to a jarring halt, which sent them flying around in the foam.

  “Fuck, Heartman,” Mouse said. “Stand by.”

  Shea shoved away a foam block to find his footing and grab the harness, which still had the bag with the jewels strapped to it. He jerked it free and shoved it into an inside jacket pocket. The loud scream of a siren came at them, but then blew past.

  A second later, the truck started moving again. He stared at Hammer and Fly as they likewise found their footing.

  “Report, Mouse.”

  “False alarm, Heartman. Cops on the way to the museum.”

  Shea breathed another sigh of relief, but they weren’t done yet. It would take at least another five minutes to reach the warehouse where they had left their rides. Once they were there, they would all go their separate ways until meeting up in Monaco in a week.

  By then he would have had a chance to confer with Prince Sergei in Paris and make his delivery. Get paid and leave the bracelet he had swiped for himself with a trusted fence, who had already lined up a private collector who wanted the item.

  It always amazed Shea how much people would pay for something they could never share with anyone else.

  Once they had reached the warehouse, he provided final instructions to his crew.

  “Stay low and clear of trouble. I’ll be wiring your payments in the next few days along with details of where to meet for our next job.”

  Hammer and Fly nodded and moved speedily to their cars, but Mouse hesitated.

  “Something wrong?” Shea asked, sensing that something was off with his normally calm associate.

  “That was close, Heartman. When I heard those sirens coming at me, I thought we were done.”

  Shea understood. Mouse had family, unlike Shea, but up until now, that hadn’t seemed to faze his wheel man. “No worries. It worked just like we planned.”

  The door of the warehouse squeaked and groaned as it rose, drawing their attention. They had little time to delay.

  “Is something up, Mouse?” he persisted. “You seem a little…itchy.”

  Mouse shook his head vehemently. “Not really.”

  “If you want out, just say so. I can get another wheel man for the next job.” Shea didn’t need anyone on the team who was either distracted or didn’t want to be there.

  “No, I’m okay. I’ll be there. You can count on me,” the other man said, and hurried to his vehicle, a nondescript mini car similar to thousands of others on the streets of Amsterdam.

  As Mouse pulled away slowly, Shea hurried to his own car, a souped-up German coupe that would let him make good time on the roadways. If all went well, he would be in Paris in less than six hours.

  And if all went well in the next couple of weeks, he would be done with this way of life for good.

  Chapter 6

  MONTE CARLO, MONACO

  EN ROUTE

  Despite his family’s wealth, Peter had never flown in a private jet.

  It was a completely different experience, and one he wasn’t quite sure he liked. But then again, he wasn’t a fan of flying under any circumstances.

  Logic told him this was a far safer mode of transportation than a car or train, and that crashing was less likely than getting hit by lightning, but he couldn’t keep from imagining that every little bump or whine of the engines was the beginning of a death plummet.

  As the plane banked to one side and the cabin rattled with a bit of turbulence, he clenched his hands on the arms of his seat and gritted his teeth.

  He must have made some kind of noise because Tatiana looked up from the papers she had been reading for the last hour or so. “Looking green, much?”

  “I’m fine,” he managed to bite out past the tension in his jaw.

  She grinned with amusement, then contained it. Unbuckling, she walked to the seat that faced his and sat. “Took me a bunch of flights before I got used to it, too.”

  “Feel like a fool,” he admitted, thinking that he was losing hero points with her in a major way.

  She laid her hand on the taut muscles of his thigh and smoothed it reassuringly. “Let’s get your mind off the flight.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise, one thought paramount about how she could accomplish that.

  As she realized where his mind had gone, she blushed, and waved her hands. “No way, not the mile high club.”

  “Hell, no. Alexander would shoot me just for thinking about it,” he kidded, and actually managed a chuckle, but his comment only brought additional color to Tatiana’s cheeks.

  “You thought about it? Really?” she asked with a slight stammer.

  The plane did another little bounce, but the last thing he was thinking about now was dying. All he could think about was Tatiana and him in the bedroom on the plane, making love.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Tatiana. I’d have to be dead not to think about it,” he confessed.

  She swallowed hard and reached for the service button built into the arm of the chair. Calling for her security detail? But a moment later the young attendant who had been discreetly sitting in a chair near the cockpit approached them.

  “Is it too early to serve dinner, Kelly?” Tatiana asked, slipping into her more formal demeanor with the attendant.

  “Not at all, Princess Tatiana. What is your pleasure tonight? There is a wonderful pasta with scallops and shrimp, filet mignon with scalloped potatoes, or a vegetarian lasagna,” the young woman said and glanced between the two of them.

  As it had with Alexander the day before, Peter’s stomach growled noisily at the mention of food. He had been running around all day and hadn’t had a chance to grab anything to eat, not even one of the bags of snacks he always munched on.

  “Hungry?” Tatiana asked with a quirk of her full lips.

  “Ravenous. I didn’t get a chance to eat before boarding.”

  Tatiana said to the hostess, “The seafood pasta sounds delicious, Kelly.”

  Peter glanced at the young woman and asked, “Would it be t
oo much to ask for the steak and the lasagna?”

  “Not at all, Detective Roman. Would you prefer red or white with the meal?”

  He shrugged, not particular, and asked Tatiana, “Do you have a preference?”

  “I know you’re supposed to have white with fish, but I love the heartiness of reds. Please pick a nice one for us, Kelly.”

  The young woman smiled and walked away to fulfill their requests. After instructing the chef waiting in the galley area, she returned with a cart where she had the open bottle of wine. She poured a splash in the first glass and handed it to Peter.

  He swirled it around and examined the fingers forming on the glass. Then he slurped up some of the wine, letting the air enhance the flavor of the wine.

  “Wonderful, Kelly. Thank you,” he said and returned the glass.

  She poured him more of the cabernet then served a glass for the princess.

  Tatiana took a sip and likewise approved. “Excellent. Thank you, Kelly.”

  The smells of dinner were starting to permeate the air in the cabin and as they sat there, quietly sipping their wine, Kelly set places for them at the table where Tatiana had been working earlier.

  “Henri, the chef, is amazing. I hope you’ll like your meals,” Tatiana said, a hint of humor in her voice.

  “A growing boy like me needs his nourishment,” he kidded right back.

  She made a circular motion around her waist and her crystal blue eyes glittered with merriment. “Definitely growing, all around.”

  Because he wanted to see that blush on her face again, he said, “Don’t worry, Tatiana. I know just the way to work off the calories.”

  The color on her cheeks hinted that she was totally onboard with how to help him work off those calories.

  She surprised him by saying with a grin, “Sadly, Peter, having sex barely works off more calories than walking up a flight of stairs.”

  Peter grinned back and leaned forward, pitched his voice low, and said, “Trust me, Tatochka. Making love with me will leave you breathless.”