Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1) (6 page)

‘Iain Brochan! You’re under arrest for assault. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

I gaped. Assault? What the hell? A burly police officer jumped out of the car, snapped a pair of handcuffs round Brochan’s wrists and flung him into the back seat.

‘Wait!’ I shouted. ‘He’s not done anything! You can’t do this!’

The car door slammed shut. From the other side of the window, Brochan stared at me with wide eyes. ‘Get the others,’ he mouthed.

‘Stop!’ I shrieked again. It was pointless. The police officer didn’t give me so much as a glance; he simply clambered into the driver’s seat and the car took off, leaving me standing there frozen with shock. Dry leaves skittered across the road in the wake of the car’s departure.

With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone. Before I could dial, however, it rang and Lexie’s name flashed up on the screen. Thank the stars.

‘Lexie,’ I said, urgently, ‘listen. Something’s happened. Brochan…’

‘It’s Speck,’ she broke in. ‘He’s been arrested. He sent me a text message just now. They broke in his door, Integrity.’

The tendrils of dread curling round my heart squeezed further. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ she babbled. ‘There wasn’t time for him to explain. It has to be the bank job. How did they get onto us? How…’

Cold rationality replaced my fear. ‘Leave now, Lexie,’ I told her. ‘Don’t pack anything. Get out of your house and find somewhere to lay low. Someone’s after us and I don’t know why.’

‘But…’

‘Do it! Dump your phone too. I’ll come and find you when I know what’s going on.’

‘I’m scared.’

I swallowed. ‘Me too. But go, Lex. Now.’

I sprinted the last few hundred metres home, flung open my door and bolted inside. Taylor’s strained expression greeted me.

‘Who else knows about the bank job?’ I demanded.

He blinked. ‘What?’

‘The Lia Saifire, Taylor. Who else did you tell about it?’

Confusion was written across his face. ‘No-one. I’m not stupid. What’s happened?’

I cursed, flipping on my laptop to scan the news. There was nothing. It was still the holiday; in theory no one would have noticed the break-in yet. But then why had both Brochan and Speck been arrested?

‘Tegs,’ Taylor said again, ‘what’s happened?’

‘Brochan was just arrested for assault, right in front of me.’

He rose up from his chair, staggering slightly. ‘Assault? But he would never…’

‘I know,’ I answered grimly. I pulled out my phone again, smoothing back my hair and trying to adopt a calm, professional tone. It took seconds to find the number I needed. ‘This is Joanna Smith,’ I said into the receiver. ‘I believe you’ve just arrested a client of mine, Mark Specton. What are the charges?’

I waited while the person on the other end tapped at a keyboard. When I got my answer, I muttered a brief word of thanks and hung up.

‘Speck’s been arrested for hacking,’ I told Taylor grimly.

He sank back down into his chair. ‘Now that I could believe,’ he said, ‘except for the fact that Speck’s too damn good.’

I agreed. Never mind being one step ahead of the cyber-crimes unit, Speck was about a thousand. He was too skilled to leave a trail and get caught. I shook my head. ‘This isn’t a coincidence. Your loan. Brochan. Now Speck … it’s all connected.’

‘What about Lexie?’

‘Hopefully she’s safe. I told her to get away.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Taylor whispered.

I was right there with him. We were criminals – all of us – and we knew there was always a possibility we’d screw up and the police would come knocking at our doors ‒ but for stealing. Not for these other things. And why the hell didn’t they scoop me up at the same time as Brochan?

Taylor’s phone chirped with an incoming message. We exchanged a look of dread then he reached down to check it. He squeezed his eyes shut, confirming my worst expectations. I peered down.

Get my money and your friends will be released.

I felt sick. ‘Who has that kind of power?’ I asked. ‘Who has the police in their pocket like that? It couldn’t be a Sidhe. Not unless it’s a previous target who’s found out who we are and wants revenge.’

Taylor opened his eyes again and stared at me miserably. ‘If that’s the case,’ he said flatly, ‘then we’re fucked. But truthfully, I have no bloody idea who is behind all this.’

‘Whoever he is, we need to pay him. We need to get that money and get him off our backs. What else do you have? There must be other jobs on the back burner that I can…’

‘There’s nothing.’

‘But…’

‘There’s nothing, Tegs.’ A shadow crossed his face.

I glanced at the paper-strewn table. Bob was going to get his day of glory, after all. I started to reach for the letter opener but Taylor jumped back up. He adjusted his cuffs, drawing my attention to his hands. My eyes narrowed. He might be getting old but he didn’t make any movement that wasn’t deliberate.

‘What’s going on?’

‘You mean apart from being threatened by a Wild Man? Nothing.’ He fiddled with one of his buttons.

I hissed through my teeth. ‘Seriously, Taylor?’

He blinked at me innocently. Too innocently. ‘What?’

‘You trained me. Everything you know, I know.’

He shrugged. ‘So?’

I pointed down. ‘Do you really think I’m not going to notice that kind of sleight of hand?’

He cursed. ‘I knew I should have kept back a few tricks.’ He sighed and slid a rolled-up piece of paper out of his sleeve.

I recognised the photo immediately. It was taken not long after I’d joined him. Both of us were beaming into the camera; both of us looked so young. ‘You didn’t need to steal this,’ I said softly. ‘I’d have given it to you if you’d asked.’

He looked away. ‘I didn’t want to come across all soppy.’

I tutted. ‘Taylor, come on. I think after all we’ve been through…’ I paused and my eyes narrowed. Hold on a second. ‘Smart. Real smart. Use an old diversionary tactic. What are you really hiding?’

His eyebrow twitched. Tell-tale giveaway. Sometimes he forgot that I knew him almost as well as I knew myself.

‘What have you really got hiding there?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s all your junk, today’s newspaper and some daft knife.’

Was this more trouble to deal with? ‘It’s a letter opener.’ I met his eyes. ‘And? What else are you covering up?’ I demanded.

‘And nothing. How did it go at my house? You were quite a while.’

‘I bumped into your friend.’ Or rather his fist bumped into my head. Whatever. The Wild Man was the least of our problems. ‘It didn’t go very well.’

Taylor’s eyes widened. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine.’ This wasn’t the time to skirt around the truth. My gaze hardened. The only thing that I hadn’t seen was the newspaper. That must be what he was trying to conceal. ‘Hand over the paper.’

He shook his head vehemently. ‘There’s nothing there. I was just reading the horoscopes. You don’t want to know what mine said.’

The day that Taylor was superstitious and believed the bumph the newspapers printed was the day I stopped liking hot pink. I lunged towards him, feinting right then grabbing the newspaper with my left hand.

‘Integrity!’ he howled.

I backed away and smoothed it out ‒ and saw the headline.

‘I could leave the country,’ Taylor started. ‘I’ve heard Belize is nice at this time of year.’

I ignored him, scanning the story. And I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. I should have known better.

‘You’d have somewhere nice to come and visit on holiday,’ he continued.

‘And what about Brochan and Speck?’ I sighed. There was no choice. ‘No,’ I said, pointing to the huge picture on the front of the paper. ‘I’ve got a far, far better idea.’

Taylor squinted. ‘You can’t.’

I nodded to myself. ‘I can. It’s the Lia Saifir. And look who’s got it.’

He stared at the smooth good looks of the man in the photo. ‘Oh.’ He sank down, deflated, into the nearest chair. ‘I didn’t see that,’ he mumbled in a blatant lie.

‘He’s staying at the Astor Hotel. He’s in town, Taylor. We can still get the jewel.’

‘No, Tegs. You can’t do it. It’s not fair.’

I touched his arm. ‘We steal from the Sidhe all the time, Taylor.’

‘Not like this. Not when there’s a chance you’ll be recognised.’

‘Every time I step outside I might be recognised! It’s been sixteen years. If they cared where I was, they’d have found me by now.’ I refrained from mentioning the letter I’d received summoning me back to the Sidhe court. Taylor had tried to hide the newspaper because he didn’t want me to get that up close and personal with a Sidhe who knew my real background. He’d go nuts if he discovered I’d been summoned back ‘home’.

‘I think I can handle one Sidhe,’ I said decisively, although I had no idea whether that was true or not. But how hard could it really be? ‘What choice do we have? I get the jewel and you get the money to get us out of this messed-up hole.’

‘But
him
? He knows you, Tegs.’

I smiled grimly at Byron Moncrieffe’s photo. ‘He’s a playboy with nothing more on his mind than wine and women. It’ll be a piece of cake.’

Taylor regarded me soberly. ‘You’re supposed to be leaving.’

‘Next week.’ I shrugged. ‘I can’t leave now, can I? Besides, I steal the Lia Saifire from Byron in the next seventy-two…’ I checked my watch, ‘make that sixty-eight hours, and I’ll still have plenty of time to pack and say my goodbyes. Whoever the bastard is who’s pulling the strings of this loan and screwing with our crew, they can’t argue if we actually pay up. You just need to make sure the buyer is still in place. And see if you can find out who the money lender is. We need to know so we can stop this happening again.’

Taylor still looked troubled. ‘Stealing from this Sidhe could go very badly. You shouldn’t do it. If he recognises you…’ His voice trailed off.

My eyes flickered again to the spot where Bob’s letter-opener was hiding. The genie was a last resort but he was still there if we needed him. But nicking a gem from a spoilt Sidhe Clan heir should be easier than taking candy from a baby. I could solve all our sudden problems in one fell swoop. And if Byron recognised me … well, I’d spin him a line or two. I was pretty damn good at manipulation when I put my mind to it. Not when it came to burly Wild Men or the arm of the law when I hadn’t had time to prepare but with this idiot … no problemo.

Taylor wasn’t happy when I’d told him to get lost. It was, however, for the best. He wasn’t going to be able to help me with Byron. At this short notice, the only plan I had time to put into place was that of femme fatale. As much as I hated doing it, it wouldn’t be the first time. And I had to admit that it was almost always successful, even if I normally passed the dubious honour of acting as bait over to Lexie who enjoyed that kind of role-playing far more than I did. For now, it was more important that both Taylor and Lexie were safely tucked away from the moneylender’s reach until we had the necessary coin to get him off our backs. Whether he was after something else or not, he wouldn’t be able to argue if we paid him back.

Once I was sure that Taylor was out of the way, I sprang into action. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I depilated, plucked and pruned myself to within an inch of my life, before liberally dousing my skin with the expensive scented moisturiser which I saved for special occasions. Then I grabbed The Dress.

Every girl has one of these – an item of clothing that says ‘shag me but don’t you dare screw with me’ written all over it. Mine was hot pink, naturally – and very, very tight. It cost me an arm and a leg but it was well worth it, even if I’d only ever worn it twice before and felt distinctly awkward on both occasions. The cunning stitching around the bodice created the illusion that my breasts were far larger than they really were and the fabric panels around my hips accentuated my waist until I looked like some kind of sculpted Barbie doll. It was bloody uncomfortable to wear and sitting down was not a feat for the faint-hearted. I had to go for it, though – I had no choice. It helped that the vast majority of men were generally pretty stupid when it came to such matters. I had no doubts that Sidhe men – even Sidhe men who had females throwing themselves at them every minute of the day – would be no different.

I was less successful with my make-up, carefully applying eyeshadow before stabbing myself with the mascara wand so my eyes watered and I looked like a Pierrot clown in the rain. I was clearly out of practice. I wiped it all off and started again, more slowly this time. When I was done, however, and looked at the results in the mirror, I felt satisfied. The effect was that of a wide-eyed sultry temptress. Byron would have no chance. Or so I hoped.

I ignored the tremor of fearful butterflies rippling in my belly. I wasn’t a terrified child any more, I reminded myself. I grabbed a bag, flinging extra lipstick and powder inside. Then, as an afterthought and because you simply never knew, I shoved Bob’s letter opener in too.

Tottering out on high heels, I almost collided with Charlie, my dodgy black-market-dealing neighbour. I usually avoided him. This time his reaction to my appearance served me well. For once, I got what I wanted.

‘Whoa! Integrity, wherever you’re going, I want to come too!’ He leered at me, his eyes dropping to my chest and lingering there.

I pushed away the creeped-out feeling that was threatening to overcome me and smiled. ‘Sorry, Charlie. Invitation only.’

‘I can be your plus one.’

I placed my hand on his arm. I needed both the practice and the affirmation. ‘That’s so kind of you,’ I purred. ‘But no.’

He almost dropped his bag. Given the fact that it contained his takings for the day and he usually clung onto it like a drowning man to a raft, it was the response I’d been after. He licked his lips. ‘Check this out,’ he said in a low whisper. He dug into his pocket and took a small silver sphere. Threads of red ran through it. I peered down.

‘What is it?’

‘Poison. It’s from a plant which grows along the Veil. It almost killed me to retrieve it. Give this to your worst enemy and they’ll drop dead in seconds.’

Ugh. ‘Why are showing it to me?’

‘It’s brand-new stuff, Integrity. And expensive. I’ll let you have it for free.’ From the lascivious look on his face, he had a different kind of ‘payment’ in mind.

‘I don’t want it. Anyway, you shouldn’t be venturing near the Veil. It’s dangerous.’

‘You’re worried about me,’ he said, his eyes suddenly gleaming.

‘No,’ I replied flatly. ‘I’m simply giving you sensible advice.’

‘The Veil is secure, Integrity. Nothing gets out of there and nothing’s getting in. You should check it out some time. I could take you.’

‘No thanks. Whatever the Lowlands hold is of no interest to me.’

‘Are you scared of a little Fomori demon?’

I gave him an irritated glance. ‘Have you ever seen a Fomori demon?’

He pouted. ‘No.’

‘Exactly. No one has seen a Fomori demon and no one wants to. The Fissure isn’t some cautionary tale to keep children in line, Charlie. The Fomori annexed half of Scotland.’

‘That was almost three hundred years ago. Who cares?’

I rolled my eyes. I was done with this conversation. ‘You can keep your poison. I’m on my way out.’

‘Why go out when you can party with me here?’

I smiled and pointed at his chin. ‘I think you’re drooling,’ I told him. Then I sauntered off, appreciating the fact that I could feel him staring after me. For good measure, I threw in a little extra hip swing. There was an audible sigh from behind. Charlie was a sleazebag for sure but I felt better knowing that my outfit was such a success.

Thankfully, the taxi was already waiting; I didn’t like the idea of hanging around on the street looking like this. I arranged myself on the seat, running through the moves I’d need to make to attract Byron’s attention. When I’d covered various different scenarios and was confident of the possible outcomes, I finally started to relax. Maybe this could even be fun. Maybe.

The moment the taxi pulled up outside the Astor Hotel I slipped into character, nodding imperiously at the doorman who helped me out of the car. There was a nervous moment when I realised just how high my dress was riding up on my thighs but I pulled it down in one fluid movement and strolled inside. From the looks I received from both the staff and guests milling around at the front, my plan was already working.

Taking tiny mincing steps, I made it to the bar without falling over. Then I crooked a finger to grab the bartender’s attention and ordered a glass of champagne. Normally, of course, I drank beer but right now I was selling an image.

It took less than three minutes for the first guy to approach me. ‘Hello there.’ His voice had a definite Cockney twang. That was surprising in itself. Most English people avoided coming to Scotland if they could possibly help it. That was due mostly to superstition about breaks in the Veil but it was also a difficult journey to make. He would have had to cross the Channel to France and then gone overland across Europe and up to Scandinavia. Flying anywhere near the Lowlands was a big no-no. Whatever was going on there caused jiggery-pokery to electrical systems. It just wasn’t worth it.

His lip curled up in a good impersonation of Elvis. ‘I couldn’t help but notice you from my table. That’s some dress. You have good taste.’

I flicked him a look. A human coming onto a Sidhe? That was pretty daring, even for a guy as overtly good looking as this one. ‘I do have good taste,’ I told him. ‘And that’s why I’m not interested.’

He affected an expression of mock hurt. ‘Why so hasty?’ His gaze drifted down my body. Irritatingly, my dress had begun to wiggle back up my thighs again. It was like the damn thing had a mind of its own. ‘Nice legs. When do they open?’

Oh, he so did not want to go there. I fixed him with my coldest look and brushed my index finger against his lips. ‘Nice mouth. When does it shut?’

A spark flared in his eyes. ‘Wonderful! I like my women feisty.’

When was the last time a man was called feisty? I resisted the urge to put him down further; I was here for a reason and, while I needed him to back off, I didn’t want to appear too haughty. I couldn’t see any Sidhe in the bar but that didn’t mean there weren’t already others here who were in some way related to Byron. ‘Thank you,’ I murmured, softening my smile. ‘But I’m really not looking for anything other than some peace to enjoy my drink.’ I tapped the side of my glass for emphasis and turned away.

He stood there for another moment or two as I prayed he’d piss off. Eventually he got the message.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I sipped my drink and covertly checked the time. It was still early evening but I was feeling the effects of my sleepless night. It would be really nice if Byron could show up right about now. If he waited until later – or, worse, if he didn’t make an appearance at all – I was liable to end up snoozing on the bar before I could put any of my plans into action.

‘You alright there?’ the bartender asked.

I nodded, looking him over. He was human but wearing the Fairlie Clan badge. That was unsurprising considering the Fairlies owned this hotel. No Sidhe – even a lower-class member – would be caught dead serving drinks. It was typical for the Clans to press others into service to do the jobs they had no desire to do themselves. The bartender might have pledged allegiance to the Fairlies but that didn’t mean he was blindly loyal to them.

I dropped a tenner and raised my eyebrows. He glanced from the money to me and back again. ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked finally.

I kept my tone casual. ‘You got many Sidhe staying here this weekend?’

He shrugged, sliding his hand over the note and palming it with professional ease. ‘Quite a few. They usually end up down here. Which Clan are you?’

I tapped the side of my nose as if it were a secret and winked. I might have been honest about my origins with the Wild Man but that was in pursuit of a greater cause. Advertising that I was the last remaining member of the Adair Clan wouldn’t serve me now. Fortunately, the bartender got the memo and nodded knowingly. If he was curious about my reasons for keeping my Clan secret, he was too polite to show it.

I passed over another ten-pound note and lowered my voice. ‘I might sit here for a while,’ I said. ‘I like people-watching.’ I tilted my head. ‘I don’t particularly enjoy getting drunk though.’

The bartender stroked his chin. ‘We have a wonderful sparkling cider that’s entirely alcohol free. And it’s very similar in colour to champagne.’

I grinned, briefly forgetting my role as temptress in favour of acknowledging the bartender’s understanding. ‘That sounds wonderful.’

He smiled in return. ‘Last night, Byron Moncrieffe arrived around seven,’ he told me.

I decided to brazen it out. ‘Am I that obvious?’

‘You’re not the first woman who’s heard that he’s in town. You’re not even the first Sidhe.’ He jerked his head to a table over to the right. I discreetly followed his movement, registering the three young Sidhe girls dressed up to the nines and giggling.

I lifted a shoulder in rueful acknowledgment that he’d caught me out. As if. ‘Any tips?’

The bartender’s looked quickly left and right, as if someone might be listening in. Then he leaned over. ‘He prefers doing the chasing himself.’

‘Noted.’ By the sound of things, the playboy princeling was as predictable as I had imagined. I had no idea what the bartender thought of me trailing after royalty and I didn’t much care. It would suit my purpose if he lumped me in with all the other hangers on.

Less than twenty minutes later, when my champagne glass had been helpfully filled with cider rather than anything that might cause inebriation, three snooty-looking Sidhe swept into the bar. I was in luck. A helpful nod from the bartender confirmed my suspicions.

The Sidhe ejected a family from the best table in the centre of the room and set about checking the surface for minute traces of dirt and ordering drinks. Ah ha. The advance entourage.

I straightened my posture and angled myself away from the table. Just as another group entered, Byron Moncrieffe included, I flipped out my hair in a move calculated to garner attention. Then I pointedly ignored them all.

The hum of voices from the other patrons quieted to a hush, although the group of giggly Sidhe girls found it impossible to stifle their excited laughter. I was almost surprised that there wasn’t a trumpet to herald his arrival. Honestly, for someone who was in his position for no other reason than the circumstances of his birth, the reaction he received was ridiculous.

I twisted my head slightly so that I could see the table reflected in the mirror hanging across the bar. I counted seven people in total: the three who’d entered first, two women, a cheeky-looking dimpled friend and Byron himself. They were all Sidhe and, by the insignia they were sporting, all from Clan Moncrieffe. That was good. A tight-knit group who kept to themselves would be less likely to know about me – even if I had once had the displeasure of meeting Byron himself.

Surreptitiously – and still using the reflection in the mirror – I eyed him. He had an easy smile which contradicted my memory of him. His bronze hair and golden skin remained the same but he’d definitely grown into his body. Trying to remain dispassionate, I took in the roped muscles on his arms. His clothing, while casual, was as well-designed to display his buff physique as my dress was designed to show off other, uh, attributes. Nah. He wasn’t that good-looking. Maybe he was alright if you liked your men golden and muscled and charismatic. Shite. Okay, he was as sexy as hell.

I noted a small scar underneath his eye that I didn’t remember. It must be fairly recent. Unfortunately, it worked for him, taking away his disturbing perfection and giving him more of a rakish air. Probably the same air that the stubble around his jawline was meant to provide. I leaned slightly to one side to get a better glimpse of it. And that was when I realised he was watching me right back.