The Cocky Thief (Stolen Hearts #1)(2)

“No, you didn’t. I was watching you the entire time.”

“We all have our secrets. I’m boarding right now. If you don’t have anything important to say...”

“He’s going to be okay?”

Austin lowered his voice. “Killing people raises questions. I don’t like questions. Now I’m on the plane. It’s time for you to do your part.”

“Luther won’t be raising any questions,” assured Hart. “Once you make it to the grounds, you get in touch.”

“And then you’ll tell me what this mysterious package is?”

“I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

“Come on, buddy. It’s like you don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust criminals.”

“After what I just did with you watching, you’re a criminal too. Welcome to the club.” He made it to the entrance of the plane and gave the flight attendant up front a quick nod, but when he turned to the aisle all he could see were legs.

Namely, the long, toned pair in the window seat right next to the seat listed on Luther’s boarding pass. “Gotta go,” he said into the phone. “It’s show time.” He hung up before Hart could say anything and slid into his seat. The woman with the fantastic legs didn’t look up from her phone. Ahh, first-class mentality. Every time he flew coach, the person next to him would chat his ear off the entire flight, but in first class it was dead silence.

Probably for the best. He was here to work, not to get laid. But once again he found himself skimming his eyes along the delicate ankle, toned calf, and up the thigh exposed by the sitting position. He was willing to bet that when she stood, she was decent, but from where he was looking, the view was downright—

“Chris Luther?” she asked, still not looking up from her phone.

Austin kept any surprise from showing on his face. This wasn’t the first time he’d faced a curveball while on the job. As tempting as it was to lie, he knew it would be too easy to prove he wasn’t Chris Luther. So, he went with a better lie. “Austin Raye.” He held out a hand, which was promptly ignored. “Chris got a bout of stomach flu and I’m filling in.”

That got the woman to glance at him from over her smartphone. Her gaze was unreadable and he couldn’t tell whether she was suspicious, turned on, or whether she really didn’t give a damn about him.

Damn if that indifference didn’t make her hotter. She wore all black and it made her skin appear so light it was almost translucent. Obviously, she wasn’t one of the heiresses addicted to the tanning bed. And he had to admit that it agreed with her dark hair and hazel eyes. Everything about her was monochrome, down to her polished white fingernails. The only hint of color was the soft pink of her lips that appeared to be lipstick-free. Just gently moistened by either ChapStick or a quick pass of her tongue.

And there was a hard-on. He shifted in his seat so she wouldn’t notice and pulled some papers out of the briefcase to cover his lap.

“I don’t think Stranger is going to be happy that Chris couldn’t make it.” She continued to scroll through her phone. He tried to angle himself to see what exactly she was paying so much attention to, but she gave him a quick look out of the corner of her eyes, letting him know he’d been caught snooping.

“Stranger is going to have to deal with it,” said Austin confidently. If anyone called and asked questions, well, it was Hart’s job to keep his cover safe. He didn’t normally trust people he didn’t, well, trust, but Hart was different. He wasn’t motivated by things Austin was used to, like money and greed. Austin didn’t know the whole story yet, but he knew enough to realize that Scott Hart was after revenge. And that made him dependable. At least for as long as their goals meshed. “Besides, if I don’t show up, there’s no wedding.”

That got her full attention and a raised brow. “You’re not exactly the preacher.”

“No. But I’m the lawyer with the prenuptial agreement. No marriage is complete without one. Apparently, Stranger isn’t a hundred percent sold on this new marriage.”

“Does everyone think the bride is a money-grubbing whore, then?”

Austin had wandered into an emotional minefield here and considering he had no idea who the woman next to him was, he needed to play his cards close to the vest. “In this day and age, people just want to be safe. I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name. How do you know the happy couple?”

She regarded him a few long moments before she answered. “Jennifer Murray. Daughter of the bride.”





It took a special kind of asshole to stick her in the seat next to the attorney in charge of getting the prenup signed. In fact, Jennifer was sure that the paperwork could’ve been taken care of days ago. Stranger just wanted to have the power play of making sure Jennifer knew where she stood in the family dynamic.

At least this guy was easy on the eyes. She’d done an image search of the lawyer she was supposed to be sitting next to during the six-hour flight from New York to California. Chris Luther was supposed to be balding, pudgy and, well, lawyerly. This guy was... She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It wasn’t that he didn’t look like a lawyer. With the close-cut black hair and chiseled jawline, he would probably fit in wherever a suit was required. But there was still something off about him she couldn’t quite pin down.