The Cunning Thief (Stolen Hearts #6)(2)

He didn’t have time to calm her down. If he wanted to get out of here, he needed to act fast. Because he was guessing that the only reason they were hostages was because the thugs didn’t have the balls to kill them right away. As soon as the boss man found out they were here, the death order would be placed and their time would be up.

He found the door handle and turned it, but the cold metal didn’t give. Well, the thugs had known well enough to lock the door. Damn it. He knocked on the door lightly and confirmed that it was hollow and not solid wood or metal. That was good. Considering the only tool he really had available was his body, that would have to do.

He remembered from being tossed in here that the door opened outward. If it was the other way around, kicking the door down would be next to impossible. Once he felt for the knob and located the closest spot to the knob where his foot wouldn’t get in its way, he stepped back just far enough. Then, driving his back heel into the ground, he threw all his momentum into the door. The door didn’t magically fall open like in the movies, but it did splinter and start to cave in. From there, Tristan kept on kicking until the hole was big enough to allow him to leave.

“What the hell?” whisper-yelled Shae at him.

“It’s been fun, babe, but my time here is up.”

“Wait! Untie me.”

“I'll be right back.” He stepped through the hole in the door.

“You son of a—”

He rounded the corner as one of the thugs, who probably heard the sound, ran right at him. Tristan knew what he looked like. He put in a lot of time at the gym, but he wasn’t exactly the bulkiest guy, and bulk seemed to be what Damask favored in his men. But Tristan was fast, and best yet, he was smart. So as the thug ran at him, he curled his hand into a fist and shot it into the other man’s throat in one devastating blow, using the man’s own momentum against him. As the thug fell to the ground, gasping for air, Tristan bent over him and plucked a phone from his pocket.

“Thanks, man.” He dialed 911. “Hello, police? I’m at the new construction on St. Pete Beach. The one by Blackthorne. And I just saw some guys pull a woman in against her will. Yeah, fifth floor, east wing. Thanks.” He hung up before they could ask any more questions and ducked into a room as more thugs ran by. They started to look around, either for him or for the woman if she had gotten away too. And then there it was. The sound of sirens in the background as they slowly approached.

Strange. That sound should have terrified him. He used to be on the opposite side of those sirens. He supposed in some ways he still was. But now they were coming here because he called them.

Tristan stayed in the shadows as the sirens got closer. He knew he should be getting the hell out of there, but he felt the strangest need to stay. Usually the lies rolled right off his tongue, but he kept thinking to when he’d told the poor girl that he’d be right back. He’d promised her everything would be okay, so he stood there in the shadows until he heard the telltale footsteps. It took longer than he expected. But he supposed that with a building this size, with who knew how many hostiles floating around, the police would want to wait until they had a suitable amount of backup.

His other thought was that if there were dirty cops on the payroll, it would be easier for them to instigate a cover-up if they waited long enough for Blackthorne to clean up. As soon as he saw the bouncing flashlights of the police, he made his swift exit. The construction site was big enough that it was too easy to slip out unnoticed. Once he was outside, he found a small gathering of bystanders and slipped in. He stood there for a while until he saw the squad of policeman bring Shae out. Immediately the paramedic met her and put a blanket over her shoulders. Tristan squinted to get a better view through the darkness. She was pretty. Pretty face to match a pretty voice. He’d barely been able to see her face in the darkness. The only view he’d gotten was one shapely, muscular leg.

He forced his gaze away from the girl and looked back to the building. There was no one being brought out in handcuffs. Considering how easy it was for him to get out, he understood that a lot of these guys would’ve given the police the slip, but the one he knocked out hadn’t been going anywhere soon. If the guy did manage to evade arrest, he had to have someone helping him. Probably someone on the police force.

Whatever was going on with Blackthorne, it was bigger than this girl, bigger than this police force. In other words, it was the perfect assignment for Hart Securities.

He was just about to take out his phone to give Hart the update when the girl turned around. Tristan knew logically that he was too far away and it was too dark for her to recognize him, but he swore she stared right into his eyes.



“Someone’s out there.” Shae scanned the crowd. From this distance, everything looked blurry, but she knew without a doubt that she was being watched.

The paramedic reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, which tore her attention away from the crowd of onlookers. “It’s okay. That feeling will stick around for a while, but I’m sure eventually it will pass,” said the man comfortingly.

However, Shae didn’t feel any comfort at the moment. She pulled herself away from his grip. The paramedic, a handsome young guy in his twenties, probably only meant to reassure her. But after what she’d been through, she didn’t want to be touched right now. She just wanted to go home. The home that caused all this mess in the first place. “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I just want to give my statement and get out of here.”