Romance: The Billionaires Collection (Watched By A Billionaire, Stranded With A Billionaire, Caught By A Billionaire, Billionaire Stepbrother) (22 page)

The safe clicks and falls open, and I eagerly reach in.
My heart pounds a little harder than normal, but mainly I keep my
emotions under control.

Inside is what I'm looking for. A set of diamond
earrings that Sage Dalton once gave to his wife, thought to be worth
over two million dollars. She, of course, didn't last long, and he
got the earrings back as part of their pre-nup.

More the better for me
, I think to myself.

I pocket the diamonds, storing them securely in a zipped
pouch on my pants, and shut the safe quietly. Nothing else inside
interests me. I'm here for one thing, and one thing only.

I replace the books, make it so that I was never there,
and begin making my way back through the mansion. As I do, I can
already hear the sound of the rain growing on the roof, quickly
clattering hard as the skies above start to empty their load.

A smile drifts up my face, the storm closing in right on
schedule. As I reach my entry point, I notice the garden flash up
outside as lightning zips down from above. Thunder follows quickly
after, rumbling through the house and up my feet.

I slide through the circular hole in the glass window,
feel the rain quickly soak into my black camouflage. More lightning
comes crashing down, more thunder booms in the heavens, and I quickly
dart through the gardens once more, cutting my path right to the wall
where I came in.

Again, the spotlight shines behind me, but I'm through
it before the monitoring guard has any chance to see me. I reach the
wall, and scale it quickly, once more knowing that the old stone
brickwork will provide me with the grooves I need to get my fingers
inside.

So I climber over with speed, and find myself quickly
dropping to the outside of the estate's boundary, my feet hitting the
ground with a splash. I allow myself a smile as my pulse quickens
with excitement, and I dart off into the wooded area beyond the wall.

I pace between the trees, hearing no sirens or alarms in
the background. Knowing that I've escaped once more and left
absolutely no trace.

The
Night Panther
they call me in the press. I've
always liked the name. Sleek and nimble and cunning as a cat, I
infiltrate and extract within the blink of an eye.

And tonight, I've just made one of my greatest scores...

Chapter Two

My eyes open like a spark of lightning and I sit up in
bed. I quickly gaze around the room, take in my bearings for a
moment, and then carefully settle back down.

That happens a lot with me.

It's a symptom of growing up in so many different rooms,
never settling your head on the same pillow for long enough to get
attached. That was my life as a kid, moving between foster families
like I was being used in a game of pass the parcel.

At 17, I threw in the towel and decided to go it alone,
but that only led me to prison after a couple of years of petty theft
and burglary. I was wet behind the ears then. Not the pro I am now.

Still, I'm only 24 and am now waking up with scores
worth 2 million in my pocket. Not too bad for a girl with 'no
prospects at all', as I was always told by the stupid fucking
teachers I had in high school.

If only they could see me now...

My surroundings aren't exactly like I was used to
growing up either. And they're certainly nothing like that jail cell
I occupied with a middle aged woman called Marge for over a year.

Because right now, I'm in a hotel room. A nice hotel at
the south of the Brooklyn Bridge, with Manhattan rising high outside
my window in the distance. I've been here for about a week now. And
before this, another hotel nearby.

Frankly, I've gotten into the habit of moving on
constantly, and even staying in the same hotel room for too long
makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Mainly because I get paranoid
that someone might finally track me down.

The Night Panther.

I've been in the press for over a year now with that
name. They first called me it when some CCTV footage came up showing
me scaling the wall of a large townhouse on the outskirts of Chicago,
trying to reach a balcony to gain access.

I did, of course, and came away with some fine jewelry,
and ever since then any hint of a home invasion or jewelry theft has
been linked to me. The images of me climbing that wall, and various
other limited sightings, gave me the name.

I suppose it's due to my black camouflage and agility.

Last night I added to my growing legend, and as soon as
it gets out who the target was, the press are gonna freak.
Billionaire Sage Dalton, robbed by the
Night Panther
. It
doesn't get much better than that...

With the storm having faded, the day that's followed
looks glorious out the window. It's still crisp, the weather still
clinging to the back end of winter, but the sky is a clear and
sparkling blue and New York never looked quite so beautiful to my
weary eyes.

And weary they are.

Last night, after finally getting back from Long Island,
dressed in a totally different outfit and carrying my black
camouflage and diamond earrings in my bag, I found myself hardly able
to sleep. It was already well into the morning, and yet my mind was
buzzing so much that I ended up drinking several double shots of
vodka just to knock me out.

It worked, eventually, my mind falling foul of the
alcohol at about the time that dawn was approaching. That was only a
couple of hours ago, and now I'm feeling wrecked, my body stripped of
the adrenaline that was coursing through it last night.

Still, I've got a big day ahead, and need to ship on
these earrings as soon as possible. By now, one of Sage Dalton's
staff will be just about discovering the circular hole in the window,
and the house will be going on lock down to discover what might have
been taken.

It won't take them long to realize it's Dalton's
prized earrings...

So I get up, take a shower, and start preparing myself
for my meet. I dress in a pair of simple jeans and a sweater, all
nondescript clothing, and set about altering my image.

Blonde wig goes on first, then blue contact lenses. Then
I spend plenty of time altering my make-up to the point where my
complexion looks nothing like normal and my features take on an
entirely different appearance.

Within half an hour, I go from pale skinned and dark
haired, to blonde and tanned and looking to all the world like a
playboy bunny.

It's all about deception. When I meet my contact, I
don't want him to know what I really look like. He has no idea of my
name or who I really am. All he knows is that I'm able to procure
these high profile pieces of jewelry and deliver them to him for a
price.

The price today has already been agreed upon - two
million dollars. But I suppose he'll sell them on for even more...

With my disguise perfected, I step out of my room and
down to the street, hanging a large coat around me to further shield
my appearance while offering me plenty of protection against the
bitter cold.

I hail a cab and get driven to a small, discreet bar in
South Brooklyn. I pay the driver, step out, and quickly scan the
area. It's quiet, only a few pedestrians ambling down the streets,
going about their business.

I move forward, push through the door to the bar, and
find a predominantly empty space inside. It's fairly dim and run
down, with old wooden chairs and tables giving the impression of an
old German tavern.

Behind the bar, a single barman stands reading the
paper, while dotted here and there are mainly single men, fairly old,
drinking ale and looking for all the world like lost souls.

I scan each of them, but see no sign of my contact.
Immediately, a frown dips on my face and I begin to consider leaving.
The man is never later. Never. And if he is, that might signal a
problem.

As I consider it, I hear a call from behind the bar.

“
You sure you're not lost there, sweetheart?”

I look up and see the barman staring at me. I do look
totally out of place in here with my blonde hair and bright blue
eyes.

I drift toward him, and order a water, still wondering
whether to walk out right now and rearrange.

No, Kristen, give it a few minutes at least...you've
come this far.

I take my glass of tepid water to the corner and settle
in, my sights set firm on the entrance.

Ten minutes. That's what I'll give him. If he's not
here by then, I'm leaving. There are other buyers out there...

I set myself the plan, and sit in silence, trying to
avoid the gazes of the lonely looking men planted at various points
around the bar.

The minutes pass, and still I see no sign of my contact.
And slowly, but surely, my heart rate rises and my body tightens,
preparing to jump up and leave at a moment's notice.

And then I see movement outside.

Through the murky window on the door, I can make out the
image of a man approaching. No, not one man. There are several of
them, a small group of three, dressed in dark clothing as they pace
toward the entrance.

The door opens, and as it does I feel my heart
constrict, my lungs suddenly lost of air. Half in a panic, and half
trying to keep control, I think about running out the back, escaping
through some window in the bathroom.

Because right in front of me, scanning the room, is the
man I robbed last night.

Sage Dalton.

Chapter Three

I grip tight at my purse, knowing the contents, and turn
my head down and to the side, hoping I won't have been seen.

But how could he possibly know who I am? How does he
know I'm here? Did my contact rat me out?

Behind Sage, two large men follow, both wearing black
suits and white shirts and stern looks. Bodyguards, I'd imagine.

Within seconds, I already feel like my time is up,
because Sage is walking toward me. He's scanned the bar, spotted me,
and is no longer deigning to look anywhere else.

My body twinges, and I make half a move to stand and
run, but his voice stops me in my tracks.

“
Don't move. Stay right where you are.”

Behind him, I see two guns trained on me, both held firm
in the large grips of his twin bodyguards. A murmur runs through the
bar from its sparse occupants, but there's no panic. The clientele
here seem like the sort who are used to seeing guns and violence.

“
Tanner, clear the room,” says Sage, eyes still
linked to mine.

At his back, one of his bodyguards calls loudly.

“
Everyone get out of here, right now.”

There's quick movement, and Tanner ushers them all out
into the cold, including the disgruntled looking barman.

The other remaining bodyguard steps forward, passes Sage
a pistol, and takes a few steps back.

I control my breathing and study the man. His eyes are
so dark they're almost black, his hair short and functional, his body
tall and strong looking beneath a tailored suit.

He holds the gun casually at me while stepping forward
and dropping into a chair on the other side of the table.

“
Check her,” he grumbles, and the remaining
bodyguard marches toward me.

His hands thrust around my body as I lift my arms into
the air.

“
I'm not armed,” I say, but he doesn't listen. His
hands explore every inch of me, slipping up and down and then
checking my bag.

I can't hide the grimace from appearing on my face as he
pulls out the box with the earrings inside.

Sage smiles, and looks at me with an air of reverence.

“
Impressive,” he says.

“
She's clean, Sir,” says the guard.

“
Thank you. Now go and wait outside. I'd like to speak
with the lady alone.”

The guard nods and retreats, leaving only the two of us
in the bar.

Sage reaches forward and digs his hand into my handbag,
retrieving my I.D. He glances over it, then up at me, and a frown
furrows his brow.

“
You're looking different today, Miss Wright. I think
you look better with the dark hair and eyes.”

He smiles and places the I.D back in my bag.

“
Now, do me a favor and lose the wig and the contacts.
I want to see who I'm really dealing with here.”

I hesitate, but the tapping of his pistol on the wooden
table makes me spring into action. I pull the wig away, revealing my
bunched up brown hair, and carefully extract the blue contacts from
my eyes, discarding them to the floor.

“
Much better,” he says, gently laying his pistol
down on the table. “Now, Kristen, I think we need to talk, don't
you?”

I slowly nod.

“
How did you find me?”

“
Now isn't that the question,” he says, opening up
the little box with the earrings inside. “There's a tracker in the
lining. Very simple really. I'd have thought the
Night Panther
would have been cleverer than that...”