The Bodyguard (Norcross #4) - Anna Hackett Page 0,20

she’d paid a paranoid and brilliant Ukrainian hacker a small fortune for. It allowed her to anonymously surf the web, and send encrypted emails.

She dug up everything she could on the theft of the jewels today. It was definitely the Black Foxes.

Her belly clenched. Bastards.

After some clever hacking, even if she did say so herself, she’d tracked the car involved in the theft. They’d removed the license plates, but the sedan had a scratch on it.

That had led her to Dante Luzzago.

She’d suspected Dante was a member of the Black Fox gang for a long time. He was a smarmy, self-important asshole.

He’d rented a house in the waterside suburb of Seacliff.

And tonight, she was going to break in and steal back the jewelry.

A guard walked past and she held her breath, willing him to keep walking. She was getting ready to move, when she heard a deep rumble.

“Everything all right?”

Rome’s voice made her freeze. Her pulse rabbited.

“All fine,” the guard replied.

The men talked some more, her nerves stretching taut, then Rome finally headed back into the house.

She released a soundless breath. She waited, checked again, then sprinted through the minute blind spot in the cameras.

She hit the sidewalk in front of the house and fell into a relaxed walk. Her pulse was fast, and she took a few breaths. Just out for an evening stroll.

She smiled, exhilaration filling her. Excitement hit her with every heartbeat.

This was an unconventional pastime for a princess, but she felt no guilt stealing from thieves.

For Tori.

She turned down a side street, and ahead, a blue Tesla was parked at the curb.

Perfect.

She’d arranged the car anonymously online. She glanced around, reached under the wheel well on the back passenger side, and found a magnetic key box.

She pulled out the key, bleeped the locks, and slid inside. She didn’t use the car’s GPS, but instead, used her burner phone to plug in the address she needed.

Sofie loved driving, but she so rarely got the chance. The Tesla was a beauty.

She navigated toward Seacliff, mentally preparing for the job ahead. She had to focus a little bit on the driving, though, since in Caldova they drove on the left-hand side of the road.

Robin Hood was about to strike.

This had all started two years ago. Still grieving for Tori, she’d been at a ball when a tiara had been stolen by the jewelry thieves.

Sofia had been in the right place at the right time. She’d seen the thief—he’d been one of the guests—with the stolen crown.

It’d been left on a desk for a second, and Sofia had stolen it back.

She’d left it for the owner to find.

The next robbery she heard about, she’d researched who could be responsible for the stolen gems. She’d planned out the job and stolen them back.

Robin Hood had been born.

The European press had gone nuts over the jewel thief who stole back stolen, priceless jewelry and returned it to museums or its owners.

Her first jobs had been messy and not well planned. She’d smartened up. She’d spent time training with palace security, and scoured various sources for information.

She’d met a retired French thief who’d taught her to pick locks and evaluate security systems, and she wasn’t too bad at cracking a safe.

The world loved Robin Hood. The mysterious thief who returned stolen jewels and pointed authorities in the direction of several members of the jewelry gang.

Some had been arrested, some had wriggled off the charges, but not all.

Many were from the aristocracy of Europe—bored, spoiled men and women, a few who were desperate to reinvigorate their dwindling family wealth.

But the men responsible for attacking Tori were proving elusive.

Sofie kept a cool, slightly bored face in public that drew as little attention as possible. She needed to keep what Robin Hood did behind-the-scenes strictly secret.

Once she reached Seacliff, she parked the car several streets away from the house. She swung her backpack on her shoulder and power-walked toward Dante’s rented house. She was just a woman out exercising.

After a few minutes, she spotted the house ahead. It was a little gaudy. It was painted a terracotta color with cream accents, and had delusions of being a Mediterranean mansion. She suspected it would have a million-dollar view out the back.

Pausing in the shadows, she lifted a set of binoculars. There was a guard at the front door, but none roving around that she could see. She’d already checked, and learned that the house had no dogs, and no window sensors on the top floor.

She scanned the