“Oh, don’t let me stop you. Dream big. Maybe it’s sitting directly under the palace. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”
He shoots me a look. “It’s a good thing I appreciate sarcasm. Let me see the box.” He reaches for the box, but I hold it back, keeping it away from him. “I promise to return it,” he says, promising me like I’m a child. And for some reason, I relinquish it to him.
He turns it over and underneath is an inscription. It appears to be an old family crest. Most of it is weathered to nothing, but in the very corner is something that looks like an eagle’s talon holding two letters.
“See the initials there? ‘CM’?”
I nod. cross-referenced
“I ran some searches for all CMs connected to Europe a century ago, cross-referenced those with anyone who may have had a connection to royalty, jewelry makers, and a few other”—he glances at me, then pointedly looks away—“things, and compiled a list.”
My head spins with all the information he throws on the screen. There are only seven names left. None of them stick out to me, except the last one.
“Cillian Moore.” The name falls off my lips. The name is familiar enough to cause a chill to race down my spine but I can’t place where I know it.
“Good eye.” Liam appraises me and another image pops onto the screen. The full crest. “The crest matches his. So, either the box was intended for him, or he stole it. I’m betting money on the latter. He was a well-known legend of his time. He pulled off some of the greatest heists of the century.”
“So he was a criminal,” I say.
He rubs his chin. “That too, I suppose. He had a few hideouts here in the UK. I was able to cross a couple off the list. Shall we go on an adventure to the rest of them? I say we start with the Moore estate tomorrow.” He looks at me with eyes full of so much mischief and hope.
I shouldn’t. There are a hundred reasons not to. But we do have some time to kill, and this ‘adventure’ could be mutually beneficial. Maybe I can swipesomeone’s phone, catch Liam in the act of a great heist. Find clothes in my size. The little things.
“Fine.”
“Don’t be so excited. I might get the wrong idea.”
“But if wedofind this treasure, it’s all mine.”
He barks out a laugh. “You’re cute, Agent Cruz. Clearly you haven’t mastered the art of negotiation.”
I lift a brow. “Fine, you can have it all. But I get you.”
His lips twitch. “I didn’t know that’s how you fel—”
“I get to throw you in jail.”
“I suppose you can barter just fine.”
Chapter 11
Serena
“Ah, Belgravia.” Liam sighsstrolling along the street. He’s like a kid on Christmas pointing out all the cool sights and pretty things as we walk. How this man is a master thief is beyond me. He’s wearing his trademark look: expensive baby blue dress pants and a skintight white button-up. But he’s failing to use the shirt for its intended purposes.
The top three buttons are undone, revealing a gold chain necklace beneath, which I find gaudy and obnoxious. The cuffs are also unbuttoned and rolled up below his elbows. He’s not avoiding attention. He’s attracting and welcoming it, and he’s getting quite a bit of notice. Three groups of tourists, made up entirely of women, have already stopped him to ask for directions. He eats up their obvious flirtation, spending several minutes praising and adoring the women like he’s getting paid to do so.
It doesn’t bother me. In fact, it only reminds me of what I know. He’s a player and a liar.
The sun is fading, bringing with it hues of orange and pink that paint the historic buildings in the glowing light. But I don’t feel light and whimsical or even romantic. My back is stiff, and my hands are clenched as I watch everypasserby, every street car, every window for signs of trouble. We need to get off the street, the sooner the better.
A hand clasps around mine, and I whirl on my assailant.
Liam’s eyes widen before turning into something devilish. “I got you a rose.” He holds up a beautiful pink rose beneath my nose.
“Did you poison the thorns?”
“Hmm, I should have thought of that. But no, it’s dethorned, I believe. And nearly as beautiful as you.”
