Page 99 of Stolen Trophy


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GENEVIEVE

The high-rises of London are always a sight to see when driving into the city. Despite living there, the glittering buildings, a mix of contemporary and historic, always make me feel as if they are something magical. The London Eye stands like a beautiful halo over the city, an angel where couples often feel the romantic need to propose, but I know the halo hides the wolves.

Chaz’s townhouse sits in the richer part of town, as do most of our hits, but his has been in his family for decades. How terrifying it must feel to know you’re about to lose everything you’ve ever known. I can’t imagine Chaz without his expensive suits and habit of throwing money around. It would do him good to go without. He could never understand what I went through and what my men went through to get where we are.

I really want to make him understand, but I don’t think someone like Chaz is capable of it.

If he loses everything, he’ll only blame someone else, not himself or his family. He’ll blame the world, the street rats, me. He can do no wrong in his eyes.

Fucking prick.

Today, we’re wearing our masks, the LED wire in them making us glow. I’m wearing my princess mask again, the pink neon illuminating in the car the same as the others. There will be no additional disguises this time, just the masks, and really, depending on the situation, I might take that off too. The urge to look Chaz in the face, to let him see the angry phantom he fears standing in front of him, is strong, but I know what Archer’s thoughts on that would be.

The townhouse appears out of the London mist like a beckoning lighthouse. As expected, the gate is meant to keep everyone out, but before we’re even pulling up, Archer is pushing buttons on his tablet, and it opens the moment we’re there. There are no guards and no security. Chaz isn’t a politician. He’s just a rich—soon to be poor—bastard with a penchant for gambling, whether with his own money or someone else’s.

The gate closes behind us, and Gage pulls the car to the side of the townhouse, out of the way where no one could immediately see it if they were to come home. As a unit, the five of us step out of the car and move towards the side door.

Like many of the elite, Chaz is smart enough to have his townhouse equipped with a security system. Unlike many, Chaz can’t be bothered with the upkeep. Because of that, I know the cameras are fake and the security system is old. People who are so stupid really shouldn’t have access to such large sums of money or jewels.

It’s a pity.

Archer pulls up his tablet again, and the inadequate security system Chaz has shuts down completely. The door lock doesn’t even beep or lock the door. Archer reaches forward and turns the knob, opening the door to let us inside.

Child’s play.

“Safe,” Archer commands.

Gage, Booker, and I move towards the stairs. I know the safe is in his office, hidden behind a painting of a naked Venus. It’s funny that he’d have a goddess of love and sex hiding the heirlooms his family hasn’t sold to manage their accounts. Chaz wouldn’t know what love was if it popped out of the closet and smacked him on the ass.

Archer and Eric come with us to the office, but instead of going to the safe, Archer immediately hooks his tablet up to the laptop sitting on the desk. He pops it open, cracks the log in—literally his birthday—and grins.

“Fucking idiot,” Archer grumbles. “He hasn’t hidden anything behind encryptions.”

Gage gestures towards the safe. “After you, baby.”

Grinning behind the mask, I step up and jerk the painting open on its hinges. Then, with a silent fuck you to the cosmos that I hope reaches Chaz’s consciousness, I type in the numbers.

His birthday. Again.

The safe clanks and pops open, revealing stacks of velvet cases and folders. Gage starts putting the boxes into his backpack, but I reach for the papers I haven’t seen before. I flip the top one open, and my eyes widen.

“Archer, come look at this.”

He stands immediately, coming over to look over my shoulder at the numbers and papers I flip through.

Booker leans in just the same, everyone pausing to see what I’ve found. He whistles. “Looks like dear old Chaz has been up to no good.”

“That he has,” Archer says with a grin. “Take that. We’re going to make sure it finds its way into the right hands.”

Chaz wasn’t just hitting the elite with theft. He wasn’t just some asshole preying on heiresses in the hopes of getting their money. Chaz fucking Dandridge III is embezzling money, and not from just his family accounts, where there’s no money left, but from charities and businesses the Dandridge family holds investments in. Page after page details the deposits and the scraping off, showing exactly how much he should expect in his account each month, and he’d left it all in his safe like a prettily wrapped gift for us.

What a fucking idiot.

“Time to go,” Eric says, gesturing towards our stuff. “Let’s wrap it up.”

It’s not because we’re in danger, but because the longer we stay here, the more our chance of discovery increases. I’m not done though. Shoving the papers into Gage’s hands for him to put them in the bag, I rush from the room, much to Archer’s displeasure.

“Genevieve!” he snaps, but I’m already at the door to his bedroom and pushing inside, going towards the bathroom.

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