Stone of Thieves (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

the silhouette of a boat in the distance with a gondolier singing like he’s searching for a lost love. The ruby heart throbs in my hand.
    “Creek,” I ask, unsettled by my own question right now, but drumming up the courage to hold up the heart to the moonlight. For the first time, I notice the cracks at its center gleam like a star. “D-Do you think this ruby is somehow magic?”
    Creek shakes his head in the darkness. He nestles deeper into my chest.
    “No,” he replies.
    His arms hug me closer, and he’s silent for what seems like forever.
    But then I hear him take a deep breath.
    “I think
you
are.”

Chapter 5
     
    The morning sun in Venice lights the city on fire.
    We lie exhausted in each other’s arms inside the old gondola, with Creek still asleep on my chest.
    I toy with his pale hair, savoring the way the strands unfurl through my fingers. The weight of him, rarely this relaxed and vulnerable, makes me feel like my arms hold the world.
    But the red roof tiles of the antiquated buildings around us have begun to gleam with gold. I know this moment is fleeting, because before the day gets bright, we’ll need to hit the convents in search of my mother. It’s the only lead I have from my dad back at Bender Lake—the persistent rumor all these years that Alessia de Bargona was shipped off to a Venetian nunnery once she gave birth to me.
    But we’ll have to move in shadows.
    Because I have no idea who wants me dead. Or who wants this ruby.
    It couldn’t be the de Bargonas—they don’t even know I’m here. And probably not the gypsies, or that flower lady would’ve tried to grab it last night instead of looking at me like an alien and creating a strange star from her coins. How would she know I was carrying it? How could
anyone
know?
    Surely the nuns of Venice will be safe for me to question, at least about my mom.
    But I’m not slipping a word about this stone.
    All I’m interested in is a brief meeting with my real mother for some answers. Did she ever really love my dad? Did she perhaps miss me all these years?
    My heart is made of armor.
    I’m ready for a blank look in her eyes, as though she’d forgotten us both long ago. Or a shifting glance meaning the answer is no. That, too, is a kind of closure. Then Creek and I will bolt from Italy like a couple of birds on the wing. Hopefully
alive
.
    I jiggle Creek and watch his ivory lashes flutter. He looks up at me with those striking eyes of frozen blue. When his vision comes into focus, he gives me that crooked smile that makes his cheek scar slip into the image of a dagger, and it snatches my breath from my throat.
    Creek steals a kiss.
    “Hey baby,” he says softly.
    But he’s up in a flash—the way I knew he would be. All adrenaline before the day fully breaks. “Most criminals are lazy,” he reminded me last night. “They sleep in late and do their dirty work in darkness. Right before dawn is the best time to make your moves.”
    Together, we smooth out the canvas over the gondola and shove it further beneath the archway like we were never there.
    And I’m starving.
    But I can’t withdraw money at a bank because whoever’s after me could see us or talk to tellers. Instead, we’ll remain in alleyways and between crevices, slinking along the edges of buildings like stealthy cats.
    Creek takes me by the hand and weaves me around the corners and nooks of this ancient city that’s still asleep. The flowers on balcony planter boxes haven’t opened their blooms to the sun yet, and the city is hushed. But to be honest, I love it this way. Compared to the gray, blocky industriousness of Cincinnati, it’s a feast for the eyes and I’m overwhelmed at the grandeur. All around us is the delicate beauty of ornate yet crumbling buildings in pastel colors with green water lapping at their edges, as though the tide seeks to reclaim their souls to sea. Canal boats sway in the docks, and shops sit nestled with their bright shudders closed tight, as