Read Stone of Thieves (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 2) for Free Online Page A

in my hand like I’m a vagabond. She sweeps her hand toward the magnificent hallway. “Or are you seeking luxury accommodations here at the convent?”
    Though her words sound vaguely encouraging, I can tell from her stance that she’s all blockade. Sleek, beautiful—and not about to let us enter unless we unload a ton of euros for the privilege.
    Something tells me she knows we don’t have a dime.
    I steal a glance at Creek. But he isn’t looking at me—he’s scanning the interior of the convent like he’s casing the joint. All work and swift deduction. Then his eyes scrutinize the tearful young nun as if for clues.
    “I’m looking for Alessia de Bargona!” I blurt. I don’t mean to be so damn loud, and I know tears are already welling in my eyes. I can’t stop it—my emotions are totally raw, and the way that young nun said “Ali” with such hope in her voice made me feel like I’m on the right track.
    But the Mother Superior bristles at the mere mention of Alessia’s name. Her long nose scrunches for a moment as if that word were a profanity.
    “You think you’re the first
turistas
searching for
monaca pazzesca
? The crazy nun of Venice?” She sighs wistfully, thrusting her hands into her habit pockets. “Yes, she was famous in this
sestiere
. But that was a long time ago, and I’m afraid she’s dead,
piccolina
. Suicide. Such tragedies are typical of her . . . kind. And sad, too, since you do look a little like her—”
    She cups my cheek and stares into my eyes. Instantly, icy fingers shoot down my spine.
    “Then the de Bargona family will know where she’s buried, right?” Creek cuts in without missing a beat. Tall himself, he steps forward and towers over the Mother Superior to meet her gaze, flashing the coldest dagger-scar smile I’ve ever witnessed in my life. It’s a smile that says
I don’t believe you for two seconds, bitch
. It’s a smile that says,
And
I’m ready to snap you in two if you don’t give me what I want
.
    I watch the Mother Superior’s throat tremble as she swallows uncomfortably. Her cheeks stiffen in an effort to retain her composure, but when Creek forces the heavy door open wider and folds his arms impatiently—one might even say brutally—I can tell by her eyes that she’s rattled.
    “Th-there are no church burials for blasphemers,” she insists, “crazy women with visions who hang themselves. To find her remains, you’ll have to ask the de Bargonas.”
    She points toward a bend in the Grand Canal nearby, its waters glistening at dawn. “Their
palazzo
is well known in the—what do you call it?” She pats her arm. “
La Volta
—the elbow of Venice. Look for the
Rio di Ca’ Bargona
. Their
palazzo
is there. Only they have the answers you seek.”
    “
Grazie!
” I reply way too loud, but it’s no use. The second that word escapes my lips, the thick door slams in my face, clicking with the sound of a heavy lock, and Creek has to steady me on my feet to keep me from falling. But balance is the last of my worries right now. All I can think about is the haunted way that young nun looked at me. Piercing and full of loss, as if
I
might be her precious Ali.
    And my mind races, wondering if it’s true that my mother is really dead.

Chapter 6
     
    My foot slips on the curved, terra cotta roof tiles that are slick in the morning dew.
    Normally, I’d have screamed my guts out by now, but Creek grabs me before I can slide to my death on a Venetian street below.
    “I’ve got you,” he whispers, his strong arms righting me so I can take a breath.
    I fold my head against his chest to clear the dizziness for a second and refuse to look down. His heart pumps hard against his flannel shirt to meet my cheek.
    We’re skittering along the rooftops like loose cats.
    Crazy?
    You bet.
    But as Creek told me after the convent, this is the safest way to reach the de Bargona’s ancestral home. “Most thugs are stupid—they don’t bother to look up,” he said. So