Modern Wicked Fairy Tales: Complete Collection (16 page)

“Oh god.” Campbell felt his cock slip under
that ring of muscle, the feeling so good he could barely stand it.
His instinct was to fuck her fast and hard, to bury himself into
her, but he resisted, adjusting himself between her thighs and
easing in a little more.

“Is it in?” she cried, feeling him move.

“Almost,” he assured her, judging that he
was about a quarter of the way there. Maybe it was like a Band-Aid
and if you did it fast, it hurt less? He grabbed her hips and gave
into it, shoving his cock deep into her ass.

“Ohhhh!” Goldie reached back with one hand,
trying to push him out, but he was in now, buried to the hilt. The
heat of her was almost too much and seeing her asshole stretched to
accommodate him made him crazy with lust. He closed his eyes, the
sight alone enough to send him over.

“Are you okay?” he panted, realizing he was
gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

“Yes,” she breathed, and he felt her move.
His cock came to life as she slid him slowly out and then wiggled
back into the saddle of his hips.

Campbell groaned, knowing it was over and
he’d barely begun to fuck her ass. “Fuck! Baby!”

“You like that?” she teased, rocking back,
that tight ring of muscle massaging his cock with every pass. “You
like fucking my asshole?”

“Oh Jesus.” He was a goner. Grabbing her
hips, he gave it everything he had, pounding into her ass, making
her squeal. The cum had reaching a boiling point in his balls and
there was no going back now. “Oh yeah! Baby, I’m gonna come in your
ass!”

She cried out with him as he came, every hot
burst of his cum a new geyser of pleasure filling that humid hole.
His whole body shook and it felt like it was never going to end,
every burst of cum another jolt of sensation, sending him howling
down into her on the bed with all his weight, writhing on top of
her in total abandon.

When he remembered where he was, he rolled
off her panting body, apologizing, but she was already wrapping
herself up in his arms, cooing and purring like Goldie always did
after sex, whispering how much she loved him, how much she wanted
him. He closed his eyes, smiling, just soaking her in. They didn’t
have enough time like this, but with a woman like Goldie, there
wouldn’t be enough time in the day.

“Campbell?”

“Hm?”

“How did you know it would be the
Ursas?”

He smiled. “We’re not allowed to talk
business.”

“But you were right. That’s what they want
me to steal. The Ursa diamonds.”

“Of course I’m right.” He pulled the edge of
the hotel comforter over them, not wanting to think about how many
other people had done this very thing on these covers. “I’m always
right.”

“You’re so humble.”

He laughed. “I try.”

“It’s almost over,” she whispered, touching
her fingertip to his lips. “We’re almost there.”

He felt the excitement of her words in his
belly. She was right. Years of planning, building trust, getting
the Behrs to move the Ursa diamonds from their estate in Zurich to
this one in Colorado, hours of hacking, creating backdoors in the
system that even his own tech guys couldn’t find. It was all coming
together.

“And then you can marry me,” she teased,
nibbling gently at his nipple.

“Hey!” He laughed, twisting away. “Who says
I’m marrying you?”

“Poppy says if you don’t marry me, he’s
going to come after you with a shotgun.”

He snorted. “I’d like to see that—an eighty
year old man chasing me down in a wheelchair.”

“I love you, Campbell.”

He kissed her forehead, stroking her hair,
and he knew she was waiting for him to say it, but in five years,
he never had. God knew, he certainly felt it, but somehow the words
always got stuck in his throat. After a while, he heard the deep,
even sound of her breathing and closed his eyes and slept too.

* * * *

It’s as easy as one-two-three.
Goldie
used the application on Campbell’s iPhone to disable the security
cameras around the Behr estate. They weren’t disabled, per
se—Campbell had explained the feed would be replaced with a dummy
one for fifteen minutes—but by then she’d have what she needed and
be gone. The wall around the estate was ten feet high, but she was
over it in no time, repelling down the other side and dropping in
behind a cluster of trees.

The back part of the estate was well lit,
but without outside flood lights it was impossible to illuminate an
entire area. Goldie stuck to the shadows and made her way to the
side of the house, using Campbell’s iPhone again to disable the
alarm to the doorwall. He had it figured to allow her time to get
in without causing undue attention at the main security station.
According to Campbell, there was only one guy on duty at night, but
it was always better safe than sorry.

She had studied the floor plan extensively.
Most people didn’t know that the entire floor plan of their house
was usually accessible online—you just had to know where to look.
In this case, it was public knowledge, because the Behr estate was
also an historical home, registered with the state. She used her
glass cutter to create a perfect circle and a suction cup to remove
it, setting the glass aside and slithering through the hole onto
the tile.

If she’d been a regular burglar, she would
have entered through a door, probably into a main room, and started
rifling through drawers, hunting for bedrooms. The Behr’s were
smart, she knew, and left cash accessible in those places, just as
she did, on Campbell’s advice. Most thieves were looking to score
hot and fast—and if they found cash right away, they were less
likely to go looking for more, since time was always a factor. The
real valuables were usually safe from regular burglars in those
instances.

Of course, if she’d been a regular burglar,
she would have already been caught.

Even if Campbell hadn’t already told her,
she would have known where to look for the safe. Most people put
them in walls or floors in their bedroom, which was always a good
place to start. A safe, especially one that wasn’t bolted down, was
a thief magnet. Of course, with Goldie’s talent, the safe didn’t
need to be bolted down, it just needed to be accessible. This one
wasn’t. The safe itself was through the indoor pool room, in the
sauna, behind a door that was accessible only with a combination
lock hidden behind a panel that looked, for all intents and
purposes, like a breaker box. It was also set with an alarm she had
to disable through Campbell’s iPhone.

Goldie then got to work on the combination,
her real talent, lining up the contact points in less than a
minute. The lock opened a small door with a keypad inside. She
could have played around with that forever but instead she shined a
black light on it, revealing the last four digits touched. There
were then only sixteen possibilities. She found the correct one
after four tries. The keypad electronically opened a door to her
right without any handle, almost seamlessly set into the wall.

She pried it open, slipping in, the cool
metal inside a relief from the heat of the sauna, the room
automatically lit when the door opened. It was a vault, the door
behind it 10 gauge steel, two pieces of 5/8 fireboard in between,
with a 3/8 inch steel plate door. The vault could be used as a
panic room—the red lever on the door inside was a lock and release.
There was a remote re-locker on this door, she noted. The hammer
would have dropped if she’d tried to drill it. Of course, you would
have had to know the door was there in the first place, which most
thieves never would have guessed.

Thanks to Campbell, she knew exactly where
to go. Almost done now—just a little more work. Behind her on the
wall was a row of boxes, similar to safe deposit boxes, except they
all had combination locks instead of keys. A smaller combination
lock was always harder to crack than the big ones. Their contact
points were tiny, the variations in the system small. This was
going to be a real challenge.

Goldie found the right box—they were
numbered like safe deposit boxes as well, and she noted the number
she was looking for with not a little irony: 102398. It was the
same as the one on Daniel’s arm. He’d shown it to her himself when
she went to Europe last May, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the
faded blue numbers tattooed into his wrinkled skin. He had survived
the concentration camp and for some reason the Behr brothers had
used his tattoo number rather than his father, Jakob’s. She glanced
at the other boxes, noting that they, too, had similar numbers,
non-sequential. Did that mean what she thought it did? Were those
tattoo numbers?

She didn’t want to think about that. It was
bad enough imagining her grandfather in one of those concentration
camps, how he’d seen his whole family die, either from disease or
starvation or, in the case of his mother, a bullet to the head.
He’d been a young man then, just twenty-one, strong and virile and,
thankfully, useful. Once they had found out he was a locksmith,
he’d been employed immediately to crack all of the Jewish safes
collected during the war.

“Thousands of them,” he’d told her, looking
both excited and horrified at once. She knew. She loved cracking a
safe, loved the feeling it gave her, no matter what the reason,
whether she was there to help a bank fortify its security system,
or in this case, to steal something outright. It didn’t
matter—cracking was cracking.

And then one day he’d told her about
Jakob—his friend, his fellow locksmith, the one who had discovered,
among those thousands of metal safes, his own family’s valuables.
There had been three priceless jewels in Jakob’s father’s
collection—Ursa Major, Ursa Minor and Ursa Median—all blue diamonds
of very rare quality. Jakob had found those diamonds and, instead
of handing them over with the other contents of the safe—his
parent’s marriage license, the now useless deed to their house in
Sundern, other cash and jewels—he had swallowed those diamonds
instead, all three of them. And he had kept swallowing them. For
three months Jakob swallowed them until, according to Poppy, one of
the guards had discovered his secret.

Goldie found the combination to the box in
less than three minutes. She opened it and almost laughed. When she
was about eight, she had wanted a little porcelain figurine she saw
sitting in the drugstore window, a pretty ballerina. She told her
father every time they passed how much she loved it. That year for
her birthday, she received a gift in a box so big that she nearly
burst into tears—her doll was far too small for a container so
large. Her father just stood there and grinned, watching her unwrap
the thing with a trembling lower lip, to find another wrapped box
inside. And then another. And then another. Until finally she
unwrapped a tiny box revealing the doll she’d wanted all along.

Instead of opening the safe door to reveal
the jewels—there was another door instead, another combination
lock. Campbell hadn’t told her about that, but she was sure he
probably didn’t even know. He could bypass security cameras and
alarm systems, figure out digital keypads and get his hands on the
blueprints of the house, but a combination lock was always a
problem. Drilling a safe like this could easily destroy the
contents, or trigger a secondary locking mechanism that would make
it impossible to open. The only way in would be to know the
combination, and those were kept secret, even from the Behr
brother’s head of security.

Goldie went to work again, thinking about
the jewels inside, about who they really belonged to. Poppy’s story
about Jakob had touched her deeply. The man had sacrificed
everything to keep them in his family and had ultimately failed.
The hasty German bullet to Jakob’s head had rendered the natural
waiting for the diamonds impossible, so they had instead been
surgically removed. The German officer who had shot the young
locksmith had laid claim to the jewels and had been allowed to keep
them.

“Still have them today,” Poppy had told her
bitterly. “The Behrs own more Jewish wealth than any German family
from the war. They stole it all from those safes. Those diamonds
belonged to Jakob, something he could pass down to his son.”

Jakob’s young son, Daniel, was his only
remaining heir, and had survived the concentration camps, Goldie
had discovered. Her trip to Europe had proved quite
informative.

“Wait…” Goldie had interrupted him, making a
connection. “The Behr brothers. They’re one of dad’s clients.”

Poppy had nodded, looking at her with that
same shameful face she’d seen when he told her about cracking Nazi
safes. The Behrs were rich. The Behr brothers, grandsons of the man
who had ordered Daniel cut open to get the jewels from his
intestines, paid very well.

They’re finally going to pay up
today,
Goldie thought, hearing the satisfying click of the
second combination lock, swinging the little door open—only to find
another door, yet another combination. She swore, shaking her head
in disbelief.

Three jewels, three locks. There was
something apropos about it, she supposed, going to work on the
third combination. Campbell wouldn’t believe it when she told him.
He’d gotten hired as their head of security, had earned the Behr
brothers’ trust, had planned this operation down to every last
detail he could manage, but he never would have anticipated three
combination locks on the box.

It’s a good thing I have magic hands,
Goldie thought, focusing on lining up the last gate under the
fence, feeling the subtle shift with her fingers when she found it.
She pulled the latch and the door opened. She almost expected yet
another door and lock, but instead found a blue velvet drawstring
bag. Pulling it out, she opened it up and peered inside, seeing a
faint glint in the light.