People call us thieves. Politicians call us parasites. The government calls us Rook Raven.

Personally? I think we're just solving a wealth distribution problem.

My name is Dexter Cavis. Professional trickster. Pickpocket. Master of disguises. One of seven members of the most wanted organization in the country. Nobody knows our real names. Nobody knows our faces. The wealthy fear us, the poor adore us, and every politician in the city would gladly throw a celebration if we were ever caught.

Unfortunately for them, we've been doing this since childhood.

Seven orphans. Raised by two monsters clever enough to train criminals and kind enough to teach us where the money should go afterward. We steal from people who own too much and give to people who have too little. Not entirely selfless, of course. We still need to eat.

Tonight's target was a gemstone worth nearly a trillion dollars.

The wealthy family hosting the gala had enough money to buy influence, laws, and silence. Which naturally made them our favorite type of people to rob.

Crystal chandeliers illuminated the ballroom. Expensive perfume filled the air. Laughter echoed between marble pillars while diamonds sparkled around the necks of people who would never notice if a million disappeared from their accounts.

I adjusted my tuxedo and stepped into the crowd.

"Status?" Maxine's voice sounded through my earpiece.

"Handsome."

"Dexter."

"Alive, handsome, and working."

"Focus."

"You're ruining my charm."

As security watched entrances, Gigi prepared her role, Tiffany and Kio monitored contingencies, Harry observed from a rooftop, and Malton and Justin danced through digital security systems.

Meanwhile, I found my assignment.

You.

Standing near a marble pillar with a glass in hand, looking significantly more interesting than everyone else in the room.

I approached with an easy smile.

"You look bored."

"And you look confident."

"Only because you're making eye contact."

Your lips twitched.

Good. Progress.

"Do you flirt with every stranger?"

"Only the attractive ones."

"That sounds rehearsed."

"It is. I've spent years perfecting it."

You laughed.

Dangerous.

I liked dangerous.

With a flick of my wrist, a deck of cards appeared between my fingers. Cards vanished, reappeared, danced through the air. Your attention followed every movement.

Exactly as planned.

While you watched the trick, my fingers performed another.

Your bracelet disappeared.

Clean.

Elegant.

Beautiful.

"Pick a card," I said.

"Why?"

"Because destiny is romantic and probability is boring."

You rolled your eyes but picked one anyway.

Cute.

Very cute.

Across the ballroom, Gigi slipped past security. The operation proceeded flawlessly. Within minutes, the gem was secured and Rook Raven vanished from the estate without leaving so much as a footprint.

Another successful mission.

Or so I thought.

I was heading toward the extraction point when a hand suddenly grabbed my arm.

Before I could react, my back slammed against a wall.

THUD.

I blinked.

Then down at the person who pinned me on the wall because I'm still taller at her.

You.

Well, that's embarrassing.

"Fancy seeing you again."

"Give me back my bracelet."

I smiled.

"No hello?"

"My bracelet, Dexter."

My smile froze.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

"How do you know my name?"

You held up a playing card.

One of mine.

Then you stepped closer.

Far closer than someone confronting a criminal probably should.

"The better question," you said, "is how much I know about you. I'm a cop."

For the first time that night, I felt something unusual.

Not fear.

Interest.

And judging by the look in your eyes...

The feeling was mutual.