Author's note: Caroline and Katerina were in a lot of trouble even before they stole the Maserati with the Hybrid vanity plate. But then they looked in the trunk...
"Some people just needed to be stolen from."
― Eoin Colfer, The Opal Deception
The low roar of the engine was thrilling, like a jungle cat defending its turf. The leather seat cupped her ass like a lover should — aggressive and in control. Caroline sighed happily, lightly running a nail along the embroidered trident on the steering wheel.
"Hand-stitched — nice," Katerina commented appreciatively, rifling through the glovebox. She pulled out the registration with a frown, reading, "It says this car is registered to a Krystof Mitchelston. But you and I both know the marks we've been staking out at the hotel checked into the penthouse suites under the names Klaus and Elijah Mikaelson."
Caroline bit her lip on the upshift, pausing to admire the smooth gear transition of the Maserati. The V8 could rev to an impressive 7500 rpm, and she wistfully wondered if the boys back home ever got their hands dirty on a motor this sweet. Doubtful. Last time she was brave enough to check, that little grease monkey Jeremy was doing a nickel in White Oak Penitentiary for carjacking and Matt was in for only three years because he could plead down to misdemeanor grand theft. Reading between the lines of what the hypocrites at Mystic Falls' only newspaper dared to report, it sounded like Mayor Lockwood bought Tyler and Mason's freedom without too much trouble. Some things never change.
"Damn it, Care," Katerina screeched in her ear, "quit slobbering all over the fast fucking acceleration time and pay attention! We could be in some serious shit!"
Caroline rolled her eyes, adopting the sarcastic tone she knew would piss off her friend the most. "We just stole a Maserati from the luxury hotel downtown and stopped to put the top down — in broad daylight. We have a deal with a seriously evil guy to deliver it by midnight to a dock that's two states over. Pretty sure 'serious shit' doesn't quite cover the mess we're in, Kat." Sending a frosty glare at her friend, she added, "The mess you got us in."
Banging her fist on the sleek leather dashboard, Katerina snarled, "I told you I was sorry about that and I swear I'll never take another job without you again. But for fuck's sake — this job feels different. We steal from rich jackasses who won't miss their shit. Doctor and CEO types who'll file police reports and collect their insurance and then go on with their lives. But if the guys we've been monitoring use aliases, they might be just as bad as Lucien. Maybe even worse."
Caroline sighed, knowing their situation must be seriously bad for Katerina to be the voice of reason. "Fine. Plan B?"
"Plan B," Katerina agreed grimly.
She purposely took a corner too fast, thrilled by the squeal of tires and impressive handling built into the powerful car. She knew she shouldn't take such risks, but this was the fun part and she wanted to enjoy every second. A muted thud reached her ears, but she ignored it, focusing on the new plan. There was another Maserati in the hotel's parking lot they'd staked out just in case they needed a backup. The owner had checked in after a facelift and wouldn't be venturing outside her room for at least another week. They'd return this car and steal the other. They were just lucky Lucien wasn't in the market for a Tesla Model S or a Jaguar XF — those were impossible gets.
Might as well slit their own throats before Lucien had the chance.
"It's going to be fine," Katerina reassured her, holding up the scanning device and repeater token they used for the high-end jobs. 10 seconds, in and out, even with the latest security tech. With older cars, even the ones without security tech, breaking into the steering column and doing a decent hotwire wasted minutes. Keyless entry was the car thief's best friend.
Reaching into the backseat, Katerina pulled a sleek black briefcase onto her lap. Cracking her knuckles, a pleased little smile curled her lips as she listened intently to the clicks of the tumblers on the lock. "Well, that's just weird. The code is 977. It can't be his birthdate — Mr. Sexy Suit can't be more than 30. Maybe it's an area code?"
Snorting, Caroline offered, "Or, maybe that's the year he was born."
The women shared a laugh at the ridiculous idea, pausing when the thud reached their ears again after Caroline made another sharp turn. She pulled the car into an alley, forcing herself to be calm. The women shared a worried glance as they got out of the car.
Something was in the trunk.
"It was rather reckless, Niklaus."
Klaus didn't bother hiding his smirk as he sipped his bourbon, lazily looking out over the perfectly manicured gardens below. "Don't be tiresome, Elijah. It's a minor setback." At his brother's irritated huff, he added dryly, "Besides, it's not as though it was one of our more tolerable siblings."
"You removed our daggered brother from his coffin, stuffed him in that obscene car of yours and foolishly allowed it to be stolen!"
Klaus shrugged, enjoying Elijah's growing annoyance. "Would you have preferred to allow that perpetual stone around our necks to continue rotting in a water-damaged coffin? Besides, it's probably the most excitement Finn has seen in centuries." Frowning, he threw back the rest of his drink, adding, "Frankly, I'm more irritated by the damage to my latest acquisition by the lake. Bloody hell, it was move-in ready! Alas, my contractor reassured me that the burst pipes in the basement were completely unavoidable. Or, at least he did in between screams."
At Elijah's unimpressed glare, Klaus sighed, fetching his phone to text a minion to pick them up. "Very well then. Let's start the search for our dullard of a brother."
Swiping the master room key should've at least been faster than hotwiring a car, but instead Katerina was taking her fucking time. Plus, the corpse Caroline had stashed in the housekeeping cart wasn't getting any fresher. They should've just left it in the trunk where they found it, but one-percenters really pissed them off. Plus, the Maserati had a 'Hybrid' vanity plate on a shameless gas-guzzler, so it was obvious the owner was an entitled asshat.
"Your apron is crooked," Katerina wryly told her, making her jump slightly as she appeared behind her in the hotel corridor.
Rolling her eyes, Caroline hissed, "And this plan is crazy. We found a corpse in the trunk of the car we stole and you want to stash it in the owner's room!"
Adjusting the frilly cap pinned in her curls, Katerina said dismissively, "We're no one's mothers; they can clean up after themselves."
When the double doors to the adjoining penthouse suites suddenly opened, both women briefly froze before they forced themselves to relax and breathe into the roles they temporarily chose. Back home, they'd may have honed their skills stealing cars, but out on the road, they'd learned the artistry of the hustle.
Slow, steady breathing, minimize movements and talking to avoid tipping off the marks that you're nervous. Don't avoid eye contact, but don't invite it, either. That part was easy — both Mikaelsons were possibly the most attractive marks they'd come across. Elijah immediately had caught Katerina's eye — she always liked them a little buttoned up so she could make her own wrinkles.
But Klaus — now that was a mystery Caroline wished she could take her time to unravel. He may have been a rich, pretentious asshat, but she caught a surprising glimpse of a predator in that steel gaze of his. Alpha males never really interested her, but there was something about a bad guy with dimples...
Smoothing down the sides of a stack of fluffy towels, Caroline held Klaus' gaze briefly, following her instincts and blushing prettily before shyly flicking her gaze away. She noted in amusement how Elijah had been so busy pretending not to check out Katerina that he bumped into the decorative hall table. With a smirk, Klaus clapped him on his back, murmuring something too low for the women to hear as they continued toward the elevators. As the ornate doors closed, Klaus tipped her a flirtatious wink, and Caroline nearly tripped over her own feet. Smug bastard.
With a sigh of relief, Katerina said, "Ok, so maybe you were right. That was a little too close."
Muttering to herself, Caroline yanked the master room key out of her friend's fingers, shoving the enormous housekeeping cart into the suite. Bending down, she opened the cabinet doors where they'd haphazardly crammed the corpse inside. Rubbing her temples, she asked, "So, why's this guy dressed like a pirate?"
"Well, we're close to the coast — maybe they're well-funded grave robbers?" Katerina tentatively nudged one of the corpse's legs, wrinkling her nose as she added, "I mean, he's all brittle and gray and dried up like a mummy."
Caroline grabbed the corpse's shoulders, impatiently waiting on her friend to grab his legs. "Kat, if he was a pirate from centuries ago, we'd be tossing bones on this giant bed, not beef jerky. If binge-watching TV procedurals has taught me anything, this body must've been treated with some sort of chemical to keep it from decaying further."
Huffing a bit from the weight, Katerina helped haul the corpse onto the delicate silk bedspread, grinning at the ashy trail of flakes the corpse had scattered. "So, Miss CSI, your theory is that these hot one-percenters robbed a museum because of what, exactly? A pirate fetish?"
As they stood back from the corpse, Caroline eyed it critically, pointing to the thin silver dagger poking out of the guy's chest. "Judging from that fancy hilt, maybe the dagger is the real prize?"
"Oh yeah? Then why didn't they remove it?"
Giggling, Caroline sarcastically said, "Obviously because it's cursed." Turning on her heel, she jerked her chin toward the door. "Come on, we've got a new Maserati to steal."
Katerina followed her, grumbling under her breath, "Cursed dagger. Sure."
"I agree it's a rather unusual situation, Elijah, but do you honestly think that saucy blonde minx and her tarty little friend would go to all the trouble of stealing my car just to bring it back and steal a similar model from the same parking lot, but first remove Finn's corpse from the trunk and take it with them? It's a completely ludicrous scenario that defies all logic."
Elijah all but stomped beside him down the hallway back to their suites, snapping irritably, "The brunette was the furthest thing from a tart. She had quite the regal bearing." As they opened the double doors and crossed the threshold into the suites, he added, "But you have to admit, the timing is quite curious, Niklaus."
Klaus suddenly flashed to his bedroom, lips twitching into an amused smile as he studied Finn's desiccated corpse thrown onto what used to be exquisitely hand-stitched, silken bedclothes. There was a note hastily scrawled beside his brother, impishly proclaiming, "We're not your mother; clean up your own mess."
Quite curious indeed.
