The wolf-man pushed away from the table, his yellow eyes fixed on the man in green who'd been ughing at her. "This is gonna be a problem," the wolf-man said, his voice a low rumble. "She's one of the richest people in the world. I'm pretty sure her father is going to miss her."

  "We can't just let her go," the man in green said, still watching Goldie with that amused expression. "She'll run straight to daddy and ruin our pns."

  "I'll let this go!" Goldie said quickly, her heart hammering. "I promise I won't tell my father. Just—just give me back my ship and—"

  "Come on, kid." The man's smile turned pitying. "We're not that stupid."

  The wolf-man crossed his massive arms. "How about this. We keep her here. Probably drug her so she doesn't cause trouble. Then when we're finished with the job, we give her back to her father."

  Goldie's blood went cold. *Drug her?* They were talking about drugging her like she wasn't even in the room, like she was a *problem* to be solved—

  The man in green was nodding slowly, considering it. "That could work—"

  "I got a better idea," Little John said.

  Everyone turned to look at him. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

  The man in green raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Little John? By the way, why didn't you look for tracking devices on the ship?"

  The wolf-man's head swiveled toward Little John, his ears fttening slightly.

  Little John had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah. Sorry, boss. Anyway, back to my idea." He straightened, his gaze sliding to Goldie. "She told me she has a little crew of rich girls who think they're thieves. They go around stealing from homes and stuff."

  Goldie's face burned. She'd mentioned that. After they'd—in bed, when she'd been trying to impress him, trying to seem interesting and worldly instead of just another bored socialite. She and her friends would break into estates when the owners were away, steal little trinkets and jewelry, just for the thrill of it.

  "How about this," Little John continued. "We let her hang with us. Let her see what the professionals do. She can learn from us, and we can keep an eye on her at the same time." He shrugged. "Consider it like this—she learns from the best, and she can take that as rent for her ship."

  Goldie stared at him. *Rent?* For *her own ship?*

  But underneath the outrage, something else stirred. Excitement. Interest.

  Learn from professionals? Actual thieves? The kind of people who pulled off real jobs, not the amateur little games she and her friends pyed?

  "Who are you guys?" she heard herself ask.

  The man in green's grin widened. "I'm Robin. Robin Hood. And these are my Merry Men." He gestured around the room. "But you might know us as the Hoods."

  Goldie's breath caught.

  *The Hoods.*

  Everyone had heard of them. Legendary thieves. Folk heroes to some, dangerous criminals to others. They'd robbed kingdoms, outsmarted governments, disappeared into thin air. She'd thought they were—well, half legend. Stories people told.

  Robin was still talking, pointing at the wolf-man. "That's Big Bad." Then to the woman in the red cloak, who was *still* focused on her magic mirror, completely ignoring them. Robin raised his voice. "And the dy with the red cloak who's ignoring us and typing is Red!"

  The woman—Red—didn't even look up.

  "Well," Robin said, turning back to Goldie. "That's who we are."

  "I thought you were more like... legend," Goldie managed.

  Little John smirked. "Yeah. We prefer it that way. Those who need to know, know. Those who don't, don't."

  Goldie's eyes snapped to him, her anger rushing back. "So you were part of this the whole time?"

  He gave her a mocking bow. "Yes, ma'am."

  She wanted to scream at him. Wanted to sp that smug look off his ruggedly handsome face. But underneath the fury, she could feel something else—something she hated herself for. He stood there, tall and confident and completely unbothered by her anger, and gods help her, she still found him *attractive*. The way he moved, the way he looked at her like he could see right through her outrage to whatever was underneath—

  He knew it too. She could see it in his eyes, that smug glint.

  Goldie forced herself to look away, back to Robin. "So if this is the deal—I hang out with you, watch whatever you're doing, and then you drop me back off and return my ship?"

  Robin exchanged a gnce with Big Bad. "Yeah. We'll drop you off."

  Something in his tone felt off, but Goldie couldn't pinpoint what. She was too busy trying to process everything, too focused on the fact that she was standing in a haunted mansion with the most famous thieves in the world.

  "Sounds like a deal," she said.

  "Good." Robin's smile was sharp. "Now that's settled—"

  "By the way, I thought this pce was haunted?"

  The man behind her—the one who'd poked her with the quarterstaff—chuckled. "Oh, it is haunted."

  Goldie turned to look at him for the first time. He was round-faced and cheerful-looking, wearing robes that suggested he might be a friar. "It's Cordelia's ghost," he continued.

  "We were pnning on exorcising her when we first came here years ago," Robin added. "But then we asked why she was crying."

  Goldie blinked. "Yeah, I know. She was murdered by her lover. That's the legend."

  The Merry Men started ughing.

  "No," Robin said, shaking his head. "That's not it."

  "What is it then?"

  The friar-looking man grinned. "Yes, she was jilted by her lover. But she was so upset she fell down the stairs and broke her neck."

  Goldie stared. "Are you serious?"

  "Yep. Heard it from the ghost's mouth."

  "Okay, so... where is the ghost? Why isn't the ghost exorcised?"

  "We made a deal," Robin said. "She lets us hang out here and hide when we need one of our hidey-holes, and we agreed to introduce her to another love interest."

  The friar nodded enthusiastically. "His name is Wilhelm. The horseman. The one just down the road at Sleepy Hollow."

  "Wait." Goldie's brain stuttered. "You mean the *Headless* Horseman?"

  "That's the one!" One of the Merry Men across the room, the one who'd been throwing knives into the wall, called out. "Nice guy once you get to know him."

  "But he doesn't have a head," Goldie said stupidly.

  The knife-thrower looked at her and grinned. "Doesn't seem to slow him down, especially not with the dy ghosts."

  "His head *isn't* there!" Goldie protested. "How would he even—"

  The man shrugged and went back to his knife throwing.

  Robin waved a hand. "Back to what I was saying. Long story short, we introduced them to each other. She goes out on a date with him every time he wants to see someone, and when we happen to be around, we're responsible for making sure nothing happens to her home." He gestured around at the crumbling mansion. "And she makes sure we have somewhere to hide when we need it. Perfect deal, don't you think?"

  Goldie was still stuck on the first part. "So the ghost exists. She's dating the Headless Horseman." She paused. "Do ghosts have sex?"

  Little John's ugh was sudden and genuine. "Hey, we live in a really weird world."

  Goldie looked around the ruined mansion, at the Merry Men in their mismatched green, at Robin Hood leaning against a crate like he owned the pce, at Big Bad with his fangs and fur, at Red who was *still* typing on her magic mirror.

  At Little John, who was watching her with that infuriating half-smile.

  Yeah. Weird didn't even begin to cover it.