Famous Thieves In Fiction Novels & Stories

If your best friend and best crime partner was killed. Catalina switched off the tv and rose from the torn out chair. In the pitch darkness, she smiled thinking about meeting him. It was close . She would be successful, she wanted to be under his name. For the world, he was the perfect businessman. The youngsters worshipped him like a God, for them he was role model. But for her , he was " The Pakhan " . The face of dark world. Murder, Kidnapping, Trafficking and what more. He was the king of all. His cold stare could make a grown man piss.

It was a Rolex, worth at least $60 000. Never in my three years had I ever been caught. Because I was skilled. Because I was smooth and I went undetected. And because I never made anything personal. But it is all bound to come to an end sooner or later. Too bad, it turned out to be sooner. I felt a hand harshly grip hold of my arm. I turned in panic and saw the man I was stealing a watch from, boring his eyes into mine. ”I like my watch. And I'd like to keep it.” I gulped. This had never happened but the guys said that if ever I did get caught, just pretend like it was a mistake.

They were partners in crime, planning heists and pulling off daring robberies across the city. The infamous robbery that sealed their fate was at the city's most prestigious jewelry store. Laura and Tony orchestrated an elaborate plan to steal a collection of priceless diamonds. This diamond was not just any gem; it was rumored to be a priceless heirloom with significant monetary value. With Laura's cunning and Tony's muscle, they successfully executed the heist, making headlines and drawing the attention of law enforcement. But somehow, the diamonds disappeared. No one knew who took it. I knew there was one person greedy enough to steal diamonds that wasn't hers. Laura. Without concrete pro

And desperation made them smarter than most grown men. At first, it was scraps—petty theft in the market, a stolen loaf of bread, coins lifted from a drunk’s pocket. Vince had the fists, Corey had the mind. Corey could watch a man’s walk and know which side his wallet sat on, know if he was drunk enough not to feel a hand sliding into his coat. Vince, on the other hand, could make any pursuer regret chasing them. But they were too sharp to remain pickpockets. One night, Corey noticed a merchant, fat and wealthy, sneaking into the arms of a woman that wasn’t his wife. A plan sparked. The next morning, the man received a letter with no signature, only a demand: “Pay or your wife knows.”

The man surnamed Inferno didn’t look threatened in the least way nor did he look angry, instead he smirked, “You are something aren’t you, little thief?” Usually, when someone who has stolen from you threatens to steal from you again, most people would panic and call the police to keep close eyes on the suspect, but not this man. He seemed amused, maybe because she didn’t look convincing or threatening enough. Perhaps there was something else he was hoping for. Jasmin didn’t know if she should be happy about that or angry. She stepped to close the space between them, and her eyes didn’t waver from his. “I am. Now step out of the way. I’ve got more tables to wait.”

"It’s about being the person who owns the balcony. And the Omertà is a beautiful tradition, but it doesn't pay for the lawyers we need to keep the feds out of our warehouses." Vincenzo’s knife stopped moving. "Lawyers. You speak of lawyers as if they are priests. A Moretti’s priest is his gun. His law is his word. If a man steals from us, we don't 'audit' him, Julian. We bury him in the foundation of the pier." "We did both with Silvio," I noted calmly. "I found the thief, and Dante found the shovel. The result was the same, just with less guesswork."

I played my roles, the seductive academic, the curious socialite, the passionate lover, to manipulate and distract our targets. Sex became a ritual of our success. After every successful theft, Leo would claim me in a new way, on the deck of our yacht as we sailed away from a coastal museum we'd plundered; in the vault of a bank we'd emptied after I'd seduced the chief auditor; on a pile of stolen cash and gems in a hidden warehouse. He was my teacher, my lover, my commander in this dark, thrilling world. One night, after we'd secured a cache of stolen Cypriot antiquities, he fucked me on the cold marble floor of our secret storeroom.

"They assaulted the women hostages, practically ripped their clothes to shreds. I just wanted to return the favor." I looked over her head and I saw several female officers placing towels over the female hostages whose clothes were torn. So this wasn't just a regular heist. The thieves were also sex offenders. "So, do you know who the mastermind of this money heist is?" I asked her. "They have a boss named Magnus," she replied. Marcus gasped behind us while I kept a straight face.

My own people were treating me like a criminal when the wolves only treated me with the utmost respect. Victor’s POV I could hear the rumours even before I came out of my room. Grabbing one of the guards on my way out, I demanded to know where she was. The guard couldn’t answer me and as soon as my personal dhampir stepped into the castle, I pulled her to one side.

Alexander's eyes swept the deck, recognizing faces from the most-wanted posters—murderers, thieves, the worst of the worst. There was Leighton, the infamous Bomber, with a rap sheet of explosions stretching into the double digits and a death toll to match. There was Alvin, the arms dealer, responsible for funneling weapons into Yarica. There was also Elena, the deadly Black Widow, weaving webs of deceit in marriages only to kill for cash. It was as if by some twisted stroke of fate, all those villains were packed into one place. Alexander pondered whether he should play the hero and rid the world of those vermin.