by Rae Rivers
“So I lied.”
“I knew you’d try pull a disappearing act.”
“You could get hurt coming with me.”
“And so could you, Alex. You’re not invincible.”
“Where are your bodyguards?”
“I left them behind.”
“You can’t come with me, Cole.”
“Alex, this man broke into my home and pointed a gun at me—not to mention that he tried to kill me with it. I think I’ve earned the right to see this bastard face to face.”
“He’s certainly not going to give us any information if you’re going to go all King Kong on him.”
“I’m going to go all King Kong on you if you don’t back down on this one.” His body language offered more warning than his words.
She sighed in resignation. “Fine. You can come with but as long as you remember that this is my stint and I don’t need you waving your caveman antics under my nose.”
“Alex—”
“Cole, no exceptions. I know how to deal with these thugs. I grew up around them, remember?”
He cursed, dragging a hand through his jet-black hair. “Just the thought of you growing up around thieves and murderers makes me want to punch something.”
She shot him a look that questioned if he really wanted to start that discussion now.
Apparently not, as he blew out his breath and gave a curt nod of agreement. “What are you going to say to Steven anyway?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Great,” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “I’m in the hands of a prepared professional.”
Alex laughed. “You’re here of your own accord. The only one I’m going to be looking out for during this meeting is me.”
“That’s the way I prefer it.”
“You didn’t have to fire me, you know,” she murmured, still agitated that he no longer wanted her working for him.
“The fact that I fired you really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
She lowered her gaze, not wanting him to read any more into it than he already had.
His expression softened, a small smile making his lips curl at each corner. When he pulled her into his arms and kissed her head, she realized it had been several hours since he’d touched her and it was several hours too long.
“For someone so smart, you can really be a nitwit at times,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
He placed his fingers on her chin and tilted her head to look at him. “It was either fire you from my employ or fire you from my bed. As you are the fire in my bed, I chose the first option.”
Alex smiled and settled into his arms, enjoying the feeling of comfort he offered. “What are we going to do?”
“About us?”
“About everything.”
“We’re going to put our masterful brains together and start connecting the dots.”
“Good plan.”
She kissed his chin, delighted to be on even ground with him again. Perhaps having him as a partner wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“We need to figure out whose voices are on that tape.”
Alex nodded. “They’re the key that unlocks this whole mystery. The reason they want us out of their way badly enough to harm us is because you hold their precious Renoir and we’re asking questions about the missing paintings from the museum. They know we’ve made the connection and that’s got them riled.”
“You really think that Steven Bryson will have answers for you?”
“Maybe. He’s a cat and someone sent him in after your Renoir. Let’s start with that.”
“You should have been a detective.”
She flashed him a grin. “You might object to my way of life, but I happen to love my job. Besides, if I were a cop I’d have to stick to the white area of the law. Right now, the grey area suits me better.”
“The grey area of the law is what got us into this mess in the first place.”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The black area of the law is responsible for this mess.”
Cole tilted his head to look at her, his fingers toying in her hair. “Are we going to talk about last night?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
The cab slowed down and pulled over to the curb, offering a useful distraction.
Alex glanced at her surroundings to ensure that no one had followed them. It didn’t take her long to spot the SUV pulling into a parking bay further down the street. Although she couldn’t see the occupants, she had a sneaky suspicion that the car contained two beefy bodyguards. Great. They’re all in on it.
They went inside the old building and paused at the mailboxes. Alex scanned the names next to the numbers, not surprised there was no name beside Steven’s apartment number. Any cat at the top of his game wouldn’t be so careless. No doubt, he’d probably used a fake name to rent his apartment.
“How do you know where he lives?” Cole asked.
“I called the fence.”
“You’re really dancing in the grey areas lately. Sullivan’s going to eat you alive.”
“Not unless he finds out what I’m up to. And now that you’re with me, you’re my accomplice, so I can’t see you ratting me out.”
The inner door leading to the stairs was locked. Alex glanced at Cole and pulled out a hairpin from her pocket. “Not a word about this,” she said and turned her attention to the lock.
Cole’s expression varied between admiration and amusement. “You never fail to amaze me.”
The door popped open and she flashed him a cheeky smile. “Impressed with my lock picking abilities, are you? I’d be delighted to offer you some lessons if you’d like.”
“I can think of a few lessons I’d like to offer you.”
She laughed, knowing they weren’t talking about jimmying locks anymore.
When they reached the third floor, Alex placed her hand on Cole’s chest and motioned to the door at the end of the hallway. “That’s his apartment over there.”
“How do you know he’s home?”
“I don’t.”
“So he’s simply going to let us in?”
“No. Follow me.”
He had nowhere else to go so he did.
“This is absurd,” he said with a dry laugh. “I’m supposed to be at my office finalizing the deal for my new hotel—not breaking into an art thief’s apartment.”
“Too late to back out now,” she replied, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “Besides, your muscles and intimidating scowl might be useful.”
“This is another example of how my life has changed since meeting you, Alexis.”
She smiled at him and came to a stop outside Steven’s door. Placing an ear to the wood, she shut her eyes and listened for a full minute before producing the hairpin again.
“I thought we’d be knocking on his door, Alex. Breaking and entering is not quite what I had in mind.”
“Guys like Steven don’t answer their doors,” she whispered, scowling at him. “Ready?”
“You’re going to get us killed.”
“Possibly.” A moment later, the door clicked open and they went inside.
The musty smell of the apartment had Alex wrinkling her nose. The sound of the television playing in the living room hinted that Steven might be home. They moved through the short hallway and peered into the living room, pausing.
He was asleep on the couch in front of the television.
Alex tilted her head to Cole and put her lips against his ear. “Stay here,” she whispered. “He might be more pliable if he thinks I’m alone.”
Cole hesitated, his eyes narrowing in disagreement.
“You’ll know if I need you, Cole.” Alex placed a hand against his chest, realizing she did need him.
He held her gaze for a moment before relenting with a brief nod.
Alex took a deep breath and crossed the room to where Steven slept. She moved wit
h confidence and made no sound, years of practice kicking into action. She scanned for weapons, her eyes zeroing in on the gun beside his waist. Reaching for it with a clean handkerchief she’d produced from her pocket, she tucked the gun underneath the couch cushions behind her. Next, she removed the gun at his ankle and disposed of it. Standing back, she glanced around and surveyed her handiwork before settling her eyes on the sleeping thief in front of her.
Time to wake up.
****
Cole watched Alex with quiet fascination. Although every protective instinct screamed at him to stop her, he forced himself to remain hidden. He kept his eyes on her, completely alert, his body primed to help her should she need it. Although he knew she could handle the thief, he wasn’t taking any risks. He’d experienced firsthand the careless regard that Steven had for another human life.
And she was here because of him.
He scowled, the thought evoking all sorts of foreign emotions within him.
He watched as Alex removed a gun from Steven’s ankle and disposed of it with such ease that he almost grinned. Clearly, handling thieves and firearms didn’t perturb her in the least. So different from the type of women he usually dated.
He had to admit, she was as good as she made out to be and appeared confident and professional as she scanned the area for any other possible weapons.
A feeling of fierce pride swept through him and he knew right then that he loved her. The thought should have shocked him, but didn’t. Hell, falling in love with her had been the easy part. Getting her to accept that and even better, admit how she truly felt about him, was going to be the challenge.
Fortunately, he liked challenges.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Satisfied he would not wake up with guns blazing, Alex stepped back from Steven.
He was tall and skinny with short blond hair. For a moment, her calm façade vibrated with a sudden flash of anger. He had tried to kill Cole but shot her instead, and she was sure he’d been the one responsible for Mike Willis’s death. She lifted her foot and nudged his leg.
His eyes flew open and he blinked several times. When weary eyes finally focused on Alex, Steven bolted upright and groped for his gun. Alex bit back a smile at his annoyed expression when he realized she’d already lifted it from him.
He shifted uneasily on the couch. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Watching you sleep,” Alex replied in an even tone. “Do you know that you drool when you sleep?”
“Only over you, baby,” he retorted, eyeing her with suspicion. “What do you want?”
“What do you think?”
“I doubt this is a social call, so why not spit it out and get out of my house?”
“This isn’t a house, Steven, this is a dump. Why do you live like this?”
She grimaced at the messy room. Empty beer bottles, used crockery, and food containers littered the available surfaces. Dirty laundry had piled up in the corner of the room and a series of old newspapers lay scattered across the floor. Besides the stuffy, musty smell that still lurked, the apartment smelt like fried food and lazy male.
“You know what it’s like for a cat burglar, Alex. I can’t appear unemployed but live in luxury. That’ll have the IRS all over my ass for sure.”
“Well, at least clean the damn place. It stinks.”
“If I’d known I’d be getting company, I would’ve cleaned up a bit.”
She heard the sarcastic drawl in his voice. “Yeah, right.”
“So what do you want?
Alex eyed him. “I want to know who ordered the hit on the Renoir.”
He didn’t look surprised, almost as though he’d been expecting her. “As if I’m going to rat out my buyer.”
“You either rat him out or I rat you out.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
She saw the spark of doubt that crossed his face. Damn right. They’d always known it was something she could do and had always avoided her because of it. Until now. “You guys are moving in on my shields so that changes the rules of our playing field.”
“Both men were not officially your shields when I went in.”
True, but it didn’t change anything. “They’re still my shields and one of them is dead and someone’s still messing with the other one. And now that you’ve admitted you were responsible for both B and E’s, why don’t you start by telling me the name of your buyer?”
“That would be suicide.”
“So would the NYPD, the FBI, the IRS, and Interpol. I’m not kidding, Steven. I don’t like to be messed with and I’ve backed off on your shit in the past, but I won’t hesitate to call my boy in blue and give him your name on a silver platter.”
Alex saw the struggle in his eyes and wasn’t sure what terrified him more, the thought of his buyer’s wrath or the grief he’d get from the cops if she carried out her threat. She suspected he’d been responsible for many stolen paintings, statues, and antiques during his career as a professional art thief and the statutes of limitations on several of those pieces hadn’t run out yet. If they busted down his door, he’d go to prison for grand larceny and murder.
“So what’s it going to be, Steven? You want to talk to me or the cops?”
“If I rat out my buyer, my career’s over.”
“If you don’t rat out your buyer, your career is over and you can kiss your island retirement goodbye. Instead, you’ll spend it with your face pinned to the wall in a cell the size of your bathroom.” It was a bleak image but he got the message.
He grimaced. “Why do you want his name so bad?”
“Because someone’s trying to kill me.”
“So that’s what’s got you ticked?”
Alex bottled the urge to slap him and produced her phone. “The whole thing ticks me off. I have Detective Sullivan from the robbery department at the NYPD on speed dial. Am I calling him or will you tell me who’s behind all this?
He fell silent and shifted his eyes across her body. He was sizing her up and Alex’s defensive wall prickled. Although she was tough and agile, she was smaller than him and he could easily attempt to overpower her and make a run for it.
Like hell.
His somber expression brightened. “How about we swap favors?” he asked, staring at her breasts with a suggestive grin. “You want something from me. But first, I want something from you. How about we strike a deal?”
“In your dreams.” He was baiting her now, trying to disarm her, but all he’d done was push her buttons. She hated it when men tried to take advantage of her, but hated it even more when they tried to take advantage of her body or the fact that she was a woman. Yes, he’d jammed her buttons all right.
Her temper flared. “Quit fooling around and give me some information so I can leave you to your morning nap.”
He sighed and dug into his pockets. Extracting a crumbled piece of paper, he held it out to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, her instincts bristling.
“Take it. The name might ring a bell.”
Curiosity spiked, Alex reached out, but he charged forward with a force that sent her reeling across the coffee table and onto the floor.
He landed on top of her and she thrashed out, her fist connecting with his nose. He cursed and she bucked, trying to shake him off her.
“Get off!” she yelled, furious with herself for allowing him to distract her.
Still cursing, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a rough jerk, banging her head on the floor. Before he could manage a second jerk, he flew back and crashed against the opposite wall.
Alex hurried to her feet and drew her gun in one fluid movement. Cole towered over the stunned thief, clenching his fists.
Steven spluttered and cursed her, holding his bleeding nose. “You bitch! You broke my nose.”
“That’s not all she’ll break if you don’t tell her what she wants to know,” Cole warned.
Steven glared at him before averting his glare back t
o Alex. “You brought your fucking boyfriend to my house?”
His words only annoyed her. Boyfriend. “He’s my shield, you ass. And since you snakes decided you wanted us both taken down, we’re working together.”
“I thought you wanted to know who ordered the heist for the Renoir.”
“I still do, but this goes way beyond the Renoir and you know it. I’m hot on the trail of what’s going down and you guys can’t handle the heat which is why you want me out of the picture.” Alex kept her eyes on the thief, her aim steady.
Steven ripped at his shirt and stuffed the material against his bloody nose. “I’ve got nothing to do with that.”
“Then who does?” Cole asked, his tone edged with quiet anger.
Steven glanced at him. “Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’m angry and she’s got the gun. Your options are limited.”
Steven shifted his eyes to the gun pointed at him. “I was only told to go in for the Renoir and the Monet.”
“And you didn’t hesitate to shoot in the process.”
Despite Cole’s cold resentment, Steven flicked him a bold glare. “It’s all part of the job, Anderson.”
“Who ordered the hit on the two paintings?” Alex interrupted.
“I don’t know his real name.”
“What do you call him?” Cole asked.
Steven hesitated, almost as though he was mentally weighing his options. Realizing he had few, he exhaled in resignation. “I only know him as James Bond.”
“James Bond,” Alex repeated in a deadpan tone. “You’ve messed with my shields, you stole their art, and you shot me. You’re working on the thread of patience I have left.” She straightened her arm, pointing the gun at his chest.
“Put that damn thing away, Alex. Shit, no career’s worth this.” He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. “It’s not his real name but I only know him as James Bond, I swear. He’s like a multi-millionaire or something and has a shopping list of artworks that has created a mega stir in the underground.” Now that Steven had started talking, he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re talking big bucks. The paintings alone are worth a fortune and the total commission offered is first prize.”
“How do you contact him?” Cole asked.
