by AJ Sherwood
Ivan rose smoothly, just a figure in black, and padded up the stairs like a wraith. Carter had to admit seeing the man in action was damn impressive.
“Ivan?” Ari asked softly. There was no need to modulate their voices, only Ivan could hear them through the bud, but they automatically did so anyway. “Do you have a vehicle nearby?”
“Took the metro,” Ivan admitted and he sounded entirely too pleased about that. “But don’t come get me unless this becomes zanuda.”
Carter assumed that last word to mean ‘pain in the neck’ or ‘shit hits the fan.’ Context told a lot. “I take it you have an exit plan?”
“Mm. And not much traffic in this area at night. It’ll be too obvious if you try to lap the block and pick me up.”
Ah. There was that.
The hallway appeared to be a long stretch, the wide expanse and décor something belonging to a museum—polished hardwood floors, carpet runners, priceless antiques on pedestals in alcoves. Other than entering rooms, there wasn’t anything to really duck behind and use for cover. The hallway was, in effect, a very long kill box. A nicely decorated kill box, but a kill box nonetheless. On camera, Ivan ducked into the first room, then was back out in the hallway in five seconds. The nice thing about this was his quick and clean search. Either the right painting was in the room or not. He didn’t have to tear apart drawers and search for hidden panels for smaller targets. In theory, he could clear the house under thirty minutes. Assuming he dodged every patrol.
Carter found himself holding his breath as he watched the thief dart from room to room. Ari leaned in against his side, a warm press, and whispered into his free ear, “He’s alright. Breathe, caro.”
“Unfortunately, we’ve seen him do stupider stunts than this,” Kyou agreed sourly, still not taking his eyes off the cameras. “Eidolon, you’ve got the patrol heading back up your direction via the other staircase. Your window is closing in ten, nine, eight—”
Ivan ducked into a room and then went further. Carter could hear the soft snick of a door opening and closing again but he couldn’t quite tell where the thief was. No cameras had been placed in the individual bedrooms or bathrooms. Or at least, he assumed, as every camera feed Kyou had pulled up was for a public room. It only made sense, of course. No one wanted cameras in their bedrooms or bathrooms.
The guards didn’t even bother to check the bedrooms, just walked the hallway. From their body language, it was clear they were chatting about something. They passed Ivan’s hidey-hole none the wiser and went back downstairs via the main staircase.
“Clear,” Kyou announced.
Ivan appeared again in the hallway, then waved at the camera with a thumb’s up.
Carter shook his head in disbelief. He’d heard of adrenaline junkies, but Ivan took it to a whole new level. He really was having a blast in there.
It took another twenty minutes to completely check the mansion. Carter held his breath the entire time and only partially because it got Ari to rub his back soothingly. Ivan really was scaring the crap out of him, going in like that without backup on hand, but mostly he liked having Ari pressed up close against him. Ari had initiated contact for the first time, and Carter was selfishly enjoying the moment.
“Alright, going dark.”
Carter blinked back into focus and shared a look with Ari. Surely that didn’t mean what he thought it meant?
Groaning, Kyou sat back with a gesture of disgust towards the monitors. “And now we can’t even track him by camera. Don’t bother asking where he is, Carter. He’s up in the vents, or skittering along the roof, or some other route he’s found to avoid all the cameras. Not that he’ll tell you later.”
“Trade secret,” Ivan sing-songed.
This surprised him. “I thought you three were a team?”
“No, not really,” Ari corrected with a slight shrug. “We pull together to do jobs often, but we don’t do every job together.”
“We’re more friends who pitch hit for each other.” Kyou picked up the coffee cup at his elbow, took a sip, then grimaced. “Cold. Figures. Eidolon, you sure of your exit strategy?”
“Sure. It’s same way as I got in.”
Which told them precisely nothing. Carter really didn’t like this. It made him uneasy. Not even knowing Ivan’s path out meant they couldn’t help if it all went suddenly south. His fingers itched for keys. He wanted to drive over there and be on hand for the thief. If Ivan hadn’t expressly told them not to do that very thing, he’d already be on his way.
Fortunately, Ivan didn’t seem to have a problem with narrating his own escape. “That’s a nice face. I should come back for that face.”
Not that the narration was in any way helpful. Carter turned again to Ari, eyebrows lifted in question. Ari just shrugged, resigned, and went to get comfortable on the couch.
“Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run—wait, how does the rest of that song go?”
Carter really hoped Ivan wasn’t singing somewhere where sound carried. Not knowing what else to do, he set his shoes down next to the door and then joined Ari on the couch. The other man made room for him and Carter snuggled into his side. He might have been yanked out of a sound sleep because of a crazy thief, but at least he got cuddles out of it. Life could be worse.
“Aww, someone’s watching Princess Bride. I love that movie.”
Carter wished the mics were sensitive enough to pick up more environmental sounds. At least that way he’d be able to guess where Ivan currently was and if he were anywhere close to making it outside.
Several minutes passed before Ivan snickered and repeated theatrically, “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!”
“IVAN,” Kyou snapped in pure frustration. “Don’t tell me you stopped to watch the movie!”
“Fine, I won’t tell you.”
Carter held the sneaking suspicion Ivan deliberately did things in order to get a rise out of Kyou. Part of it, he felt sure, was just the thief’s own nature, but he seemed entirely too gleeful at Kyou’s reactions. Ari didn’t seem nearly as worried, relaxed as he was into the couch and smiling faintly at Ivan’s antics. Carter sensibly decided to take his cue from Ari. Following Kyou’s example would likely lead to an ulcer or a migraine. Possibly both.
“Nose, njet,” Ivan abruptly mourned. “Awww, mouth, njet. Wiiiig, not you too. Chert. There goes that.”
Carter didn’t even lift his head from Ari’s shoulder. “You need us after all, Eidolon?”
“Hmm? Njet, no, I improvise. It’ll be fine. I have my bedsheet.”
Bedsheet. Right. Two could play this game. “I’m just curious, but when you say sheet, do you mean the fitted sheet or the flat one?”
Kyou turned in his chair in creaking degrees and bent an evil eye on Carter. “Are you encouraging him?”
Putting an innocent hand over his heart, Carter gave his best impression of wounded, naive protest. Ari laughed silently, his chest jerking with the motion.
“Of course it makes difference,” Ivan retorted, sounding every bit as innocent. “Flat sheet easier to fold.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Carter agreed.
Kyou threw up his hands and pointedly turned away, not willing to be dragged into their pace.
Snickering, Ari put his mouth against Carter’s forehead to murmur, “Don’t tease him so hard. When he’s this sleep deprived and stressed out, Kyou has no sense of humor.”
These men knew each other so well. Why wouldn’t they officially team up? What stopped them from doing so? Was it the lack of impetus to carry them to that final mark? Or were they naturally such lone wolves the idea hadn’t even occurred to them?
“Oooh, look, a threesome! Squirrels are getting more action than I am.”
Ari asked what they all suspected: “Are you finally out of the mansion?”
“Da. Give me a few more minutes, I’ll be outside the fence. Yes, squirrels, carry on. At least someone’s getting some.�
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Kyou ran a hand roughshod through his hair. “Ari, Harrison, will you stay up until he’s in? I can’t take anymore of this, I’m going to bed.”
“Sure,” Carter agreed instantly. Kyou really did look like a typhoon had run him over. “Go sleep.”
Waving a hand in thanks and acknowledgement, the slender man slouched towards his room.
Silence and semi-darkness wrapped around them. Carter could tune out the nonsense Ivan occasionally spouted and he focused more on the man stretched out against him. He tilted up enough to catch Ari’s mouth in a gentle kiss, more asking than demanding. Ari returned it but his body tensed up at the same time. No-go.
Carter lifted off immediately, giving him room so Ari didn’t feel so pinned. Something about the way he’d shifted his weight more onto Ari’s torso had flipped the wrong switch. Carter felt bad about it. He’d thought it would be okay, since Ari had invited him into his space.
“Porca troia,” Ari sighed, a flush on his face and his eyes anywhere but meeting Carter’s. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Carter whispered back. He shifted to the other side of the couch, back braced against the arm rest, one foot on the floor, leaving plenty of room open as he extended a hand toward Ari in open invitation. It didn’t matter to Carter what position they were in. He just wanted to touch the man, and he wanted to build more trust between them as he could.
Ari’s tongue darted out to lick his lips and he eyed Carter’s open position for a long second before caving into his own desires. Uncomfortable he might have been, but not enough to kill the mood. He rolled to his knees and then settled a little gingerly between the vee of Carter’s legs.
He braced a hand against the couch, the other on Carter’s ribs and leaned in. Ari caught his mouth in another kiss, picking up where they’d left off. It was languid and easy, an exchange of affection not meant to rile either of them up. Carter enjoyed the weight of the man in his arms and the sweetness of the kiss.
“The two of you are making out on the couch, aren’t you?” Ivan groused. “Everyone’s getting some but me. Chert. You’ve got a bedroom, go use it.”
Ari broke the kiss to breathe against Carter’s mouth, “Not until you’re safely back here.”
“You’re going to—what’s that American expression? Get all bothered while waiting on me and make me jealous, aren’t you?”
Carter grinned, pleased when Ari looked back at him with the same level of mischief. “Payback’s a bitch, Eidolon.”
“Next time, you should invite me in on the fun,” Ari tacked on before resuming his steady, thorough exploration of Carter’s mouth. Carter hummed approval and snugged the man in further so their groins pressed together.
Ivan just sighed.
21
Ari
Ari came into the kitchen for a cup of coffee—never mind that it was mid-afternoon, he needed the caffeine hit—but paused partway inside when he found Carter, Ivan, and Remi all sitting on the bar stools. The fingerprint kit lay open off to the side, and multiple sheets organized in three stacks sat in front of them.
It took him a second (caffeine input required), but he finally remembered. Right, they couldn’t wear gloves on this job. Wearing latex or leather gloves was out. It would look too suspicious for the ‘workmen’ coming in to be wearing gloves, a sure sign to security something was fishy. They planned instead to paste fingerprints and palm prints onto their hands in a transparent latex to confuse anyone who investigated later.
Remi poked at one of them and read carefully, “Elvis Presley. Who’s that?”
Ivan looked at him with accusing eyes. “Just what are you teaching her, that she doesn’t know the famous rockstar?”
“She’s only eight,” Ari defended himself mildly. “I think I have time to introduce her to all the different music through the years. Carter, you picked a set of prints out yet?”
“Not yet,” his mercenary answered while holding up two different sheets. “I’m having a hard time choosing. Do I want to be Lucille Ball or Rock Hudson for this job? Who do you normally choose?”
Ari poured himself a cup of coffee, dumped two sugars into it, and came back to the bar before answering, leaning his weight casually against it. “Cary Grant’s usually my pick. That man was damn fine.”
Carter gave him an analyst’s salute. “No arguments. I think I’ll go Lucy this time. I grew up—” He paused as the phone on the bar rang. Picking it up, he looked at the screen, a grimace pulling at his face. “Well, hell. It’s Emura.”
Kyou’s chair slid so that he could look into the kitchen. “Seriously?”
“Probably doing a check-in. Do I ignore it?”
“No,” Ivan commanded. “Do that, he finds someone else to take the job. We don’t need another team bungling in.”
Carter apparently agreed, as with a deep, heartfelt sigh, he swiped to answer and put the phone on speaker. “Hey, Emura.”
“Hello, Mr. Harrison. I’m just checking in.”
“Yeah, well, I’m doing good so far. Got a team together, and we’re mid-prep right now.”
“Excellent! Does that mean you’ll have the job completed by deadline?”
“Probably earlier than that. Have to, as they plan on switching out hardware.”
“So you’re well on top of things. I’m happy to hear it. If you run into any problems, let me know, I’ll do my best to assist.”
“Thanks, Emura. I’m good for now.”
“Very well. Talk to you soon.” The phone call ended.
“Smarmy little prick,” Carter grumbled, sliding the phone back away from him on the bar. “Kyou, the site admins still haven’t done their thing?”
“Apparently not. I’ll follow up with them. I have found a way to discreetly contact the director of the Met—I’m waiting to hear back from him. If all goes well, we can just go to him directly.”
Ari personally hoped for that outcome, because otherwise, it wouldn’t be a simple pay day for them. But he absolutely wasn’t going to trust Emura—or Banks, as he knew him—again. No way would he trust a double-crosser.
Turning in her chair, Remi regarded Carter seriously, lips pursed. “But what about your call sign?”
Returning her stare, Carter cocked his head a little to the side in question. “Is it really bugging you that much, sweetie?”
“’Cause everyone else has a call sign, even me,” she said with growing impatience, “But you don’t. I don’t think that’s fair.”
“Fair, huh.”
Kyou called to them from the living room, “She has a point, you know! And you don’t want to give any hint you were on this job!”
“That’s a fair point.” Carter shrugged, smile on his face. “But I don’t know what to choose. There’s not much distinctive about me. How about some suggestions?”
“Killer,” Ivan suggested with a wicked snicker.
Carter gave that suggestion all the attention it deserved. That was to say, none at all.
Attempting to be helpful, Ari threw in, “Snookums.”
Those blue eyes rolled his direction, Carter’s expression wry. “Yup. Gonna nope right out of that one.”
“Dumpling,” Ivan suggested, excited like a child.
Carter just sighed. “Next.”
Knowing he would get the military reference, Ari couldn’t resist. “Roo.”
Carter nearly choked on his own spit.
Remi looked between them in confusion. “Roo?”
Okay, maybe he hadn’t thought that through. Ari’s open style parenting notwithstanding, did he want to explain to his daughter that Roo was short for Romeo One Oscar—‘rub one out?’
Patting her on the head, Carter promised, “I’ll explain that one when you’re eighteen. Next!”
Kyou’s next bright idea was, “Cupid.”
Looking around, Carter asked the air rhetorically, “I feel it was a poor life decision to ask anything of you guys. Yeah. My bad. How about I come up with something wi
thout your input?”
“Sounds less fun,” Ivan informed him, still smirking in evil amusement. “Bambi?”
Ignoring him completely, Carter slid off the barstool and asked, “Ari, how about we get some spirit gum? The one in the kit’s mostly gone.”
Ari would like some time to talk with him anyway so he shrugged agreement. “Sure. Bye, you three, stay out of trouble.”
Ivan tsked him while shaking a finger in correction. “If you don’t get caught, it never happened.”
Keys in hand, Carter paused to look at Ivan doubtfully. “I’m…I’m not certain that is correct.”
Taking hold of his shoulders, Ari urged Carter out the door. “Don’t get sucked into his pace. He’ll drag you down to his level and then beat you with experience.”
“The Gentleman!” Kyou suggested, not able to disguise his snicker.
Ari’s grip on Carter didn’t falter until the door was closed behind them, cutting off the rest of the (entirely ridiculous) suggestions. Sometimes, like now, you had to take it one are-you-fucking-kidding-me at a time.
They took Carter’s Jeep, as he knew DC better, and it just made sense for him to drive. Ari pulled up different stores selling theater makeup, scrolling through the options to find the closest one.
“After we deal with the painting, I’m taking you on a proper date.”
Ari’s head came up in surprise. That had come out of nowhere, but one look at Carter’s face showed his seriousness. “Date?”
“I don’t care if we’re in tuxes or in jeans, but we’re doing a proper date.”
“Date sounds…good,” Ari said slowly, picturing it. It was quite the picture with him and Carter alone and able to indulge in each other’s company.
Carter paused at the stop sign and gave him a quick study, smiling at what he saw. “I thought you’d be on board with this plan. There’s just too much I don’t know about you. I know dating’s supposed to help you learn about the other person, but I have a lot of frustrating gaps with you.”
For that matter, Ari felt the same. He’d caught hints of Carter, what made this amazing man, but he had no details. Sad truth, he knew more about most of his former targets than the man sitting next to him. “We don’t have to wait for an actual date to swap basics, do we?”
