by Unknown
“Please…seriously…” Chloe said with a derisive chuckle, sarcasm evident in the soft laughter. Her shoulders came up and back as the internal clock counted backward, her mind running quickly thought all her training. “Did you see what I’m wearing? No pockets, dummy…see?”
Simon was positive the next minute moved past his vision in slow motion.
He saw Chloe out of the corner of his eye, the slender form taking one step from behind the shield of his body. He was going to shove her back behind him when the thunk came from his left side. The frosted water bottle hit the wall and rolled at the same time her body moved to the right. Both sets of male eyes caught on the deliberate distraction.
Chloe saw the choreography in her mind, just as years of training had taught her. The baton swept in front of her, toward the left and hitting firmly and sharply on the knuckles holding the gun. In swift succession, she dropped to one knee, the baton sweeping in a wide arc to come back around and buckle him at the knees, effectively removing his legs from beneath him. Her left hand then joined the thick bar of the baton and brought the full brunt of it down smartly on his chest, taking his breath away and stunning him quietly.
“You…are annoying…and I hope it leaves bruises,” she announced with a sigh. “Can you call for someone to get this…phantom of the opera, Simon?”
“Chloe…what the hell…”
“Yipe!” A startled yelp left her lips when she was momentarily distracted enough for the man to shove hard against the floor, sending her back toward her behind, had Simon not been there to catch her beneath her arms. “No! No, no, no…geeze…” one foot kicked out, her growl low.
“Up, Chloe,” he lifted the slim figure to her feet, intensity in the gaze that re-evaluated the woman standing before him. “What the hell were you thinking? He could have shot you!”
“Coulda, woulda, didn’t,” she chimed, one shoulder up in a casual shrug. “Got a hanky? We need to get the gun to your people and maybe they can track him down…though probably not since thieves don’t usually do the right thing and register their weapons.”
A frown was still creasing his lips as he wrapped the gun in a hanky drawn from his pocket. “Chloe…”
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd, Simon…all the people milling about with obvious jewelry…obvious pockets with wallets…and he comes here…to us…”
“You aren’t going to make sense of low life, Chloe,” he stated flatly, his hand up to rake through the neatly clipped chocolate brown hair. “Chloe…”
“Are you alright, Simon?”
“I think that should be my question to ask you,” was the frustrated growl, brows up as he watched her fingers dip into the top of her dress. Carefully folded green bills were in view, a shimmery white card fluttering to the floor unnoticed by Chloe.
“Well, aside from that, it’s been a very nice evening, Simon. Thank you for your companionship,” she declared, feathery wings and long glittering legs spinning and vanishing before Simon had a chance to respond.
“What the hell?” Dark eyes registered the flying gossamer skirts vanish around the corner and down the ramp.
Simon Oliver leaned against the stainless steel railing, absently munching on the remaining bits of food she had brought him. His eyes were on the white wrapped gun as he reached into his shirt pocket for his blackberry, depressing the side button.
“Griss? Bring the car up, please,” he stood up slowly, shaking his head. He took the last piece of fruit from the plate and began walking to the front entrance. “Oh, and Griss…are there any cops around out there?”
“A few, boss…you want one?”
Simon sighed thickly. “Yeah, guess I better have a chat with one of them.”
An hour later, leaning against the fender of the highly polished black four door, Simon Oliver answered questions and filled in as much as possible for the detective that had arrived on the scene.
“Phantom of the Opera?” The man repeated, one hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“Mask and all…sorry, can’t be of more help. He was gone before we realized it,” Simon concluded apologetically.
“And you don’t know how to reach this woman?”
“It’s an art exhibition and sale, Detective. We met in passing. All I know is her name, Chloe Applegate. In all honesty, being as most everyone is in costume, it’d be hard to even describe her, other than I’m pretty sure the red hair was genuine.”
“No one else has been bothered. I’ve got someone checking the ticket office. All of them are numbered and security is pretty tight here,” the detective glanced around at the slowly dispersing group of people leaving the center. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Oliver.”
“Sorry it wasn’t better, Detective. You have my card and know how to reach me if you need anything,” Simon straightened slowly and moved to slide into the dark interior of the car.
“Home, Boss?” His voice was deep and quiet, controlled.
“Home, Griss.”
“A little weird, huh?”
“Griss, you have no idea,” Simon admitted with a low chuckle, his attention on the blackberry between his hands, fingers deftly moving over the keypad, the cool dark night filling in around them as they left the City of Seattle.
Chapter Two
Simon Oliver finished the stack of paperwork Carolyn had dropped on his desk just as she stepped over the threshold to his office.
“You’ve been banned from this office.”
“It is not my fault you put off paperwork until the last minute,” she informed him with a flip of her palm, dropping another folder to the top of his desk. “I have tried over the last few years to get an hour of paperwork out of you a day, but you resist,” she stated flatly, their years of working together obvious in the sweet smile she offered.
“Roger know you’re a shrew?”
“He revels in it,” she whispered with a chuckle, perching casually on the edge of his desk. One finger went out and touched the tiny glimmer on his desktop. “You’ve been leaking glitter for days.”
Simon closed his eyes and exhaled thickly. “Yeah, tell me about it. I swear the stuff is breeding.”
“Wild weekend? I thought you went to that art exhibition at the center. Oh, Mark came by and picked up his uniform, freshly dry cleaned of course.”
“Thanks for taking care of that,” he lifted the sparkling business card from the clip he’d slipped it into on the side of his in-box. “And I did go to the exhibition,” one dark brow rose pointedly with a gaze at the folder. “This important?”
Carolyn sighed and moved the folder to the in-box. “It’ll keep a day or two.”
“Good. That is why you are such a highly paid and immeasurably appreciated admin,” Simon pushed away from the desk, glancing casually out at the brilliant sunshine outside his office building. “See you tomorrow,” he tucked the card into his breast pocket, keys jangling in his fingers and a light whistle leaving his lips as he left the room.
Carolyn returned to her desk after locking up his office, her grin crooked and head shaking. “Seems like the boss had a very good time this weekend,” she murmured before returning to her work.
Ron sat back on the stool behind the counter, his chin resting on an upturned palm as he watched the brunette rummage in her oversized brief case. It had been a quiet morning, but it was Wednesday.
Short clipped auburn curls shook, dark eyes glancing at Ron with a slight frown. She gazed around the shop, grateful it was empty. “Chloe! I need that new program and the documentation!”
“I’m working on it!” Returned the growling clipped tone. “I swear�
��it’s finishing up the run now and I have the doc bound and ready for you.”
“I know, I know…I’m running early,” Dee mumbled, head down and once more rummaging in her case. “These people bring new meaning to the words user error,” her head shaking dismally.
“Can I help you?” Ron sat back on the stool, making a quick assessment of the three piece suit that just entered the store.
Dee glanced up from her case, a strange little tinge tickling the hairs at the back of her neckline. She’d seen that predatory gleam in a man’s eyes all too recently.
“I’m looking for Chloe Applegate?”
Dee caught his eye and turned toward the wide, curving staircase just as the first glimpse of black fabric appeared. She shook her head ever so slightly when she saw Ron begin to speak.
“Sophie has got to be nuts. How in the world she walks in this thing is beyond me…I swear I’m gonna end up wrong end up every time I try navigating these stairs,” slim fingers gripped the stainless steel railing as she took one step at a time. “I think my knees are chaffing…”
“Chloe…” Dee laughed out loud, striding forward, her palm up and flat. “Stop,” she ordered when Chloe had come even with her on the stairs. “These are supposed to be open on the side,” Dee opened the tiny buttons on the black skirt, revealing tanned flesh to about mid-thigh.
“Oh geeze…my knees can breathe again. I felt like I was Morticia with that tight dress she always wore, tiny little steps,” bright blue eyes finally looked up from the floor, a brilliant smile caught and trapped in place as her gaze landed on the visitor. “Simon?”
“Nice suit, Chloe,” Simon commented when he was sure his voice worked. Today she was dressed in solid black, an English cut suit with very fitted skirt and jacket. The front had a scoop neckline that revealed a snowy white blouse, uplifting and nicely framing the freckles dotting her chest.
“Later, guys,” Dee took the packet Chloe held out to her, moving the little magnet on the board by the door. “I am out.”
“Bye, Dee,” Chloe finished the last few steps, one hand up and gesturing vaguely. “What are you doing here?”
The puzzled look on her face had Ron catching the cough in his throat, trying hard to focus on something below the counter.
“Are you allowed to have lunch?” Simon watched the myriad of confusion playing over her features. He had been right. The red hair was natural and once more neatly bound in a very taut French braid that barely touched her neck.
“Lunch? I…yes, of course. I’d love lunch,” Chloe touched one fingertip to her lips. “Let me run up and get my purse,” she told him, turning back for a second look. “It’s nice to see you.”
Simon merely smiled as she turned and went back up the curving staircase, the sigh leaving his lips echoed from the younger man at his side.
“Yeah…she doesn’t have a clue what that view does to a man,” Ron offered with a mild shudder.
“No kidding.”
“No worries…I’m not poaching…I have a girl of my own. This is the best job in the world, let me tell you,” he said quietly, nodding to the blonde coming out of the back office. “Off for the afternoon, boss?”
Nyssa Lathrom looked up from the keys she was pulling from inside the small bag in her hands. “Trying to finish the details for the kid party on Saturday. See you later,” blue eyes glanced at the man standing by the counter. She knew her staff was very well trained and didn’t doubt he was being helped, the door closing quietly behind her.
“Damn.”
“Yeah…I told you…I’ve worked here for over 3 years and it’s the best eye candy a guy could wish for,” neatly clipped blond hair shook slightly. “While the suit is definitely a pleasure to look at, it ain’t Chloe.”
“You don’t know that, Ron,” Chloe announced, walking down the stairs with her head high, newly found freedom in her pace with the wide slit up the side of her skirt. “I could be a suit.”
“Chloe…you’re used to running up the stairs two at a time and barefoot,” Ron stated with a laugh. “Have a nice lunch.”
“Yeah, well…I’m exploring new images,” she said with a small nod of her head, fingers holding the small black bag as she walked.
“Exactly what was wrong with your old image?” Simon asked, gently taking her elbow and guiding her out of the shop and into the parking lot.
“It’s just a girl thing,” she replied, glancing over at the man at her side, one eyebrow arched curiously. “You look very nice today, Simon. You see…that’s what I mean…you can go from looking good in a police uniform to looking really nice in a three piece suit. Very…business proper.”
Simon opened the door on the low riding black import, his mind churning over her words. “Thank you, I think. Anyplace special you’d like to go for lunch?”
Chloe ran her palm over the sleek fender. “This is nice…I need one of these,” she announced with a slight nod, blue eyes meeting the dark, amused circles above her.
“Somehow I see you in a sports car as a really bad mix, Chloe,” Simon held in his chuckle at her expression, taking a careful step back when her fingers went flying through the air in dismissal. She slammed the car door and took his hand in hers, offering a bright smile.
“Yes, I know just the right place,” She said, leading him along the sidewalk. “It’s too nice a day to ride and it’s just around the corner,” she assured him, vaguely listening to the chirp that signaled the car was once more locked.
Simon glanced around them as they walked, shops, police on bicycles, banks and signs in three different languages. “Chloe, have the police been to talk to you?”
“Very early this morning. But I wasn’t much help,” she sighed, unconsciously swinging the palms between them. “How did you find me? I know how the police found me…oh, that’s you…hmmm…”
“You told me your name. The rest was easy.”
“I don’t suppose I’m a very good hider,” she admitted with a shrug, leading him along a ramp and into the sea gray building overlooking the south eastern edge of Puget Sound. Chloe inhaled deeply, the smile she tilted toward Simon not going unnoticed. “Doesn’t that smell yummy?”
Simon felt his stomach and other parts of him growl in appreciation, tearing his gaze from the light of her smile to take in the quietly comfortable seafood restaurant. But before he could respond, they were greeted by a young woman with an apron and a couple menus.
“Chloe! Where’ve you been, girl?”
“Here and there. Hi, Tina…two for lunch, please.” If Chloe noticed the odd appraisal on the waitresses face, she didn’t comment. “I told Simon this was the best place around for chowder.”
“Absolutely true, too,” Tina remarked, leading them toward the back and a clear window, betraying the silver color to the sound reflected from the grey and blue bursts of sky overhead. “Anything to drink?”
“Water for me, please,” Chloe set the menu aside.
“Iced tea,” Simon answered, opening the menu and browsing the selections. He made a quick decision and set the menu aside, watching the bright blue eyes across from him at the table. They gave their orders to the waitress, several quiet minutes before either of them spoke. “What’s on your mind, Chloe?” He asked finally.
One slim shoulder rose and fell. “Tons of things and nothing in-particular.” One hand reached across the table very slowly, a slender finger out and pulling back from his neck with a tiny square of glitter on her fingernail. “I am very sorry about the glitter. I’ve come to the conclusion that the stuff is really tiny nano bots in disguise. Every time I think I have them all corralled, they replicate
and I’m surrounded again.”
“I have noticed they’re tenacious.” He agreed with a crooked grin.
“Why did you track me down, Simon?”
That one threw him for a loop. He took a long swallow of the tea, leaning back while their food was placed on the table. “Companionable lunches and friendly chats,” Simon answered slowly.
“And eventually sex?” Chloe handed him a couple napkins when the iced tea was gulped and he began choking. “Are you alright?” She lifted a French fry from his plate and dipped it casually into her soup bowl.
“Chloe…” Simon wondered about the first thirty-five years of his life. He’d seen a lot. He’d done a lot. In many countries and he was far from a saint. “I’ve never seen anyone dip fries in soup before.”
