Focusing on everything she’d learned, she started up the rope. An ascender and toeholds in the siding helped her make her way. She used her legs as much as she could but her arms were fatigued by the time she climbed over the balcony railing. Hastily, she dropped into a crouch. As quiet as she’d been, some people were light sleepers.
The silence was interminable but she waited until she’d caught her breath and regained her equilibrium. Recklessness would serve no purpose. Each step of her plan needed to be executed precisely.
She looked through the sliding glass door into Brent’s home office. The house was dark but she watched the shadows for movement.
There was none.
“Be quick, be silent and be safe,” she reminded herself.
Reaching into her bag of supplies, she pulled out her trusty glasscutter. Shelli had told her all about the new security system she and Brent had installed after the robbery. High-end or not, the sliding glass door still worked on a circuit principle. As long as it was closed, the circuit was operative. Open the door, break the loop and the alarm went off.
Simple.
As long as she didn’t open the door, they’d never know she was here.
Staying low, she cut an opening in the windowpane large enough to pass through. The glass was heavy as she pulled it out and laid it out of the way. Watching the edges, she carefully slipped inside.
Her target was hanging on the wall in full display right where she remembered it. First, though, she had something else to take care of.
Opening her pouch, she pulled out Ramona’s crystal paperweight. She peeled back the protective cloth as she scanned the room. Where should she put it?
“Perfect,” she said when she spotted Brent’s briefcase sitting open on the desk. She slipped the paperweight inside and closed the lid as if to hide it. The piece would surely be found when the police crime scene team scoured the room for clues.
That was when the real fun would begin.
Moving with purpose, she approached Brent’s collection of antique riding equipment. It was what she’d come for. She scanned the bridles and spurs, looking for one particular piece.
There it was.
The riding whip.
Ignoring her zinging nerves, she evaluated it with a professional eye. A good chunk of her day had been spent doing her homework. She knew what she’d seen the night Brent had brought her here; she just needed to make sure. If the whip was authentic, it was worth a fortune.
“Nice patina on the handle,” she whispered. “Cracks in the leather loop, but that’s to be expected.”
Her heart flipped when she saw the family crest. Tooled elaborately into the leather handle was the name Borgia.
“You idiot,” she whispered. “Don’t you know this is worth more than anything you have on display downstairs?”
Exhilaration made her want to yank the frame off the wall and run. Experience told her to be careful. With a vigilant touch, she slid her gloved hands around the edges. It didn’t feel as if it was hooked up to an alarm. Clicking on her penlight, she peeked behind the frame. Sure enough, all she saw was a nail.
“Imbecile.” She lowered the display. The frame was too bulky and heavy to carry, so she took valuable time pulling off the backing. With a feather touch, she lifted the whip. It was heavier than she’d anticipated, but in excellent shape.
It would bring a good price.
Especially if she sold it to someone in, say, the Professor’s crowd.
Reaching back, she undid the carrying case that was strapped to her back. She carefully tucked the whip inside.
Excitement unfurled in her veins but she tamped it down ruthlessly.
She hadn’t gotten away with anything yet.
Her nerves were singing as she moved back toward the sliding glass door. “Out the hole and down the rope. Out the hole and down the rope.”
A soft clicking sound behind her abruptly halted her mantra.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the door handle turning in the moonlight.
Her heart slammed into her rib cage. No!
Twirling around, she looked for an escape. There was no time to run. No time to hide. She watched in unmitigated horror as the door swung open.
Brent walked in, dressed only in pajama bottoms.
Her senses screamed. The house had been dark for an hour. What was he doing awake?
He hit the light switch distractedly, but suddenly sensed her presence. His head snapped up and she froze like a deer in the headlights.
“What the hell?” Papers dropped from his hands and he took on a defensive posture. “You!”
Talia exploded into action.
She dove for the sliding glass door and ducked through the hole. Behind her, Brent recovered from his shock.
“Get back here, thief!” Footsteps pounded across the room.
She lunged for the balcony railing. She couldn’t get caught. Not now. Not by him!!! Her hands shook as she tried to attach her harness to the rope. The sliding glass door slid open with a bang just as she swung her leg over the edge. The alarm shrieked, nearly perforating her eardrums.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Brent charged at her just as she was beginning to push off. Reaching out wildly, his hands took hold of her vest.
Talia let out a screech. He had her!
She was dangling perilously over the edge. Remembering her climbing courses, she wrapped her leg around the rope even as she pushed at Brent’s arms.
He was too strong. He pulled her right over the railing and dumped her on the ground. The grappling hook turned loose. The rope slithered around her leg like a fast-moving snake. She tried to stomp down on it but he knocked her off-balance. She watched as her only means of escape shot across the floor.
Just as it was about to fall over the edge, the grappling hook caught by a tip. It teetered precariously, ready to let go at any second.
She cried out in dismay and the sound made Brent come up short.
“A woman? You’re a woman?” In typical Turd fashion, he thrust his hand between her legs and groped. “I’ll be damned.”
His touch repulsed her but it gave her the opening she needed. She hooked her leg around the back of his knee. He buckled like a house of cards and she pushed him to the side. He fell on all fours. Not giving him time to recover, she jumped on top of him and sprawled toward the rope.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Get back here.”
Her weight hindered him for only a second but it was all she needed. When he scrambled toward her, she was ready.
Talia knew she didn’t have the advantage of strength but she did have the element of surprise. That, plus adrenaline, helped her to entangle the rope around Brent’s hands when he grabbed for her. Using her weight, she rolled and pulled it taut.
“What the—” He let out a roar when he realized his hands were bound.
He tried to rear upright but she looped the end around the bottom of the railing. Bracing her foot against the corner pole, she pulled tight.
“I don’t care if you are a woman. I’m going to kick your ass!”
He lunged at her, trying to use his body weight to throw her off her task. Her shoulder shuddered as he crashed into her but she wasn’t letting go of the rope for anything. Her hands were sweating inside her gloves and the ski mask was nearly suffocating her. Using her last bit of strength, she knotted off the rope and threw the grappling hook over the side for weight.
“You bitch!”
On hands and knees, Talia crawled away back into the house. Leaning against the side of the desk, she fought for breath.
Brent kicked at her like a donkey and her temper flared. The asshole. She dug an extra piece of rope out of her bag. Dodging his kicks, she quickly tied off his ankles.
Take that you Turd, she thought.
Standing up, she brushed off her hands and looked down at her work. He was as good as hog-tied.
It suited him.
Feeling battered and bruised, she backed away
into the office. She’d have to go out through the house and she didn’t have much time. The security system had already called the police. Turning on her heel, she rushed across the room.
“You can run, you cunt, but you can’t hide,” Brent called. “You’ll never get away with doing this. Not to a Harrington.”
Talia stopped cold. A Harrington. Oh, you self-righteous pig.
She knew she should ignore him and go but she couldn’t. There was no way she was going to just walk away this time. Resolutely, she turned on her heel. His lifted ass called to her. The temptation was just too much. Heart pumping, she stomped back to the balcony. She’d show him what she could get away with.
“You deserve this,” she hissed.
Bending over, she caught the tie of his pajama bottoms. He gasped in surprise and tried to shuffle away on his knees. The rope only let him get so far. Talia trailed her gloved finger along his waistband and he looked at her with wide eyes.
“No,” he whispered, his smugness suddenly gone.
She smiled behind her ski mask. With a swift tug, she yanked both his pajamas and boxers down to his knees. The vision was one she’d remember for years—as was the assault on her tender ears. Brent’s white ass gleamed in the moonlight and his dick hung limp between his legs. More colorful were the curses that sprang from his lips. The blue streak nearly ignited the night air.
Dropping onto her knees, she reached for him.
He’d wounded her pride. Let’s see how he liked it.
“Ah!” he cried when she wrapped her gloved fingers around his cock. “Don’t… You can’t… Oh, God.”
Detachedly, she watched his face as she jerked him off. His teeth gritted and beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. Time was short, so she used every trick she knew to work up a good, thick hard-on. When his cock was pointing toward his belly, she rocked back on her heels. He just needed the crowning touch. Digging into her pocket, she found a five-dollar bill. Her movements were sharp and precise as she rolled it up.
“What are you doing? What are you going to do with that?”
She grabbed his butt cheek and he howled with mortification. He shook his hips like madman but she stuffed the money into his crack. With a quick pat on the ass, she stood.
“You’re not worth $120,” she muttered as she hurried toward the door.
Talia was stunned at her own audacity but she needed to get out of the house before she could wonder over it. The alarm was screeching like a banshee.
She rushed out into the hallway and turned toward the staircase. Her entire body jerked with surprise when she found herself face-to-face with Brent’s disheveled wife. Shelli screamed and lifted a tennis racket. Talia took a step back to defend herself but she needn’t have bothered.
The perfect fashion doll fell into an ungainly dead faint.
Talia instinctively caught her as she dropped. Her knees nearly buckled under the added weight but she lowered Shelli until she lay on the floor.
It was too much. Bracing her hands on her knees, Talia fought her own light-headedness. Her breaths were too quick and too light. She shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t falter now. “Get out,” she snapped at herself. “Now!”
She ran like she’d never run in her life.
Her steps pounded down the second floor hallway. Remembering her daydream, she hopped up onto the banister. She slid down like a bullet and was running again before her feet even hit the floor.
“Back door. Use the back door.”
On the winged feet of Mercury, she flew across the room. She exited through the back and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.
It wasn’t until she was in her car driving away from the scene that she allowed herself to think of Brent. When she did, she started laughing uncontrollably. She couldn’t believe she’d done that to him. When it came right down to it, though, vindication was sweet.
At least her humiliation had been done in private.
Some very surprised policemen were going to find Brent Harrington III wallowing in his.
Chapter Eighteen
Riley was dead tired. He’d been at the station for more hours than he could count. He was hungry and his head ached. Most of all, though, he was sick to death of having to listen to Brent and Shelli Harrington whine when he wanted to be out looking for Talia.
When he got his hands on her… He let out a grunt and rubbed his pounding temple. Hell, he didn’t know what he’d do once he found her. His first inclination was to paddle her behind again. Close on its heels, though, was the desire to just pull her close. Every time he thought about her dangling over that balcony railing, he got a little nauseous.
What had she been thinking?
She’d made a promise.
Shelli started sniffling again and he fought back a curse. Leaning back in his chair, he stared across his desk at the couple. They’d been robbed and assaulted, although from what he’d been able to make out, Brent had attacked first. He understood why they were so upset. Nobody deserved to have the sanctity of their home disturbed.
But if he had to listen to one more of the blonde twit’s irritating sniffles, he was going to snap.
“Mr. Harrington,” he said, trying to fend off another bout of tears. “Can you give me a better description of the intruder?”
“Haven’t you been listening to me? It was a woman.”
If possible, Riley’s attitude cooled even more. “In case you haven’t noticed, women make up half of the population around here. I need more details. You’ve told me she was wearing a ski mask but can you give me her height? Her weight? Would you recognize her voice if you heard it again?”
“Damn it, she was robbing my house! I didn’t stop to take notes.”
Riley set his pencil down and counted to ten. His patience was wearing thin.
“Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “Answer another question for me. Why did she leave you in the state she did? It seemed to be rather symbolic.”
Harrington slumped so far down in his chair, he practically slid out of it. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Riley felt his gut fire. “We’re going to talk about it until I get some answers.”
Shelli could go home for all he cared; his questions were for this one. Talk about being found in a compromising position. It was the laugh of the stationhouse.
Unfortunately, he failed to see the humor. He knew Talia.
He wanted to know what had happened on that goddamned balcony.
“I was utterly humiliated in my own home,” Brent snarled. “Why do you insist on harping on it? I was the victim. Do you hear me? The victim!”
“The five-dollar bill,” Riley pressed. “Does that have any significance to you?”
Harrington’s face went bright red and he let loose with a string of curses. Riley fought to keep his cool. He wanted to pound some answers out of the guy.
What had he done to make Talia act like that?
And just where the hell was she?
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. This was getting him nowhere. He should be out there looking for her.
Frustrated, he raked a hand through his hair. He’d been trying to track her down ever since the call had first come in from the dispatcher. Sadie hadn’t known where she was. He’d even broken down and called her brother in Boston but he hadn’t known either. It was as if she’d fallen off the face of the earth.
He was going crazy wondering if she was all right.
And he was beyond furious that she’d pulled this stunt. He’d warned her to stay out of things and she’d agreed. Or so he thought. That was what really stung. After everything they’d been through, he’d thought they’d finally formed an unbreakable connection but she’d lied to his face. He didn’t know if he could cover for her this time.
Or if he really should.
Shelli began hiccupping with tears. “I…I think… Oh, this is so hard. She was a big woman, maybe six feet tall. When she…ac-accosted me… Oh
, Brennnnnt.”
She collapsed onto her husband’s shoulder.
Riley hit him with a glare. “Is that right?”
Harrington looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, she was pretty good-sized. She had to be to wrestle me around like that, didn’t she?”
Riley grunted. Talia, big? Give him a break. Her legs were impossibly long but she wasn’t anywhere near six feet tall and he could circle her waist with his hands. As for wrestling, he could grapple her into any position he wanted.
Of course, she hadn’t been fighting him off…
He shook his head to clear his brain. He couldn’t let himself think about the other night. He was screwed up enough as it was.
He couldn’t condone what she’d done. For God’s sake, she’d climbed a two-story house, broken in to a man’s office, left the guy hog-tied and the wife unconscious, and walked off with… What was it? He looked down at his notes. A fifteenth-century riding whip?
“What can you tell me about the stolen property?” he asked, forcing himself to finish the interview. “Why did she take that particular item? Does it have any value?”
Harrington’s chin came up. “Of course, it has value. Would I put it on display if it was a piece of junk?”
Riley shrugged. “It takes one to know one.”
Harrington slapped his hand against the arm of his chair. “I’ll have you know that whip was owned by Rodrigo de Borgia, formally known as Pope Alexander VI.”
“Borgia?” There was something about that name.
Ah, shit!
Riley’s gut began to churn. He knew why she’d taken that piece.
It was the one thing he hadn’t been able to figure out. He knew why she’d hit the Harringtons. Brent had put the professor in a precarious position and she felt responsible. He just hadn’t understood why the whip or how she planned to move it without a fence’s help.
He got it now and it worried the hell out of him.
If he remembered his history correctly, the Borgia family was infamous for many things including extortion, bribery, cruelty and, most of all, sexual excess. From what he’d found in Winston’s laboratory, the man knew a thing or two about the history of sex. While he might not be available to act as a fence, Talia could still make connections in his field of research. The whip would probably sell itself.
On the Prowl Page 27
