To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense

by Sloane Steele

  “Why does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just missed your beautiful face.”

  “Yeah, I almost believe that.” She sat at the kitchen table. “Pull up a chair. Tell me about work.” Her dark blue eyes assessed him.

  Every time he came for a visit he was struck by the fact that Mae looked older. Her hair had always had gray in it, but now it was more gray than brown. He took a slice of banana bread and a napkin and sat across from her. “I’m working an undercover operation.”

  “Is it dangerous?” From the outside, Mae looked all soft, but she was built of steel.

  “Not at all. Some paintings that people tried to sell have been found to be counterfeit. They have me posing as an agent with the company that insures them.”

  “Art? That is...”

  “What?”

  “Unusual.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You were never much of an artist.”

  “Ouch.” He put a hand to his chest. “The things you find out about your parents when you become an adult.”

  “I can see you’re devastated.”

  “I leveraged the art history classes I took in college, so my boss thought I would be best suited for the job.”

  She squinted her eyes and smiled. “Did he actually look at your grades from those classes?”

  “You’re a riot today. I enjoyed learning about art.”

  “I thought the FBI had specialists for that kind of thing.”

  He chewed the moist bread before responding. “They do. The experts are focused on the counterfeits. I’m trying to see if there’s a connection.”

  “What else?”

  “What do you mean?” He popped another piece of bread into his mouth.

  “You’ve had plenty of difficult jobs without needing to come home. You typically land on my doorstep when it’s girl trouble.”

  Paris took that moment to walk through the door. “Who’s having girl trouble?” She looked at them and said, “Oh, hey, Logan. What kind of trouble? Like she’s stalking you trouble or you can’t satisfy her trouble?”

  Then she started laughing.

  Logan flicked a thumb in the direction of the teen. “Since when is that an appropriate way to talk in your house? I would’ve been eating a bar of soap.”

  Mae rolled her eyes. “The BS is getting deep in here. Your mouth was always the worst.”

  Paris sat at the table and grabbed two of the cookies Logan had brought. “No way. Mr. Law and Order is worse than Isaiah?”

  Logan chuckled. He and Isaiah had both lived at Mae’s as teenagers. At eighteen, Logan headed to college and Isaiah enlisted in the Marines. “No one’s worse than Isaiah.”

  “I want to hear about the girl trouble. Did your charm finally fail you?” Paris asked.

  He had no idea why he’d thought coming to a house full of mouthy teenagers would make him feel better. “My charm is just fine. In fact, I didn’t even hit her with a full blast yet. She’s a little skittish.”

  “What’s her name?” Paris already had her phone out.

  “Mia Benson.”

  A few taps on the screen and Paris had photos of Mia pulled up. “Whaaat? She is so not your type. Where’d you meet a rich bitch like her anyway?”

  “Paris,” Mae admonished.

  “On this undercover job I’m working. She knows about art and I think she can help me.”

  “Oh, so it’s not like relationship stuff. It’s work.”

  “Yes.” The girl sounded completely disappointed, so Logan was not going to fuel any ideas about how much he liked Mia.

  “Figures. She’s too hot for you anyway.” Then she rose, took two more cookies, and left the room.

  Coming home was always a nice reality check anytime he started to forget who he was.

  Chapter Four

  Mia paced her living room with her phone in hand. She’d agreed to call Logan and make plans but she was still trying to figure how that would play out. She’d told him she wasn’t interested in dating, but now she suddenly changed her mind? That was attractive. No, she needed a plausible reason to call him. To actually seek him out to make the call.

  “Just do it, already,” she said aloud to herself and dialed the number she’d gotten from Randall Scott.

  “Hello?” Even over the phone she could tell he was smiling. The man was always smiling.

  “Hi, Logan? It’s Mia Benson.”

  “Mia? It’s nice to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to apologize for leaving the gallery the other night without saying goodbye. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “That’s okay. But I have to admit that I thought you might’ve been dodging me.”

  “I don’t make a habit of dodging people. I prefer to face things head-on.”

  “I can definitely appreciate that.”

  “Anyway, I’d like to make it up to you. You were very kind in getting me away from Chad.”

  “Even though you didn’t need to be rescued.”

  “It was still a lovely dance.”

  “But nowhere near as much fun as witnessing you hand that slimeball his ass.”

  She swallowed the chuckle that his comment caused. People in her circles didn’t speak that way in general, much less about one of their own. Yet another reminder that he was there to do a job. And so was she.

  “I wondered if you’d like a tour of the Art Institute? I know it’s last minute, but I have some time in my schedule this afternoon if you’re free.”

  “Isn’t that where you work?”

  “Yes, which gives me unique access.”

  “So I would be getting a VIP private tour.”

  “Only the best for the man who swooped in to save me from a slimeball.”

  “What time does this tour start?”

  “Any time after two. Let me know what works for you.”

  He was silent for a moment and then said, “I’ll be there around three thirty if that’s okay. I have some work things to wrap up.”

  “Lots of policies and underwriting, I bet.”

  “Uh, yeah. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  Gotcha again. The man hesitated when thinking about the fact that he was supposed to be an insurance agent. Hopefully getting him to open up and give her information would be easy. “See you then.”

  As soon as they disconnected, she pulled out her burner phone and texted Nikki and Audrey. We have a date for this afternoon. I will stop by the apartment shortly to get whatever tech you want to stick to me.

  Nikki texted back, What are you wearing?

  The same clothes I’ll be working in.

  Boring!

  She did not have time for Nikki’s antics. She put the phone in her purse and headed out. When she arrived at the apartment a short while later, she let herself in and saw the usual display of Nikki sprawled on the couch, and Audrey typing away at the computer.

  “Ew! You’ve got to be kidding,” Nikki called as she spun around to face Mia.

  “What?”

  “You need to keep the man interested so he’s thinking with his dick and not his brain.” Nikki pointed at her up and down. “That outfit screams, ‘Don’t look at me!’”

  Mia glanced down at her favorite Chanel skirt. Her green silk blouse brought out her eyes. And her heels always made her ass and legs look phenomenal. “I’m going to work. I need to look professional.”

  “But you’re also going on a date. So you need to look sexy.”

  “We’re meeting at the museum.”

  Nikki huffed a sigh, rolled her eyes, and then looked at Audrey. “And I thought you needed help.”

  Mia clenched her jaw. “I do just fine on my own. I might not be a con artist extraordinaire like some people, but I do understand the basic tenets. Your
lie or persona or what have you needs to have hints of truth. I work at a museum. I love art. He insures art. That common interest should be enough to make him comfortable.”

  “But he’s only pretending to like art,” Audrey said. “That’ll probably keep his guard up because he’ll be afraid of making a mistake.”

  Great. Even the hacker felt the need to critique her plan.

  Nikki jumped up and walked over to Mia. “We can still work with this.” She circled Mia, making her feel like she was on display. “After work, lose the blazer and undo a few buttons. Offer a bit of skin. Just enough to tease the imagination.” She snapped her fingers. “Can you drop the camera onto a different piece of jewelry?”

  Audrey wheeled her chair around the desk. “Already done. Try this.” She handed Mia a new necklace. It looked like a small locket. “Don’t try to open it.”

  Mia reached up and clasped it around her neck.

  Nikki grinned. “Perfect. When you open the top two buttons, the point of the heart will naturally draw his eyes to your tits.”

  “Keeping a man’s interest has rarely been an issue for me. The problem I face is getting him to give me information without letting him know that I know who he is.”

  “Steer the conversation to the forgeries you already know he’s looking into. Look at him all doe-eyed and he’ll practically open his files for you.”

  “I’m not good at any of those things. I don’t steer the conversation, I ask pointed questions. I’ve never looked doe-eyed at anyone.” At least no one she was attracted to. Her father’s cronies? Sure. Maybe she needed to think of Logan that way. But his smile kind of prevented that.

  “We get it, Mia. You’re a badass who rules everything. Think of this as playtime. Pretend to be someone you’re not.” She pointed behind Mia. “Channel Audrey.”

  “Hey,” Audrey protested. “I’m not doe-eyed and I’m every bit as competent at my job as she is at hers.”

  “But you do the lost, innocent look so well. I haven’t been able to pull off innocent since I was about ten.” Nikki smirked. “If you don’t think you can pull off ingénue, you can always go for tramp.”

  Mia held up a hand. “I’ve heard enough. I’ll figure something out.” She turned and looked at Audrey. “Is there anything else I need?”

  “If you could get a look at his ID, that would help. A real name, anything to help me figure out who he is.”

  “No problem. Why don’t I pick his pocket while I’m at it?”

  Nikki’s eyes popped wide. “Oh. That’s actually a good idea.”

  “I was joking.”

  “No. I mean, I don’t expect you to do it, but if I know where you guys are going to be, I can lift his wallet. You distract him with tits and I can snag his ID.”

  “Since I offered him a private tour of the museum, we’ll be in areas you won’t be able to access. Let me see how this goes. After today, he might never want to see me again. After all, I brushed him off a couple of times, so I don’t think naïve schoolgirl interests him.” She picked up her purse to go to work. “Where are we on figuring out the next job?”

  “We’re working on it now. We’ll have something ready later today,” Audrey said.

  Mia didn’t believe a word of that. Nikki was covered in potato chip crumbs, and a video game was frozen on the TV screen. But she didn’t comment because she was trying to let them complete their process for planning in the ways that worked for them. They’d been successful so far, even more so as Mia had given them more leeway.

  Mia focused on her actual job and shoved thoughts of grifting from her mind. This had not been part of her plan. She was the mastermind who decided who they would steal from and what they would steal. Gathering information to keep them all from being discovered had never crossed her mind.

  * * *

  Logan smiled as he disconnected from his call with Mia. A tall woman with her blond hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head entered the conference room.

  “Whew, looks like somebody got some good news.”

  “Yes, it was a nice surprise.” He extended his hand. “Logan Ford. Nice to finally meet you in person, Agent Stokes.”

  She shook his hand. “I’m sorry about shuffling things and putting you off. This whole Devereaux thing created a huge mess.”

  Logan turned and spread his arm. “Take a seat. The Devereaux is what I need to talk to you about.”

  Stokes pulled out a chair and sat, twisting to remain facing him. “Do you think my Devereaux has something to do with your forged Mathis?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’m not a believer in coincidences, and it seems like a lot for two paintings owned by two different men who happen to be friends and being insured by the same insurance company end up being forged.”

  “Well, when you lay it out like that, it does seem fishy. But this whole thing has been beyond weird.”

  “Can you run it down for me?”

  “A few weeks ago, on a Saturday night, Sunday morning, Max Ingram reported the Devereaux missing from his house. His son Brad had had a pool party the night before, so there were a number of guests coming and going and Brad didn’t bother to get extra security. On Tuesday, the Devereaux was delivered by courier to the Carlisle Museum with provenance paperwork. There’s a whole other case being sorted about where and when Ingram bought the Devereaux because he has phony papers.”

  “Where does the forgery come into play?”

  “The Carlisle had the Devereaux they received locked up waiting for authentication. In the meantime, a week later, I get a call from a friend of mine saying he has a way for me to get Marco Wolf.”

  “Just out of the blue like that?”

  “He runs a security consulting business, so he knows a lot of people. Anyway, he gave his guy my number and we got the time and place for Wolf to receive the stolen Devereaux. The one at the museum was a forgery.”

  Logan scribbled information in his notebook. This was beyond coincidence; this was a setup. To what end, though? Experts had authenticated the Devereaux that was brought in by the FBI. Where had the forgery come from?

  “The guy who gave you Wolf. Who’s he?”

  Stokes leaned forward and propped her elbow on the table. “He’s an old-time con man and thief. He’s been picked up a bunch of times over the years, but stealing a masterpiece is way out of his league.”

  “How’d he get tied up with Wolf?”

  “Gambling debt. He owed Wolf’s bookie. This was payment.”

  “What’s this guy’s name? The one with the debt?”

  “Jack Russo. Goes by the name Dodger.” She paused and then scooted closer. “Here’s another tidbit for you that you won’t find in the official report. It wasn’t Dodger that made the call to me.”

  Logan leaned back in his chair and flipped his pen over in his hand. “Who did?”

  “I’m not really sure, and my friend who passed along my contact info isn’t saying. But Dodger’s old. I talked to a much younger man.”

  “And why did you leave this out?”

  She squinched her face and gave him a look like he was stupid. “This case doesn’t need any more complications. We scooped Dodger up, and he asked for his deal. So he at least knew what the score was.”

  “Can you send me your file on him?”

  “No problem. But I’m telling you, he’s no more a forger than a thief of masterpieces.”

  “Someone’s gotta know something about why a forgery was sent to the Carlisle. Let’s say Dodger did steal the Devereaux, and his plan all along was to use it to pay off his gambling debt. Where’s the handoff to the museum?” His pen twirled faster around his fingers, the rhythm attempting to keep up with his thoughts.

  “I don’t know anything about what happened at the Carlisle. Not my area, not my call.” She stood. “If there’s nothing else?” />
  He tossed his pen on the table and shook her hand. “Thanks for your help. This has been quite enlightening.”

  “Really? Sounds to me like it just created a ton more questions.”

  He raised a finger. “But as I pick apart the questions, they reveal answers. Each answer takes me a little closer to the truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “These art collectors are shady. I don’t know what they’re doing, but it’s off.”

  “Good luck. I’ll get those files to you today.”

  “Hey, one more thing. Can you give me the name and number of your friend? The security consultant?”

  “Why? He was just playing middleman.”

  “I’d just like to ask him a few questions.”

  “Devon James. I’ll send his contact info with the rest.”

  After Stokes left, Logan went through his notes again. He needed to talk to the original owner of the Devereaux. And talk to Max Ingram again to find out where he got the painting and why he thought it was the real deal.

  Maybe the guys in art fraud would have some information now that they had two forgeries in their possession. If they could determine who the forger was, that would be another piece to the puzzle.

  * * *

  Mia stared at the clock above Anya’s head as the intern continued talking—into the second hour now—about the need to add a social justice section to Mia’s planned Crime and Punishment exhibit. The slide show was hopefully nearing the end. Anya was a fellow for exhibition design this semester.

  Anya spoke, waving her arms. “Just think. If we could get a few Vincent Valdez or Jacob Lawrence pieces, they would be an even bigger draw.”

  “What do you think?” Robert Schetzer, her direct superior, asked.

  “It’s an interesting idea, but I’m not sure that either of those artists fit the theme of crime and punishment.”

  “But...” Anya stretched the word out. “If we tweaked the theme to be justice, it could be all-encompassing.”

  Mia had known Anya would try to usurp her control of this exhibit; she just hadn’t thought it would happen so early. “That changes the entire feel of the program. The board approved the exhibit—actually one much bigger than I originally proposed—because they liked my take on looking at real crime and how criminals are punished. While social justice warriors are often punished for their supposed crimes, it’s a stretch. Most people do not then look at them and call them criminals. Certainly not in the same way a murderer or rapist is.”