December Frost (A Southern Romance Monthly) (3 page)

And she wasn't one of the artists, he'd gathered that from her short conversation with De Prune. He assumed she was probably there with her friend as support. Maybe
she
was the artist.
 

He'd seen beautiful and known plenty of women. Meaningless sex came with the job description. Sometimes. And he'd sort of assumed that after tonight's job he and Giselle could retire to her condo in Midtown and spend a few hours doing just that.
 

Only…

Even as he moved away from the buffet and set his plate on one of the trash tables set out for convenience, the woman's face was all he could see. It was her eyes—a blue so blue they were almost harsh and the dark, straight brows that gave her a slightly commanding look.
 

Not to mention her other assets. He particular liked the way her dress showed off her well-toned stomach and belly button. Definitely an innie.
 

As he made his way through the side door leading to the stairs, he imagined what it would be like running his hands over that stomach and then moving it around to caress those luscious mounds in the back.
 

Damn. Maybe it was a good idea he did get away from her because he was upsetting his thoughts the way lightening disrupted an electrical current.
 

On his way up he removed the small can of spray paint. The cameras would start soon so he had to be ready—

He stopped. The first camera had already been blasted with black paint.
 

Crap.
 

Thomas ran faster up the stairs to the next camera. It too was disabled.
 

He ran up two more flights and stopped at the fire hose door. Thomas had already put his gun just behind the extinguisher. There were a few strained breaths as he slipped his hand in, then relief came when he found it where he left it. Phantom was already in play and luckily he hadn't found the gun.
 

Locking a round in the chamber from the magazine, Thomas held his weapon barrel up as he climbed the last two flights of stairs to the top floor. Just inside to the left, then the right, the right and then the left would be the statue.
 

He checked the door for traps, and certain the Phantom hadn't bothered to set any, opened the door.
 

Thomas paused. No alarms. No click. He slipped inside and ducked behind the nearest pedestal and listened.
 

A noise inside the room caught his attention. He closed his eyes and thought about the room plan he'd memorized the day before. He thought he heard tools, a bag, and maybe even…sneakers.
 

And…a zipper?
 

Both hands on his weapon, he moved from pedestal to display, always keeping himself low and out of sight.
 

It wasn't until he was one row away from the statue that he chanced a look. His view was warped a bit because he had to look through a crystal display. Somebody in a raised white hoodie stood in front of the statue and they were doing…something. He just couldn't figure out what.
 

He was going to have to get closer. Thomas doubted the guy was going to stop if he shouted freeze. And he was pretty sure the Phantom was going to try and make a break for it, if not attempt to break him.
And I don't want me broken. Not when there's a hot lady downstairs that I'd really, really, like to get to know better.
 

"I think this is the closest you've ever been."
 

Thomas froze. He hadn't expected the Phantom to speak.
 

"I know where you are. Third statue on my right, two rows behind. I can see the barrel of your gun."
 

The voice wasn't normal. A beat later Thomas realized he was using a voice box. Clever. This thief had been careful for years to prevent authorities finding DNA, images or recordings of him.
 

Now it was time for quick decisions. There was a floor full of people below, and a dangerous thief yards from him. Thomas recalled the Phantom's MO which never mentioned weapons. And so far, no body count. Which was good since he suddenly felt the need to protect not just those downstairs, but in particular, the knockout in the black dress.
 

Should he answer the guy to stall? There wasn't any backup waiting in the wings. He was on his own. Thomas needed information.
 

"What, you got eyes in the back of your head?" Thomas cringed.
Wow. That was a real boner of a statement. Way to go there, Tom Tom
.
 

"No. I spotted you before you spotted me."
 

"You've been downstairs? You were in the group?"

"No." The guy continued to move, but Thomas still couldn't make out what he was doing. He needed a new vantage point. "I spotted you when you arrived in town."
 

Say what?
 

"Good try, Phantom. But I don't buy it."
 

"You arrived on flight 445 from D.C., where you were hired to find a rare painting, stolen from another collection in Vancouver, British Columbia two months ago. After having successfully delivered the painting to its rightful owner—you were hired because the original owner didn't have legal rights to the painting and they did not want police involvement—you were contacted by a new client to prevent me from stealing this statue."
 

Okay
. Thomas chewed on his lower lip.
That…was creepy.
"Care to tell me how you know all of that?"
 

"Because it is my job to know. As it is my job to put a stop to your interfering in my employer's acquisition of priceless treasures."

Dude…this wasn't sounding right.
"You make that sound like my work is interfering with yours."
 

"It is. So I was hired to end it."
 

That's when things went a little…wrong.

CHAPTER FIVE

"I can say with complete honesty," Cecelia spit the mouthful of nasty into her napkin. "I do not like shrimpy grits."
 

Deb tried not to choke on her drink when Cecelia used her napkin as an airline bag. She waved at her friend and regained her composure. "See…this is why I wanted you to come with me."
 

Cecelia downed her Coke and put the glass on one of the nearby trash trays. She noticed an untouched plate of food on it. Most of the food was the shrimpy grits.
Ah…so someone else didn't like it either
. She made another face and wished for a cheeseburger. Lots of onions. "So…you seen Juan?"

"No." Deb sounded a little irritated. "I haven't. I'll bet you he blew the whole thing off now that he's with his girlfriend."
 

"Meh…" Cecelia patted her friend's shoulder. "You're better off. And you're young, and hot, and in a place to meet a lot of…" she looked around a minutes and chuckled in her friend's ear. "Gay men."
 

"Har-har," Deb said and pushed Cecelia's hand off her shoulder. "Don't rub it in. You probably found the only straight guy here. Or at least, the only unmarried one."
 

"He was here with a date."
 

"Maybe he's
her
beard. You never know."
 

Speaking of Mister Hot and OMG, Cecelia pushed up on her toes to look around at the talking, eating, milling people. The guy was tall so he shouldn't be hard to spot. But he wasn't anywhere near their position by the buffet door. She pushed at Deb. "Let's go mingle."
 

"My feet hurt." Deb wobbled a little as she walked.
 

"No shit," Cecelia said behind her. "But it was your idea to wear these calf-killers."
 

"They made your ass stick out."
 

Oh. Really? Great. Now I have big bewbs and a big ass. Lovely.
 

The two had just moved into a larger room when a voice boomed over the intercom. "Hello?" *tap, tap* "Is this thing on—oh my that's loud isn't it?" He laughed and everyone took their hands off of their ears as the volume died down bit. "Good evening everyone and welcome to the Atlanta Advertisers Awards Banquet!"
 

"I think this is our cue to leave?" Cecelia pleaded in Deb's ear.
 

"Yeah…that tub of ice cream and some Thrones is sounding
reeal
good. I got jammies you can wear."
 

Cecelia was happy sleeping commando but didn't want to gross Deb out.
 

Deb motioned for her to follow and Cecelia was close behind. They were almost to the door to the spiraling hallway when Saxx approached, a very determined look on his face. He put a hand to Cecelia's arm. "Inzmann, you got a sec?"

Uh oh.
This sounded serious. She looked past him to Deb who said she'd be at the front. Cecelia nodded and followed Saxx to a side pocket. This was easier to find since most of the guests were gravitating to the speaker. "What's up?"

"We got a hit on a silent alarm upstairs about three minutes ago."
 

"You think one of the guests is trying to steal something?"
 

"Something tripped the alarm. I sent two of my men upstairs and lost contact. You're the only other officer here and backup's still five minutes away."
 

Great
. She looked down at herself and looked up to see Saxx looking down at her too. "What?"

"Just thinking maybe you should change?"
 

"No time." She reached into her purse and retrieved her badge. Luckily she had it on a chain and hung it around her neck. Then she pulled her gun out and shoved the spare magazine down between her boobs. And once again, Saxx was watching her. "What?"

"I've never wanted to be a bullet so bad in my life."
 

She lightly punched his shoulder and then the two came up with a plan. Saxx told her there were stairs leading up to the top floor where the alarm was tripped, but the cameras were all blacked out. "We suspect the thief did that earlier."
 

"How much earlier? Geez Saxx."
 

"Oh come on, Cecelia. It's an Advertisers dinner. Why go up there and steal something?"
 

"Why indeed." She grabbed one of the radios and snapped it to her shoulder strap. After a quick run through of where she'd be when backup arrived, she hurried over to the staircase door and stepped through.
 

The first thing she did was get rid of the shoes then headed up the stairs. She spotted the spray on the cameras. On the floor just before the top she noticed the fire extinguisher panel was open. A quick look showed just the extinguisher. She took the next set of stairs and paused at the door.
 

She hadn't expected to hear a lot of yelling—and then gunfire. Shit!
 

Cecelia checked the magazine, loaded a round, and then slipped into the door and kept low. She took the scene in the instant before she hid behind a pedestal. A large room, L-shaped with the tip of the L hidden around the corner. She could see a few of the displays were knocked over—one was shattered. Ouch…hope that wasn't expensive.
 

Then she caught movement to her left, reflected in one of the pieces covered in mirrors. At first it looked like two people. She thought she heard two people. Another shot and then another crash.
 

She crouch-ran around the pedestals and made sure she was behind a solid piece—a big one carved of stone—stepped out, spread her legs and aimed her gun at the retreating back of a man. "FREEZE! Police!"
 

The guy stopped for a second, but then started forward. She fired a warning shot just past his head. "I said freeze, asshole."
 

He did and held his arms out from his size. "You're making a mistake," the man said.
 

"They all say that. Now…slowly set the gun on the ground and turn around."
 

He did exactly as she said. But when he turned around—

It was him! The Buffet Guy!
 

His eyes widened as well when he recognized her. "You're…a cop?"
 

Cecelia narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. Surprised? And you're a thief. Kick the gun away and get on your knees."
 

"Look, you've got to let me explain. This isn't what it looks like—"
 

"I said—" she took in a deep breath, very aware the motion thrust her breasts out. The gesture had the correct effect. The man stumbled and blinked at her, his gaze fixed on her chest. "Kick the gun away or I'll fix your little rooster problem." She lowered her aim.
 

"Wow…that…is sexy…"
 

Not quite the reaction she was going for. But he did do as she asked and she realized real fast–she didn't have any handcuffs.

Crap.
 

Instead she kept aim with her right hand and pressed the radio button. "Saxx?"
 

"They're on their way up. You good?"
 

"I caught him. I need the backup."
 

"Roger!"
 

"You don't have any handcuffs," the asshole said as he remained on his knees.
 

"Put your hands on your head."
 

"I'm not kidding, Miss—" He leaned forward, as if waiting for her to give him a name.
 

"Detective Cecelia Inzmann. And that's all you get Mister—" She repeated his action.
 

"Carr. Thomas Carr. And you'll find my wallet in my pants pocket. In it is my ID."
 

"I'll wait for backup."

"It's not a driver's license, Detective. It's a Private Detective license."
 

Right. She smirked. "I'm not falling for it."
 

"No…I guess not." The entire time he talked his gaze moved up and down, taking in her entire figure. "You really are quite lovely."