Exception (68 page)

“If someone is calling in the middle of the night it must be important. Pick up the damn phone, Tay.” The annoyance in Emily’s voice made his own anger subside. It was refreshing, knowing that she was as angry with the whole situation as he was.

After a quick peck to her forehead he reached behind his back and brought the device to his ear. “Hello,” he said, his voice short and angry.

“Good evening, is this Mr. Taylor Carter?” A serious male voice sounded on the other end of the line.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Sir, my name is Jason Carwell, and I work with Prime Star Security. Following our security procedure, I would like to verify some information with you before we continue.”

Taylor consented and the man proceeded to ask him the four predetermined security questions, which Taylor answered, before requesting the eight-digit code his contract required the security company to provide in order to verify that the call wasn’t a prank. Jason sounded every digit correctly before continuing. “Thank you for confirming your identity, sir. I’m calling you this evening because of a security breach in your place of business at West Twenty-Seventh Street. We received the warning a couple of minutes ago and, following the policy of our company and your contract with us, we’ve already notified the police and they are on their way. However we need you to head over there where I’ll meet you, to assess the damage.”

Letting go of Emily, Taylor jumped out of bed and ran to the walk-in closet, rubbing his eyes with his free hand while asking Jason questions that he couldn’t answer yet. From her place in bed, Emily heard a loud clack that she assumed was Taylor kicking the dresser drawer closed as he uttered a long, loud line of profanities. In an instant, she jumped out of bed like it was on fire and went after him.

As soon as she was standing under the doorframe, Taylor shared the little information Jason had imputed while fitting a navy tee over his head and bending over to pick up his boots. The concern and anger twisting his gorgeous face was heartbreaking.

“I’ll be ready to go with you in two minutes,” she said hastily, putting some underwear on and retrieving a pair of jeans from the closet.

“Babe, I would rather you stayed here,” he explained, in the best level voice he could muster. Seeing the frown on her forehead, he picked up one of her hands and placed a gentle kiss over the knuckles. “I’m really pissed for so many reasons, and I might go Hulk with the bastards from the fucking security company who sold me an impenetrable system that cost a truckload of money and was good for shit. Besides, I’m taking the bike, and who knows if the bastards are still around? I’d rather you stayed here, where you’re safe.”

She shook her head and clutched tightly to his hand. “And I’m supposed to be okay with you riding that deathtrap alone to some possible danger? No fucking way!”

Taylor folded his arms around her and breathed the familiar raspberry scent of her hair. She nearly clawed at his back, bringing him as close to her as she could in an attempt to pass her unease at the whole thing onto him. A few tears escaped her eyes, soaking through his t-shirt.

“Shh, babe, don’t cry. Nothing will happen to me. I’m just really worried because a good part of Stan’s life work is in there, and some of those pictures are one-of-a-kind and already sold. If I take the car, promise to drive within the speed limit, and come back home as soon as we get all of this figured out will you feel better?”

Emily nodded her head once. She did feel better about him being in a vehicle that didn’t use his legs as careenage, but she was still uneasy over him going alone. Not wanting to add to the tension he was already feeling, she didn’t mention anything.

“Okay,” he agreed kissing her hair. “Another reason I’m pissed about going is because I am really curious to know your answer to my question.”

“Good. That curiosity will make you hurry back.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, just a hint of a smirk on his lips. “You’re really gonna leave me hanging? Agonizing over a one-word answer?”

“Yep! Think of it as motivation and please, please be careful.”

“I will,” he promised truthfully. “Walk me to the door?”

Emily nodded and reached for her cherry blossom kimono. A wave of chills climbed up her spine as the cold silk touched her naked skin.

They walked hand in hand to the foyer. Emily called the elevator as Taylor collected his wallet and car keys from the rectangular table by the door. Though he had no idea why, he could feel her tension as they waited, side by side in the lobby. Needing to reassure her that everything was fine, he folded her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a long and passionate kiss.

“I love you so much, Ems, so fucking much,” he said against her hair as the elevator dinged. Taylor kissed Emily’s lips once more before stepping in. They smiled briefly at each other as the stainless steel doors closed.

Knowing she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until Taylor was back home, Emily decided the comfort of a cup of hot herbal tea and the distraction of a good book was just what she needed to stop the uneasiness she was feeling. With her e-reader and a large mug in hand, she settled by the larger than life window, and let herself drift into a story.

T
AYLOR DID
as promised. He took his Jeep instead of the Ducatti and kept within the speed limit, following every traffic light and sign from their apartment to the gallery. His mind, however, was racing at one hundred miles per hour, alternating between the damage he would have to deal with once he arrived at the gallery, and his disappointment at his interruption to his discussion with Emily.

Mostly, however, he thought about the proposal. His only consolation was that Emily seemed as disappointed over the interruption as he’d been, and that made him decide to work things out with the police and security team as fast as he could and run back home to finally place his grandmother’s ring on her finger.

Taylor turned his car from Seventh Avenue onto the Twenty-seventh Street, and found it unusually quiet. There were some people walking on the sidewalk and a few cars parked alongside the curb, but no patrol cars, and nothing that screamed crime scene. His heart started beating a bit faster as he approached the curb in front of the gallery. Looking out of his window, he saw that, other than a few emergency lights flashing brightly inside, nothing seemed to be wrong. The door was closed and large window seemed to be intact. Taylor killed his engine and stepped out of the car to take a closer look.

“Mister Carter,” a deep voice called from behind him as soon as his foot met the sidewalk.

Fitting his hands in his jeans pockets, Taylor turned around to see a man about as tall as he was, but bulkier, with dirty blond hair that had been clipped very close to his skull and a thick scar running the length of his protuberant chin. The man was wearing black from head to toe; the only color in his ensemble was the gold, star-shaped bull’s eye that was the symbol of Prime Star which was embroidered on his black, long-sleeved polo shirt.

“I’m Jason Carwell, with Prime Star Security. We spoke on the phone.” The blond extended a friendly hand.

“Where’s the police? You said they had already been notified.” Taylor used his best “no bullshit” tone as he shook the outstretched hand briefly.

Jason lowered his hand and smiled in a friendly manner at Taylor. “It’s a Saturday night in New York. There are lots of drunks and crazy people looking for trouble, but they will be here soon enough, sir, you just need to remain calm. I’m here to help you through the situation.”

Something didn’t smell quite right. On the phone, Jason had said that the police had been contacted five minutes before, which, adding to the fifteen minutes it took for Taylor to arrive at the gallery, was more than enough time for the NYPD to arrive at the site.

Taylor glared at Mr. Buzz-Cut and narrowed his eyes, seeing the hint of a tattoo peeking from the collar of his shirt. He wasn’t a prejudiced guy when it came body ink, not in the least. Two of his closest friends, and his girlfriend-hopefully-soon-to-be-wife had tats and, though he was never able to decide on a design, he’d always wanted to get something done.

However, for some reason, either this particular design itself or the blurriness of the ink made him uneasy.

“Jason, isn’t it?” Taylor asked, using his most conciliatory tone. Buzz-cut answered with a nod. “Would you mind showing me some identification? It’s Prime Star policy and, according to the very strict contract you guys handed me, if I don’t follow it to the nitty-gritty I’m liable for all of the damage done to my establishment.”

Buzz-cut smiled and nodded. Digging into the back pocket of his snug black jeans, he retrieved a company ID card and handed it to Taylor, who studied the plastic until he was satisfied that it was real and that his anxiety was misplaced.

Taylor shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He was probably just anxious to go home and give Emily the ring that was tucked beneath his pillow.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s late at night in New York, and I promised my girl I’d be careful,” he said with an almost embarrassed smile, returning the card to Jason.

“No worries, I understand perfectly. My girl is the same. I thought she’d relax when I was promoted out of the field, but she keeps nagging me to watch my back every time I step out the door. I guess love-struck women can be like that, right?”

Taylor smiled and nodded. “So, did you get the chance to see what happened here?”

“As far as I can tell it was an unsuccessful attempt at breaking in. They busted a glass in the front door and activated the window sensor hidden in it, which alerted our system.” Jason started walking towards the big wooden door and signaled with his hand for Taylor to follow, which he did.

There were no shards of glass in the frame; the rectangular window was simply empty, the glass lying unbroken on the floor inside the gallery. Taylor lowered his body to give the door closer inspection. The wood around the space where the glass had been was damaged and splintering, like someone forced a tool between it and the glass. Moving his attention to the lock, he noticed that it was untouched—not even a scratch.
Odd.

Straightening his body back up again, Taylor took in the whole of the door, his brows pulling together in a worried frown as he processed the information he’d gathered from the quick examination. There was no scratch on the large window, visible attempt had been made to open the locks, and the missing glass panel was the one furthest away from them. None of that made sense to him, and more and more questions started filling his mind.
Why would someone who’s trying to rob an establishment break the farthest glass from the lock? And why aren’t the cops here yet?

He narrowed his eyes remembering Jason’s words.
“They busted a glass in the front door and activated the window sensor hidden in it, which alerted our system”
.

Taylor remembered Nate telling him something about the window sensors. It was one of the newest products from Prime Star, but he couldn’t remember in which windows the sensors were located. He looked at the door once more, his eyes traveling from the empty space to the two other still-intact glass panels, the ones closest to the lock.

Extending his index finger he tapped the two remaining glass panes and his breath caught in his throat at the different sounds.

In a second, the conversation he’d had with Nate all those months ago played in his mind. The large window, and two out of the three glass panels on the door, were safety glass. One panel, the one with the hidden sensor, was ordinary glass, meant to be bait for any burglar. The high sensitivity of the sensor would pick up any attempts at breaking the lock or the second glass panel, but not the third. The third was a weak spot.