The Taming of the Thief (27 page)

 
   
 
The
footsteps padded with a soft swish against the cement, moving away. She let out
a relieved breath. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she crawled along the
stack, heading in the opposite direction of the footsteps and being extra careful
to not touch anything.

 
   
 
Every
vault had landlines. The old black rotary phones had been installed in the
Eisenhower era and still functioned.
Particularly useful in
the day and age when vault depth prevented stable cell signals.

 
   
 
The
nearest phones were located at stacks eighty and forty. Her progress along the
shelf was slow, particularly when she had to pick her way across a diode
collection. A jagged piece of amethyst bit into her hand and she swallowed back
the moan of pain that swam up.

 
   
 
She
embraced the ache and pain. It meant she was still alive.

 
   
 
And determined to stay that way.

 
   
 
At
the end of the stack, she closed her eyes and listened. She could hear
footsteps, what sounded like scuttling and the faint hum of the lights above
beyond her ragged little breaths. Careful, she made her way to the edge and
glanced down the length of the stack.

 
   
 
It
seemed clear.

 
   
 
Sophie hesitated. If she waited long enough,
her kidnapper might abandon his search and leave. The shirt, damp with her sweat,
clung to her. His cold eyes didn't suggest an ounce of mercy or forgiveness.

 
   
 
He
knew she was in the vault.

 
   
 
He
wasn't going to give up looking for her.

 
   
 
Stay or go?

 
   
 
If
she slipped out and ran, she might make it to the phone or at least to a stack
closer to it.

 
   
 
Decided, Sophie eased out and dropped to her
feet. Biting back a wince as the hard floor jarred her aching body. She stole a
look around the corner, looking in the direction she thought he'd gone and
seeing nothing, bolted.

 
   
 
Right into a hard male body.

 
   
 
Arms
closed around her, a hand clamping over her mouth as she opened it to scream.
Panic surging, she kicked, punched and clawed.

 
   
 
“Sophie, shhh,
c'iest moi
.”
Pietr's voice penetrated the haze of terror and her gaze shot up to see Pietr's
beautiful face looking down at her. Anger ticked in the muscles of his gorgeous
jaw and his dark eyes seemed pitched towards black.

 
   
 
Fatigued muscles threatening collapse, she
threw her arms around him and hugged him. His arms were twin pairs of steel.
His mouth nuzzled her head as he pulled her flat against the stacks.

 
   
 
He
was alive.

 
   
 
Pietr
was alive.

 
   
P
ietr
wasn't alone. Detective Bryant crept up like a shadow, covering them. The gun
in his hand matched the fierce glint in his eye.
“Where?”
He mouthed the word silently.

 
   
 
Sophie pointed back the way she came, her
words panted and hushed. “He went towards the Egyptian stacks.”

 
   
 
Pietr's arm was rock hard around her waist,
tucking her securely against his side. She was grateful for the support, even
as her fingers clutched his shirt. “What's the fastest way out of here,
bien-aimee
?” Pietr's words, muffled
against her hair, nudged at her. She wanted to burrow and hide, but escape
sounded good too.

 
   
 
“Access doors are located at stacks eighty,
forty and one. There is a pair of service elevators at opposite ends, as well.”
Her answers were sluggish. The adrenaline spiking in her system threatened to
crash. Her hands, knees and face hurt, the distant ache becoming a suffocating
reality.

 
   
 
“We've locked down the museum. We're going to
make our way back and then my men and I will do a sweep.”

 
   
 
“He's
armed.” A third gunshot emphasized her warning and a grunt of pain echoed
through the chamber. Sophie let out a muffled cry, jamming her knuckles against
her mouth to smother the sound.

 
   
 
“I
hear you, Ms. Kingston.” The voice sounded abnormally close. Pietr pushed her
behind him. Like the Detective, he was armed. Sophie's eyes went round at the
sight of the gun. She'd grown up around guns, guns handled by men like her
father, who didn't carry them around, didn't wave them and certainly didn't
threaten people.
At least not where she had ever seen.

 
   
 
The
blood rushing to her head pounded against her temples. Exhaustion was the enemy
now, exhaustion that left her wavering on her feet.

 
   
 
“You
need to stop running, Ms. Kingston. You are only making it harder on yourself.
Your ‘wanna be’ hero is laying here bleeding. If you want him to live, you're
going to bring me the Buddha.
Right now!”

 
   
 
He'd
shot someone.

 
   
 
Sophie saw Pietr and Bryant exchange a look.
Who had he shot?

 
   
 
“Get
her out of here,” Bryant mouthed the order.

 
   
 
“You
should hurry, Ms. Kingston. I'm afraid that he's bleeding quite a lot. He
likely doesn't have much time.”

 
   
 
How
the hell did he sound so close? Sophie looked up at the speaker attached to the
stack above them. Tugging Pietr's arm to get his attention, she pointed to it.

 
   
 
“He
has to be at one of the phones. There are only two of them. That means he's at
stack eighty.”

 
   
 
Pietr
nodded grimly and split another look with Bryant. Bryant eyed Sophie, the
significance clear. He wanted her out of here. Pietr's fingers threaded through
hers and they were moving. Her wobbly legs protested the pace, but the terror
nipping at her heels sent her racing after him.

 
   
 
Forty yards to the phone at stack one and just a few feet beyond
that to a door.
Pietr kept them moving in a straight line, pausing only
to check each stack's aisle before hustling her along.

 
   
 
The
numbers flashed by.

 
   
 
Thirty…

 
   
 
Twenty-five…

 
   
 
Twenty…

 
   
 
Fifteen…

 
   
 
Ten…

 
   
 
Five…

 
   
 
Pietr's fingers slipped from hers. The gun
skittered out of his hand and he went down. Sophie fell back a step as her
dark, blonde captor stalked out. He sported a metal pipe in one hand and a gun
in the other. Pietr staggered back to his feet, planting himself in front of
Sophie.

 
   
 
“You
have a lot of heroes, Ms. Kingston. It seems you are quite
fortunate
indeed.”

 
   
 
To
Sophie's horror, red blossomed on the back of Pietr's shirt, soaking it. A
rivulet of blood dropped from beneath the shirt, darkening the top of his
pants.

 
   
 
“Callum,” Pietr said grimly.

 
   
 
“Sauvage.”
The man, Pietr named Callum, smiled. It was an
even, white, almost pleasant smile. “I take it parting her legs didn't get her
to part with the Buddha. You must be losing your touch.”

 
   
 
“The
police know you're here, Callum. You should cut your losses and run. I'd also
charge Louis double, if I were you.” Pietr's even voice stayed reasonable and
patiently cool.

 
   
 
Sophie's heart pounded on her ribs, like a
fist slamming on a door, desperate to get out. Those too cold eyes looked past
Pietr to her.

 
   
 
“I'm
going to shoot him, Ms. Kingston. Point blank.
Unless you
fetch me that Buddha.”

 
   
 
“Ignore him Sophie.”

 
   
 
“Pietr… he shot Doctor Hinkley.”

 
   
 
“It
doesn't matter,” Pietr's voice was practically soothing, but he didn't take his
attention off Callum. “You go ahead and run back to Bryant.”

 
   
 
“You
trying to get yourself killed Sauvage?”

 
   
 
“I'm
worth a hell of a lot more alive than dead Callum, and if you touch one hair on
her head, your life won't be worth living.” The red stain on Pietr's back
spread, the blood a steady drip on the concrete floor.

 
   
 
Drip.

 
   
 
Drip.

 
   
 
“I
never took you for a hero.” Callum smirked. “Well, go ahead, make me an offer.
I want to hear what the infamous Pietr Sauvage, wheeler and dealer, thinks you
are worth Ms. Kingston. Uh-uh.” He waved Pietr back as he lurched forward.

 
   
 
“Sophie, go.” Pietr ordered.

 
   
 
“Yes, Sophie,” Callum mimicked, drawing her name out like some
oozing caress.
“Fetch me the Buddha and I might let you have lover boy
back if he doesn't bleed to death first.”

 
   
 
Sophie's feet were rooted to the spot. She
couldn't abandon Pietr. She wasn't giving an artifact to this whack job. Her
gaze skittered around the stacks. Bryant had gone in the opposite direction.

 
   
 
“I'll
take you to it.” Sophie announced, not bothering to keep her voice down. With
any luck, it would carry back to the Detective.

 
   
 
She
had to hope.

 
   
 
“No,”
Pietr snapped. “Get out of here.”

 
   
 
“Stop
giving orders,” Sophie argued. “All you've done since you got here was
tell
me what to do and how to do it. This is my decision.”

 
   
 
“The
hell it is.” Pietr spared her a look, true anger surging beneath the shadow of
confusion in his gaze.

 
   
 
Inspiration sparked hope in her breast and
Sophie seized at it. “I'm tired of you acting like everyone should just fall at
your feet. You charm your way out of every situation. Well I'm through with
being charmed.”

 
   
 
Pietr
flinched and Callum barked with laughter at her words. “Poor Sauvage, I guess
the rumors of your prowess in bed are vastly overrated if the little librarian
here isn't buying your bullshit anymore.”

 
   
 
“Shut
up.” Sophie snapped at the gunman. She circled around Pietr, coming up on his
left side and freeing his right. “You're just a bully with a gun. You shot an
old man for money. That makes you a thug.” She let her gaze sweep over him,
mustering disdain and disgust. “An overpriced, overdressed, thug.”