The Taming of the Thief (6 page)

 
   
 
The
attorney's frosty demeanor softened and he gave her a small pat on the
shoulder. “Would you like anything to eat?
A small break
before you go
over it?”

 
   
 
Her
stomach bolted at the thought of food and she shook her head. She hadn't eaten
in hours, truth be told, she should be famished, but she just couldn't stomach
the idea of food. “No, thank you. The hot cocoa is divine.”

 
   
 
Sophie flicked a look at the clock on the far
wall. Pietr pulled a chair up next to her and the attorney dragged another over
on her right side. They were bracketing her and clearly telling the Detective
that they were in it for the long haul.

 
   
 
In
three and a half short hours, Pietr had become her rock. She couldn't give
voice to the words brewing beneath the surface, but when he reached over to
take her hand, she threaded her fingers through his and held on for dear life.

 
   
 
“I
left my apartment at six and jogged to the museum. It's about two miles and
that's how I get my head cleared to start the day…”

 
   
P
ietr
dropped his jacket over the back of the chair before loosening his tie and
dropping it on the jacket. It was nearly five in the morning New York time.
He'd been in the States for less than a day and he already longed for a week in
Majorca, San Paulo or some other exotic location. The crowded streets and dense
traffic combined with the heavy odors of roasting sausages and hot dogs were
less than appealing.

 
   
 
He
cut his gaze towards the second bedroom in his suite where the delicious Sophie
Kingston showered. Unfortunately, none of those other locales held as much
appeal as the door to the second bedroom or better yet, what waited behind the
door. Despite numerous protests, he'd convinced her to come back to his hotel,
to shower, eat and get some sleep before going back to her apartment.

 
   
 
Keying in the code to his cell phone, Pietr
dialed a familiar number and listened to the double rings as he poured coffee.
He'd ordered a fresh pot of hot chocolate as well. His little academic didn't
like coffee.

 
   
 
“Pietr.”
Max's voice tugged his attention away from the
door. His cousin was currently in Rome with his fiancé on a job. “I expected to
hear from you yesterday.”

 
   
 
“If
you are sitting around waiting for my call, I should have a chat with your
fiancé, you aren't treating her right.” Pietr inspected the food the dining
service sent up; scrambled eggs, toast, muffins, fruit, an assortment of bacon,
sausage and ham as well as some granola and yogurt. It covered the most basics
and his research indicated that Sophie wasn't a vegetarian.

 
   
 
And
this woman
needed
to eat.

 
   
 
“Hardly, but you were in such a hurry, I
thought you'd be calling me from the jet on your way to more desirable
locales.”

 
   
 
“Unfortunately, my bastard of a cousin has a
wicked temptress of a fiancé and a desire to solve the little problem of a
missing statue before she weds. What else is a best man to do but solve the
issue?” Pietr selected a slice of bacon and nibbled it as he walked over to look
out the window. The sun was a promise on the horizon, but life stirred in the
street below. Vendors pushed their carts to the corners. Pedestrians emerged
from the subways and cyclists hustled through the streets, suits in bags on
their backs.

 
   
 
The insanity
of the every day drone heading to the office was enough to give a man hives.

 
   
 
“And?”

 
   
 
“And
I found an access point to the museum, but no news as yet. Tell me about the
Ambassador, he accepted your payoff,
n'est-ce pas
?”
Pietr switched to French automatically. Sophie showered, but there were things
he wasn't quite prepared to share yet.

 
   
 
He
sipped his coffee, gaze roving over the suite with a curious sense of
impatience.

 
   
 
“He
did. That irritation should be a closed book. Why?” Max’s tone had that guarded
air to it. While his cousin often took the more sober approach to problems, he
wasn't above creative negotiations as needed.

 
   
 
“The
curator that Walter suggested I contact has had some issues, including a
shooting she witnessed yesterday morning at the museum.” Silence greeted
Pietr's words. He sipped his coffee and waited. Max would be considering the
angles. It was his cousin's gift. Pietr could locate and disseminate
information from a dozen different sources, but Max could pull the information
apart, sort it, and identify logistical issues.

 
   
 
“There are no news reports of a shooting at
the Museum of Antiquities yesterday.”

 
   
 
“The
police are not releasing any details. It would seem there is no evidence
outside of the curator's word.” Pietr waited, letting Max digest that piece of
information.

 
   
 
“But?”

 
   
 
“But
someone tried to kill our curator last night and broke into her apartment.”

 
   
 
“Is
she all right?” Max’s sharp tone edged his concern. The hunt for the Buddha had
resulted in at least one attack and other threats to Max's fiancé.

 
   
 
“She
is safe, for now. I convinced her to come back to the hotel with me.” Pietr
drained the cup of coffee and set it aside. Noises from the other room
suggested that his guest finished her shower. “The police were not taking her
report of the shooting that seriously until the attempt on her and the break
in.”

 
   
 
“What
does it have to do with the Buddha?”

 
   
 
“I
don't know yet. It might be nothing or it might be everything. But it bothers
me that someone tried to kill her. It bothers me more that she wouldn't have
been in that pub if not for me.” Pietr's fingers curled into a fist. His pulse
knocked against his forehead. It bothered him more that if he hadn't lured her
out of her apartment, she might have been home.

 
   
 
“Are
you hurt?” Max’s tone hardened. Beyond him in the distance, Pietr heard the
sound of Anya's voice and Max murmured a response.

 
   
 
“I'm
fine, Mother. I am just angry. I've called on Edgington to represent her.
You'll be paying for that and I've asked Jacques to fly over. So expect that
bill.”

 
   
 
“Of course.”

 
   
 
“Max,
is the Buddha that important to Anya?”

 
   
 
Silence greeted his question. Pietr could
imagine Max working through the angles, his hand drumming against a surface.

 
   
 
“Yes.
But call Viktor as well. He left Puerto Rico and should be on a lay over in
Washington D.C. today. Have him drive up.”

 
   
 
“
Oui.”

 
   
 
The
door to the bedroom opened. Sophie shuffled out of the bedroom, bare feet
swishing against the carpet. Pietr's gut tightened. She appeared in a fluffy,
almost three sizes too big robe. Her warm skin tinted pink from the hot shower
and her long, black hair fell in damp tangles around her face.

 
   
 
She
was enchanting.

 
   
 
“Pietr, don't take any stupid chances.” Max’s
voice intruded terribly in this fantasy.

 
   
 
“Ahh,
Maxwell, tis I, what is there to worry about?” Pietr smiled and thumbed the end
call, cutting off Max’s vociferous response.

 
   
 
“I'm
sorry,” Sophie toyed with the robe's ties, obvious discomfort echoed in her
slumped shoulders and hesitation at the door. “My clothes were still wet and
smelly, but there was nothing else to wear.”

 
   
 
“You
look beautiful.” Pietr shoved the phone back into his pocket and crossed the
room to capture her fiddling hands. “I will order up some clothes for you after
you eat and get some sleep.” He tugged her towards the feast. He wanted her to
curl up into one of the oversized chairs, tuck a blanket around her tiny,
delicate feet and feed her.

 
   
 
He
cut off the thought before it traveled further. “I've ordered a little bit of
everything and another pot of hot chocolate.”

 
   
 
Sophie's fingers curled into his, clinging in
a manner he didn't typically care for, but instead of shuttling her into a
chair, Pietr closed his hands around her, waiting. The way her teeth nibbled at
her lower lip, the balancing of her weight on the balls of her feet, suggested
a desire to flee.

 
   
 
He
didn't want to startle her.

 
   
 
Tears
shimmered in her eyes and the warm cocoa of her gaze hit him in the gut.

 
   
 
“Sophie, shh, it is all right. You are safe
here.”

 
   
 
“I
barely know you and now I'm here and you're being so nice.” The words spilled
out, rough and thick with unspoken emotion.

 
   
 
“Is
that so bad?” Pietr tried a smile, ducking his head to hold her gaze when she
dropped it.

 
   
 
“No, but…why?”

 
   
 
“Do I
have to have a reason? You are exhausted. You've had a terrible day and an
equally terrible night.
A shower, some food and a little
sleep,
Oui?
You promised in
the car you would do all these things. When you are rested, I will take you to
your apartment, I promise.”

 
   
 
“No,
but…”

 
   
 
“No
buts.” Pietr swooped in on the hesitation. “Let us make no decisions right now.
I will even leave you to some privacy if that is what you wish.” It wasn't what
he wished at all, but he didn't want her to flee out of fear of him. Jacques
wasn't here yet and he'd yet to call Viktor. He didn't want her out of his
sight until he arranged some kind of security for her.

 
   
 
“No,
I don't want to chase you from your room and I'm sorry.” Her feet went flat
against the floor, the threat of flight averted. “I'm being terribly rude and
you've been nothing but nice, except for the breaking into my apartment
earlier.”

 
   
 
Her
tired expression grew guarded and she drew her hand away. Pietr winced, trying
to ignore the sense of loss at her withdrawal.

 
   
 
“Perhaps you would consider forgiving my
trespass.”

 
   
 
“Will
you tell me what you wanted? Why you were there?”

 
   
 
“
Absolument
.
But
first, you must eat. If you eat your meal, I will answer at least one question
for you.” He was pleased that his jocular tone teased a reluctant smile from
her.

 
   
 
“It
smells really good.”

 
   
 
“Then
eat.” Pietr gave her an imperious nod.