“Want some company?”
“Umm, well…” Brax made a show of trying to come up with an excuse why he didn’t want Judd coming along.
Judd shook his head. “Whoever he is, tell him you have to be back by one.”
“Damn.” Brax grinned. “There goes my nooner.”
He left the office before Judd could come up with a fitting reply.
When he arrived in Caleb’s office moments later, he found it empty. Two minutes later, Caleb came in, carrying a disc that he inserted into the DVD drive of his computer. “That’s him,” Caleb said, pausing the disc partway through.
“Nice looking guy. Print that out. I’ll run it through our facial recognition program and see what I come up with.”
Caleb did, while Brax filled him in on what he’d found out about the real Jonathan Roberts. “I could pay him a visit, but I doubt he’d tell me anything, if he does know our guy—which he may not.”
Brax left Caleb’s office the normal way, since he planned on eating lunch at a nearby restaurant. He chuckled when the receptionist said, “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Because you were probably using the lady’s room.”
“But the buzzer…Never mind. It’s been acting up. I don’t suppose…” She looked at him hopefully.
“No problem.” Brax checked the wiring for the buzzer, fixed the problem, then left with her thanks ringing in his ears.
* * * *
My man? Kyle had been staking out Caleb Pence’s business from the window of a shop across the street. He’d hoped that Pence would get in contact with his partner in crime, presuming Pence himself wasn’t the thief. The man who’d caught his interest was tall and muscular, with raven black hair and beard. He hadn’t seen the man arrive at the building, and Kyle had been watching it since he’d left after talking with Pence. Of course, he could have come in the back way, but why?
The man strolled down the street to a restaurant in the next block. Kyle followed, although he had no intention of going inside. Instead, he entered an alley and then teleported himself onto the roof of a building across from the restaurant. Half an hour later, the man exited. Kyle hoped he’d walk to wherever he was headed next. Otherwise, he’d lose him. The man did walk—to a parking lot. That wasn’t much better than his teleporting away—except for the fact that Kyle was able to get the license plate number of his car.
Returning to his hotel room, since the city wasn’t his home-base, Kyle ran the plate number. When he got a name, one Braxton O’Hara, he searched for what he could find out about him. What the guy did surprised him. Mr. O’Hara was a partner in a private investigation firm. Hardly someone I’d think would be involved in an art theft ring. On the other hand, why not? He probably knows a great deal about security, among other things. And he is a shifter. Kyle had picked up on that fact when he’d followed O’Hara to the parking lot. Which means he probably was aware that I was around, although he might not have thought anything of it. Shifters may be few and far between, but we do exist, and live in cities, just like humans.
Kyle also found out where O’Hara lived. He had an apartment in a building on the edge of the city’s downtown. He decided, all things being equal, that staking out O’Hara at his business would be the better bet. That way, if the man didn’t go home, he could follow him to wherever he landed. With luck, if he was right and O’Hara was Pence’s thief, he might even go out on a job.
“That could present a problem, though, if he does,” Kyle murmured as he went to get his car. The last one was back east. The next job could be God only knows where and there’s no way I can follow if he teleports there. And undoubtedly he would. I guess I’ll face that problem if it comes up.
He realized, as he drove out of the hotel’s lot, that it was still afternoon. He doubted that O’Hara would take off on a job for Pence until evening, if that was going to happen. So rather than waste time staking out his business, Kyle went directly to where O’Hara lived.
The building was older, but well maintained, with balconies on all five floors. Kyle walked into the entryway, his cap pulled low to shadow his face. He was glad he’d taken that precaution when he noticed small security cameras facing the front door and the door to the lobby. A row of buttons and a speaker box were beside the lobby door. O’Hara’s apartment was number 404. Kyle pulled the usual trick, pressing buttons until someone responded without asking who was there. He didn’t intend on breaking into O’Hara’s place, but he had to find out which side of the building it was on, so he could get to O’Hara’s balcony. From there, with luck, he’d be able to see inside, and thus gain entrance to the apartment.
The balcony he needed was on the side of the building, facing a house next door. He teleported up once he knew he wasn’t being observed, then smiled to himself. Apparently O’Hara didn’t believe in curtains. Or if he did, he only used them at night. Kyle had a prefect view into the apartment’s living room. From where he stood, he surveyed the interior. If O’Hara had cameras, they were well hidden. The same with the security box for his front door. Kyle was certain he had to have one—probably in the closet next to the door, with a thirty to forty-five second delay before it went off to give the man time to get to and disarm it. No one but a seasoned B&E specialist would realize that was the case. The average thief would just think O’Hara was stupid and relied on the building’s security to keep interlopers out.
Despite the fact there were no visible cameras; Kyle didn’t enter until he’d used the jammer he carried with him in a small kit that also held professional lockpicks and a bump key. When he was certain it was safe, he teleported inside. While he was fairly sure he wouldn’t find anything pointing to O’Hara being a professional thief, Kyle figured it was worth searching the place. He knew what he was doing, part of being a seasoned member of the art crime team, so he eventually found the safe that was hidden in the office off the living room. Unfortunately, breaking into safes was not one of his skills. He had often said he’d learn, but so far, he hadn’t taken the time. Now, he wished he had.
With nothing more he could do at the moment, Kyle left the way he’d come in, going from the balcony to where he’d left his car with a thought. That was safe enough to do, since he’d parked it beside some trees in the back corner of a lot, a block from O’Hara’s building.
From there, he went to the building housing O’Hara’s PI agency. He found a good vantage point where he could watch the front door, as well as the lot where he’d seen O’Hara’s car, and settled in to wait for the man to leave.
Chapter 4
Brax didn’t get a chance to run the photo of Caleb’s shifter visitor through the facial recognition program, as he had too many other things to do involving jobs for the agency’s clients. Besides which, Judd was there and he’d want to know why Brax was trying to put a name to the face. So Brax put it off until morning, planning on getting to the office before Judd arrived.
The first order of business, when he left work, was to check out Russo’s cathouse, as he had deemed it. After doing some research on the place, he’d found out that Connoisseurs was far from a sleazy whorehouse. It was set up in what had once been a private mansion, well outside of the city limits—far enough away that the city’s police couldn’t bother him, since the place was out of their jurisdiction. He would have, probably had Brax figured, bought off the local law enforcement to turn a blind eye.
Photos of the exterior showed a winding, tree-lined drive that led up to it, once the clients went through a gated entry manned by security guards. The gates were set in the tall brick wall that surrounded the five-acre property. The drive ended in a circle, in front of the bordello’s front veranda, with a large parking lot off to the right.
According to the earth view he’d found, going through the front gates was the only way to get onto the property. Off the main driveway was a second one, just beyond the gates, leading around to another parking lot at the back of the bordello for, Brax presumed, service and employ
ee vehicles.
From what he’d seen of it online—and now as he slowly drove by the gates—the mansion was three stories tall, with pillars going up to the roof of the balcony across the second floor and gabled windows on the third floor. It reminded Brax of plantation homes he’d seen along the lower Mississippi.
Figures Russo would go in for something pretentious. And undoubtedly with security up the wazoo. He suspected there would be infrared sensors covering the top of the wall, as a first line of defense.
Despite what he’d said to Caleb that morning, he still considered going inside, on the pretense he was a there for what the place had to offer. Good sense took over, so he kept driving.
As he continued down the road, he became aware of a vehicle several car-lengths behind him. He’d seen it when he’d turned off the highway, but thought nothing of it at the time. He’s figured it was someone planning on visiting Russo’s place, since the mansion was the only building in sight until the road crossed under the highway half a mile farther on.
“Coincidence, or am I being followed?” Brax muttered, checking the rearview mirror again. The car was still back there, although now it was barely visible behind a large van that had driven out of Connoisseurs driveway. Brax followed the curve of the road, until he was on the other side of the highway, then turned sharply into a gas station, pulling around to the back. From his vantage point, he could see the street on the far side of the station. The van, and then the car, went past. Brax waited five minutes before continuing on his way.
* * * *
Twenty-to-one he spotted me. Kyle could have kicked himself for being so stupid. Still, he had learned something—O’Hara was interested in a majestic mansion. He had to be, otherwise why had he come all the way out there and then slowed down while driving past it. Not by much, but enough to get a good look at it through the gates, Kyle figured. Kyle had done the same thing, wondering who it belonged to. Whoever it was, they seemed to be throwing a party from the number of vehicles parked in the lot at end of the driveway. That, or the mansion housed a business of some sort—perhaps a bed-and-breakfast or a restaurant. Kyle intended to look into it as soon as possible.
But first he had to find out where O’Hara was headed. He’d lost him when the man went under the highway, but he thought he knew how that had happened, so he kept driving until he came to a side street. He pulled onto it, turned around, and doused his headlights. Five minutes later, he saw O’Hara go by. This time, Kyle stayed well behind him, keeping track of his movements via the head and tail lights of his car, until O’Hara returned to the highway. Traffic was thick enough that Kyle closed the distance between them until there were only two cars separating them.
Fifteen minutes later, O’Hara left the highway, taking the main street that Kyle knew led to his apartment building. Kyle pulled onto a parallel street, came to a stop and gave it five minutes before taking off again to drive two more miles until he went past O’Hara’s building. The man’s car was parked beside it. Kyle drove into the lot of an apartment complex across the street. From there, he had a good view of O’Hara’s balcony. He saw the lights go on in the apartment, and settled down to wait. While he did, he used his phone to find out whether the mansion was a private home or a business.
It turned out to be a business—a very high-class bordello called Connoisseurs, in point of fact, with an online presence. There were pictures the main rooms, including the art decorating the walls. None of it was anything that would tempt a collector. On the other hand, Kyle thought, who knew what might be in the offices of the man who owned the place—one Elio Russo.
Kyle was about to see what he could find out about Russo when someone tapped the roof of his car.
* * * *
Brax chuckled when the man who’d called himself Jonathan Roberts jumped in surprise. He signaled for the man to roll down the window. After a moment’s hesitation, he did.
Resting his hands on the roof, to keep the man from leaving the car—at least by the normal route—Brax asked, “Who are you? Why were you following me?”
It seemed as if the man wasn’t going to answer. Then he shrugged. “Who I am isn’t important right now. I was following you because you visited a man I’m interested in.”
“I’m a private detective. I visit a lot of people. Do you want to narrow it down a bit for me?”
“Not really.” The man arched a dark blond eyebrow. “You do know that you blocking the door won’t keep me here so that you can interrogate me.”
Brax smiled. “I’m aware of that. But you haven’t left.”
“Yet.” The man tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Kyle Grayson.”
“Huh?”
“You asked who I am. Although the man,” Kyle paused. “Mr. Pence, the shifter you visited thinks I’m Jonathan Roberts.”
“That narrows it down,” Brax replied. “It still doesn’t explain why you decided to follow me.”
“I was curious?” Kyle glanced around, then said, “This would be an easier conversation if we weren’t hanging out in a parking lot, Mr. O’Hara.”
“So you know who I am.”
“Yes. Braxton O’Hara.” Kyle chuckled. “I’m not a PI, but I do know a thing or two about investigating people.”
Brax felt a sudden chill, although the night was warm. Does he know, or suspect what Caleb and I do? Or even worse, is he connected to Russo? Neither idea sat well with him. “You’re right. We should take this conversation somewhere else. I live over there.” He nodded toward his building. “But then I suspect you know that.”
“Obviously, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Brax moved aside to let Kyle out of the car. They walked silently to his building and were just as silent as they rode up in the elevator. All the while, Brax studied Kyle. He seemed calm with no tension evident in his stance or his expression. But then, if Brax was right in his estimation, he could be a high- ranking Subordinate, or maybe even a Beta—and a gray wolf, he was certain.
* * * *
Kyle knew O’Hara was trying to figure him out. Now he had to decide how open he should be with the man. By now he must have figured out why I’m interested in him and Mr. Pence. Not that he’ll admit what they do. Well, what I’m pretty damned sure they do. How the hell did I manage to screw this up? He knew the answer to that. He was too eager to solve the series of art thefts he was investigating. As a result, he’d paid a visit to Mr. Pence when he should have investigated him from afar.
“Nice place, Mr. O’Hara,” Kyle said when they were in the apartment.
“It’s Brax, and thanks. Have a seat.”
With a nod, Kyle sat at one end of the sofa. Brax took the chair opposite it.
For a moment, neither man spoke. Then, curious, Kyle asked, “Do you do surveillance on straying spouses?”
Apparently surprised at the question, Brax replied, “Very rarely.” He smiled slightly. “We leave that to the sleazier PIs in town. Why do you ask?”
“Because you were checking out a bordello tonight. From what little I found out before you interrupted me, it’s very high-class. The logical conclusion was that someone you’re interested in uses it. Ergo, the ‘straying spouse’ comment.”
“Nope. It caught my eye as I drove by, is all.”
Kyle snorted. “You went there intentionally, straight from work. What I can’t figure out is why you didn’t go inside. It’s hard to—” he paused purposely “—find what you’re looking for from the street.”
“What do you think I’d be looking for in there? Okay, other than the obvious, that is.”
“You tell me.”
Brax leaned back, putting his hands behind his head as he stared at Kyle. “I get the distinct feeling you think I’m involved in something illegal. Probably with Mr. Pence, since you admitted you’re interested in him. The only reason you saw me at his building was because I installed his security system and he had a problem with it. End of story. Let me ask you something, since we seem to be pla
ying Twenty Questions. Are you a cop?”
“Nope.”
“Figured you’d say that, either way. It doesn’t mean you aren’t.”
Kyle smirked. “True. But I promise you, I’m not.”
“Fed?”
“My turn,” Kyle said, instead of answering his question. “Why didn’t you go into the bordello, instead of just driving by?”
“That’s none of your business,” Brax replied angrily.
“It is if, as I said, you’re looking for someone in there—or something. Probably something. There’s a lot of artwork on the walls, from the pictures I found on their website.”
* * * *
“Trust me, I’m not interested in any painting they might have there, if that’s what you’re implying,” Brax replied honestly.
“I didn’t see any sculptures. At least not in the public rooms.”
Brax laughed, although it wasn’t a laughing matter. “Are you trying to say you think I’m an art thief?”
“Not trying to. I’m fairly sure you are.”
“Why?”
“Cards on the table, although I don’t know why I’m doing this. Probably because I’m curious about your response. It could tell me a lot.” Kyle paused, nodding. Brax had the feeling he was trying to convince himself that was the truth. Looking hard at Brax, Kyle continued. “I’m certain Mr. Pence deals in stolen artwork. I just haven’t been able to prove it, so far.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I had a talk with a black-market collector. He…mentioned Pence’s name.”
Brax barely smiled. “In other words, you picked Caleb’s name out of his mind. That’s not something you can take to court.”
“No, but it’s enough for me. What painting does Mr. Russo have that you, or a client, wants? You might as well tell me and save me some research time.”
Brax’s hands clenched involuntarily when Kyle mentioned Russo. He knew Kyle picked up on it from his wary expression. “As far as I know, the bastard couldn’t tell a Dali from a Da Vinci, so I doubt Connoisseurs has anything other than black velvet paintings hanging on the walls.”
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