Nothing In Common, Except ...

by Edward Kendrick

  Kyle smiled. “And found out that whomever you were posing as does exist and works with the agency.”

  “Of course. Once he established I was legit, he was quite willing to give me the information I wanted.” Brax opened the file, saying, “I don’t really need to know most of this, but…” He went to one of the pages, where he’d highlighted two bits of information. “This tells me that there’s extra security in these two rooms. One is the office; the other is on the second floor. According to the floor plans detailing the security arrangements, it’s his bedroom.”

  “So, if the negatives aren’t in the office safe, we check there next. Makes sense.”

  “Now, to find out where Russo is at the moment.” Brax took a cell phone from a desk drawer, turned it on, then dialed. When someone answered, Brax said, “This is John Acer from Magellan Catering. May I speak to Mr. Russo, please?”

  When Kyle cocked his head in question, Brax scribbled on a scratchpad, The caterer for his parties. Then he said, into the phone, “Thank you. No problem. I’ll call back in an hour.” After hanging up, he told Kyle, “Russo is in a meeting. He’ll be available in an hour. So, let’s get a move on.” Shutting down his computer, he asked Kyle to wait while he got what he’d need for their excursion, returning a few moments later with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Let’s hope Ms. Grant was telling the truth when she said he doesn’t have any servants.”

  “I suspect she was. Especially if he keeps anything there he doesn’t want someone to find—like blackmail photos.”

  They teleported to Russo’s house—but not inside until Brax had cut the phone wires and used the jammer to disarm the parts of the security system that were wireless. With that done, they jumped to Russo’s office.

  “At least she wasn’t lying about it’s being behind a damned ugly painting,” Brax said softly as he set to work breaching the safe.

  Kyle stood a few feet away, admiring his ability to focus solely on what he was doing—and doing well, he found out when, less than ten minutes later, Brax opened the safe.

  Unfortunately, what they were looking for wasn’t in it, although there were other items of interest. They found that out when they skimmed through several folders. Brax put them in his bag, then signaled that they’d go upstairs. With no visual of the bedroom, they had to walk, using the back stairway noted on the floor plans.

  “Half an hour until you’re supposed to call him back,” Kyle said after checking the time. He looked around the ornately decorated bedroom, shaking his head. “His taste is all in his mouth.”

  Brax nodded as he began with the obvious, checking behind the three paintings. “Nothing,” he murmured, standing with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. Then he smiled, pointing to one of the nightstands.

  Kyle saw what he was looking at. There were barely visible indentations in the carpeting, telling him that the nightstand had been moved and not put back exactly the way it had been before. “Sloppy,” he muttered.

  Brax lifted the nightstand with obvious effort, turning it back to front, putting the legs into the existing marks. Kneeling, he ran his fingers along the back edges. Kyle heard a soft click then the back opened, revealing the door of a safe.

  “A damned good one,” Brax said under his breath, taking some equipment from his bag.

  Kyle began to pace, wondering, when he saw him frowning in concentration, if this time Brax would be foiled by the complexity of the safe. He sighed silently in relief when the door opened. Again, there were files, plus four envelopes with something written on the fronts. Brax smiled as he put everything into his bag, stood, rubbing his knees, then with Kyle’s help they put the nightstand back the way they’d found it before teleporting to Brax’s apartment.

  * * * *

  “We done good, or rather, you did,” Kyle said after they checked the envelopes. One of them had Frye’s name on it. Inside were a set of negatives, and the original photos that went with them. The other envelopes also had photos and negatives, belonging to three more victims.

  “We,” Brax replied, smiling at Kyle. “It was your silver tongue that got Ms. Grant talking in the first place.” For a moment, their gazes locked, and Kyle’s pulse pounded, before he quickly turned his attention to the sets of files from the bedroom and office safes.

  “I vote we return the blackmail information to the victims, anonymously. The folders should go to the government agencies, relevant to what they contain.”

  “Also anonymously,” Brax agreed with a nod, while taking his secure phone out of the desk drawer to call Connoisseurs. When the receptionist answered, he told he who he was—Mr. Acer from the catering company. She informed him that Mr. Russo was still in his meeting. Brax thanked her, promising to try again in the morning. “You want some coffee before you leave?” he asked Kyle, putting the phone away again.

  “A stiff drink would be better, but since neither of us can drink, coffee works.”

  “There are times I wish we could,” Brax replied as he led the way to the kitchen after taking a minute to put the phone away.

  “When you’ve completed a job and want to unwind and celebrate?” Kyle asked slyly.

  Brax laughed. “Still convinced I’m the thief you’re after?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “If I were, I wouldn’t admit it.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Brax shrugged as he began making coffee. “It’s all the answer you’re getting.”

  “Figured. So, what are the chances Russo’s got second sets of all the negatives in his safe at Connoisseurs?”

  Brax tapped his fingers together in thought before shaking his head. “As well hidden at they were at his house, I seriously doubt it. If for no other reason than that there’s always the possibility someone might try to break into Connoisseurs, looking for money, since the bordello does a land office business. He wouldn’t take the chance they’d succeed, despite the security there, and end up with more than they bargained for.”

  “A good point. Let’s hope you’re right. I really have no desire to run into him until I’m ready. I’ve got the feeling you’d rather not, either.”

  “Nope. That brings us to the next step in our agenda. That is if you’re willing.”

  Kyle poured himself a cup of coffee before replying. “I want him dead. No doubt about that. Is it something we can pull off without ending up behind bars? I don’t know. We’d have to come up with a fool-proof plan.”

  Brax nodded. He started to get some coffee as well, paused, then said, “We need, well, at least I need to take a break from all this for a bit and really unwind.”

  He does not mean that the way it sounded. For a moment Kyle wished Brax had, but he knew that wasn’t happening. We have nothing in common, other than Russo—and a hell of a lot of differences. The biggest one being that I’m dead certain he is the art thief I’m looking for, which puts us in conflict right from the start.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Brax said, “but it must have pretty serious from the look on your face. If it was about Russo, like I said, we should shelve him for the time being and go for a run.”

  Kyle chuckled. “I’m presuming you don’t mean around the block.”

  “Nope. We can go where I usually…” Brax’s expression darkened.

  “What?”

  “I was going to suggest where I usually run, but the last time I did that there were some hunters looking for me.”

  “For you, specifically?” Kyle asked.

  “From what I overheard. One of them said his boss had told him there was a pure black wolf in the area. The guy who was talking wanted my head so he could hang it the wall of his study.”

  Kyle winced. “Are you certain they were hunters? I mean real ones?”

  Brax waggled one hand. “They sure acted like they were. Are you suggesting someone who knows what I am sent them after me?”

  “That was my first thought, especially if Russo’s aware you’re in t
own. He’s the kind of man his people might call ‘the boss’.”

  “Remember, I didn’t know he was here, until this whole blackmail thing came up, so why would he know I was?”

  “You’re hardly invisible, Brax. Your business is called Markham and O’Hara Private Investigations.”

  “He didn’t know me as Braxton O’Hara when we had our…disagreement. I told you that.”

  “It doesn’t mean he hasn’t found you under your present incarnation. Sending some of his men, acting as hunters, to take you out would be easier and safer than his facing you down in person—less chance of anyone finding out what he is. As far as that goes, are you sure he wasn’t one of the hunters?”

  “Yes. Both men were human. And where I run is very remote. That night was the first time I’ve ever seen, or even sensed, humans in the area while I was there.”

  “Which does not mean that Russo didn’t follow you out there at some point, at least to the general area, then set it up for his men to kill you without their knowing exactly what they were hunting.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.” Brax shrugged, then smiled. “You still haven’t answered my question, however. Do you feel like going for a run?”

  “Sure, as long as it’s not where that happened. I’m not in the mood to be some hunter’s prey.”

  “I’m with you on that. There’s another place I used to go, soon after I moved here. It’s a longer drive to get there, which is why I changed spots. We’ll take my car.”

  “You drive out there?” Kyle said as they left the apartment. “No wonder he was able to tail you, if he did.”

  “I park a couple of miles away, then teleport in from there. I’m not stupid,” Brax replied dryly.

  “Which, as I said, would still give him the general location.”

  “So I was stupid, sort of. But then I never thought someone would come after me. I don’t have tons of enemies.”

  Kyle grinned as they got into Brax’s car. “Unless you count the men you’ve stolen art from.”

  Brax rolled his eyes, muttering, “You’re not going to give up on the idea I do that, are you?”

  “Not until I know one way or the other.”

  “My word isn’t good enough for you?” Brax asked in what Kyle knew was feigned dismay.

  Kyle’s reply was a snort, as they took off, heading out of the city.

  * * * *

  ::This is great. I’m glad you came up with the idea:: Kyle said as he and Brax raced through the trees. In their wolf forms it was possible to mind-speak—and necessary if they wanted to communicate with more than howls or barks, or body language. ::I don’t do this as much as I’d like to, these days:: They’d been running for the last two hours, taking brief breaks to sit and savor their surroundings, and the cool breeze that had sprung up soon after they’d arrived.

  ::Why not?::

  ::I never seem to stay in one place long enough to find somewhere safe to let my inner wolf out::

  Kyle’s inner wolf, as he put it, was as handsome as his human side—dark gray with pale blond on his chest and mane. A marked contrast to Brax’s almost pure black.

  ::Then we’ll have to make it a point to come out here a couple more times before you have to leave:: Not an idea that sat well with Brax—the leaving part. He was starting to enjoy having Kyle around. Much more that I should, considering why he came out here in the first place.

  Brax almost ran into Kyle when the wolf came to a dead stop, his head raised to sniff the air.

  ::Water?:: Kyle asked.

  ::Yep. There’s a lake close by. Great for swimming::

  ::Lead me to it::

  Brax did, and they spent the next twenty minutes or so cavorting in the water and along the shore. Finally, they dropped, exhausted, on the grass, panting as they caught their breaths. Kyle shifted, leaning back on his hands to look up at the star-filled sky. Brax, still in his wolf form, raked his amber-eyed gaze over Kyle’s nude body—a very impressive one, in his opinion. ::You might want to put some clothes on:: Brax suggested. Not that he wanted him to, but…

  Kyle turned to him, grinning. “Gonna jump my bones if I don’t?” he asked, teasingly.

  ::That thought has a definite appeal, but no. I don’t have the energy:: Brax replied—not the truth, but he wasn’t about to do something they might both regret later.

  “Wuss,” Kyle grumbled, doing as Brax had asked.

  Brax shifted then, instantly clothing himself. “Hey. It’s late and we’ve definitely had our exercise for the night,” he said. “We need to get some sleep before we face our next problem.”

  “Russo,” Kyle replied, his expression suddenly grim. “You’re right. So let’s get back to the car, and you can drop me at my hotel on your way home.”

  They teleported to where they’d parked the car, then returned the city. As they drove, Brax was aware of the brief glances Kyle gave him—choosing to keep his gaze on the road and ignore them. Jumping his bones, as he put it, could be fun, but it’s not happening. Not tonight. Probably not ever.

  When they arrived at the hotel, Kyle got out, saying, “What time in the morning?”

  “Let’s say seven, since I have to be at work by nine. That way we’ll get at least a few hours’ sleep and you can get something to eat, unless you want breakfast at my place.”

  “Let’s do that. The less time we waste coming up with a plan, the sooner we can deal with Russo and move on.”

  “All right. I’ll see you then.”

  Kyle saluted, turned, then walked to the front door of the hotel, giving a wave over his shoulder before he disappeared inside.

  As soon as Brax got home, he showered and fell into bed. Moments after his head hit the pillow, he was asleep.

  Chapter 7

  “Maybe I’m slow,” Kyle said after taking a bite of the scrambled eggs Brax had fixed for breakfast, “because it didn’t occur to me until I was on my way over here. If it was some of Russo’s people who took shots at you while you were out running, then obviously he knows you’re in the city. Why hasn’t he done anything else?”

  “It’s only been a week since that happened. He may be regrouping, since they didn’t succeed. Or we may be way off base to begin with, and it really was just a couple of hunters looking for a black wolf their boss had spotted. Maybe he wasn’t a hunter, but knew they were.” Brax shrugged.

  “And maybe the moon is made of blue cheese,” Kyle retorted, shaking his head. “You know as well as I do that you were targeted, if the area you run in is as remote as you say.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that, provisionally. After our little B&E foray last night, he’s going to know it was a shifter who got into his house. Or he will, once he discovers both his safes were breached.”

  “He might not figure it was a shifter, per se, but for damned sure he’ll figure out it was a professional who knows how to disarm a very sophisticated security system. If it was me, I’d be looking at anyone who installs them, for starters. Given that he is aware you’re here, if we’re right, and perhaps what you do for a living, guess who he’s going to blame.”

  Brax chucked. “Little ol’ me.”

  “It’s not a laughing matter, Brax.”

  “I know.” Brax concentrated on finishing his breakfast before saying, “Once we send the information we found to the Feds, he’s going to have a lot more to worry about than coming after me.”

  “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”

  “Nope,” Brax admitted. “And you’re right. Why hasn’t he come after me again? My excuses, thoughts, whatever, to the contrary, he must know I’m around. He has a reason to keep track of me and I’ve been here for the last four years.”

  “How long has Connoisseurs been open?”

  “Now that’s a good question.” Brax picked up his coffee cup before going into his office. After looking it up, he said, “He bought the mansion outright, obviously did the needed renovations to turn it into the bordello, and it opened for busines
s at the beginning of last September.”

  “Presuming he spent the first month he was here with the renovations, and finding employees, and another month getting it up and running, that still means he’s had a minimum of eight months to get back to finding out where you landed, after your little dust-up with him—if he still felt he owed you.”

  “I’m sure he does, but that happened six years ago. Very soon after, I became Brax O’Hara, then teamed up with Judd to open our agency. The only way Russo could have found me after that is if he spotted me somewhere. You know as well as I do, when we change identities, we make damned good and sure no one can track us back to who we were before.”

  “Our identities, but not our looks, all that much. Where were you when put an end to Russo’s scheme?”

  “New York.”

  “A long way from here. Too bad he decided to open his bordello in this area and not, hell, LA or Chicago, or wherever.”

  “Size, probably. The city is large enough he’d have plenty of customers, but small enough he could set up outside the city limits to avoid the local laws—and his patrons still wouldn’t have to drive too far, or too long, to get to it. And, he’d have no real competition.”

  Kyle nodded. “Given the fact you can’t, and I probably shouldn’t, walk into Connoisseurs, and, from what Ms. Grant said, he’s almost never at home except to sleep or throw his parties, how are we going to get to him?”

  Brax didn’t reply immediately. He was busy scanning all the information they wanted to pass on to the Feds into documents that he could send to the proper agencies.

  “I presume your email is secure enough to do that, without them knowing who sent it,” Kyle said at one point.

  “Definitely,” Brax replied. When he was finished, he opened one of his proxy email accounts, addressed an email, attached three documents, then sent it off. He did the same with the rest of the documents, using a different proxy email for each recipient. “And that’s that,” he said when he finished. “Now where were we?”