by Selma Wolfe
Mark’s heart slammed into his ribcage and he was pretty sure that he was staring openly. Wow, she had a gorgeous smile. When she scooched along the seat toward him and her skirt rose a couple tantalizing inches up her thigh, he didn’t know where to look. He wanted to see all of her at once.
Then Nikki’s heels clicked the pavement and she was brushing by him, her fingers touching his side lightly in a silent “excuse me”. The heat of her skin - there was no way he could actually feel that through his clothes, what a stupid thought - lingered as Mark counted out the cabbie’s money and closed the door.
He turned back to see Nikki smoothing down her clothes. Even though she’d been drenched in the storm before she ever walked into his office, she looked beautiful. Mark refused to feel bad about acknowledging that in his own head. Just because he couldn’t touch, didn’t mean he couldn’t look. Nikki was impossible to look away from; she was gorgeous and regal; she carried herself like a queen. Mark kept seeing flashes of fire around her edges. It was there, it was just dulled by things that he retroactively wished he could protect her from.
They fell into step without needed to discuss their pace and direction endlessly. Together they walked up the stairs, weaving around groups of tourists and homeless people sitting to eat lunch.
Nikki looked comfortable enough at the moment in the murky light of the gray sky, but Mark knew that had to be a lie. Beautiful, kind, captivating women weren’t comfortable running around after criminals. They weren’t comfortable when their significant others consorted with the scum of society and risked their lives on a daily basis. Women like Nikki were used to society going easy on them. Mark had to do things he technically shouldn’t in order to get answers all the time. He knew that Nikki wouldn’t be comfortable with him bending the rules. Or, alright, breaking them. Occasionally snapping them over his knee like a tree branch.
“Hey look, a back entrance.” Nikki pointed at a door with chipped and faded paint and looked around at Mark. “Do you think we should try to sneak in there?”
His throat choked up and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Oh God. She spoke his language. She was perfect and glorious and he could never, ever touch her. Not the way he wanted to.
Neither of them could afford that.
When Nikki gave him a curious look, he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That would be… good.”
He shook his sleeve back and looked at his watch.
“What time does the museum close?” he asked. By the alarmed look Nikki shot him, Mark knew that she understood his meaning. She leaned over to see his watch face and her hair brushed past his face. Her shampoo smelled like the kinds of flowers he used to buy women, back when he dated.
He’d wished many times since then that he could give a middle finger to duty and ask out a beautiful woman, but he’d never wished it quite so badly until now.
“In half an hour,” Nikki said. She gave a furtive glance around. Then in one smooth motion she walked up to the door and yanked at the handle.
Immediately it flew right open. Both of them stared at in surprise.
“Huh. That was remarkably easy,” Nikki commented.
The service passageway into the MoMA was dark and quiet, and it felt like she shouldn’t be in there. Because she wasn’t supposed to be, of course. This was for employees only, not for private investigators and their… whatever she was.
“Do you have any idea where the painting might be?” Mark murmured close to her ear. Nikki suppressed a shiver.
She tried to gather her scattered thoughts, which wanted to chase after Mark’s motivations, or just his warm smell. Nikki had been here before; if she just focused for a minute she could reason this one out.
“Umm… okay, so, I know the facility a bit. The private rooms for employee-only use are off to the right, near where we are. I know that they have a restoration room near the back, which is pretty close to what they’re doing to The Olive Trees. It’s just a quick touch-up and check-over. So I think we should head to the back. And I think…” She chewed on her lip. If she steered them wrong now, it would be her fault if Ghost got away with the picture. “I think we should head left.”
Nikki found that she was holding her breath, waiting to see what Mark would say.
Without hesitating Mark nodded decisively and veered off to the left. “Right. Let’s move.”
Something in her chest swelled and Nikki’s footsteps picked up when suddenly Mark skidded to a halt. Her heart sank and she sighed as he opened his mouth.
“I…” For the first time, Mark looked hesitant. His lush lips opened and closed in a perfect cupid’s bow and Nikki found herself watching them helplessly. “This could be dangerous. Are you sure you… Maybe you should stay here.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, Nikki’s eyebrows flew toward the ceiling.
“I’m sorry, what?” She laughed, quick and sharp. “Heck no. I’m in, alright? You wanted my help, well, you get all my help. I’m not going to be left behind right when the interesting stuff happens.”
The idea of being left behind hurt far more badly than she wanted to admit already. Oh, she was in trouble. This was so far from good that she’d need binoculars to see it.
Mark frowned, seeming to struggle with himself.
Impulsively Nikki stepped toward him and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. Just to get his attention, she told herself as Mark froze and stared at her wide-eyed.
“If there’s danger, it’s danger that I’m choosing to put myself in,” she said gently. “I hope you’ll allow me the dignity of making that choice.”
A small furrow remained in the middle of his forehead, but some of the clouds cleared from Mark’s face. He nodded and curved his fingers up to lightly curl across hers.
“Of course,” he said, sounding honest. “The idea worries me, but it’s your choice.”
Nikki smiled at him. It seemed like a long moment passed before either of them was willing to let go and drop their hands.
“Let’s go,” she said, still smiling and wishing that she didn’t yearn for the warmth of his skin back on hers already.
There was no doubt that he hadn’t thought this through.
Even if everything went according to plan and he and Nikki managed to save the painting from being stolen, Mark highly doubted that they’d be able to catch the thief. He knew exactly how smart, skilled, and brutal Ghost was – though he wished he didn’t.
His hands curled into fists at his sides, the lingering warmth from Nikki’s touch melting away into a chill. He’d sworn to catch Ghost, and he would. One day. But the time had to be right, and Mark doubted that today would be the day.
What worried Mark more than the possibility of the thief’s escape was the possibility that Ghost would draw the wrong (or right…) conclusion. Ghost would see Nikki and Mark of them together, and almost certainly run out the door with the knowledge that Mark had an extra hand on deck.
Which could mean that Nikki was in so much more danger than she realized.
Echoes of their footsteps bounced off the door at the end of the corridor; the two of them were drawing near to their destination. Blonde hair swirled around her shoulders as Nikki turned to look at him with a tiny smile.
“Ready?” she asked.
Mark nodded firmly, hoping to give her confidence he didn’t fully feel himself. “For anything,” he said, and didn’t add, anything except you.
CHAPTER FOUR
Adrenaline started to pump through her veins and Nikki unconsciously counted the steps they took toward the door at the end of the hall. One. Two. Three. Only a few strides away now. Four. Five. Six. Seven…
Nerves started to rise up and her stomach threatened to rebel. Nikki knew that Ghost was just a thief, but all the same, she’d googled the thief’s name and what she found hadn’t been pretty. Ghost wasn’t above using force to get what they wanted. The thief had been known to attack and seriously injure
people that got in their way. People had died. A newspaper clipping Nikki had run across online mentioned a man that was brutally attacked and spent over a week in the hospital - nothing at all to do with art really, the poor guy had just been unfortunate enough to step in front of Ghost on her way out of the Rijksmuseum with the Renoir painting. Nikki spent a far longer than was probably healthy wondering what had happened to the man.
A small noise caught her ear and Nikki jerked her head around, irrationally terrified that Ghost had managed to sneak up right. Behind. Them.
The panic immediately dropped away from Nikki when she caught a glimpse of Mark’s face. He was panting small huffs of air and looked pale. His eyes were wide and he was clenching and releasing his hand into and back out of a fist over and over again.
Nikki might have felt more frightened, but Mark didn’t look scared, not really. He looked sick.
“Mark?” Nikki whispered, and he startled. She forced herself not to flinch. It occurred to her suddenly that she didn’t really know this man very well at all. “Are you… are you okay?”
Mark dropped his head down so that his dark hair fell over his eyes.
“Yes. I have to be,” he said, voice so low and tight that she could barely hear it.
The memory of walking into the office this morning flashed into her mind. How Mark had been on his feet and breathing hard, like he’d jumped out of his chair at her knock. How he kept scanning the area around them, not just out here where Ghost was lurking, but back in his office at well. The way he’d said he couldn’t sleep.
She was no expert, but that sounded like PTSD.
Nikki had no idea what to do. Uncertainty welled up in her throat and the muscles in her legs tensed. She was alone with a strange man, waiting to be attacked by a known criminal, and this whole thing was the dumbest idea she’d ever had in her life. She needed to take off running and never look back. Therapy would no doubt be a good idea.
But then Mark heaved in a huge breath of air and tilted his chin back up. He pulled his shoulders back, stared straight ahead, and set his jaw. Just a moment ago Mark had looked broken, but as she watched Nikki saw him fight to pull himself together again. His breathing evened out, his eyes lost the wild look they’d had a second ago, and she noticed that even under his light jacket you could see the curve of the muscles in his upper arms.
He looked strong and fragile and beautiful, all at once. Nikki had never wanted to kiss somebody so badly in her entire life.
Instead she reached for his hand and slipped her fingers through his. Mark shot her a look, but after a moment his calloused fingers curved around hers and squeezed. Some of the tension seemed to bleed out of his posture and he smiled, just a little.
“Sorry,” he muttered, turning his head away but still holding fast to her hand.
A wave of tenderness swelled up and wrapped itself around Nikki’s heart. “Don’t be,” she whispered back. She wanted to add something else, but didn’t know what to say.
Mark’s fingers tightened around hers, thought he kept staring straight ahead at the steel door in front of them. “You still want to go in?” he said after a moment, his voice carefully void of expression.
He was giving her a chance to back out now. She’d seen that Mark had some kind of issue - maybe with walking into certain traps (Nikki wasn’t too keen on that herself), or maybe with the Ghost. The logical thing to do would be to gracefully take a bow and walk away from a situation she had no place in anyway.
Except Mark’s hand was rough and warm around her, and she could see the tense line of his jaw as he waited for Nikki to answer. And when Nikki examined her own feelings, she realized that for some crazy reason she wasn’t worried. Not at all. She trusted Mark.
Probably not a good idea, but then, she’d never been known for those.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said quietly.
Mark couldn’t help himself from whipping his head around to stare at the small blonde by his side. Nikki stared back at him calmly. The only expression visible on her face was determination betraying itself in the slight narrowing of her eyes.
This made no sense at all. Mark wanted to try to figure Nikki out, but he couldn’t focus. He tried desperately to get a grip on himself; to stop his mind from repeating ugly scenes over and over again, to stop his body feeling phantom pain. To forget what being utterly helpless felt like.
Nikki’s small fingers moved against his, and Mark gripped them gratefully. Her skin slid against his like silk. The feeling distracted him, grounded him. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against Nikki’s smooth skin and stared at the slight contrast between his tan and her paler skin until Mark realized that he was probably annoying her. And he wasn’t really supposed to do this.
He yanked his hand away so fast that Nikki stumbled away from him off-balance.
“I’m ready. I’m ready now,” Mark mumbled, trying to ignore the hurt look on Nikki’s face. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t need to watch him try to hold himself together. He was a sorry excuse for a man right now, and as soon as this foolish venture was over he needed to get ahold of his self-control and chase Nikki off so thoroughly that she’d never even look at him again.
Yep, that was the ticket all right. Which was probably why his stomach felt like lead at the thought.
He reached for the door handle, not letting himself dwell too much on what would be waiting behind it. As he twisted the knob, Nikki spoke up and he paused.
“Whatever it is - um, you know, the reason that you’re not sleeping, the thing that had you just now - I just… I just want you to know, you’re stronger than it,” Nikki said, sounding deeply uncomfortable and deadly earnest.
Mark’s heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t risk turning around to look at her. Every fiber of his body was screaming for her to grab Nikki right now and kiss her. To pull her close and let the heat of her body warm him from the inside out. Oh God, he wanted her so badly that it was insane.
Instead of any of that, he gave a brisk nod and yanked the service door open.
Nikki was still feeling the effects of nerves over her little impromptu speech as the door swung open and Mark rushed through. Trying to get away from her, she thought ruefully, and followed. She couldn’t blame him.
The room inside was well lit, which she hadn’t been expecting somehow. She’d been thinking of doom and gloom and plastic sheeting everywhere, but Nikki supposed in real life that wouldn’t be too practical for an art restoration room. Reality was bright fluorescent lights and a MoMA employee flanked by two security guards blinking at her.
A pale, unassuming painting was propped up on an easel in front of the art restorer. Nikki couldn’t help taking a second to admire the blending of greens and yellows in The Olive Trees. A small thrill went through her. She would never stop being amazed by great art.
“Um. Hello?” Nikki said when everyone else was silent. Somehow Mark seemed to have slipped right on by their attention… like a ghost. She made a mental note to ask Mark how he walked so silently on cheap linoleum.
“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be in here.” One of the security guards frowned at her.
Nikki tried to unobtrusively crane her neck to find Mark. She spotted him sidling along the far wall, clearly checking for entrances and routes of escape.
Which made her distraction girl, she guessed. She re-focused on the MoMA flunkies and tried a smile.
“I don’t know exactly,” she said. “I got… lost?”
Security guard number two raised an eyebrow. “You got lost through two locked doors and a private entrance.”
Nikki flicked up the wattage on her smile. “These things happen.” Though probably not to, like, normal people.
A hand settled on the small of her back and she jumped. She jerked around to see Mark grinning down at her, all his confidence restored, clearly in his element.
“Remind me not to sign you up for the French Foreign Legion,” he said, a
nd gave the MoMA folks a no-problems-here-I’m-taking-care-of-things nod. “Subtlety wasn’t on your resume for a reason.”
“Yeah, well, va te faire foutre,” Nikki retorted. Security guard number two smothered a laugh.
Mark’s hand slid up to firmly grasp her shoulder as he continued to scan the room. “Are you sure you don’t mean je vais te baiser?”
Nikki shrugged. She was totally lost now. “Dunno,” she said. “Languages were never my strong suit.”
Behind her an unfamiliar voice said, “Oh, I suspect quite a lot of things aren’t your strong suit, my dear.”
Nikki’s blonde hair fanned out behind her as she whirled around. It brushed across Mark’s fingers before they were wrenched off her shoulder. He took a moment to note the reactions of the MoMA employees before he turned. They looked frightened, but not particularly surprised. There was something off about that, but he’d have to think on it later.
When he’d been waiting for this moment, Mark had felt afraid. He’d remembered what it was like to be helpless at Ghost’s mercy; remembered it in a visceral, physical way that had squeezed his bones and frozen his blood.
But now that the moment was upon him, all the fear dropped away and left him feeling… nothing. He felt alert. Alive. Like he could see everything more clearly with danger at his heels and adrenaline pumping through his veins. The unimportant stuff fell away, and Mark was left with a vivid awareness of exactly what he needed to do.
Mark knew that he needed to keep Nikki safe, no matter what happened. He didn’t give a crap about the painting. Ghost could take a Bic lighter to the thing for all he cared. To hell with his professional record and integrity; if there was a chance of him getting Nikki out without her being hurt, Mark would drag her away without a single look back.
That knowledge secure in his mind, Mark finally turned around to see Ghost again.