Billionaire Protector

by Kyanna Skye

  “Figured instead of thinking about work I might as well get to it,” Alec shrugged. “David’s not here?”

  “David left when I came in,” Jesse said. “He said something about a quick run to the computer store. Needed to purchase some components. Pretty sure he’s been here since yesterday.”

  One of the things about their “office” was that it was a converted house, and there were four bedrooms upstairs in case any of the men wanted to crash rather than getting up and going home. That said, David sometimes fell asleep in front of his computer monitors and then had to be cajoled to go upstairs and change.

  “By the way,” Jesse said. “He told me if you got here before he made it back to the office, he’s already got something on your case.

  ***

  “I wish we didn’t have to come back so soon,” Kiefer said.

  Kiefer and Shari were at his house. They were in the kitchen, Shari standing behind the counter, wearing one of his t-shirts which was pretty much a dress on her small form. He was shirtless in boxer shorts. He hadn’t even bothered to get anything to eat. Instead, he stood staring at his girlfriend. She had beautiful legs, shapely and firm like a dancer’s. Even though she had spent the night at his place, and a couple nights before that at a bed and breakfast on the coast, he never got tired of looking at her, especially when she was only half clothed. Her dark eyes and voluptuous mouth never failed to entice him. Kiefer was sure she didn’t really understand the effect her sex appeal had on him.

  “I know but we’ve got business,” Shari said, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m surprised my boss wasn’t texting me the whole time we were gone.”

  Hal Kittredge, Shari’s domineering boss, was known to stalk her via email and text for the smallest things, regardless of how early or late the hour was. He was a combination of paranoid boss and father figure. While Shari could stand up for herself and had no problem telling him where to go when those kinds of talks were needed, she had a tendency to help him when it was for the benefit of a client. Kittredge knew her weakness for doing good and used it.

  Kiefer nodded and smiled. He had no intention of telling her he’d had a private man to man with Hal himself--- it was the only reason her boss hadn’t been a pest over the last few days.

  “How soon do you have to be to the office, honey?” Kiefer asked. He was already struggling against a familiar ache.

  Shari looked up, and she must have picked up on something in his expression because she blushed. “Um. Nine.”

  Kiefer stood up and rounded the island to pull her into his arms. “Okay, so, nine. I mean, that gives us some time, right?” he asked. Tipping her chin upwards, he leaned in and gave her a long, deep kiss. He stroked the small of her back. He caught the scent of her perfume. A small sigh escaped her throat.

  “I guess we do have a little time before I leave.”

  Kiefer grinned. “I can always drop you off myself. I’m sure you can be…just a few minutes late, since it’s your first day back in town at all,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “Blame the traffic,” he said, lavishing kisses upon her throat. “Or say you overslept,” his hand lingered over her breast, and he could swear he felt her heartbeat.

  “You make an excellent argument,” Shari sighed, biting her lip. “I think your skills at persuasion are solid.”

  “Solid?” he wrapped his arms around her. “Maybe not the only thing! Though I can tell you, if none of the other excuses work, just go ahead and blame me. I don’t mind. I’d like them all to know.”

  Pressing both his hands on her waist, and she swayed with him as if they were lost in a dance. They were so close that when she breathed out, he took in her breath. She smelled like mint and coffee, and when he kissed her lips they tasted like cream.

  “I guess I can be a little late,” Shari replied her hands on his shoulders. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him.

  ***

  “I’m glad you’re here, dude,” David told Alec. “Have a seat.”

  Alec sat down in a black leather chair beside him. David’s desk was crowded with five different monitors. “Watch this one right here,” David pointed to the left. He typed a code furiously into his laptop, and all four of the other screens changed.

  “Alright. I have some new software that uses facial recognition,” David began. “It takes a while because though the markers of any one person’s face are unique, this searches so many different websites trying to find data. You were right about this being an art gallery. I made a search based on that. And here’s what I found.”

  David typed in another string of code. “Look at this,” he tapped the screen at the center. “See the tour guide? He’s holding a purple notebook. See the insignia? I found out this symbol is for a small gallery in West London.”

  “Okay.”

  “From there I narrowed my search down to art galleries in Europe,” David explained. “I started to get much quicker results. All these galleries have something in common. They’ve been hit. I mean, she’s careful about it. Apparently, she cases her sites more than once, and she doesn’t move right away. But sometime within the year of her visit to each museum, there are robberies. Usually of a few big ticket items. I’d say she prefers jewelry but there have been a few pieces of artwork which have gone missing too.”

  “How come she’s not on Interpol’s radar?”

  “She might be,” David said, crossing his arms. “It’s not an easy crime to prove though. Even if they caught her on camera at each museum, they have to catch her actually doing something. She could be the point person, giving information to another thief while she takes a cut. She could say she’s an art lover and it’s just a coincidence. If they can’t actually tie her to the day the thefts took place, they couldn’t do anything but question her. The other part of it is that these galleries don’t like reporting thefts, but when they do, it’s not exactly the highest on the list of felonies the police are after. Unless you steal something from the Louvre, it’s not going to get an incredible amount of attention, and the authorities tend to move on quickly. It takes a lot of manpower and time to catch a jewel thief.”

  “Which some of these police agencies might not have,” Alec mused.

  “Exactly,” David said. “And here’s the other part of the problem; a lot of these galleries will not even report a theft. They beef up security and take the loss because they don’t like admitting to clients and potential investors that it was easy to breach their systems. Unless it’s an absolutely priceless object, the negative publicity is not worth the trouble.”

  “So we can assume for each one of these that we found, she’s done a few which were never mentioned in the news,” Alec said.

  “Yeah,” David said, and opened another file on the computer. “I started looking in North America. Didn’t find anything in the States, but there were a couple of questionable incidents in Quebec at places she cased.”

  “I wonder why she hasn’t worked in the U.S.?”

  “Could be she already has but is off the radar,” David said. “But it’s a question worth asking. My bet is she’s European and is just more comfortable in familiar digs. If she’s been a suspect over there she may have to switch up her location soon.”

  Alec scratched his chin. “Well damn. I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Who are you telling?” David chuckled. “Reinforces my theory about not trusting people. Like ever.”

  “I’ve got to think about this,” Alec said. “I’m not sure if that’s even something her brother is going to want to know, or if he will want to see her once he does. Hell, I don’t know I’d want someone to tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” Kiefer asked.

  Kiefer had a habit of appearing in doorways without making a sound. It was a skill from his old black ops days but even after years it never failed to creep his friends out. Knowing that neither of the men heard him, Kiefer grinned. “What can I help you with?”

  “You’re back,” Alec said. �
�Which is good because I want your advice.”

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