Her Last Chance

by Michele Albert

  “I know.”

  His strained tone hinted at what it had cost him to admit even that much.

  “I wish it were easier to make the world a safer place for people, not to mention for art and old things that sometimes don’t seem so important when stacked up against all the other evil shit that goes down around us every day,” she said softly. “In the end, though, we can only do what we can and hope it’s enough. Yeah, I can move more freely than you, but all you gotta do is flash your FBI cred and a lot of important doors open wide for you.”

  She took a quick breath, then added, “To be honest, there are days I get real tired of having to beat down those doors over and over again. So in a way, I guess I’m a little jealous of you.”

  Vincent smiled. “I was thinking along those lines myself not so long ago.”

  It took a moment before his meaning sank in. “Really? You’re jealous of me?”

  “More like envious.” He hesitated. “There are days when I think I’d like to know what it’s like not to have to follow the rules. To solve problems more . . . directly.”

  “Winging it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Claudia said after a moment, amazed all over again. “And a lot of the time, I’m caught up in the same routine shit that you deal with.”

  “Thanks, but that’s not true. I don’t run around Philly in the dead of night with a suppressor.” He frowned. “And what the hell were you doing, anyway?”

  Claudia smiled. “If I answer, it means we’re working together, right?”

  “Yes. If you want to work with me, I’ll play as fair as I can and expect the same from you. No more, no less. Deal?”

  Panic rose briefly as she wondered if she even remembered what it was like to play fair.

  “Deal.” It still felt like High Noon, with her on one side of the corral and him on the other. He was all business, and she let out a short sigh. “I owe you an apology, too. I’ve been doing my best to get under your skin, and sometimes I get a little carried away with the sex-fu stuff.”

  Confusion flashed across his face. “What?”

  “You know, like kung fu, only with sex. Seduction and sex as a weapon.” Again, her face warmed. “It’s kind of a joke.”

  “Ah.” His gaze took in her dress. Slowly. “This sex fu of yours has great power.”

  “And yet you resist! Your self-control has great power as well, O mighty FBI Man.”

  Vincent laughed, breaking the tension. A small thing, coaxing out that laugh, and Claudia was absurdly pleased to have succeeded.

  “Okay,” she said. “Now that we’ve both acknowledged the elephant in the room, let’s get back to safe, work-related subjects.”

  She moved to the table, motioning him to join her. “To answer your question, I was talking with a low-level mob fence named Digger Brody. He doesn’t live in a nice part of town, and he’s not such a nice guy, so I had to be prepared to show him I meant business.”

  “The name sounds familiar.” Vincent sat, pushing back from the table to stretch out his legs.

  Claudia tried not to notice how the material of his suit failed to disguise those long, lean muscles, or to allow that loosened tie—and peek of skin at the hollow of his throat—to distract her. What was wrong with her, that a mere dip between the collarbones left her hot and bothered?

  She cleared her throat. “It should be familiar, since he fences stolen jewelry and collectibles to his connections in Jersey and Miami. He also dabbles in drug dealing and extortion, which was what he was doing the night the helmet went missing at Champion and Stone. He was with two men that night; there was a fight, and one of them tried to claim that the drugs really belonged to a woman they saw sneaking out of an alley behind the gallery.”

  Vincent was staring at her. “How’d you hear about this?”

  “I asked around to see if anything else happened that night. Mostly, I just got lucky.” When he continued to stare, she added defensively, “What? Dumb luck happens sometimes, you know? I’m good at my job, but I’ll take whatever I can get. Anyway, I heard about the fight, persuaded the responding officer to answer a few questions, then started poking around and flashing money until I turned up a couple of names. One name led to another, and then me and Brody had a talk at his apartment.”

  “A woman,” Vincent said, eyes narrowing. “There was a woman in the alley.”

  “Yup. Brody said she came out from behind the Dumpster by the gallery, dressed in dark clothes and carrying a box. He was insistent she wasn’t a homeless woman digging around in the trash. He wasn’t real forthcoming with the details, but it’s a start.”

  “And that’s all you’ve got?”

  The question stung—and it didn’t help any that he sounded extra smug. “No,” she retorted. “I also took another look around the Alliance and Champion and Stone galleries today. I know it doesn’t sound very important, but both buildings have Dumpsters right outside and restrooms located right by the back doors. The stolen items could’ve been hidden in the bathroom trash inside the galleries. After the trash was emptied into the Dumpsters, it would be easy enough to retrieve it very early in the morning, when there’s less traffic and before the garbage trucks came by.”

  “That would be one way to explain why there’s been no evidence of forced entry,” Vincent said, after a moment.

  “Exactly. I’m thinking the thieves are working during regular hours. I don’t know exactly how, but it’s my best guess.” Warming up to her theory, Claudia leaned forward. “I was also wondering about the location trending. The thefts have been random and geographically spread out except for these last three. I wonder if they’ve started targeting the Philly area on purpose.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “Because of the challenge of having FBI Art Squad agents in the city? It wouldn’t be the first time the bad guys taunted the good guys.”

  The expression on his face told her he was considering the possibility, and seeing it gave her a kind of crazy buzz. She knew her theories were solid and to see him acknowledge it pleased her no end. Until now, she hadn’t realized how bad she’d wanted him to see her as an equal, to have his respect.

  “Okay, DeLuca. Your turn.”

  Vincent folded his arms over his chest, the seams of his suit jacket pulling tight across his shoulders. “I found something on the security data yesterday, and it happens to reinforce your theory.”

  Vindication! How sweet it tasted. “Looks like we’re off to a good start with this partner thing.”

  “Uh-huh . . . and, like you, I suspect the thieves are making their moves during regular working hours. When I was examining the Champion and Stone data again, I noticed a man in a gray suit walk into the gallery, but none of the cameras recorded him leaving.”

  “Could it be a blind spot? It looked to me like most, if not all, of the thefts were located in camera blind spots, either completely or partially.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “No, I checked that. There are only two entrances to the gallery, and both are under full surveillance. Gray Suit never left. And this is where things get potentially interesting.” He sat forward as well, elbows on the table, his clasped hands only inches from her own. “As I went over footage from the next day, when Arnetta discovered the helmet had been stolen, I spotted a woman leaving the gallery, but none of the cameras had recorded her coming inside.”

  “Well, well,” Claudia said, arching a brow. “Looks like we got us a tag team.”

  “From what you just told me, I agree it’s likely a team—and at least one of them can pass for another gender well enough to throw off investigators and confuse witnesses.”

  “Remaining inside and leaving again during regular hours would explain how they’re bypassing the tougher security. Was the gallery manager distracted during both of these instances on the tapes?”

  He nodded. “Whoever they are, and however many there are, they’re well-organized. Each hit was carefully planned.”

  “Huh
.” She tapped her nails on the table, thinking. “At Alliance, someone could’ve easily left the stolen sampler in the public bathroom. The employees do light cleaning on the days when there’s no janitor service, and they would’ve thrown the garbage bag into the Dumpster. Not sure how it would work at Champion and Stone, but if this is how these incidents are going down, then we have a methodology to work with.”

  “You’re right.” He gave her a slow grin. “Good work.”

  Claudia grinned back. “It sounds like a professional outfit, except they’re only stealing from wherever the security is weakest. Does that say professional to you, or does it say impulse and a quick buck?”

  “It says they don’t care what they steal, as long as they can eventually sell it, but they’re planning ahead. It’s says pragmatic to me. Even if they started out on a quick-buck impulse, they’ve refined their efforts.”

  “Getting greedy and cocky. I love it when that happens, because that’s when they start making mistakes. Brody swears it’s not local business and says he hasn’t seen any of the stolen property. I tend to believe him. He set up a meeting with me this afternoon to pass on more info about our Lady in Black, but he didn’t show.”

  “They could have their own means of moving the property, waiting until the investigation cools down before they try to sell it off,” Vincent said. “It’s standard operating procedure for these types of thefts.”

  It was nice to be talking shop with someone, nice not to be alone, even if only for a brief period. “Now I really want to see those security recordings. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can be persuaded to—”

  “I can bring home backup copies of the few that I have. I’d appreciate any help you can offer, because the Bureau doesn’t have a lot of agents to spare at the moment.”

  “Now that we have an idea of what to look for, we’ll find something. I’ve got a good feeling about this.” She grinned at him, and almost laughed when he grinned back. “This calls for a celebration.”

  “Because we’re finally on the right track?”

  “Yes, and also because we managed to talk for five minutes straight without insulting or arresting each other. I don’t know about you, but a few days ago, I’d have put the chance of that happening at zero.” Claudia kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief, then headed toward the minibar. “Let’s see what we have . . . There must be a bottle or two of champagne in here.”

  Vincent followed, standing so close that she could feel his heat. Straightening with two mini bottles in each hand, she turned to face him. Even when she was prepared for it, his nearness took her breath away.

  He was right: it was time to play fair. No more games, no more trying to outmaneuver him. So when the silence lengthened, she simply said what needed saying: “Or did you have another kind of celebration in mind?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Vincent felt certain her thoughts were moving along the same lines as his, but with this woman it was smarter to make sure. “To be honest, yeah. But I’m not sure what you have in mind.”

  “Oh, Vincent. Please.” Claudia laughed softly. “From the first time we met, I’ve been wondering what it would be like to get you in my bed. You know that.”

  Her bluntness knocked him off-balance. But the craziness and unpredictability was part of the attraction; a relationship of any sort with Claudia would never be dull.

  “It would’ve been ungentlemanly to assume.”

  “Ungentlemanly?” She stared at him. “Now there’s a word I don’t hear very often, especially from any man under seventy.”

  He meant it, even if her expression broadcast her doubts. Not that he could blame her, since his fantasies had been mostly of the wham-bam-adios-ma’am variety. So why the insane self-restraint now?

  Because at some point he’d crossed the line from resenting the hell out of her to wanting her in his life—dammit, this was going to lead to nothing but trouble.

  Knowing it didn’t stop him from taking the little bottles out of her hands. As he put them aside, he leaned closer, picking up on the tension humming off her. “What do you want, Claudia?” When her brows arched, he added with a laugh, “Besides sex. We’re clear on that part.”

  She looked puzzled, then her eyes softened before she glanced away. “Mostly I want to get you out of that suit, one button at a time. I’ve had my share of lovers, Vincent. I know what I want and why. The game and the chase has been half the fun, but what I want . . .”

  Vincent waited, noting how she’d eased back and wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was still so close, though, and all he had to do was take her hips in his hands and pull her against him. She wouldn’t resist. The temptation to do so seized him on a hot, heady rush of desire, but he didn’t move. For some reason, it was important that she come to him.

  What did she want? More action, less talk? More romance, fewer complications?

  “I want to be smart about this,” she finally said. “We have this conflict of interest, and as much as I tell myself to ignore it, it’s always there, nagging at me. It shouldn’t be an issue. If we sleep together, who’s gonna care except me and you? I know it’s better to just carpe diem and all that shit, but I still want—”

  Again she broke off, looking frustrated and embarrassed.

  “C’mon, Claudia. Something’s bothering you. Tell me,” he urged.

  “I guess I want more. For the first time in a really, really long time, Vincent, I want more than just grabbin’ at a flash of opportunity or living in the moment.” She huffed, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. “So naturally, the one man who makes me want all this is the one who won’t fit neatly into my life! I should stick to Avalon men. At least they’d know not to expect too much from me.”

  The “one man” part pleased him with a visceral male possessiveness he’d never experienced before. “So why don’t you hook up with guys like the lawyer?”

  A quick half smile. “Because most of Sheridan’s boys are crazy. I know we all have to be a little crazy to do what we do, but they’re not my type, as in ‘we’d kill each other within five minutes’ not my type. The ones that are my type are already taken.”

  “I got the impression you’d filed me under not your type.”

  “Maybe at first, but the urge to get you naked overrode the urge to do you bodily harm.” She put a small distance between them. “Vincent, what’s with all the questions? I was more or less expecting you to just shove me onto the bed and have at it.”

  “So was I,” he admitted.

  She blinked, then laughed. “Instead, we’re both acting like a couple of shy kids on a first date.” Motioning toward the little champagne bottles, she added, “You could always get me drunk.”

  “These won’t get you drunk enough to blame the booze for any regrets you might have later.” Vincent took her hand, and slid it down the front of his pants so she could feel his erection. “For the record, I’m not shy and I don’t need a drink to loosen my inhibitions.”

  Claudia stroked him lightly, making him suck in his breath. Christ, if she could affect him like this with only a touch, what would it be like to feel her mouth around him? To bury himself deep inside her?

  “I never thought you had any inhibitions, DeLuca. Control issues, hell yeah—but no inhibitions.”

  “Control issues?”

  Amusement glinted in her eyes. “Like you don’t know that.”

  “That’s a good thing for you, then, since you’re sending me mixed signals and it’s taking all my control not to put my hands where I want to.”

  “One of my fantasies is to make you give up all that control to me. I’d tie your hands with that skinny black tie of yours and make you close your eyes. Or better yet, I’d tie back your hands with that belt and blindfold you with the tie.” She pressed against him, all heat and curves and invasive perfume, clouding his head with every sensation but the taste of her. “Then I’d make you beg.”

  Equal parts lust and denial, hot and col
d, washed over him. “I’ve never begged for anything in my life.”

  “Really?” Her gaze locked on his as she squeezed him hard through his pants. As he hissed out a breath, she added, “But maybe you want to.”

  Did he? He’d enjoyed playful sex before, along with rougher sex when the mood took him or his partner asked for it. Toys were a turn-on, and he was always game for watching a lover play with herself, but this suggestion made him uneasy. “Interesting proposition, but I don’t think I’d like my hands tied.”

  “See?” She looked smug. “Control issues.”

  “No,” he retorted, strangely defensive. What the hell? It wasn’t as if he needed to apologize for not being into kink. “That kind of sex . . . it’s not me.”

  “It’s not my bliss, either, but I like to play, be a little bad.”

  “I could always tie you up,” he murmured.

  “Uh-uh, it doesn’t work that way,” she whispered with a sly smile. “See, I have no control issues.”

  Vincent laughed; he couldn’t help it. “The hell you don’t.”

  Then, to mess with her expectations, he leaned down and brushed his mouth along her chin, her lips, and then took her mouth in a deep, leisurely kiss.

  For so long, he’d imagined what it would be like to kiss her, but those thoughts were no match to the reality.

  Her mouth opened invitingly, and her tongue played with his, teasing and stroking. She filled his hands, and every place where his body met hers prickled into hyperawareness. Warm, supple skin and lean muscles, firm breasts and a lush curve of hip and bottom. The smell of her perfume, the brush of her hair along his face, his beard stubble catching strands as he kissed his way to the most sensitive spot right below her ear.

  She made a delicious sound deep in her throat, making him harder, and when she rocked her hips against him, he pulled up the hem of her dress until he had what he wanted: firm, warm woman skin. He ran his palms along her round bottom, cupping and kneading, finding the skinny lace band of her thong, no real barrier to exploring further, deeper.