Catching the Cat Burglar: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Honeycomb Falls Book 3)

by Cassie Wright

  "Really..." I can actually see him thinking this over. Go on. Take the bait. "That's probably a wise move. Is this thief really that dangerous?"

  Fishing for compliments? I smile sweetly. "Oh, no. From what we can tell, he's a real amateur. We were all laughing about his clumsy robberies so far. He's a real clown! We told the mayor not to worry about it, that this thief couldn't steal a rattle from a baby, but he's insisting." I shrug. "What can you do? Mayors."

  Chase's brow lowers and his expression darkens, but then he visibly takes control of himself and laughs, though the sound is forced. "Ha. A real amateur, eh? That's good to know. So you think you'd be impressed if he stole this diamond?"

  I put my hand on his arm. "Oh, yes. If he could steal this diamond, I would be blown away. But he can't." I drop my hand. "So I guess I'll just have to keep thinking of him as an amateur."

  I have to hand it to Chase. After that initial moment of displeasure, he's playing it cool, like a pro. Which, of course, he is. He simply nods and drinks a little more coffee. "Well, I'm sorry you won't be able to join me. I'll see you tomorrow at the library, then?"

  "Sure. If we don't run into each other before then." I give him another bright smile, confusing him further, and turn and stride away.

  I head into the station, and find the chief. He's in his office, filling out a report. I knock on his open door.

  The chief looks up, and then dismisses me out of hand. "Not now, Kilmarten."

  "Yes, now," I say, stepping inside, and something about my tone causes him to look up. "I know how we can catch the thief."

  "Do you now." He leans back, his shirt stretching tight over his belly, and laces his hands behind his head. "This should be good. What are you going to do? Ask for a machine gun so you can hunt him down like Rambo?"

  "No, Chief." I cross my arms and stare down at him. "We plant a lure in the mayor's house. A fake diamond or the like. The thief is new to town. He won't know the diamond is a fake. Then we let it be known that the diamond is being shipped out tomorrow for security reasons, and wait for him to fall into the trap."

  The chief opens his mouth to dismiss the idea out of hand, and then pauses. "How would you let the thief know?"

  "He's probably the vain type. Look at what he's been stealing. Not money. He's not interested in cash. Instead, he's taking hard to acquire items of high personal value. He'll be out there on the street, listening to conversations, trying to hear people talk about him and blow up his ego." I pause, shaking my head. "He's probably a real egomaniac. The bastard."

  "Kilmarten?" The chief arches one surprised brow. "You were saying?"

  I put my anger aside. "So we just spread the rumor. If we ask Anita, Helen, and Mindy to start spreading the word, the whole town will know in less than an hour. Then we set up the trap, and catch him when he strikes tonight."

  The chief rubs at his jaw. "You know, that might actually work. And it's better than anything else we've got on the table." He nods, convincing himself right before my eyes. "We'll have the mayor sleep somewhere else to keep him safe, and set a nice tight trap. Very good, Kilmarten. I like it."

  I grin. "Good. And I want to be right there when he's caught."

  The chief's expression turns hard. "Not possible. This could be dangerous. Let me and the officers take care of this."

  Outrage. "But it's my idea -"

  "And I thank you for it. If we catch him tonight, thanks to your idea, I will seriously consider sponsoring you to take the exam and join the force. But that's my final decision. You won't be there."

  I grind my teeth, frustrated and even angrier. I really want to be there when they arrest Chase. Stare him in the eyes and let him know that I'm not the little fool he takes me for. But the look in the chief's eye is implacable. I sigh. "Fine. Good luck."

  "Thank you, Kilmarten. Oh, by the way, Bardwell told me about your noticing the bite marks on the fire escape. Good job. Keep this up, and you'll be a real asset to our force."

  "Thanks." I don't feel proud or happy, though. I walk out of the station and back onto the street, where I plop down onto a bench. The fire escape has been taken away, and the crowds have dispersed. It's just another crisp, cold winter morning here in Honeycomb Falls, and I feel miserable.

  Groofy hops up onto the bench next to me. "Woof."

  "Hi, Groofy." I absently reach out and scritch behind his ears.

  "What's wrong?" He turns his head so I can get at the right spot.

  I sigh again. "Nothing. Everything."

  "Hmm. A contradiction." He closes his eyes, enjoying himself.

  "Yeah. That I am." I stare morosely out at the street. "I love the calm and quiet and magic of the library, and I love the adventure and excitement and service of being a police officer. I was really, really starting to like Chase, and now I kind of hate him. And the chief is finally starting to take me seriously as a police officer, but everything I've done to impress him has come from you."

  Groofy sighs and lies down, resting his chin on my lap. I continue to scratch him behind the ears. "You found the scent at Rachel's. You identified his presence at the bakery. And you pegged Chase as the thief this morning. You even pointed out the bite marks on the fire escape!"

  "Hmm, yeah." He sounds drowsy. "I'm pretty brilliant."

  "And I'm - what? Just a bitter woman intent on arresting the only man who's ever really interested me?"

  "Hmm. Yeah. Raw deal."

  I stare down at him accusingly. "You don't sound like you care."

  "I don't. Not as long as you keep scratching right there." He smiles, and then lets out a dramatic sigh. "It's a hard life. You've got to focus on your scratches when they come along and not take them for granted."

  "True," I say, looking away. But where are my scratches? If my plan is successful, I'll never get any at all. Chase will get locked away, and that will be that. And for some reason, some absurd reason I can't even begin to explain to myself, that makes me almost sadder than I can bear.

  Chapter 9

  I watch Joanna walk away and can't help but feel conflicted. I didn't intend to ask her to join me for breakfast. I didn't intend to have breakfast at all. Instead, I woke up with the idea of getting out of Honeycomb Falls for the day and clearing my head. Maybe driving down to Northampton, or all the way south to Springfield to check out some museums. But the moment I looked into her eyes I found myself suggesting a picnic by the river.

  She'd turned me down. And walked away. Leaving me standing here, torn, annoyed, and frustrated. I could still drive down to Springfield to check out the fine arts museum. Could still buy myself a fine lunch, and maybe catch a movie. By myself. But I realize that I don't want to. The idea of spending the whole day by myself suddenly seems intolerable.

  I drift away from the crowd as the tow truck hitches the fallen fire escape to its rear. I toss away my now empty coffee cup, and just walk idly through town. I'm restless, on edge. What do I want? My mind immediately summons an image of Joanna. The way she looked last night, one shoulder bare, smiling at me over the candlelight. I want her. Her body. I want to hear her laughter and hold her hand.

  I groan and run my hand through my hair. But I can't have that. Intimacy leads to telling the truth. And telling the truth means revealing my lies, lies that would destroy her interest in me. I'm trapped. I don't want to continue being who I am, but if I should stop, I would ruin the chances of being the person I want to be.

  I turn off Bridge Street and walk along a tree-lined street, one with homes made with the classic New England clapboard siding. Each one is a symbol of what I can't have. Each holding a family, each a home. I can see Christmas trees through some windows, menorahs in others. Some have lawn decorations. Others have lights hanging under the eaves of their roofs, dead for now but surely lit up and beautiful at night. All of it beyond my reach. The one thing I can never steal.

  I sigh and turn onto another street. This one leads past the elementary school where Mrs. Paloma teaches. The school gr
ounds are empty. The kids are all on break. I stop at the fence and stare at the playground. Kids. Sam never wanted any. I claimed that I didn't either, but back then I was too young, too carefree to give it any serious thought. Do I want a family? A mate? Cubs of my own? Until Honeycomb Falls, I would have laughed bitterly and said no. Now? I'm not so sure.

  I'm getting old, I scoff at myself and resume walking. How Sam would laugh at you. Thinking about mates and cubs and settling down. I imagine Sam in all her fiery glory, and feel that old pain again. But Sam's long gone. That life we led is over. I'm just refusing to let go. Refusing to accept that I'm no longer that wild and carefree werejaguar. That with her death, something within me died, something within me changed. It's taken me five years to come to terms with it. To grieve. Finally, now, having met Joanna, I think I might be able to move on.

  But what does that mean? It only brings me back around to my dilemma. If I want Joanna, I have to be honest. But if I tell her the truth, I'll lose her forever.

  I growl in anger. And then there's this Countess Diamond. A glittering prize. Impossible to steal, apparently. A prick of anger returns as I recall Joanna's description of the thief: clownish and amateur. How insulting! They have no idea how talented I am.

  I stop walking as the idea hits me. I know what I can do. I'll steal the diamond. My last theft. I'll steal it, and present it to Joanna. Hand her the diamond and my secret, all in one go. I'll tell her that I want to be with her, that I want to end my old life and begin a new one as her partner. Her mate. Doing so will impress her with my true talent, which in turn will only show her how serious I am about turning over a new leaf.

  I try to imagine the setting. The diamond in my hand, Joanna's mouth open wide in shock and surprise. I'll give it to her, then drop to one knee. Apologize for my deception, and tell her my fate is in her hands. That if she feels anything for me, anything at all, to please give me a second chance.

  I grin. Yes! That could work. Dramatic, a fitting end to my career as the most accomplished thief this world has ever seen. Sam would laugh, but Sam's long gone. Joanna is here, today, now. Joanna. I can steal her heart by giving myself over to her. Energized, I shove my hands in my pockets and stride off down the street.

  Chapter 10

  I fight the urge to yawn and instead take another sip from my thermos. The coffee is hot and strong, and I sit up, blinking away the urge to sleep. It's past eleven at night, and I've been sitting here for almost four hours already, across the street from the mayor's house, half a block down, with a good view of the front of his house.

  Mayor Thrushmore has, by Honeycomb Falls standards, a rather palatial estate. It's a fine old mansion, old and storied, two stories tall with attic windows peeking through the roof. I've attended two parties inside, both occasions when the mayor was celebrating his re-election. It's elegant, classy, and full of interesting sculptures, works of art, and books. A lovely home. Reflecting the lovely personality of our old mayor.

  Tonight, however, the doors and windows are locked, and the mayor is safely asleep at Chief LaBonte's much more modest home. Officer Bardwell is hidden inside, and Officer Grange is somewhere on the grounds. I know they've set up small security cameras, and a third individual whom I think I recognized as Blake, Rachel Wilder's werewolf husband, is also somewhere on the grounds. A tight little operation, a deadly trap ready to snatch up Chase.

  And I couldn't stay away. Even if I'm not allowed to participate, I have to witness his downfall. The thought of lying in bed at home waiting for a call from the chief was intolerable. So here I am, coffee in hand, binoculars at the ready, waiting, heart in my throat, for the man I was falling in love with to show up and be arrested.

  At least, my heart was in my throat for the first hour. By the third hour I was nodding off, and now it's a struggle to stay awake. The moon is large and hangs in a clear night sky overhead, painting everything in deep cobalt blue hues and outlining the world in silver. I sigh. Part of me wants Chase to stay away. Part of me wants to call and warn him. But I ignore that part. I pretend it doesn't exist. I do everything I can to kill that part of me, but somehow it still fights on.

  My eyes are starting to creep shut again when I see movement. I sit upright, rub at them, and peer at the neighbor's roof. My mistake. It's just a chimney. I sit back. Wait a second. There was no chimney there before. I grab my binoculars and train them on the still shape. My breath catches. It's him. He looks amazing. He's in his humanoid werejaguar form, a powerful figure crouched motionless at the edge of the roof, surveying the mayor's home and grounds below. His fur is pale gold in the light of the moon, marked with splotches of black that make him hard to pick out. He's wearing a black bag over one shoulder, and looks utterly regal, poised, and focused.

  I lower the binoculars. Chase has come. He's taken the bait. A wave of disappointment flows through me. He really is just a thief. He couldn't resist my ridiculous lure. I watch, feeling melancholy and regret, and wishing he'd proved me wrong. Ah, well. It's impossible to find a man who combines everything you desire in this world. Looks, integrity, intelligence, education, culture, and ravishing personal charm. Impossible. Chase comes close. But he fails in the most crucial of categories: integrity.

  As I watch, he backs up, then breaks into a sprint. He's shockingly fast. At the last moment, just as he reaches the edge of the neighbor's roof, he throws himself into a magnificent long jump and sails through the night air. He crosses a ridiculous amount of space and lands atop the mayor's home, falling into a tumble from which he emerges in a crouch, frozen and in complete control.

  Wow. Did he really just leap that space? I stare, wide-eyed, as he does something to one of the attic windows and slips inside. Like that, he's gone. It's almost as if I imagined him altogether. Should I alert Bardwell? I really should. I should pick up my walkie-talkie right now and give him the heads up.

  But I don't. I just sit there, torn, anguished. Part of me reasons that the chief told me to stay out of it. What if the sound of my voice on the walkie-talkie alerts Chase, and he escapes? They'd kill me. And don't I trust Bardwell to do his job? He's a veteran of the force. He knows what he's doing.

  They don't need my help.

  Or so I tell myself. The truth is, I suddenly don't want to see Chase caught. I don't want to see him dragged out in handcuffs. I don't want him shamed and trapped like a common criminal. It's crazy, it's irrational, but I can't forget that charming man I had dinner with. How he saved me from the killer wolf with such calm and confidence.

  So I sit there in a storm of tension, waiting for the lights to turn on, for sound, gunshots, action. Nothing happens. I check my watch. It's been two minutes. Another minute passes. Silence. Darkness. Nothing. What's going on in there? Is Chase being that slow and cautious? What if he's knocked out Bardwell? I should call in. I should alert them - and then I see movement once more.

  It's Chase. He emerges from the same window. Closes it delicately behind him. Then crouches, runs, leaps back out over the void, and lands neatly on the neighbor's roof. He runs along its spine for a moment, then drops out of sight over the far side. He's gone.

  Still nothing from the mayor's house. I'm stunned. Has he done it? In all my calculations, I never thought he could actually pull it off. That he could actually steal the fake diamond right out from under Bardwell's nose.

  Now what? He took the bait, but the trap hasn't been sprung. Without knowing what I'm doing, I turn on my car and pull out into the street. I drive fast, away from the house. I realize belatedly where I'm going: Chase's apartment. It takes me less than two minutes to arrive. I park and kill the engine. Wait. Watch.

  There. Now that I know what to look for, he's easy to spot. A dark shadow across the street on the roof. A blur as he leaps across the space, then lands on the ledge outside his window. He slides it open and slips inside. A breath later, a light turns on. He's home.

  I reach into the glove compartment and grab my father's gun. It's a well-oiled pistol, and
even though I've practiced with it several times in the woods under my father's guidance, I've never before carried it on me, or even taken it out of the house. I put it in my purse and get out. Cross the street and press the button next to his last name: Xavier.

  I hear a faint buzz, and then his voice, muted by the cheap speaker: "Hello?"

  "Chase, it's Joanna. Let me up."

  "Joanna?" A pause. Confusion. "What are you doing here?"

  "Can I come up? Please?"

  Another pause. "Of course." There's a buzz, and I pull open the door.

  I hurry up the steps to the second floor. My heart is racing. My mind is in a panic. What am I doing? What am I hoping to achieve? I stride down the hall to what must be his door and knock. A moment later Chase opens it, dressed in a white shirt and jeans, barefoot and looking ravishingly hot.

  "Hey," he says, stepping aside to let me in. "What's going on? You all right?"

  I'm flushed. I'm breathing heavily. I step into his apartment. It's almost ridiculously empty. Just a huge bed, a suitcase against one wall, and some clothing hanging in an open closet. White walls, white sheets, minimalist beyond belief.

  Chase closes the front door and grins abashedly. "I haven't had time yet to get around to decorating -"

  He cuts off as I turn around, the pistol out and pointed at his chest. He raises both hands reflexively, but doesn't seem afraid. More surprised, as if by an innovative move in a game of chess. "Joanna?"

  "You're under arrest, Chase." I try to make my voice fierce. I can't quite stop it from shaking.

  "Under arrest?" He says those words as if he's tasting them. As if they don't make sense. "What are you talking about?"

  "The Countess Diamond. I saw you steal it. And for taking Rachel Wilder's staff. And Anita Hall's honey. You're coming with me, right now, down to the station."

  Chase's eyes narrow. For a moment he looks downright scary, a predator, his eyes growing cold, and I can see him calculating the odds. Figuring how close he is to me, how quickly he might cover that distance. I raise the gun, holding it in both hands, a proper shooting stance.