by Mia Dymond
“How long have you been friends?”
“For life. We literally grew up next door to each other.”
“Your father is in politics as well?”
“Might as well be. No, my father is a federal judge. The Honorable William Abbott has been on the bench as long as I’ve been alive.”
“Does Sophie have any sour break-ups?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I’m sure Rebel will,” he mumbled.
“Rebel?”
“My teammate.”
Since Sophie had filled her in on Rebel’s role in their earlier phone conversation, she didn’t push for further information about the other man. She’d get that from Sophie. “Are you always this tense?”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“I’m usually right in the middle of things.”
“Ah, the name.”
He chuckled in response.
“Sophie tells me you’re a military man. How long were you in?”
“Ten years. Army Ranger."
“And you like fire.”
“Demolition. I play with explosives.”
His response surprised her. Not because of his admission, but because he actually provided information about himself. She grinned. Apparently, relaxation was her secret weapon.
She gave both of his shoulders one last squeeze. “Any more questions for me?”
“I think I got what I need.” He sat upright on the table, tantalizing her once again with his muscled, carved pectorals. “You’re good at that.”
“Thank you.”
She winced when the bell over the front door announced a visitor, ending the intimate conversation between them. She sighed and handed his shirt back to him.
“Give me a call if you need another.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She let the ma’am slide while she watched, mesmerized as he draped the shirt over his wonderfully-carved biceps and thick shoulders, not bothering to button up, and hopped off the table.
“Thanks again.”
“You’re certainly welcome,” she told him as she followed him back to the front of the building.
As soon as they rounded the corner to the reception area, several feminine gasps caught her attention. She glanced right into the eyes of her three best friends.
“Ladies.”
Chaos gave each of them a small nod and then all three gazes, four if hers were included, watched his magnificent backside exit the building.
“New client?” Carley raised an eyebrow.
“Hardly,” Kat mumbled. “He’s part of Alpha Four.”
“He is?” Sophie’s eyes widened. “What was he doing here?”
“Interrogation.”
“Oh, Kat.” She released a hard breath. “I’m so sorry. I told Rebel this had nothing to do with my friends.”
Carley’s eyes sparkled. “Rebel?”
“I had a close call after the art auction yesterday.”
Kat pushed herself off the reception desk. “To the pool, ladies. I have a feeling we’re all going to need a stiff drink after this.”
Sophie followed behind her friends to the indoor pool in Kat’s spa, thankful for the opportunity to relax. Between the incident at the auction and Mr. Sex-on-a-stick himself, she needed a calm, serene environment – not to mention, the stiff drink sounded pretty good too. What on Earth had her father been thinking?
She took a deep breath in through her nose and then released it out of her lips as she entered a dressing room and donned one of the extra swimming suits Kat kept on hand. Her father’s response didn’t surprise her - granted, Senator Graystone knew she wouldn’t exactly welcome intervention- but Sophie knew for a fact he didn’t expect her physical reaction to Rebel and there was no way she would even attempt to explain it to him.
Once the turquoise blue, one-piece suit hugged her body, she stepped from the cubicle to the edge of the pool and stuck her feet into the warm water, waiting for her friends. She’d have to run the idea by them, but surely there was a way to get around the intervention.
“Here.” She looked up to see Kat extending a wine glass. “I think you need a head start.”
“Thanks.”
Her friend sat beside her, holding an identical glass. “What a day, huh?”
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.”
“Care to share?”
“Wait!” Carley plopped down on the other side of Sophie. “Liv’s right behind me.”
“Here I am.” Liv sat next to Carley, her blue eyes as wide as everyone else’s.
Kat nodded. “Okay, go.”
Sophie swallowed the contents of her wine glass in four full swallows and then handed it back to Kat. “Yesterday when I left the auction, a man grabbed me and attempted to pull me away from the parking lot.”
“Sophie!” Liv gasped. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thanks. I managed to smack him in the nose and another strategic area between his legs and he ran away.”
“Did he get the painting?”
“No, and thankfully only the protective paper on the back of the frame was torn.”
“According to Sgt. Jace Taylor a/k/a Chaos, the man could have been after Sophie.”
“My father called Alpha Four. Apparently, they can investigate without much publicity and now I have a shadow. His name is Rebel.”
“And he’s hot.”
“Huh?”
“He’s hot,” Kat repeated.
“You’ve seen him?”
“No, but if his teammate is any indication of the caliber of men are associated with Alpha Four, he’s one fine specimen.”
“Chaos is magnificently fine,” Carley agreed.
Liv sighed a soft, schoolgirl sigh. “Yes, he is.”
“Well yes, Rebel fits the mold.” Sophie grinned. “But he’s awfully bossy.”
“What’s the story behind his name?”
“I have no idea.”
“But you’re curious.”
“Extremely. On the surface common sense tells me he’s probably wild but in my short interaction with him, he’s obsessively methodical. The man has a back-up plan for his back-up plan. And he’s determined to make sure everyone follows the plan.”
“So ask him.”
She gave her friend a grin. “I have every intention of doing so.”
***
He paced in front of the window, annoyed that he relied on a phone call and a fumbling idiot to calm his nerves. Once this particular operation came to an end, he would re-think his help. Reorganization was definitely on the agenda.
All in all he was pleased. His operation had become quite successful and made him a wealthy man. His associates proved knowledgeable and capable and his buyers appeared more than happy with his product. The process ran so smoothly it was almost streamlined.
Until now. Until Sophie Graystone had decided to put a major kink in his method.
He would just have to work around her; his success depended on it.
He paused and glanced at the phone in his hand. The phone calls would have to stop after this one.
“I have them.”
“Good. Any issues?”
“Not this time. It was a pretty easy snatch and grab.”
“You followed the plan, right?”
“I did. I’ll deliver the package this afternoon.”
“As soon as you do, I’ll wire the money.”
“Do you have the next drop?”
“Are you in a secure area?”
“Yes.”
He pressed several keys on his computer keyboard. “Sending it as we speak.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sophie glanced out her office window into the bright Florida sunshine and smiled. Sunshine had a way of chasing away the tension of the week’s events and replacing it with the warmth of hope. Hope that the attempted theft wouldn’t be repeated and hope that her newly-acquired tail wouldn’t get in her way.
&n
bsp; She released a hard breath and shook her head at her denial. Who was she kidding? Rebel was one magnificent mountain of male she refused to go around – she fully intended to climb that mountain if the opportunity arose. Yet, even though she couldn’t deny her attraction, she refused to let it distract her independence. He could follow along if he insisted, but he would do it at her pace. She allowed herself a naughty smirk. What she wouldn’t give to discover just what kind of pace he kept. Slow and easy? Or hard and fast? Would he ask nicely before he acted? Or would he take what he wanted like the rebel his name implied? Oh please, just take it.
“Sophie?”
She quickly harnessed her wayward thoughts at the sound of Robert’s voice and turned to face him.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Pennington’s on the line for you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Your cheeks are red.”
“Oh.” She managed a half laugh and dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been soaking up the sunshine. Are we locating another painting?”
“He didn’t say.”
Sophie picked up the extension. “Hello, George. What can I do for you?”
“Hello, Sophie. I’m afraid I have bad news. My Dubois was stolen last night.”
“Oh, George! I’m so sorry. Did the police catch the thief?”
“Unfortunately, not yet. They’ve opened an investigation but it hasn’t turned up.”
“May I help you file an insurance claim?”
“Certainly, as soon as the police have closed the investigation, I’ll give you a call. In the meantime, would it be possible for you to locate another? I realize it won’t be the same painting, but I would very much like to have a DuBois.”
“Of course, I’ll get right on it. In the meantime, please contact me if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
She hung up the phone with her heart pounding. “Robert, Mr. Pennington’s DuBois was stolen last night.”
“How in the world did that happen? He mentioned last week that his new security system locked down the house as tightly at Ft. Knox.”
She shrugged. “I have no idea, but we need to find another DuBois as soon as possible.”
“I’m on it.” He lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Illusions has Camille Wentworth’s delivery ready. Which courier shall I contact?”
Sophie bit her lip. Camille had been patiently waiting on her DuBois for months. “I’ll get it.”
“Are you sure? That one is insanely popular.”
“Positive. She’s been so patient and I’d like to get it to her this afternoon.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you Robert, but that’s not necessary. I really need you here to hunt for Mr. Pennington’s piece.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Sophie. After the incident at Parisian Designs, I’m a little nervous about you going alone.”
“I’ll park right outside the door. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m calling your father and the police.”
She smiled as she stood and slung her purse over one shoulder. Even Robert followed the Senator’s instructions. “Deal.”
Once seated behind the wheel of her car with the doors locked, she desperately tried to settle the nerves that suddenly made her anxious. The odds of being confronted were extremely slim, she reasoned with herself. The auction was a very public place in which her purchase had been revealed to all who attended. Today’s purchase was private – only the gallery owner and Mrs. Wentworth knew about the transaction. There was absolutely no need to worry.
She shifted the engine into gear and then pulled out into traffic, cramming her next thought right back where it came from. Reporting to Rebel wasn’t necessary either. By the time he arrived and laid out his master plan, she could’ve already picked up the painting, delivered it to the appraiser, and returned to the office. Besides, if his claim to know her plan before she did was true, he would meet her at the gallery.
She released a soft sigh as she drove the few blocks to Laurent Interiors. She wasn’t purposely trying to be difficult, she just wanted to conduct business as usual. Efficiently and professionally – something that would be difficult with a tail.
A slight shudder tickled her nerves as she parked and then walked the short distance to enter the gallery. Yet, she willed herself to relax. It would only be a matter of minutes before Camille’s painting was in her possession and both she and the art were tucked safely back into her Lexus.
Calm seeped through her body once she stood inside the studio surrounded by elegant masterpieces painted by experts in the craft. She glanced briefly over her shoulder to assure she hadn’t been followed and then with sure and confident steps, made her way through the several groups of people gathered around the area and to the counter to claim her package. As she passed a reproduction of the beautiful Mona Lisa, she could’ve sworn the painted woman gave a slow nod as if she approved of Sophie’s strength and determination.
“Good morning, Miss Graystone.”
She smiled at the gallery owner as she stopped in front of the counter and accepted his outstretched hand.
“Good morning, Curtis. How are you today?”
“I’m well, thank you. Mrs. Wentworth’s piece is wrapped and ready to go.”
He signaled to a uniformed guard who stood in front of a door she knew opened into the gallery’s workroom. The guard exited through the doorway and then returned with the painting a few moments later. His presence helped to calm her; although he wasn’t armed, the uniform seemed to exude an air of authority.
Curtis took the piece and handed it to her across the counter. “I am absolutely amazed you found this particular work. The beauty is breathtaking.”
“It is,” Sophie agreed as she took a moment to move her gaze over the art.
Soft, pastel swirls of blues and yellows gave the impression of a calm, serene skyline while bolder tans and browns represented what she thought to be the earth below. Shades of green mixed with other darker blues symbolized the landscape of trees and streams. Simple, yet powerful – a true indication that Henri DuBois was the master behind the brush.
“Thank you, Curtis. We’re on the lookout for another so Robert may be in touch shortly.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Sophie tucked the painting under one arm and maneuvered through the crowd of customers to the door. As soon as she exited and walked inches toward the curb, she felt an eerie, familiar pressure on her free shoulder. With her heart in her throat, she glanced up to see a stranger. Her mouth fell open.
“Don’t make a sound,” the man told her as he attempted to pull her further down the sidewalk.
Desperate for a diversion, she took two steps backwards and slammed the painting flat against the gallery’s door. Experience told her that the frame could be repaired easily, if need be. She dug her heels into the cement, purposely delaying his intent to drag her further from the gallery while she took full advantage to memorize his appearance. Tall – everyone was tall compared to her – black, short hair, and narrowed, green eyes. His chin was severely pointed into a vee and his cheeks drawn thin over his face. No one she recognized but someone she would never forget.
With her free hand, she swatted at him, hoping to cause enough commotion to alert a passerby. And, as luck would have it, help soon arrived.
“Let her go.”
Sophie released a long breath when Curtis and the gallery security guard appeared beside her and issued the directive.
“I’ve called the police.”
The guard reached to detain her assailant to no avail. The larger man immediately took off running down the street as sirens echoed in the distance. A lone police car sped passed in pursuit of the suspect.
Curtis helped her to the front of the building and she propped herself against the br
ick.
“Would you like me to call your father?”
“No thank you, Curtis. I’ll make the call myself.”
“How about a glass of wine to calm your nerves?”
Sophie grinned. “I should probably give my statement first.”
“I’ll keep it chilled.”
Curtis headed back inside the gallery and she reached into her purse for her cell phone, pausing with it in her hand. She knew she had to make a call and not to the Senator. Damn her independence. She released a hard breath. Hindsight was 20/20 – she might as well bite the bullet.
Her fingers shook as she pressed the numbers on the phone and she was sure the whole block could hear the ringing in her ears as she waited for an answer on the other end of the line.
“Caldwell.”
The non-nonsense greeting turned her nerves into Mexican jumping beans.
“Rebel, it’s Sophie.”
“Do you need a tail?”
“Umm, I’m already gone from the studio.”
The long silence told her she was in big trouble.
“You’re already gone,” he repeated.
“Yes, and unfortunately I’ve had some trouble.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Do. Not. Move,” he growled.
She wasn’t surprised when he simply issued the command and then disconnected. The man of few and simple words packed a heck of a punch. Although if he would’ve given her a chance to respond, she would have reassured him she wasn’t going anywhere. Police officers covered the area and the Chief of Police himself now walked toward her.
Sophie answered questions and provided details as best she could while she inwardly screamed for Rebel’s appearance. There was just something about him that calmed her, reassured her that he had things under control.
She fidgeted from side to side, hoping desperately that the Chief had somehow kept the press oblivious to the incident. Her parents would not be happy to learn of the assault secondhand. She swallowed hard. Where was Curtis with that wine?
Her silent question was answered when the officers closed their notebooks and Curtis appeared, wine glass in hand. “Come back inside and relax. You have a visitor in the back room.”