by Mia Dymond
“You don’t suppose anything will happen tonight, do you?”
“No,” he reassured her. “It’s just a back-up plan.”
“My father sent a car. It’s probably waiting outside.”
He placed a hand to the small of her back and urged her to the door. “Relax and enjoy this, Sophie. I promise, I’ve got this all under control.”
When the black limousine stopped in front of the Westminster Hotel, Rebel reached inside his jacket to adjust the position of his piece one last time. He had been truthful when he told Sophie he didn’t anticipate using it, but better safe than sorry. Besides, there was no sorry on his watch.
He laid a hand atop hers as he unclipped his cell phone from his belt and pressed a single button.
“We’re on the move,” he said before he disconnected. He placed a kiss to her forehead and then nodded at the driver through the rearview mirror.
“I’ll come around.”
When the door opened, he exited the vehicle and took a minute to assure everything and everyone was in place. As planned, two hired security agents flanked the front of the vehicle, as well as two at the rear bumper. A quick glance up the stairs leading to the ballroom’s main outside entrance told him security personnel covered the door and outer perimeter. His cell phone vibrated at his hip, Thunder’s signal that the ballroom was clear for entry.
He rounded the car with the driver and allowed the other man to open the door. He stepped forward and extended a hand. Sophie tucked a hand in his, lowered one, sexy stiletto to the cement, and then stood beside him. He folded her hand tightly in his grip and quickly urged her up the steps and into the ballroom while security kept a discreet distance behind.
Standing on the landing at the top of another flight of stairs leading down to what he dubbed the fishbowl, Rebel stole a glance at the woman beside him and damn near fell to his knees in utter love and admiration. Although this whole mission reeked of deception, his feelings for Sophie were deep, true, and honest. All the more reason to follow through.
“Are you ready?” he whispered beside her.
She gave him a trademark sweet smile. “Absolutely.”
He descended the stairs beside her while the gigantic chandeliers above nearly blinded him, forcing him to blink several times in order to focus on the activity below. Male servers dressed in black attire worked the area, carrying silver platters of food while female servers dressed in red passed out wine glasses to each attendee on identical platters. A band played music on a platform in the front of the room. To the left, a bar was positioned in the corner, two bartenders behind. On the right side of the room, long buffet tables rested against the wall, piled high with food. Thunder stood at the end of the third table, stoic and at attention as usual.
Movement near the dance floor in front of the band forced his attention there, where a female appeared to drag Chaos into the middle. He bit his lip. He’d never seen his teammate dance in his life. He squinted in an attempt to identify the female.
Sophie giggled. “Kat.”
He shook his head. Apparently, Chaos and Kat had quite a conversation at the spa.
He moved his gaze one more time around the room, this time spotting Ace near the alcove to the kitchen. An attractive woman dressed in an equally-attractive black dress handed him two trays. He raised both eyebrows when his friend accepted them with a wide grin and headed toward the crowd. He glanced back at the woman, now directing several other servers. Carley Kensworth. Interesting.
Several steps later, he and Sophie finally reached the bottom of the staircase where Senator and Mrs. Graystone stood to greet them.
“Good evening, Lieutenant.” The Senator extended a hand while Sophie hugged her mother.
Rebel returned the gesture. “Good evening, Sir.” He then bent to place a kiss on Mrs. Graystone’s cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Dagan.”
He grinned while he intercepted the implied meaning by her use of his given name. Something told him she had a plan of her own and just like him, she wouldn’t let it fail.
“Mingle,” she told them. “There are lots of people here who’d like to meet your fiancé, Sophie.”
Sophie tucked her arm in his and urged them further into the crowd. He cast a glance at the walls around them where fine art hung, adding elegance to the already upscale interior. One painting in particular caught his attention, partly because it rested on an easel next to the alcove leading to the kitchen, but mainly because it was the ugliest one he’d ever seen. Almost totally black with a grey blob mixed in, it stood totally apart from the others he recognized as Rembrandt and Picasso.
“Is that a DuBois?”
Sophie squeezed his arm. “Very good. Yes, I acquired it for the hotel about a week ago.”
“You didn’t have trouble when you delivered it?”
“I didn’t deliver it. I brokered the sale but it was delivered directly to the hotel.”
“Does it have a brown paper backing?”
“I don’t know for sure, but probably.” She frowned. “Why?”
“Just curious.”
“You know something.”
“Maybe,” he agreed.
“Tell me.”
Rebel opened his mouth to tell her what she probably didn’t want to hear when his explanation was interrupted.
“Sophie, you owe me an explanation.”
Robert Dailey grinned and gave Sophie a hug. “Obviously, he doesn’t work for your father.” He extended a hand to Rebel. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” He shook the other man’s hand. “The Senator suggested we keep things quiet until the party.”
“Of course. I’m quite familiar with the Senator’s directives.” Robert gave Sophie’s hand a squeeze. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Robert.”
Once Robert was well out of earshot, Sophie sighed.
“That was close. How could I have forgotten about Robert? Nice cover, Lieutenant.”
He shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”
“Are you having a good time so far?”
“Yes, are you?”
She nodded. “Except I feel somewhat guilty, fooling everyone.”
“It’s necessary, Sophie. I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”
“I know, Rebel, and I appreciate your determination.”
“Besides,” he said over a grin. “It’s a great excuse to stay close to you.”
“So you have ulterior motives.”
“I do.” He turned and tilted her chin with one finger. “And now, I have the perfect opportunity to get even closer.”
She licked her lips and he felt his whole body tighten with the urge to taste her himself. He stood so very close, not even a half inch separated them. Oh, man. He was in deep, deep trouble with her.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she murmured.
“It is our engagement party.”
Before she could answer, he framed her face in both hands, poked his fingers in the sides of her hair, and seized her mouth with his as if his next breath of air could only come from her. When her lips parted on a gasp of surprise, he took advantage and slid his tongue inside. Pure, raw lust tore through his system as his tongue tangled with hers. Several tiny mews left her lips as his thumbs caressed the smooth, silky skin of her cheeks. While he continued to kiss her, the whole room seemed to fade into the background. The passion between them exploded, raining tiny drops of desire around them.
Slowly, he retracted his tongue and placed one last, tiny peck against her now swollen lips. “Would you like a drink?”
She glanced across the room. “Yes, and my friends are dying to interrogate me. Do you suppose I could have fifteen minutes?”
He moved his gaze over the room for at least the thousandth time, satisfied that it appeared secure. He then leaned down and placed another small kiss on her lips.
“Fourteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds.”
While Sophie
left to meet her friends, Rebel found all three of his teammates huddled in a corner near the buffet tables.
“This is supposed to be a mixer.”
Thunder glared. “If Liv tries to introduce me to one more woman my age, I’m going to throw up.”
Rebel didn’t dare respond. He had no idea Liv even new Thunder. Instead, he glanced at Ace.
“I didn’t realize you were hired as a server this evening.”
Ace just shrugged. “Just helping out.”
“And, you.” He grinned at Chaos. “Was that really you dirty dancing?”
“Kat made me,” he mumbled.
“You’re the one with a ball and chain,” Thunder reminded him.
“Yes, I am.” He couldn’t deny Thunder’s accusation. Didn’t want to. “Did you guys see the DuBois on the easel near the kitchen?”
Thunder glanced over his head and frowned. “Where?”
“Behind me, on the easel by the alcove near the kitchen. You can’t miss it. It’s terrible.”
“I don’t see it,” the captain insisted.
Chaos leaned to one side. “Me either.”
“I see the easel.” When Ace moved his gaze back to Rebel, he knew what he would say before he said it. The sniper had better than 20/20 vision. “There’s no painting.”
Rebel spun around and honed in on the area. “Sonuvabitch! It was there ten minutes ago.”
Thunder pulled his cell phone from the holder on his belt and dialed. “Lock us down,” he said into the phone. “No one in or out.”
Rebel made a beeline for Sophie as discreetly as possible under the circumstances and stood beside her in mere seconds.
“Miss her already?” Kat drawled.
He managed a grin. “Something like that.” He took Sophie’s hand. “Come here, baby.”
He left the three wide-eyed women huddled in awe and led Sophie back to the corner with Thunder, Chaos, and Ace.
“The DuBois is AWOL,” he told her.
“What? No, it’s not. I just saw it.”
“When?”
“Probably ten minutes ago.”
He turned her around so she, too, could see the empty easel.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “I’ve got to find Antonio.”
“Who?”
“Antonio Marcell, the hotel’s general manager. He’s here something in this sea of people. I’ll have him paged.”
“No.” Thunder issued the denial in his usual, quiet, final manner. “We’ll keep it under wraps until we search the place.”
Sophie turned to face him and just stared, mouth gaped, eyes wide, and her beautiful face, ashen.
“We’ll find it.” Rebel hoped to God he hadn’t lied to her. “Security is tight and somebody would’ve seen a person leave with it.”
“This makes no sense at all. Why would someone steal it and then leave it behind?”
Chaos cleared his throat. “You didn’t brief her?”
“No.” Rebel ran a hand down his jaw. “Sophie, we think there’s something hidden under the paper backing of the paintings.”
“Like what?”
“We don’t know yet.” He took her arm. “Sit with your parents while we search and then we’ll talk.”
After giving Senator and Mrs. Graystone a brief explanation, he left Sophie in their care and joined his team at the easel.
Thunder laid out the strategy. “There’s four of us. Chaos, go north; Ace, south; Rebel, east; I’ll go west. If anyone finds it, send the all-clear.”
Rebel headed east, which included the area near the bar. Cram-packed with people, it was given that he wouldn’t find the painting there but he looked anyway. Anything to put Sophie’s mind at ease. When he came up empty-handed, he scoured the remaining area of his assigned quadrant without missing one square inch. Still nothing.
Hoping to high Heaven one of his teammates would uncover the painting, he headed back to Sophie, stopped in his tracks by his vibrating cell phone. All clear. Someone had hit the jackpot. He quickly turned and scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Thunder finally signaled from the west corner.
He quickly found Sophie and took her with him.
“Oh, thank God.” Sophie lunged into Thunder’s arms, leaving the captain visually stunned. “Thank you.”
Thunder gave her a light pat on the back before she stepped back.
“Where did you find it?”
“My search included the head. Someone stuffed it up in the ceiling tiles.” He handed Rebel the painting. “Paper’s torn on the left edge. An agent will meet you in the kitchen with a field test for prints.”
Careful not to touch the edge, he turned over the canvas to uncover the evidence. No other part of the painting had been altered.
“We’ll take it into the kitchen and then return it to the easel if we don’t find anything.”
Thunder nodded. “I don’t think he left any prints behind, but it’s worth a shot.”
Rebel walked beside Sophie as she carried the painting toward the kitchen, carefully maneuvering through the crowd so that the painting wouldn’t be disturbed. Even though he knew she was distressed, she remained visually intact, informing anyone who asked that she was simply moving the painting for safe keeping.
Once they stood and watched the agent fingerprint the canvas, his suspicions were confirmed. No prints. Whoever moved that painting tore the paper to retrieve something from inside and then stuffed it in the ceiling to escape detection – all while wearing gloves, most likely disposable. He released a hard breath. It was going to be a very long night spent processing the scene. At least they had a scene this time, but this was not how he had planned the rest of the evening.
He handed the canvas to Sophie. “As soon as you replace the painting, your father will end the party. Chaos will take you, Kat, Liv, and Carley to the limousine. Go home, have a girls’ night and don’t worry. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Will I see you tonight?”
He read the hope in her eyes and cursed himself for having to crush it. “I’ll be here most of the night.”
“I understand.” She gave him a smile. “Duty calls.”
“This is not the way I planned to spend the night, Sophie. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yes, you will.”
He grinned and planted a kiss on her lips. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
CHAPTER FIVE
True to his word, Rebel stood in her entryway the next morning looking good enough to eat even though he’d been up all night. His jeans and yet another dress shirt, this time yellow, told her he’d stopped somewhere along the way.
“Is the coast clear?”
She giggled. “The girls left early this morning. We’re going to meet at Kat’s spa after the sale.”
He stepped near, placed his hands on her hips, pulled her close, and then practically swallowed her mouth. His touch was firm, demanding, and if she didn’t know better, desperate. When he finally released her, she was pleasantly dizzy and lightheaded.
“Good morning,” he said while his lips moved against hers.
“Good morning.”
“How was the sleepover?”
“Short. We all passed out shortly after we got home.”
“Lucky you.”
“No, they’ll make up for it at the spa.” She swallowed hard, hesitant to spoil the mood. Still, curiosity got the best of her. “Did you find anything at the hotel?”
“No, baby.”
“No one saw anything?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that unusual. Alcohol flowed freely and no one expected a theft during an engagement party.”
“Really? If you noticed a man walking around with a DuBois, you wouldn’t question him?”
“I would. But not the people at your party, Sophie. No one knew about the prior incidents and they didn’t have a reason to suspect anything. It’s been my experience that wealthy people tend to be a little naïve.”
Sh
e silently agreed. “The security was tight.”
“As a drum. Unfortunately, he got around us.”
“How?”
“Had to be someone on the inside. There’s no other way.”
She suddenly widened her eyes. “The security cameras!”
“Your father had them turned off. Privacy issues for some of the guests.”
Although that somewhat irked her, she fully understood. Her family has asked the same thing of some of the venues they visited.
“We checked the whole place, inside and out. No prints, no gloves, no leads. He’s done this before.”
“So he isn’t just interested in me.”
“No, he wants the paintings. It just so happens you’ve had them lately.”
“Well, that’s one positive in the whole sordid mess.”
“Good girl.” He gave her another small peck on the lips. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. Mr. Laurent notified me that the painting is wrapped and ready to be picked up at their booth.”
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop the slight tremble in her hand as she tucked it inside his.
“I’ll be right next to you,” he said as he gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m not going to let anyone near you.”
Twenty minutes later, he still held tight to her hand while they waded through the crowd of art fanatics to the designated table. The whole place was a security nightmare with people covering every inch of the interior, gathered around tables, blocking the aisles for any kind of quick exit. The only saving grace was Thunder’s guarantee that the exits were guarded.
After several minutes of elbowing a path through the crowd, they stood at Sophie’s designated booth. A large, gold banner hung over the top. Laurent Interiors.
“Sophie!” The salesman on the other side of the counter greeted her with a hearty smile. “So nice to see you again!”
“It’s nice to see you too, Harold.” She laid a hand on Rebel’s forearm. “This is Harold Benson, Mr. Laurent’s right hand man. Harold, this is my fiancé, Dagan Caldwell.”
“A pleasure, Mr. Caldwell.” He reached a hand across the counter. “Senator Graystone speaks very highly of you.”