by Mia Dymond
Rebel shook the man’s hand. “A pleasure for me, as well.”
“You’re piece is packaged and ready for delivery,” Harold told Sophie as he pushed a pen and piece of paper across the counter. “I just need your signature.”
Sophie leaned over, accepted the pen, and then signed the paper. Harold then laid the painting with what he assumed to be a copy of the sales ticket taped to the packaging onto the table connected to the booth.
“Thank you, Harold,” she told him. “I’ll see you soon.”
She reached for the painting but paused when someone behind them addressed her. Loudly, with a shriek that pierced his eardrums.
“Sophia Graystone!”
Just as both he and Sophie turned to see who had spoken – or yelled – two large, thick arms surrounded them and pulled them into two very large breasts, faces first. Rebel froze, not quite sure how to extract himself without being accused of sexual harassment. Luckily, Sophie took control.
“Nice to see you, Mrs. Henson,” she said from the depths of her makeshift cage.
The woman’s grip loosened and he managed to lift his head and take a step back. The scent of flowery perfume burnt his eyes and he blinked furiously to keep them from tearing.
“This must be your young man.”
“Yes. This is Dagan Caldwell.”
“Very nice to meet you, Dagan. I’m Laverne Henson.”
He nodded. “Ma’am.”
“Mrs. Henson’s husband has served in the Senate with my father for the past fifteen years,” Sophie explained.
“Yes, he has. We’ve watched Sophia grow into the lovely young lady she is. She’s a prize, Dagan.”
“She is,” he agreed.
“I’m so sorry we missed your party, dear. We were out of town.”
“I understand, Mrs. Henson.”
“Well, I must go. My painting is waiting for me.”
Rebel breathed a nice, fresh breath of relief. Sophie, however, was her usual polite self. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Henson. Please give Senator Henson my best.”
“Will do.”
He stood by while Sophie turned to retrieve her package, alarmed when she turned back around to face him, wide-eyed.
“The painting’s gone!”
He grasped her forearm. “Keep it together, Sophie. We don’t want a riot.”
“It was just here!” She moved in front of the counter. “Harold, did you put my package under the counter?”
Harold frowned. “No, I thought you picked it up from the table.”
“Thank you, Harold.” Rebel quickly intervened and grabbed her shoulders. Quickly, he moved her through the crowd to a bench in one corner.
“Again?” she groaned as she sat. “Good grief, this is getting totally ridiculous! Why my buyers? I’m not the only one who brokers Dubois paintings.”
“No, you’re not,” Rebel agreed as he sat beside her. “Someone’s watching you and I’m willing to bet we find that painting close by.”
“Ya think?” Her sarcasm was clear.
“Explain your protocol to me again.”
“I’ve explained it a thousand times.”
He lifted her chin with one finger. “Sophie, again.”
“When a buyer contacts me, I begin to research the possibility of obtaining a particular painting.”
“And you do the same for any painting, not just a DuBois?”
“Yes. As soon as I find a seller, I contact them immediately.”
“Is it always an individual?”
“No. Sometimes it is a gallery or an artifact vendor.”
“Are the sellers local?”
“No. The sellers are located all over the United States or even all over the world. In the DuBois cases, I ordered the paintings from vendors in France.”
“The paintings came from different sources?”
“Yes. DuBois paintings are one-of-a-kinds. Although the artist may paint what appear to be identical pictures, they aren’t. He hasn’t begun producing prints yet, either.”
“They were purchased from different sellers, but shipped to you by the same company?”
“Yes. Each seller used International Couriers. They have divisions in France as well as the United States.”
“Who accept the shipments?”
“It depends. Most of the time, if the purchase is made through a gallery, the gallery normally accepts the painting. If it’s an individual sale, the buyer may have it shipped directly to his home.”
“Where do you fit in all of this?”
“My buyers had the paintings shipped directly to the galleries who obtained the art. I went to the gallery to sign for the purchase, take it back to my studio to check for damage, then deliver it to an appraiser. Sometimes I pick it up from the appraiser and sometimes the buyer hires a courier to deliver it.”
“Are the paintings insured?”
“Of course. They’re insured from the moment the money is wired for purchase.”
“So they were insured when the thief attempted to steal them.”
“Yes. But that’s not the point. The paintings are irreplaceable. I guess we’re lucky that we’ve managed to salvage all of them.”
He mentally snorted. Lucky, yeah. Lucky that the sonuvabitch hadn’t met him face-to-face. Yet.
“Are there trash receptacles behind this building?”
“I have no idea.”
“Come on.” He grasped her arm and helped her to stand.
“Where are we going?”
“Dumpster diving.”
“Are you serious?” she asked as he continued to pull her toward the exit.
“As a heart attack.”
They exited into the bright sunshine and headed around to the back of the building.
“I’m not exactly dressed to do this, Rebel.”
He grinned as they stopped in front of three large, green waste receptacles. “I don’t expect you to go in. Just keep an eye out for security.”
His height allowed him easy access to the top of the extremely grimy edge of the container and with a swing of his legs, he managed to end up inside the dumpster. As luck would have it, the tub had been recently emptied and there wasn’t much to sort through.
“Not here,” he told her as he climbed back over the top and headed to the next. “Maybe here.”
From inside the second dumpster, things began to look up.
“Got it!” His voice echoed off the enclosure.
“Thank God,” she said from outside. “Now get out and let’s go!”
Once he stood back on the cement, he handed her the painting. “The edge is torn on the back. I’m telling you, Sophie, someone has shipped something in those paintings.”
“How on Earth are we ever going to find out?”
“We’ll come up with something.” He gave her a grin. “I’d hold your hand but I’m not sure you want me to.”
“No, thank you.”
“I’ve got some hand sanitizer in the truck,” he said as he heading to the parking lot. “I’ll drop you off at the spa and pick you up when you’re ready.”
As soon as he dropped off Sophie, Rebel reported in and then practically stomped into Thunder’s office, ready to commit murder. How in the hell did this guy manage to evade him? He’d better damn well hope Rebel wasn’t the first to find him. If that were the case, he might just not ever talk again.
Thunder sat behind the desk, hands folded behind his head, boots propped on the surface. “Where is Sophie?”
“She’s at the spa with her posse. I’m picking her up in a couple of hours.”
“Have a seat.”
He took the empty chair in front of the desk, between Chaos and Ace.
“Brief us on the details.”
“He struck again this afternoon, just like we thought. This time, right under our noses.” Rebel laid out the whole story. “At least she wasn’t physically involved this time.”
“How did he make it out of the venue?”
<
br /> “Sneaky bastard not only took the painting, he took the sales slip.”
“How?”
“Sloppy salesman. While Sophie and I were distracted by Senator Henson’s wife, he laid the painting and the sales slip on the table. Perp picked it up without anyone the wiser.”
Chaos sat forward. “You didn’t see him?”
“No. That woman practically strangled me in a headlock while she showered us with well wishes for our marriage.”
“Intel clears anyone else close to Sophie,” Ace told them. “What about employees?”
“She only has one, Robert Dailey. He wasn’t anywhere near the venue and Sophie called him before we left.”
“Where was he during the other incidents?”
“Either at the studio or home. Sophie can provide an alibi for each time. And, she says no one else but she actually has one-on-one time with the painting.”
“He was at the party last night. We can account for his presence most of the night and we know for a fact no one at the party left with the DuBois.”
“We found today’s painting in a dumpster outside the sale. The paper was torn, just like the others.”
Ace rubbed his forehead. “What the hell is so special about them?”
“Nothing I can see. And, the artist is still alive and painting, so they aren’t rare.”
“Her other purchases are also valuable?”
“Yes. But the perp doesn’t seem to be interested in anything else.”
“What about shipping?”
“All the paintings were shipped by the same company out of France and into the United States.”
Chaos lifted an eyebrow. “Who received them after shipment?”
“The vendor who was contracted by the seller to accept it. In this case, four vendors: Parisian Designs, Beaumont Creations, Illusions, and Laurent Interiors.” He glanced at Ace. “Have you checked out the shipping company in France and the United States?”
“Yep. Nothing raises any flags.”
Thunder dropped his boots to the floor. “Let’s switch it up and have the packages delivered straight to Sophie’s studio. If our suspicion about hidden bounty is correct, we’ll find it.”
“Will do.”
“Someone knows something. Chaos, tail Dailey. See what he’s up to. Just to humor me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Thunder’s face suddenly took on the look of utter murder. Rebel had only seen it one other time – the time no one dared speak about.
“One way or another,” he said quietly, “this sonuvabitch is going down.”
***
Beneath her one inch-thick cucumber mask, Sophie released a contented sigh. Although the last week had been the most stressful of her whole life, she currently felt relatively relaxed. The paintings had been recovered and she was safe. And, she had a strong, sexy man who vowed to keep her that way. Only one other thing could relax her more.
“Just do him, Sophie.”
Kat’s ability to read her mind was spooky. Still, she allowed herself a giggle.
“That’s the intent.”
“But you want more,” Liv said through tight lips.
“Maybe.”
“Spill it, Sophie.”
Sophie opened one eye. All three of them were now staring at her, green cheeks and all.
“I’m in love with my pretend fiancé.”
“He’s in love with you too,” Kat said. “I saw the way he looked at you during the party. The man practically had you naked before the first dance and you didn’t look bothered in the least.”
Sophie giggled. “Maybe so, but I annoy him.”
“Annoyed would not be how I described him.”
“Really,” she drawled.
“Yep. The sparks between you two make me want a cigarette and I’ve never smoked in my life.”
“And what about Sgt. Taylor?”
“What about him?”
“You shared quite a few dances with him.”
“I also drank a lot of wine.”
Sophie took full advantage to turn the conversation in another direction. “Did you see them, Liv?”
“I sure did.”
“They make a cute couple don’t they?”
“Adorable.”
“Nice try, ladies.” Kat obviously refused to be swayed. “What’s your plan, Sophie?”
“I don’t have one.”
“I don’t think she needs a plan,” Carley chimed in. “All you need to do is get him alone.”
Her thoughts flashed back to the afternoon of the engagement party. They were alone then, but he insisted there wasn’t enough time. They would be alone tonight and as far as she was concerned, they had plenty of time.
“Does he have a tattoo?” Kat smeared her mask over one cheek.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Chaos has one. A beautiful dragon.”
“You’re withholding information!” Carley sat up straight. “How do you know that?”
“Relax.” Kat chuckled. “I gave him a massage, remember? The tattoo is on one shoulder. The only clothing he removed was his shirt. Darn it.”
Sophie giggled out loud.
“Seriously, Sophie,” Liv said, “we are all grateful that he is keeping you safe.”
Carley nodded. “Are they any closer to finding out who’s behind the thefts?”
“They’re meeting right now.” Sophie released a soft sigh. “Rebel said he’d fill me in on anything new.”
“You know, I could go ahead and plan your wedding, just in case.”
Although she really, really wanted to take her friend up on that offer, she didn’t dare. Not until this whole mess was over and she had a chance to evaluate Rebel’s feelings. “Thanks, Carley, but that won’t be necessary.”
“It’s going to work out. The man is over the moon for you.” Kat stood and headed for the nearby row of sinks.
“I should hire you.” Liv joined her. “You have incredible insight.”
Kat splashed water over her face. “No insight necessary. Their chemistry is going to blow us all to pieces.”
Sophie grinned as much as she could through the tight mask on her face as she joined her friends. “Move over, girls. I’ve got a hot date.”
When Rebel finally arrived an hour later, Sophie said a hasty goodbye to her friends and all but jumped into his truck. She was on a mission of her own and no one, including Rebel himself was going to get in her way.
The drive to her condo seemed to take hours instead of minutes and finally she couldn’t help the words that fell from her mouth.
“Could you push the accelerator a little harder, Rebel?”
He glanced across the seat at her, his brow furrowed. “What’s the hurry?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I’m just ready to be home.”
His low chuckle told her he didn’t quite accept that explanation but he didn’t question her. Instead, he pushed down on the accelerator and pulled into her driveway a few minutes later.
It was all she could do not to sprint to the front door, cram the key in the lock, and then strip off every inch of clothing before the door even closed. But rather than pull a Lady Godiva for her neighbors, she waited – impatiently – for him to open first the car door, and then unlock the house, and lead her inside.
Her heart beat out of control when he finally closed the door and threw the lock.
“Hungry?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
It must have been the husky tone of her voice, or maybe the extra sway of her hips as she walked toward him, but realization dawned in his eyes.
“Famished,” she said as she draped both hands around his neck and pulled him close. “And only you can ease my ache, Rebel.”
She took his lips in a hard, thorough kiss, nipping his bottom lip with her teeth in the process.
Breathless, he lifted his head. “Do I need something to finish this?”
“No, I’m covered, Rebel.”
/> “Bedroom,” he croaked. “Now.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She grabbed his hand and ran up the stairs with him behind her. Damn him if he couldn’t keep up.
Once they entered the bedroom, he closed the door and pressed her up against it. “You have on way too many clothes.”
He lowered his lips to the bend of her neck and placed a tiny kiss there while he lifted the edges of her top and eased them up over her breasts, moving his lips long enough to draw the clothing over her head and toss it to the floor. His hands then moved to her hips and her skirt slid down the length of her legs.
“So pretty,” he murmured as he drew his fingers over the edges of her bra. “Red again.”
“Rebel,” she moaned. “Touch me.”
He laughed low under his breath and moved his fingers beneath the lace, grazing her erect nipples in the process. She arched her back, begging for more of his touch.
“Patience, baby. We’ll get there.”
He moved one cup of her bra to the side and then lowered his head. Fireworks exploded under her eyelids as his lips closed over one nipple and suckled the tender flesh. She arched even further.
He lifted his head, the look on his face one of pure need, and then gently eased her panties down her legs. When she stood naked, he lifted her into his arms, her legs draped over one of his arms. She kicked off her shoes, content when they fell to the floor. With slow, sure steps, he carried her to the bed and lay her down.
Her body sizzled against the cool sheets while he stood beside her and unbuttoned his shirt and slid it over his broad shoulders, exposing the magnificent sight beneath. Her gaze moved downward when he popped the buttons of his jeans and freed the long erection hidden there. She drew in a quick breath and reached to touch him.
“Soon,” he told her as he captured his hand in his own.
He lifted her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles before he climbed in bed beside her. When he lay prone next to her, she turned to face him.
“Roll to your stomach,” she told him.
“Why?”
“I want to look at you.”
He chuckled and rolled to his back.
Her eyes widened when she made a discovery that made her thighs tingle and her breasts tighten. Right there, on his back, a regal knight stared back at her.