Chapter 2-1
878 Words
Chapter 2
While Brax spent Monday morning on one side of the country, setting up a top-of-the-line security system on Caleb’s house, Kyle Grayson was on the other side, searching for any thefts that had been committed in the same fashion as the one at the Civil War Museum.
So far, he had come up with three, beyond the ones he knew about at the two other museums. Those three involved art galleries with impeccable security systems. And yet, in a matter of two to three minutes, the thief had managed to breach the security and leave with the item they were after. In each case, the police had put the theft down to the perpetrator having inside help, although they weren’t able to prove it. It was the same conclusion that investigators of the two other museum thefts had arrived at. Again, they hadn’t been able to prove it.
“Of course they couldn’t, any more than I can,” Kyle murmured, leaning back his chair. “Any more than I could with the most recent theft. Because there wasn’t an inside man involved.”
He was certain, now, that the thief was a shifter. In and out in less time than it takes to say it. So how do I locate him?
He knew his first step would be finding out who dealt in stolen art. The art crime team he worked with had a list, but of course it was far from complete. On top of that, most of the people on it were in prison. Kyle had personally, if peripherally, been involved in the arrests of several of them.
He scanned the list, and smiled when one name caught his attention. The man was in prison after being found guilty of fencing stolen items, including several paintings that he sold to avid collectors who didn’t care about the fact they had no provenance papers. Kyle wasn’t interested in the fence. He was interested in one of the collectors, David Styles. Styles had managed to avoid prison by pleading guilty to owning two paintings that, he’d claimed, he hadn’t known were stolen. Thanks to having a good lawyer, he got off with probation after paying a hefty fine.
Kyle had met Styles during his investigation into the fence’s activities. Not that it would have mattered in the normal course of events, but in this case he and Styles had something in common. They both were shifters, although neither had acknowledged the fact to the other. At the time, Kyle had wondered why Styles hadn’t stolen the paintings himself—until he realized Styles was the penultimate Omega, afraid of his own shadow.
I think it’s time to pay him a visit.
* * * *
Brax stopped by Caleb’s office mid-afternoon to tell him his house was now secure, and give him the codes he needed for the system and to get into the well-hidden safe Brax had installed—as well as telling him where the safe was.
“And just in time,” Caleb said. “I have another job for you.”
“That was fast. What?”
“I’ll tell you tonight. I presume part of what you put in was an anti-surveillance system comparable the one I have here.”
“Of course. I do know what I’m doing,” Brax replied dryly.
“I never doubted it. I…” Caleb shrugged.
“I know. It never hurts to make sure. Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”
* * * *
Kyle bit back a laugh when Styles jumped as if he’d been burned the second Kyle arrived in his living room.
“What are you doing here and how…” Styles eyes widened in what Kyle knew was feigned shock. “You’re a shifter?”
“Yep. Just like you, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend,” Styles retorted, clasping his hands together to stop their trembling. “If it hadn’t been for you…”
“You’d still have your fence? Sorry. But stopping dealers in stolen art is what I do. Maybe, if you weren’t so greedy, you wouldn’t have lost those paintings.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I bought them in good faith.”
“Uh-huh.” Kyle didn’t wait for Style to offer him a seat. He settled in one of the armchairs, staring at Styles.
“What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I need the names of other people you buy from.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you? If I searched, I’m sure I’d find where you keep your special art collection. Maybe in a well-hidden gallery in your basement? Or an underground bunker?”
“I don’t have—”
“Don’t lie to me, Styles. It was pure bad fortune on your part that you were caught red-handed with the paintings your fence acquired for you—before you could stash them with the rest of what I’m certain you have.” Growling menacingly, Kyle said, “Give me names and I’ll leave you alone, for now. Otherwise, I’ll bring in my team to start searching. I’m sure we’ll find what we’re looking for. You’re damned lucky we were more interested in your fence, and you ratting him out at that point, or we’d have done a search as part of bringing him down.”
“I didn’t rat him out!”
Kyle grinned, lifting an eyebrow in amusement. “I know that, but other dealers don’t. If I get the word out that you were responsible for his arrest, to save your own hide, you won’t be able to add to your collection.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Yeah. I would.” Kyle leaned back, studying Styles. He could smell the fear rolling off the man. He could also pick up on Styles thoughts, which is what he’d been going for when he began pressuring the Omega. Now he had three names of men Styles had dealt with. Two, he already knew about. One was new to him. “How do you think Mr. Pence would react if he knew?”
“Who’s Mr. Pence?” Styles said defiantly, although his look of dismay negated his words. “I don’t know a Mr. Pence.”
Kyle just smiled—and left.
- Writer
