Nothing in Common, Except ...

Chapter 1-2

Brax went home right after work Friday evening to do his research on the American Civil War Museum in Richmond. Caleb’s client wanted an item that was on exhibit there—a double-barreled revolver that had been given to General Beauregard by its maker, Jean LeMat. In the morning, he’d go to Richmond to case the museum in person. Getting there would take no time at all, considering what he was. Once he had the layout and had confirmed what the security was like—and he knew it would be top-of-the-line—he’d return there again after dinner at Judd’s to get Beauregard’s revolver.

The walk through the museum Saturday morning was so fascinating that Brax almost forgot why he was there in the first place. Almost. He came away knowing getting his hands on the revolver would be a walk in the park—for him. But then he did have one advantage over a regular thief. He could get where he needed to be with a thought, as long as he’d seen the spot.

The first thing he did, once he got done playing tourist, was to chat up one of the museum guards after telling the young man that he was the security expert for a large company—which he proved with ID he’d kept from when he had worked for them. Brax asked innocuous questions about the various types of protections on the glass-fronted cases that held many of the exhibits, and whether they were monitored in-house or by a hired security company. Although the young man, rightly so, said he wasn’t allowed to answer the questions, he did think about them. Being an Alpha wolf-shifter, Brax had mind reading abilities. Ergo, he was able to pick enough out the young man’s head to learn what he needed. It was all in knowing the right questions to ask while seeming curious and nothing more.

He returned home much the wiser about how to approach retrieving the revolver. Ergo, he was relaxed during dinner with Judd and Jenna, although, as always, he refrained from drinking the wine they served with the meal. Soon after meeting Judd the first time, Brax had explained that he grew up with two alcoholic parents, and had vowed that he would never give himself the chance to find out if he was one as well. The real reason was that alcohol could be toxic to canines, be they a house pet or a wild animal—or a shifter. Brax preferred living safe rather than taking the chance that he could be adversely affected. It had been drummed into his head from childhood by both of his, definitely not alcoholic, parents.

Brax left Judd’s home just after eleven. At eleven-thirty he was standing in the shadows of a building across from the Civil War Museum, dressed in black from head to toe, including a ski mask covering his head. A bag was slung over one shoulder, containing what he might need for the night’s job.

He brought up the memory of the case holding the revolver and with a thought he was standing in front of it. The only light in the gallery came from the various display cases, which were all two to three feet deep, imbedded into the gallery walls. Some were only a couple of feet tall. Thankfully, as far as Brax was concerned, the one he needed was a good five feet from its floor to the top—to accommodate the various items it contained, including a uniform and a long-rifle. There was just room enough inside for him, if he ducked down. He thought himself into it, used one of his tools to quickly remove the revolver from the display board, put it in his bag, and seconds later was standing outside the museum again. The whole operation had taken two minutes, if that. He was tempted to stick around, just to see how long it would be before the police arrived, since he knew he’d set off some motion detectors during his foray.

But he didn’t. He was back home soon after midnight, and on the phone to Caleb ten minutes later—after storing the revolver in his safe—to tell him, “Mission accomplished.” With that done, he went to bed, glad at the moment that he lived, and slept, alone, since it meant he didn’t have to come up with a lie to explain where he’d been.