I looked down at the man. No clues there. There never were. Half-demons, witches, sorcerers, werewolves, vampires…you couldn’t tell by looking. Or, with the vampires and werewolves, I’d heard you couldn’t tell. I’ve never met one of either race, both being rare.

He could be a vampire. Vampires had more than their share of thieves—natural stealth combined with invulnerability made it a good career choice.

As he continued working on the security panel, I ran through a few other possibilities, so I’d be prepared. My mental databanks were overflowing with supernatural facts, most for types I had never and maybe would never meet.

Sometimes, poring over my black market reference books, I felt like an overeager army recruit digesting ballistic tables for weapons he’d never fire, tactical manuals for situations he’d never encounter. Yep, I was a keener, devouring everything in an effort to “be all that I could be.” The council had taken a chance on me and turned my life around, and damned if I wasn’t going to give them all I had to give.

Security system disabled, the man walked to the display and, with a few adroit moves, scooped up three pieces of jewelry as easily as if he’d been swiping loose candy from a store shelf. As he moved, something about him looked familiar. When he did turn, face glowing in the display lights, I let out a silent oath. It was the man I’d crashed into at the buffet table.

The oath was for me—I’d been inches from a supernatural and hadn’t noticed. I could blame that silly “dead duck” vision, and the ensuing confusion, but I couldn’t rest on excuses. I needed to be better than that.

Jewelry stashed in an inside breast pocket, the man crossed the floor. I pulled the gun from my purse and crept forward, crouched to stay under the glass. When he came through that open window again, I’d—

Wait, how was he going to climb out of it? He hadn’t left a rope…meaning he didn’t plan to exit the way he’d come in. Shit!

I popped my head over the window ledge to see him at the door. It was barred on the inside—vertical metal bars—the extra security hidden from passersby who would see only a closed door.

The man reached one gloved hand through the bars, and pushed the handle. The door opened a crack, any electronic security having been overridden from the panel he’d disabled. Great, but that still left those metal bars—

He took hold of the nearest bar, flexed his hand, and pulled. As I stared, he pried open a space big enough to slip through and—

Wake up, girl! He’s going to get away.

I snapped my hanging jaw shut, and broke into a hunched-over jog. As I moved, I mentally ran through the layout of the museum. Take the first junction and there’d be back stairs to the main level. The stairs led to an emergency exit, but the stairwell itself could be used without tripping a fire alarm, a courtesy to museum-goers who knew their way around and didn’t care to cross to the main stairs and elevator.

But even if opening the door didn’t set off a fire alarm, did it trigger anything else? Maybe a signal in the security station? I couldn’t worry about that. When I hit the doorway, I quickly checked for security cameras, saw none, pushed open the door, and tore down the steps.

4

Pulse racing, I forced myself to slow enough to peek out the main level door first. It opened into a dark hallway. No security cameras in sight. I put on my shoes, stuffed my charm bracelet into my purse, and stepped out.

As I hurried down the hall, I put the finishing touches on my plan. Was it a good plan? Of course not. I needed time for that. The best I could do was concentrate on him, his situation, his certain desire to get the hell out of the museum before the theft was discovered.

Sure enough, I looked around the next corner to see the thief step into the well-lit main hall leading to the front door. Cheeky bastard, waltzing right out the front. He wasn’t even hurrying.

I did hurry. I raced down the hall, and called “Excuse me!”

He didn’t slow…or speed up, just tipped his head to a trio of women at the coat check. I picked up my pace. He made it to the door, and paused to hold it open for an exiting elderly couple.

I covered the last few paces at a jog. He saw me then—the yellow dress did it, I’m sure. A friendly smile and nod. He did remember me. I’m sure in his profession, he made it a rule to remember anyone who might be able to identify him later.

“My bracelet,” I said, breathing hard, as if I’d chased him from the party. “Charm—my charm bracelet—it snagged—”

“Slow down.” His fingers touched my arm, and he frowned in polite concern. “Here, let’s step out of the way.”

His fingers still resting on my arm, he steered me into a side hall, a scant yard or so in, far enough from the door to speak privately, but not so far from others to alarm me. Damn smooth…and damn calm for a guy with a pocketful of stolen jewelry.

“My bracelet snagged on your jacket,” I said. “In the buffet line—”

“Yes, of course. It isn’t broken, is it?” His frown grew. “I did try to be careful, so I hope—”

“It’s gone. I noticed it right away, and I’ve been trying to find you ever since. It must have been caught on your jacket or slid off into your pocket or—”

“Or, more likely, fell onto the floor. I’m sorry, but if it did catch on me”—he lifted his arms and displayed his sleeves—“it’s long since fallen off and it didn’t”—another demonstration, reaching into his pockets—“fall in here. It must be on the floor somewhere.”

“It isn’t. I checked everywhere.”

Frustration darted behind his eyes. “Then, I would suggest, as reprehensible as the thought is, that someone picked it up with no intention of returning it.”

Reprehensible? Amazing, he could say that with a straight face. Then again, I suspected he could say pretty much anything with a straight face.

“You mean someone stole it?” I said.

“Possibly, although, considering the guest list, I realize that’s hard to believe.”

“Oh, I believe it,” I said, letting my voice harden. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but your conclusion just proved me wrong. It didn’t fall into your pocket, did it?”

He chased away his surprise with a laugh. “I believe someone has had one glass of champagne too many. What on earth would I do with a…cheap bauble like that.”

He faltered on “cheap bauble.” The man could spin lies with a face sincere enough to fool the angels, but lying about his specialty gave him pause. Even in that brief moment of untangling my bracelet he recognized it for what it was—a valuable heirloom, each charm custom-made. I was surprised he hadn’t tried to nick it in the confusion of our collision.

He continued, “And, if I recall correctly, you bumped into me.”

“I tripped over you…and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t an accident.”

“You think I tripped—?”

A security guard glanced down the hall.

He lowered his voice. “I assure you, I didn’t steal your bracelet, and I would appreciate if you didn’t accuse me quite so publicly—”

“You think this is public?” I strode past him toward the main hall. “Let’s make this public. We’ll catch up with that guard, you let him search you, and if I’m wrong—”

He grabbed my arm, his grip tight, then loosening as I turned toward him.

He managed a smile. “I would rather not end my night being frisked. Why don’t I help you search for it, and if we don’t find it, I’ll willingly submit to the search.”

I pretended to think it over, then nodded.

“Last time I saw it was when you freed it from your jacket,” I said. “Then I went to the cloakroom, to get my scarf to cover this—” I pointed to the marinara spot. “And I noticed the bracelet was gone. Maybe…” I paused. “When I was looking for the cloakroom, I walked into the wrong room—it was dark, and I brushed against something.”