Romeo & Julian

 

A Thief on Christmas Eve

When FBI special agent Julian Harris finally corners art thief and
cat burglar Romeo, he's planning to put the man first in handcuffs

and then behind bars. Instead, he finds himself first trapped in a
house in the mountains by a blizzard and then captivated by
Romeo's irresistible charm. One thing leads to another, and after a

night spent together, Julian wakes up alone with his pride bruised
and his heart stolen.

Almost a year later, a twist of fate brings them back together and
their mutual attraction sparks up again instantly, but events take

on a dynamic that could have at least one of them wind up dead.
Blackmailed into a precarious break-in, Romeo has to choose

between Julian's life and his own safety while all the time, there
are two questions on Julian's mind. Who is this slick and sexy thief
really, and where does his true loyalty lie?

Note: This book is written in one point of view.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary
Length: 33,677 words

A THIEF ON CHRISTMAS EVE

Romeo & Julian

Sage Marlowe

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

 

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A THIEF ON CHRISTMAS EVE
Copyright © 2013 by Sage Marlowe
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-039-1

First E-book Publication: January 2013

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Letter to Readers

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DEDICATION

For Mum

 

A THIEF ON CHRISTMAS

EVE

Romeo & Julian

SAGE MARLOWE

Copyright © 2013

Chapter 1

“FBI. Freeze.”
The man didn’t even startle at the sudden sharp order. Crouching

in front of the safe, one hand on the lock, he obediently paused mid-
motion.

“Now raise your hands.”
Julian didn’t need to repeat the order. The burglar raised his hands

but kept the rest of his body perfectly still. Controlled. Tense and
ready to move, not the resigned slackness of someone who had given
up.

“Don’t think you can try anything now. It’s over for you. I’ve got

a loaded gun in my hand that is currently pointed at your right
shoulder. If you make a sudden move, I’ll pull the trigger. The bullet
will smash the bone, and your arm will be useless for a couple of
months, maybe forever depending on what it is that you want to use it
for. Now turn around. Slowly,” Julian warned and flicked on the light.

Obedient, the man turned to face him, hands still raised above his

head, and for the first time ever, Julian had the chance to see the
phantom he’d been chasing all these months.

“You’re younger than I thought.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

9

 

“Disappointed?”
“No, just surprised. Good for you, though. It means that if you’re

lucky, you’ll have enough years left for a chance to build yourself a
life worth living by the time you get out of prison.”

The man was indeed quite a bit younger than Julian had expected

him to be. He was probably somewhere in his midtwenties rather than
the late thirties or even forties that would have been more likely
considering the trail he’d left and the time he must have spent to train
his admittedly admirable set of skills to perfection.

There was a curious, almost amused expression on his face as he

met Julian’s gaze with a pair of striking blue eyes. Julian couldn’t
help but notice that yes, he was just as attractive as the reports on him
claimed, maybe even more so. The few reports they had were witness
descriptions and, although the man had robbed each and every one of
them, they all agreed that he was handsome and charming. Most of
the females involved seemed to think that being relieved of a part of
their fortune was well worth the pleasure of a flirt with him. And yet,
none of those delighted ladies had been able to sit down and give a
description of him that was worth wasting a drawer’s time on.

“I’m Special Agent Julian Harris, FBI. Any preference which one

of your names you’d like me to use for this?”

“Pick one—I answer to all of them,” the man answered with a sly

grin. There was the trace of an accent in his voice. It was hard to
place, but Julian assumed it to be British. Interesting.

“Hmm, let’s see…We’ve got Brian Crandell, Greg Anderson,

Richard Stavell, and Robert Dunn. Oh, and then there’s Curtis
Halden, of course.” Julian looked across the room into those
mesmerizing blue eyes that openly mocked him. “You could always
tell me your real name, you know. We’ll find out sooner or later
anyway.”

“Nice try but—no. If you don’t like my aliases you can use the

nickname you got for me.”

“Nickname?”

10

Sage Marlowe

 

“Sure. You guys always have one.”
“Is that so?”
“I know you have. Come on, what’s mine?”
Julian gave in with a sigh. “Romeo.”
“Romeo?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hmm, not quite what I expected, but I like it. Maybe I should

create an alias using it. Mmm, Romeo Escalus perhaps. What do you
think?”

“I think you won’t need another alias for quite a while. In fact,

chances are you’re going to be identified by a set of figures for the
years to come.”

“Ah, good answer.” The thief nodded appreciatively. “I thought

you would say something like that. Anyway, why Romeo?”

Julian grinned in spite of himself. Either the man didn’t realize

what situation he was in or he had a rather warped sense of humor.

“You used a plain old ladder to enter through a window the first

time we heard about you. You go for pretty things and never leave a
woman you meet uncharmed.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I get your drift. And where does your first

name being Julian fit into this?”

Julian suppressed the urge to shift his weight, knowing that it

would only make him look nervous. Which he wasn’t. Much. “Just a
coincidence.”

“Ah. Who came up with it?”
“That would’ve been me.”
“I’m sure the guys in your division love you for offering them that

one on a silver tray.” The guy was sharp, that much was clear.
Disturbingly so. Easily picking up on Julian’s embarrassment, he
offered what looked like a sincere enough smile. Julian ignored it and
abandoned the topic, saying, “Sure you don’t want to tell me your real
name?”

“Yep.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

11

 

“Well then, we’ll just have to do it without the name for now, but

just so we’re clear—you are under arrest,” Julian said, forcing himself
to pay no attention to just how inviting those sinfully lush lips were
that curled just a little more in a half smile.

“I know.”
“Good. I’m going to cuff you now.”
“Oh. Just like that? Is that your idea of foreplay?”
Julian refused to pursue the image that reference created in his

head and almost succeeded. “No point cracking jokes. Hands behind
your back.” At least his voice was still firm and professional.

When he had snapped the handcuffs around the slender wrists, he

took the next step—patting down his captive, something he must have
done at least about a hundred times in the course of his career. He
knew what to be prepared for, knew what to expect, and knew what to
watch out for. There was always the possibility of hitting upon a
weapon of some kind, although from everything he had learned about
the man, he didn’t think that was likely. Romeo had never used
violence so far, just an impressive set of skills coupled with an
indecent amount of charms and good looks.

No, there was no weapon on him. Only sleek but firm muscles on

a body that seemed to taunt Julian every time he moved his hands an
inch further along its solid outlines underneath the warm, smooth
fabric of the turtleneck sweater. Black, of course. The guy was a thief
after all. Cashmere from the feel of it—not that Julian got to touch an
awful lot of genuine cashmere on a federal employee’s wages. It felt
nice, and he was badly tempted to let his fingertips linger for longer
than necessary. On the luxurious, soft fabric, on the tough male body.

Damn, why had nothing prepared him for this intense physical

attraction that had sparked up so suddenly between them?

“Happy?”
Far from it. “Did I forget to mention that anything you say can

and will be held against you? Sit.” Julian pulled out one of the very

12

Sage Marlowe

 

straight-backed, solid, and not particularly comfortable-looking
dining chairs. Relieved when Romeo sat, he took out his phone.

“But surely I’m allowed to ask a question, aren’t I?”
Sighing, Julian pressed speed dial. “Go on then.”
“Don’t you wanna know what’s in it?”
“In what?”
Romeo’s eyes glittered as he jerked his head toward the safe he’d

been about to open when Julian had interrupted him.

Julian smiled and shook his head. “I already know what’s in it. Or

rather, what you were hoping to find in it before the Walters took it
somewhere else. It’s how I knew where to wait for you.”

“Ah. But are you sure it really isn’t in there anymore?”
Julian’s stomach gave a twinge. The owners had gone abroad for

the holidays, as they always did this time of year. It was an open
secret that they usually left their collection of some of the finest and
priciest jewels behind in the safe embrace of a home security system
that was said to be elaborate enough to make every bank manager turn
green with envy. The way it looked now, it was more likely to make
them gloat. Romeo had overcome that first barrier easily enough. But
the safe was allegedly impossible to break into, and the Walters had
decided to trust in it and the presence of the federal agent rather than
take the risk of moving their precious belongings.

“No,” Julian admitted absentmindedly. There was no network

signal. He went across the room to stand by the window and pressed
speed dial again. “And I don’t care.”

“Seriously? Not even a little?”
“Not even the tiniest bit. And even if I did, I’m keeping you as far

away from it as possible.” Still no network signal.

“You could let me pick it, and we could have just a quick peek,”

Romeo suggested, sounding perfectly serious. “Then I’ll lock it again,
and no one will ever be the wiser.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

13

 

“Why on earth would I let you do that?” Completely outrageous

though it was, Julian couldn’t help being a little intrigued by this
suggestion. Or rather, the fact that Romeo had the nerve to make it.

“Because you want to know if I can do it. Open it, I mean.”
“I don’t care if you can. It’s my job to prevent that very thing

from happening.” He switched the phone off and on again.

“And yet you wonder.”
Smug, presumptuous bastard. Julian watched the curiously

affectionate smile dancing on Romeo’s face then stared at the tiny
symbol on his phone’s screen again.

“Fine. I do, I admit it. Can you?”
Romeo gave a casual shrug. “There’s only one way to find out for

sure, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, maybe, but don’t hold your breath waiting for that to

happen,” Julian snapped and rubbed his forehead as the headache that
had been tugging at his temples began to gain strength. This was not
the kind of conversation he was supposed to be having with a
convicted criminal. Although, technically the man wasn’t convicted
yet because of innocent until proven guilty, but Julian had caught him
red-handed. “Captive” was probably the appropriate term. Suspect.
Whatever the correct term was, the conversation was certainly far
from the ones he usually had with the guys he was about to put behind
bars, but then there wasn’t really anything usual about this night or
this arrest anyway.

Julian had indeed ended up being the one who had picked the

right location. His gut sense was what it had probably been although
he liked to think of it more as the thorough and correct assessment of
a criminal’s twisted mind. It was his strongest asset, the one that had
got him into the position as head of a newly implemented division
within the FBI, his ability to read people and to recognize patterns
where most others failed. If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say
how he did it and where he got his inspirations from. If it happened, it
wasn’t a revelation or an epiphany. More like, he just knew. The

14

Sage Marlowe

 

answer would be in his head, completely out of the blue but as plain
and obvious as any knowledge he’d been taught as a child. It had been
this way when he had figured out where to wait for Romeo. That
wasn’t the first time, of course. It had happened before, and it was
going to happen again.

After three years of constantly being at least two steps behind,

Julian had finally come up with the right plan. Instead of chasing after
the thief, he had decided to simply wait for him at the location of his
next heist. Simply. Well, maybe not. It had taken an indecent amount
of effort, not to mention working time, until they had collected
enough pieces to narrow the possibilities down to no more than five.
For some reason—gut sense or correct assessment—Julian was
certain that the theft was going to be executed that night. Christmas
Eve.

Unfortunately, his superiors had not been quite as convinced of

his theory and refused to give him more manpower to back up his
own small team. It was Christmas Eve, after all. People had families
and wanted to spend the night at home, not be made to sit around
waiting somewhere for a thief who had so far never failed to prove
that the only thing that could be expected from him was that he
always did the unexpected.

No matter what cunning plans the owners of the things he was

after came up with to protect their properties, he found a way around
them. Whether it was the unerring detection of the weaknesses of
whatever electronic security measures were installed or the shameless
abuse of the weaknesses of whatever member of the household was
most prone to fall for his charms. Yes, he was good at what he did.
Yes, he seemed to be entirely without scruples when he wanted
something. And yes, he was good. But it appeared that Julian was
beginning to catch up with him at last.

Clicking his handcuffs shut around that particular pair of wrists

was more than he’d dared dream of during the lonely hours he’d spent
waiting in the silence and the cold of the deserted house.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

15

 

Julian had taken a risk with this operation. Splitting up his team,

he had put one mutinous member into each of the places he had made
out to be a potential target. That had still left two locations
unobserved, but there had been nothing he could do about that. As a
little compensation to his team, he had chosen the least favorite
locality, the home of the indecently rich, somewhat addled couple in
the mountains.

Incidentally, it was also the locality he felt most likely to be

Romeo’s target, in spite of the unwelcoming state of the only road
that led there and which was currently even more off-putting due to
the severe weather conditions. Even before hearing the forecast of a
blizzard approaching, some members of Julian’s team had come
closer than ever to describing his decision using terms that could have
gotten them reprimanded. And yet, here he was and it turned out he’d
been right all along. He was at the right place at the right time, and
Romeo was with him. Handcuffed. Unarmed. And above all,
unsuccessful and arrested. He risked a quick glance at his captive.
Yep, still smiling. Cute though it was, the smile on Romeo’s face was
completely out of place given the circumstances.

“Anything funny?”
Romeo’s smile widened as he gave a brief nod.
Julian sighed. “What?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“Trying to get network reception. The line’s down. There’s a

blizzard outside.”

“What do you mean ‘the line is down?’”
“What do you think? We’re out in the fucking mountains. There’s

no civilization within a twenty-mile radius.” The way Romeo raised
his eyebrows clearly meant that he expected Julian to understand what
that piece of information entailed.

Staring at the no-network symbol on his phone’s display again,

Julian admitted defeat. “All right. What does that mean?”

16

Sage Marlowe

 

Romeo shook his head with a curiously disappointed expression

on his face. “Didn’t do your homework, did you?”

“I obviously did, seeing as you’re sitting here with handcuffs

around your wrists.”

“Good point,” Romeo admitted, visibly unwillingly. “Okay, I’ll

explain it to you. The network signal needs to be enhanced to be
received in such remote places. If weather conditions are too severe,
say if there’s a blizzard like the one currently raging outside, there’s
too much atmospheric interference to keep the signal strong enough
for a steady reception, so they just don’t bother and switch it off
altogether. With any luck, you’ll get a signal by tomorrow morning.”

“And you just happen to know that? What are you, network

maintenance?” Julian grumbled. How could he have missed
something as substantial as that?

Romeo shrugged. “Course I do. Incidentally, the burglar alarm is

connected to the police via the same network line, so even if you
hadn’t kindly switched off the alarm, it wouldn’t have gone off. Or
rather, it would’ve gone off, but it doesn’t alert anyone.”

“Hang on—you knew I was here?”
“Well, obviously I didn’t know you were here, but yes, I knew

someone was here.”

“Why did you break in anyway? It’s ridiculous. You must have

known you’d get caught.”

Romeo gave another nonchalant shrug. “Frankly, with the weather

like this, I’d rather take my chances with the FBI inside this house
than outside with Mother Nature. You only put me in handcuffs,
whereas she probably would have frozen me to death by now.”

“So that was your plan? Come here and get caught? I’m

impressed.”

“Ha-ha.” Romeo rolled his eyes. “The plan was to come here,

crack the safe, wait until morning, and leave. I didn’t know you’d be
here waiting for me, and by the time I found out, it was simply too

A Thief on Christmas Eve

17

 

late for me to return. The blizzard had already started, and I couldn’t
have made it back safely.”

“Fair enough. But why try to break into the safe anyway?”
A faint smile curled Romeo’s lips as he said, “Well, it’s what I

came here for, isn’t it? I figured I might as well finish the job.”

“But you knew I was waiting here. To catch you,” Julian pointed

out once again.

“You could have fallen asleep and never even noticed me enter.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“No, not really.”
“Why not just ring the doorbell and pretend to be someone else?

A hiker who got surprised by the blizzard?”

“Hmm. Now that would have been a clever thing to do, wouldn’t

it?”

Julian couldn’t help feeling that Romeo was still not as concerned

about his situation as he ought to have been. But why? Why did he sit
there with a sweet, secretive smile on his lips as if he knew exactly
that Julian had missed a crucial point? Julian tried to shake off the
feeling and instead went to check on his captive’s handcuffs. They
were firmly in place, sitting snug around the man’s wrists.

“I guess we’re stuck here for a while,” Romeo said casually when

Julian checked the phone display once more. Just in case.

“We are,” Julian agreed with a sigh. It was only ten o’clock, and

this was going to turn into a long, long night. He could hardly just go
to bed and leave his captive unattended. The way it looked, he was
stuck indeed—with a thief on Christmas Eve.

18

Sage Marlowe

 

Chapter 2

“Do you want coffee?” Julian offered when he was fed up with

the awkward silence that had hung between them ever since he’d
made his pretty prisoner sit on one of the large, solid dining-room
chairs, hands tied behind his back. There was nothing wrong with
showing a little hospitality. Maybe the guy would be grateful enough
to spill a few more of his secrets, and anyway, he was the only human
soul to keep Julian company out here. The expression in his eyes as
he looked up was certainly grateful enough. And surprised. “I’d love
some. Thank you.”

Julian thanked whoever had designed the house’s layout for

making it open-plan. It was easy for him to keep an eye on his captive
while he prepared their coffee in the kitchen. He even took the liberty
to raid the cupboards for some cookies. After all, the Walters had told
him to help himself to whatever he needed.

He also found sugar and some tinned milk, which he put on a tray

along with the coffee pot and two mugs, and then he carried it all
through to the dining area. Thanking him politely when he put the
mug in front of him, Romeo forwent commenting on the obvious.

“Are you going to behave yourself?” Julian asked with a

meaningful glance at Romeo’s twisted-back, restrained arms.

“You don’t think I’d spoil this fabulous Christmas dinner, do

you?” Romeo shot him a wink. “Beside, I’ve nowhere to go anyway.”

“So what? You could try to take me out, wait ’til morning, and

disappear.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

19

 

“I could,” Romeo confirmed. “But I won’t. And I think you’ve

studied my profile well enough to know that I’m not a violent
person.”

“Not up until now, but who says you wouldn’t resort to desperate

measures in a situation where violence is the only option?”

“Violence is never the only option.”
Was he trustworthy? He sounded it, and he definitely looked it

with his big blue eyes so wide and sincere. Julian sighed and stepped
behind him, where he undid the cuff around Romeo’s left wrist and
snapped it around the chair’s backrest. Romeo hadn’t stirred in the
least. He just tamely allowed Julian to handle him.

“May I?” he asked with a trace of irony.
“Uh, yes. Yes, of course.”
Moving slowly, Romeo brought his hand to the table, twisting and

turning it, and he poured some milk into his coffee.

“Relax, Agent Harris. I’m not going anywhere right now.”
“Good. And that would be Special Agent.” Julian picked a chair

across from him and sat down, watching Romeo, who suddenly
looked up and grinned.

“Catching me at last has really made your day, hasn’t it, Special

Agent Harris?”

“It hardly takes a genius to figure that out.”
“Are you the one who’s been after me all that time?”
“I don’t know about ‘all that time,’ but I’ve been on your case for

the past three years.”

“Hmm. What’s it like?”
“What’s what like? Chasing criminals instead of being one?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“In moments like this—very satisfying.” Julian made sure to let

the extent of his satisfaction with his job travel in his voice.

“You know,” Romeo said with an indulgent smile, “I feel like I

ought to offer my congratulations. Maybe we should go see if they’ve
got some champagne chilled.”

20

Sage Marlowe

 

“We? You are not going anywhere apart from in when the night’s

over, and I am hardly going to raid the fridge of the people whose
belongings I am here to protect. Bad enough we’re drinking their
coffee and—what?” For some reason Romeo was chuckling quietly. It
was a nice sound. It shouldn’t be, but it was. Throaty, a little naughty
and—yes, very sexy. Oh hell. Was there anything about the man that
was not sexy?

“Nothing, just ‘the people whose belongings I am here to protect’?

Do they teach you phrases like that at the academy?”

“Hear, hear. That’s got to be the pot calling the kettle black. From

what I’ve learned about you, you’re quite the smooth talker yourself.”

“Is that so?”
Julian shrugged nonchalantly. “Apparently you’re quite popular

with the ladies, although…”

Romeo regarded him with a curious frown. “Although what?”
Although the vibes I keep picking up from you tell me otherwise,

and if circumstances were different, I’d make every effort not to let
you get away. At least not until I know what that’s all about. Julian
winced. Where on earth had that thought come from? And why did he
feel as if he was going to regret handing over Romeo to the
Department of Justice the next day?

“Wherever you are, are you going to finish that sentence or not?”

Romeo asked.

“Although I’d really like to find out what’s behind the story of

you seducing the Greek ambassador’s son last year,” Julian said with
as much outward calm as he could come up with while watching
Romeo’s reaction.

If the question unsettled Romeo, he didn’t show it. He blinked

twice when Julian mentioned the ambassador’s son, but apart from
that he was perfectly calm. Perfectly calm and perfectly mute.

“Have you decided to use your right to remain silent after all?”

Julian teased, looking out for whatever Romeo’s body language might

A Thief on Christmas Eve

21

 

tell him. Romeo was still composed, but the muscles in his jaw had
tensed, and a faint frown line was visible between his eyebrows.

“Some things are not for me to tell,” he answered.
“Oh. Good answer. Does that mean you did seduce him?”
Romeo met Julian’s eyes levelly. “Are you asking because you

want to close the case or because you’re a closet case and want to
know if you stand a chance with me?”

Julian held the cool blue stare just as levelly, even though the last

part of the question had sent a little jolt of surprise through his belly.
“I expect to close a lot of cases when this night is over and I get to
spend a couple of hours with you in an interrogation room. And, not
that it is any of your business, but as a matter of fact, I’m not a closet
case. My case is quite open.”

“Oh, is it? I thought you guys had a policy about that. ‘Don’t ask,

don’t tell,’ isn’t it?”

Julian shook his head. “That’s the army. We don’t ask, and we

don’t care.”

“Is that why you picked suits rather than camouflage?”
“Uh, no. It’s nice not having to keep a secret, but it’s not what

made me choose my profession.”

“What did?”
“The wish to make the world a better place by ridding it of

criminals,” Julian answered.

“Ooh, good answer,” Romeo mocked, but then he turned serious

and watched Julian with a thoughtful expression. “If there was one
question I’d answer you, what would it be?”

“You mean about a case?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hypothetically speaking?”
“No. Seriously. Although I reserve the right to decline.”
Julian didn’t need to consider his answer for long. “I guess that

would be what happened with the Greek ambassador’s son, uh, Spino
what’s-his-name, um—”

22

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“Spiro Kalagianakis,” Romeo said without hesitation but with

surprisingly good pronunciation.

“You seem to remember the name quite well.” Which didn’t really

come as a surprise.

“I do.”
“Personal interest?” Julian got up and started pacing the room, his

usual habit when interrogating a witness. Or a suspect. Romeo
watched him, looking completely unruffled. “Why do you want to
know about Spiro?”

“Because I don’t understand it. It’s not the way you usually work.

Getting him involved wasn’t necessary. You could’ve found another
way in.”

“Oh. True. Does he still have diplomatic immunity?”
“Yes, as far as I know, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The FBI isn’t

investigating this case anymore. The Greek government has taken
over and told us quite unmistakably that they can handle it.”

“So you’re just curious?”
“Yes. Just curious.”
Romeo watched him in silence for a few more moments. “How

about you tell me your side of the story first and I fill in the gaps?”

“My side of the story? You mean the official version?”
“No. Your side. The FBI’s side. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Wouldn’t that be the official version?”
Romeo’s lips twitched in a half smile. “Not necessarily, no.”
“Fine. Rumor has it that this Spino—Spiro—boy was approached

by someone during an event at the embassy. We couldn’t find anyone
who could describe the man. The security guards swore that no one
was admitted whose name wasn’t on the guest list, and none of the
invited guests could help us single out one person who was unfamiliar
to all of them. And no one could remember seeing Spiro with a
stranger, either.”

“Looks like Spiro dated a phantom that night, huh?” Romeo

remarked.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

23

 

“Yes. Dated a phantom. A phantom who then left the event and

went to the private area of the building with him. It must have been a
rather…uh, substantial phantom, though, because it seems that young
Spiro was so impressed with him that he provided his lover with a
visitor’s pass for the embassy so they could meet again in secret. At
some point between leaving Spiro’s bed and dissolving into thin air,
this phantom stole the artifact that was there for that one night and
occasion only.”

“That is a very detailed account for a rumor,” Romeo said,

sounding indifferent and bored, even.

“Oh, it is,” Julian agreed. “Especially when taking the sensitivity

of the diplomatic and political relations into account. But I think it
only proves that people can’t resist talking when they think they know
something nobody else knows about. Funnily enough, the only one
who stubbornly refused to talk about that night’s events was Spiro,
our poor victim.” Julian hesitated for a moment, giving his words time
to sink in as he watched their impact on Romeo. They didn’t seem to
have any. “Or maybe Spiro would have talked, but the kid left the
country within two hours after the theft was detected to visit his
favorite uncle back in Mediterranean Greece. Unfortunately he was
no longer available for interrogation about anything that happened
during the night of the event.”

“Hmm. Too bad.”
“Yes. Too bad.”
“And what’s the official version?”
“Ah, that.” Julian smiled and cited, “The official statement, which

was released shortly after the incident, was that indeed, Spiro was
approached by an unidentified stranger, but they merely spent some
time talking. There might have been an interest of a more intimate
kind on the stranger’s side, but Spiro resisted whatever advances the
man made.”

Staring at the table in front of him, Romeo took his time to

respond. “And what do you think really happened?”

24

Sage Marlowe

 

The question caught Julian off guard. Once again he suppressed

the urge to shift. “I think that this reaction, more than anything else,
leads me to believe that the rumors are true and that whatever
happened between the ambassador’s son and this phantom was
anything but innocent. If it had really been just a few kisses and
maybe a fumble, there would have been no need for such drastic
measures.”

“Hmm. I like the way you think,” Romeo said. “But what makes

you believe I was involved in this? From what you just told me, I
gather you were unable to identify this ‘phantom,’ and if you’re worth
the material your badge is made of, you’ll know that seducing
nineteen-year-old boys isn’t my usual modus operandi.”

“How would I know what your usual modus operandi in regards

to nineteen-year-old boys is?” Julian bit his lip. That had been close to
crossing the line.

The story had indeed been a surprise for him and the entire team.

No one had suspected the slick cat-burglar to get into such close
personal contact with someone who could testify against him. Sure,
he’d left a trail of smitten women. They painted a glorified picture of
his ability to make them believe whatever story he had told them to
make them disclose whatever well-kept secret he needed to unveil in
order to lift them of their valuables. As far as testimonies went,
however, the closest any of them had come to him was shaking his
hand—a touch that inspired deeper yearnings, no doubt.

Julian was just about to give a more moderate answer when

Romeo beat him to it. “It was Spiro’s plan,” he explained. “You see,
the artifact that…disappeared that night had been in his mother’s
family for generations and they wanted it back but couldn’t get it
because of its historically important background. As it happens so
often with such pieces, it had simply been declared a national treasure
and taken away from them.”

“So you just retrieved what had been theirs to begin with?”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

25

 

“Yes. It isn’t even worth much, at least not in monetary value.

Because of its history, it could’ve only been sold to a private
collector, and there’s not much of a market for that sort of thing.”

“Why you? I mean, what’s your connection with Spiro? He hardly

found your number in the yellow pages, did he?”

“We were…uh, involved. Nothing serious, we just went out a few

times. When he realized what I did for a living, he asked me to help
him.”

“So the story about the unscrupulous thief who seduced an

innocent young man…?”

“Was merely a ruse to make the investigation awkward with the

added benefit of getting Spiro out of the country. We figured that by
delivering a scandal in the making, we could draw the attention away
from the theft as such or, rather, from his family’s involvement.”

“Not the worst plan,” Julian admitted. “Quite devious, though.”
“It worked. That’s all that matters,” Romeo said flatly. “You

didn’t answer my question, though.”

“I believe I did.”
“Did not.”
Julian revised the last few minutes of conversation in his mind.

“All right, which one? Why I believe it was you?”

Romeo waved it off. “Who cares about trivialities like that?”
“What then?”
“Do you want to know if you stand a chance with me?”
“Do I—? Whoa. You’re not suffering from lack of confidence, are

you?” Julian tried for nonchalance and mild amusement, but his voice
sounded squeaky and nervous even to his own ears. Miraculously,
Romeo didn’t seem to pick up on it. With a downcast expression on
his face, he shook his head. “That’s not the reason I’m asking.”

“What is?”
“Let’s be honest with each other. You’re planning on having me

put behind bars when this night is over, aren’t you? With my track
record, I’m in for a while. We both know that. And I don’t think I

26

Sage Marlowe

 

need to tell you what’s going to happen to me in prison.” Staring at
the polished tabletop in front of him he gave his mug a listless nudge.

“If you’re worried about what might happen in prison, you

shouldn’t have committed crimes. That’s the best way not to end up
there,” Julian pointed out, although Romeo’s words had him cringe.
He knew about the truth in them only too well. Romeo was a pretty
boy, and he’d be lucky to get as long as the first night to settle in.

“I know.” Romeo sighed and repeated earnestly, “I know. But it’s

too late now. I can’t turn back the time. I did what I did, and if I have
to pay for it now, then so be it.” Tilting his head, he looked at Julian
again, and suddenly he smiled through the fear that still haunted his
eyes. “Look, Julian, I’m not asking you to let me go. Just…maybe we
could make some nice memories for me to keep. Something good to
remember when…” He shuddered. “It would be nice to have one last
good time before that,” he added in a subdued tone.

Julian stared at him for an indefinite time, trying to process

Romeo’s words.

“What do you think?” Romeo asked at last in a small voice.
“I think…” Julian took a breath and let it out in a huff. “Oh, I

don’t know what I think. Are you making fun of me?”

“What? No!” Romeo’s protest sounded sincere. “You’ve been

kinder to me so far than I could ever have hoped for. In fact, I
couldn’t have hoped to get caught by a better man. That’s what makes
it so hard, I guess.”

“Makes what hard?”
“Going to prison now. Now that I know that there is someone

who…” Biting his lip, Romeo turned his head and stared out of the
window morosely, but Julian’s curiosity came marching in with a
trumpet blast.

“Someone who what?”
“Someone who—oh, never mind, just—ouch, fuck!”

Absentmindedly, Romeo had tried to raise his hand, but it was yanked
back roughly by the handcuff. Metal clanked against metal, drowning

A Thief on Christmas Eve

27

 

out his suppressed yelp of pain. He stared at his restrained wrist with
contempt. “You know, I never would have believed this to happen.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me,” Julian said softly. He could be a

generous winner.

“Thank you. I just wish I’d made it harder,” Romeo deadpanned.

“So, what do you say?”

“About…oh. You are serious about it, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I? Hell, if I’d met you when

circumstances were different, I’d make every effort not to let you get
away.”

Julian perked up. If circumstances were different, I’d make every

effort not to let you get away. That had been his exact thought. Julian
didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe in coincidence, either, but no
matter how skilled and slick Romeo was, he sure as hell wasn’t a
mind reader.

“Just for argument’s sake,” Julian said very slowly and sat on the

table’s edge next to Romeo. “If circumstances were indeed different,
what would you do?”

Romeo’s eyes widened in surprise, but he answered almost

instantly. “Well, if we’d met somewhere else, say, in a bar…hmm. I’d
ask you how it is possible that someone as gorgeous as you is there
alone.” His features softened into a tender but temptingly mischievous
smile, and his voice dropped to an intimate, husky whisper. “I’d tell
you that I’ve been watching you from a distance to make sure that
there’s no one with you.”

He must have leaned in, because he was close enough now for

Julian to feel the exhalation of breath on the hand he was resting on
his thigh as Romeo continued in that silky tone, “I know it’s a poor
chat-up line, but it’s the best I can come up with because I’m
suddenly so nervous I’m certain everyone around us can hear my
heart pounding. I tell you that you’d make me very happy just by
having a drink with me. Hoping that you will wait for me, I hurry to
get us that drink. Something classy I think is appropriate. You’re a

28

Sage Marlowe

 

handsome man, wearing a suit and tie, so it’s champagne or maybe a
good dry red wine, whichever you prefer. This is a fantasy. You can
have anything you like. Just please, don’t spoil it by picking beer.”

Julian smiled. He must have closed his eyes at some point, simply

listening to Romeo’s smooth voice creating a wonderful illusion. And
it worked. He could almost taste the smooth, rich flavors of a good
cabernet on his tongue, and he could hear the usual chatter and
background noise of his favorite bar.

“We start talking over that first drink.” Romeo spun the tale

further in his intimate whisper. “You tell me about your hobbies. You
love sports, don’t you?” He chuckled again, and the throaty sound
caressed Julian’s ears and made his groin tingle. “Of course you do.
You love watching and you love playing. Football, right? I get us
another drink. I tell you that I’m new in town, just trying to find my
way around, and I hate it. I hate spending the evenings in my silent,
lonely apartment all by myself. You realize that you feel the same
even though you’re not new. You know everybody, the bartender, the
waitress, and the regulars, but you don’t know me. You spend so
much time working and you meet your friends sometimes, but at night
you’re alone with your thoughts, an empty bed, and no one but your
hand to keep you company. It doesn’t have to be that way. You are
here, I’m here, and neither of us has to be alone tonight.”

Romeo was close enough now for Julian to catch the scent of him,

delicious fragrance and male body, as he said the next words. “Take
me to bed, Julian. There’s a huge, comfortable bed just down the hall.
Let’s be kinky. Put me in handcuffs. Lay me down, undress me, and
touch me. I’m all yours. You can do what you like.”

“Hmm. Anything I like?” Julian mumbled, intrigued. He could

feel the heat of Romeo’s body on his skin even through the fabric of
his suit, and his body had long since started responding to the scenario
Romeo was creating.

“It’s still a fantasy, so yes. Anything.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

29

 

The sound of Romeo’s voice, his words, and the picture he’d

painted—it was tempting, taunting Julian with the promise of a
pleasure that might just be all the more fascinating because it was
forbidden. Anything. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to see the
luscious curve of Romeo’s lips, the slight upward tilt in the left corner
of his mouth. He took a breath to clear his head, but his nose was
flooded with Romeo’s scent, warm, spicy, and seductive, so close and
yet out of reach. Julian lowered his head, and just like that, his mouth
met Romeo’s.

If up until this moment he had still harbored any doubt as to how

this was going to end, this was when he knew he was lost. Lost in the
unspeakably soft touch of Romeo’s lips, the gentle caresses of his
tongue as he licked into Julian’s mouth, and the smell of him. Romeo
had brought his one free hand up to cup Julian’s face, and it felt
surprisingly good. It was not a restriction, just another point where
they could make contact.

Julian groaned and deepened the kiss, shifting from almost

passively responding to eagerly exploring Romeo’s mouth. He slid his
tongue inside. Romeo tasted nice. His breath was cool and clean, but
Julian was a little astonished at finding the lingering flavors of coffee
rather than wine. Reality was beginning to replace the fantasy. Romeo
felt nice, too. Julian raised his own hands, holding Romeo’s head in
place as he took the kiss from exploring to what he really wanted.
Romeo seemed up for it.

Chuckling under his breath, he pushed up and into the touch as far

as he could get just as Julian slid off the table, bringing their bodies
together for that first full-on touch. Once again, Julian was surprised
by how much strength Romeo’s slender body held. It would be easy
to underestimate him physically, and Julian was momentarily
distracted as he wondered whether he could take Romeo on in a fight.
Romeo wasn’t that kind of criminal, though. His only dangerous
features were his charm and his sex appeal.

“Am I that bad?” Romeo whispered against his lips.

30

Sage Marlowe

 

“Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was just…thinking, you know.”
Leaning back to look at Julian, Romeo smiled. “So I noticed. It’s

not particularly flattering when the guy I’m kissing drifts off. Not sure
what that says about my technique.”

Julian returned the smile. “Your technique is fine. I was just

wondering what’s underneath those clothes you’re wearing.”

“Why don’t you take me to bed and find out?”
“You’ve really got your mind set on that bed, don’t you?”
“I just think it’s going to make what we’re about to do more

comfortable.”

“Oh. What are we about to do exactly?”
To his credit, Romeo didn’t once glance at the handcuffs as Julian

unlocked them. Instead his eyes remained firmly trained on Julian’s
face as he said, “I’m going to suck you off, and then you’ll fuck me
stupid. I want to come with your cock so deep inside me that I’ll think
I can taste it.”

Julian very nearly dropped the handcuff he’d just unlocked. “That,

uh, sounds like a plan. I’m just not sure if I’ll live up to your
expectations.”

“Oh, you will,” Romeo said with a sweet smile. “You will.”

* * * *

Julian couldn’t remember ever having felt so nervous walking into

a bedroom as he did just now, following Romeo. It wasn’t just
anticipation and the sizzle of arousal he experienced at watching
Romeo in motion or at seeing the shapely, firm buttocks in front of
him shift and flex underneath their cover of tight-fitted slacks. It was
far more than an illicit indulgence.

He stood to lose a lot by this. His career and reputation,

potentially. He was well aware of that, and yet he couldn’t seem to
make himself stop. The chances of getting caught were practically
nonexistent, and yet, who was he kidding? In those magically charged

A Thief on Christmas Eve

31

 

minutes leading up to their big moment of intimacy, Julian would’ve
risked everything to be with Romeo. He was lost, powerless in the
face of the temptation Romeo presented to him, and he couldn’t seem
to resist the whirlwind of emotions the man stirred inside him
anymore than the snow outside could resist the fierce storm that
whipped it around.

Romeo had stopped in front of him, between him and the bed.

Julian swallowed, nervous. Maybe Romeo was a little nervous, too,
because he hesitated for a few seconds before turning around. He was
just an inch or two shorter than Julian, and he had to tilt his head up to
be able to look him in the eyes. It was almost too dark to be able to
read their expression, but Julian could have sworn that the emotions
in them were genuine. Arousal, excitement, and anticipation, the same
emotions that were leaving him with a flurry feeling in his belly. But
there was something else, too. Something he never would have
expected to see in the eyes of this cool, slick criminal. Awe. Fear.
Romeo’s bottom lip trembled. Could it be that in this moment, he was
as insecure as Julian was?

Strangely, Romeo’s sudden reluctance and vulnerability made

Julian only more determined to have him. Romeo was stripped of his
haughty superiority for once, and he surrendered on a purely
emotional level. Leaning in, Julian kissed him. The spell was broken.

Romeo responded to the kiss with the unconcealed hunger of a

starving man. They caressed, licked, and teased, sliding their tongues
together as they reacquainted themselves with all the shapes and
peculiarities they had only just gotten to know a few minutes earlier.
It was impossible to tell who had taken the next step, but suddenly,
they were on the bed. Julian would have liked to keep up the pretense
Romeo had built with his words, but he forced himself to pick up the
handcuff that was dangling loosely from Romeo’s arm. Its twin was
still locked around Romeo’s wrist, and for a few agonizing heartbeats,
Julian feared that Romeo would fight him. But Romeo just glanced up

32

Sage Marlowe

 

at him with a tender expression in his eyes and raised his arm above
his head.

A faint smile curled his lips when he said, “Not that I mind a little

bondage, but you might want to take off my sweater first.”

“Oh. Right.”
Julian reached down and, sliding his hands underneath the black

cashmere, he pushed it up over Romeo’s belly, shoulders, and head.
There was a second layer of thermal underwear to remove, and then
Julian was staring at one of the best-shaped, smoothest-skinned male
torsos he had ever seen. Unable to resist, he lowered his head and
licked a long line upward from just above Romeo’s waist, across his
muscular chest and his neck, over his chin and all the way to his
mouth. They kissed again, and the air around them sizzled with pent-
up arousal, but Julian managed to cling to his self-control and reached
for the handcuff again.

This time he didn’t falter. He clicked it shut around the sturdy

metal rail on the bed’s headboard, distractedly taking in the fortunate
coincidence that the bed had a sturdy metal rail on its headboard, and
then he pulled his hand back and cupped Romeo’s cheek with it.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered and gently took Romeo’s

chin between his teeth.

“Just…oh, fuck me,” Romeo gasped. His voice had gone tight,

and he was staring up at Julian from underneath half-closed eyelids.
Tilting his hips, he rubbed the hard bump at his groin against Julian’s
thigh in the unmistakable search for friction. He seemed desperate,
and Julian was only too happy to help ease his pressure.

He shifted down on the bed and undid Romeo’s fly, brushing a

quick kiss on the tip of the swollen cock that sprang free, and then he
pulled the slacks over Romeo’s narrow hips and down his long, lean-
muscled legs.

Romeo was breathtaking. He had the slender, graceful build of a

ballet dancer, and the need to have him, to explore every inch of this
wonderful body, became overwhelming. Trailing his hand up one leg,

A Thief on Christmas Eve

33

 

Julian followed the curve of muscle to between Romeo’s thighs then
nudged them apart. He let his fingers wander higher to that tempting,
warm cleft, but he resisted the urge to dip into it. He’d do that later.
First, he wanted to give Romeo’s eager cock some attention.

Leaning down, he kissed the tip once more. A drop of pre-cum

moistened his lips, and he gathered it with his tongue, savoring his
lover’s unique, salty flavor. He drew a teasing circle around the slit
then opened his mouth a little further, pursed his lips, and brushed
their moist inside to that highly sensitive patch of skin. Romeo let out
a long groan as Julian started to suckle his dick gently. He tried to
push up, but Julian stopped him with a hand to his stomach. Romeo
let out another groan, more frustrated this time, but he obeyed and
passively let Julian explore all the ways he could make him gasp,
whimper, and moan.

An indefinite time later, Julian had the feeling that he was indeed

living up to Romeo’s expectations. He was definitely living up to his
own expectations. As was Romeo. Gosh, but the man had some
wicked tricks to treat a lover to. And stamina. Julian traced the
elegant curve of Romeo’s spine with his free hand, feeling the ridge
of each vertebra that was lined up in this long string of pearls
separating the smooth, pale plane of his back.

Resting his forearms on the massive headboard of the huge four-

poster bed, Romeo was on his knees in front of him, Julian’s still-
hungry cock buried to the root between the velvety globes of his ass
cheeks. Julian pulled out a bit, only to plunge right in again, head bent
to watch his own flesh enter his lover’s body, the hard, flushed rod
being swallowed by silky, smooth skin. The sight alone could have
undone him if he wasn’t already close to being entirely oversated.

Julian was not absolutely sure that this last turn would be enough

to fully satisfy his lover, but he was fairly certain that he himself
wouldn’t manage another round after this. As he thrust in again, he
felt the giveaway flutter of Romeo’s inner muscles around his cock,
heard the short, frenzied whimpers, and knew Romeo’s husky scream

34

Sage Marlowe

 

of release would follow within seconds. Amazing how well he had
come to know his reactions after just a few hours. A moment later, the
sticky wetness of Romeo’s cum coated his hand, adding more
moisture to the mix of lube and sweat already spread liberally on the
hard length of beautiful cock sliding through the tight channel Julian’s
fist created for it.

Julian pumped it again, once, twice, until Romeo arched his back

to get away from the friction that had just become too much. At the
same time, he was impaling himself even harder on Julian’s shaft.
Taking the invitation for what it was, Julian gave in to the building
pressure in his groin and let the tidal wave of his orgasm pick him up
and take him away to leave him crushed and breathless, washed up on
the shore of Romeo’s equally exhausted body underneath him.

He only just managed to roll off and settle behind Romeo,

pressing his face to the sweaty skin and listening to Romeo’s
excitedly pounding heart slow down to normal. When his breath was
coming deep and slow, Julian allowed himself a little smile. He’d
worn the poor man out to the point where he’d just conked out. If that
wasn’t living up to expectations, he didn’t know what was, but he
could hardly blame Romeo. He was delightfully sore and tired
himself, and with Romeo being fast asleep, chained to the bed, and
safely cradled in his arms, he could have gotten some rest, too, but his
mind was still busy.

Yes, they were finished with each other—for now. Now. Just a

tiny word, a fleeting thought, but the thought triggered a far more
unwelcome one. The one that had been in bed with them all along,
even though neither of them had openly acknowledged its presence.

If not now, if they didn’t take everything they wanted as soon as

they could, there would probably never be another chance. Julian
knew what was going to happen when the night was over, and Romeo
had already said that he was aware of it, too. Romeo was a thief, a
felon. Julian caught thieves. The metal cuff around Romeo’s right
wrist was proof of that. There was only one way it could end. Or

A Thief on Christmas Eve

35

 

wasn’t there? Julian allowed himself a quick forbidden fantasy. Not
the first that night, but he’d just had sex, hot, mind-blowing, and quite
possibly among the best, with a man he had put under arrest after
spending the biggest part of three years chasing him. Spinning the
possibilities a bit further in his mind wouldn’t cause any harm. And
just like that, Julian was falling into a snake pit of “what ifs.”

What if? What if he unlocked the handcuffs? What if he claimed

that Romeo hadn’t shown up? No one seemed to expect anything else,
so they would believe him readily enough. So far for the professional
part, but what about the private part? Somehow he just couldn’t
imagine Romeo coming to see him for a chat, telling him about his
latest heist over a cup of coffee. No, not likely.

The question was did it matter? If Julian would indeed let him

escape, then what was his motive? Hoping to see him again? To take
him to bed again? He’d like that, no question, and maybe Romeo
would be up for second helpings, too, but that wasn’t just a question
of what they wanted. And even if they could, the simple truth
remained that Romeo was a thief, and Julian put thieves behind bars.
No one would expect a lion to let a zebra go just because he was cute
and had some of the most amazing blue eyes he’d ever seen, would
they? Julian chuckled at the thought. No, not a zebra. Definitely not a
zebra. Rather something along the lines of…Romeo let out a groan
and stirred in Julian’s hold, struggling to move with his arm restrained
above his head. He hadn’t complained about it once although it must
have been uncomfortable for him throughout, especially when dozing
off.

“Awake again?”
“Not again—still.” Romeo stifled a yawn. “You make so much

noise thinking that I can’t sleep.”

“Oh, sorry.”
“’S okay. Wanna tell me what’s keeping you so busy?”
Julian sighed. He had backed off a bit and was trying to resist the

temptation to snuggle up to Romeo’s warm body again. Reading his

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mind or not, Romeo took the decision from him as he wriggled
around, wrapped his free arm around Julian’s chest, and pulled him
close.

A contented little sound slipped from Julian’s throat before he

could stop it. “Not really. It’s just…you know that this doesn’t change
what’s going to happen tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Romeo whispered into the darkness. “I know. It doesn’t

change a thing.” Shifting, he pushed up on his elbow awkwardly.
“The memories are good ones, though. Some of the best I have.”

“If you say thank you now, I’ll shoot you,” Julian warned.
Romeo let out a low chuckle. “I won’t. Promise.” He leaned down

and kissed Julian tenderly. “I sincerely wish circumstances were
different. I will hold on to this. To you, even though you can’t allow
me to stay.”

“I can’t let you off the hook,” Julian said, full of honest regret.
“I know. I know, and that’s not why I did this. Believe me, please.

It’s your job to catch felons. I’m well aware of that.”

“And you? What’s your job?”
“My job is not to get caught at what I do.” Romeo kissed the tip of

Julian’s nose.

“Clearly you failed.” Looking up at the headboard, Julian

acknowledged the handcuffs for the first time since he’d tied Romeo
to the bed.

Romeo followed his eyes and sneered. “Apparently I did.”
“Listen, about prison,” Julian blurted out, addressing the topic

before he had time to think about it. “I could talk to your lawyer and
my boss. Maybe we can offer you a deal. Not sure what it would be
exactly, but I’m thinking of something along the lines of a confession
in return for certain…arrangements. Have you put in solitary
confinement and keep you under close surveillance when you have to
be with others, that sort of thing.”

Romeo sounded more than just a little surprised when he

answered after a moment’s silence. “You’d do that?”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

37

 

“As part of a deal,” Julian emphasized. “But you’ll have to give us

something good, too. Don’t forget that.”

“Why?”
“Because…Oh, fuck, do I really have to explain?”
“Jealous already?”
Julian let out his breath in a spiteful snort. “Hardly. I just don’t

want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

“Are you still gonna shoot me if I say thank you now?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to find another way to express

my gratitude.”

“Don’t tell me you can still get it up,” Julian groaned, only half

joking. Romeo could. And clearly he was very grateful. Julian had no
doubt about that by the time he fell into a deep, sated slumber another
hour later.

38

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Chapter 3

“Leave the gun.”
Julian inched his hand back from where he had sneaked it under

his pillow, automatically grasping for the solid reassurance of his
weapon. There was no need for it, really. If whoever entered his
house, and his bedroom, at two thirty in the morning had wanted to
kill him, he would have been dead by now.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” the intruder assured him. He must have

sensed Julian’s discomfort and his tone had been almost gentle.

This time Julian had recognized the voice. He remembered the

soft caresses it had whispered to him months ago, during a night that
by now seemed more dream than reality to him. But the shudder that
traveled down his spine probably had nothing to do with the chill of
the early hours, and it was not an altogether unpleasant one either.

“Romeo.”
A soft chuckle. Low, intimate. Sexy. “I hope you’re not

disappointed.”

“Let’s say I wasn’t expecting to see you again. At least not like

this. I assume you’re not here to turn yourself in, are you?” Julian’s
eyes had gotten accustomed to the dim light in the room, and he could
make out some details of Romeo’s face in the pale light the moon cast
through the window.

Romeo smiled. It was that cute, secretive half smile of his, the one

that made him look even younger than he was and so charmingly
vulnerable.

“You realize I’m still spitting mad at you, right?”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

39

 

“Yes. And I’m sorry.” Romeo looked anything but. “I wouldn’t

have bothered you, but we need to talk.”

“What do you want?” Julian asked, maybe a bit more gruffly than

necessary, but despite what had happened, he had not grown immune
to the sight of those inviting, full lips and the challenging stare of
those mesmerizing blue eyes.

Romeo took a breath. “I’m here to warn you, Julian.”
“Warn me? ’Bout what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Julian chuckled but became serious again at the

grave expression on Romeo’s face. He wasn’t joking.

“I’ve heard something,” Romeo continued. “You’re investigating

someone, and apparently you stepped on some toes. The toes of
someone who doesn’t like to be investigated.”

“Who?”
Frowning, Romeo shook his head. “I don’t know who they are

yet,” he admitted. “But whoever it is has a lot of influence and wants
you out of the way. Soon.”

“Hmm. Okay. What does that mean exactly?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Why don’t you tell me so we’re sure I got it right?”
“They want you dead.”
“Oh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Want some coffee?”
If the offer surprised Romeo, he did a good job hiding it. It took

him only about half a second longer to answer than what would have
meant that he was entirely unaffected.

“I’d love some.”
Ignoring the fact that he was wearing only his boxers, Julian threw

back the sheets and got out of bed. It wasn’t as though Romeo hadn’t
already seen it all. And sampled the goods. He risked a quick glance
at the man’s face, but the expression on it gave nothing away.

40

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Julian picked up the jeans and sweater he’d dropped on the floor

with little respect the evening before. Okay, three hours ago. He
stifled a yawn and took the time to pick a fresh pair of socks from a
drawer. The corners of Romeo’s mouth twitched.

“Anything funny?” Julian asked.
“Not at all.” There was only a hint of sarcasm in Romeo’s voice.

“Wanna take a shower first?”

Julian glared at him. “I just don’t like putting on socks I’ve worn

before. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to maintain a certain
degree of personal hygiene, is there?”

Romeo raised a nicely shaped, dark eyebrow. “No need to justify

yourself,” he said. “Personally, I prefer a guy who changes his socks
on a regular basis. And his underwear,” he added with a wink.

Julian snatched a breath but decided against entering that level of

conversation. “This way,” he said instead, pointing down the hall to
the kitchen.

“I know.”
“I’m sure you do. Would you mind explaining to me how you got

in?”

“Do I really need to tell you? Your home is an invitation to

everyone who knows how to break into a dollhouse. You ought to
invest in a decent burglar alert system. This is New York City, after
all, even if it’s a quiet part of town.”

“Need I tell you that it’s considered a severe offense to break into

the home of a federal agent? That’s usually enough to put off anyone
who might consider breaking in.”

“Wanna put me under arrest again?”
Julian let out a sigh. “It’s what I ought to be doing.”
“Well, technically you can’t. You don’t have your badge on you.”
“How do you know it’s not in my pocket?” Not that he really

considered arresting his late-night visitor—not yet, anyway—but
Julian just couldn’t resist the temptation of flexing his muscles at least
a little. Figuratively speaking. Literally speaking, Romeo flexed his

A Thief on Christmas Eve

41

 

own muscles a little and held up a very familiar-looking object with a
smile that could probably charm an army into putting down their
guns. Julian hadn’t even noticed him get close enough to pick his
pocket, but the badge had definitely been in there when he’d pulled on
his jeans. He’d checked it out of habit.

“I should’ve known.” He sighed and reached out to flick on the

lights, but Romeo stopped him with a hand to his wrist. Julian
jumped. Again, he had failed to notice how close Romeo was.

“Don’t.”
“Why?” The sudden note of unease in Romeo’s voice unsettled

Julian more than anything he’d heard so far.

“Just…leave the lights off. I couldn’t swear on it, but I think your

house might be watched.”

“Really?”
Romeo’s beautiful features lost some of their shine. “You don’t

believe me, do you?”

“It’s not that,” Julian said gently. “It’s just that for a federal agent,

it’s not exactly an unfamiliar feeling that there might be someone out
there who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.” There was no reproach in

Romeo’s voice, just mild disappointment.

Julian gave him a smile. “I’ve learned to check the facts first.

Trust but verify, you know?” He set the coffee machine working and
watched it for a moment as it gurgled away happily. “How reliable is
your, uh, source?”

“Reliable enough for me to break into the home of a federal agent

to deliver a warning message.”

Romeo didn’t look away as Julian stared at him, once again trying

to read his expression. Once again, his face gave nothing away. Once
again, Julian noticed how young and unfairly beautiful he looked.

“How old are you?”
Romeo blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”

42

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“How old are you? You never told me, and since we’re still none

the wiser as to your real ID, I don’t know it.”

“What has my age got to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Julian admitted. “I’d just like to know. Cream?

Sugar?”

It was a technique he often used when interrogating witnesses he

didn’t trust. Mix intimate personal questions with the actual inquiries,
add an inconspicuous offer that required you to know something
about them, and they were far more likely to open up and reveal more
than they intended to.

“Real milk would be great if you happen to have any,” Romeo

replied, catching on with the sudden change of topic effortlessly, but
there was an ever so faint look of bewilderment on his face. Trying to
figure me out, Julian thought. Romeo wasn’t to be underestimated. He
knew that already. Had learned it the hard way, back in a house in the
mountains, almost a year ago. He hadn’t seen Romeo since.

“Thank you.” Romeo took his cup and remained silent. It seemed

he wasn’t unfamiliar with interrogation techniques. At least he
obviously knew that the best way not to reveal too much was to keep
his mouth shut.

“So what do you know?” Julian asked when it was clear that

Romeo wasn’t going to tell him anything of his own accord.

Romeo shrugged and sipped some coffee. “As I said, I don’t know

the details yet, but your name came up among a certain group of
people, and that’s never a good sign.”

“What group of people?”
Romeo looked indecisive for a moment then shook his head and

sighed. “The kind of people who don’t hesitate to get rid of someone
who’s in the way of their interests.”

“I thought your interests were in art. I didn’t know you were

moving among that kind of people.”

“You’d be surprised at what kind of people are interested in art

these days,” Romeo muttered darkly and gulped down more coffee.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

43

 

“Do these people have names?”
“I should think they do, but I don’t know them.”
“Ha-ha. Anything else you can tell me?”
“I’m still waiting for my contact to get back to me.”
“So let me get this straight,” Julian said. “You heard my name

mentioned by people who you assume to be dangerous, but you don’t
know their names, and you don’t know what it is they plan to do
exactly? So basically, the only thing you know is that the name of an
FBI agent was mentioned by a couple of criminals.”

“Not criminals,” Romeo corrected. “Hit men.”
Julian stared at him. “Are you sure?”
Romeo’s coffee mug clattered loudly when he slammed it on the

stone worktop. “I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t! Fuck, Julian, I’m
risking a lot by coming here. Don’t you get that? If anyone who
knows me sees me around here, what do you think they’ll make of
it?”

“Oh. Right. I haven’t looked at it from that perspective. Well, I

guess that means I really owe you one now, don’t I?”

Romeo’s features distorted into a grimace that wasn’t quite a

smile. “Let’s say we’re even.”

“Even? Why even?”
“I think you know why.”
“Oh.” There it was. It. The topic Julian had promised himself not

to bring up. The topic he had been forcing himself to not even think
about. Now it was right there in the space between them, as solid and
unavoidable as the stone cooking island with its granite worktop.

“Right.” They stared at different corners of the room for a while

until the silence between them grew well past awkward. Julian caved
in. “You know, I never figured out how you did it.”

“Did what?”
“Get out of those handcuffs.”
The left corner of Romeo’s mouth lifted. “Maybe they hadn’t shut

properly.”

44

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“I know they were shut properly, and I know they were snug

enough. How did you do it?”

“You don’t believe I’ll tell you, do you?”
“Why not?”
The look Romeo gave him was adorable in its genuine and total

bafflement. Julian shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“I hope you didn’t get laughed at too much.”
“Me? Laughed at? Not at all. What makes you even think that?”

Julian replied nonchalantly, but Romeo didn’t let go.

“Well, just that when you called for backup after the storm, you

said you had me and that I was tame as a little lamb and waiting for
them to pick me up.”

“So you overheard that.”
“Uh-huh.” Romeo gave another of his disarming smiles. “What

did you tell them?”

“The truth.”
Romeo’s eyebrows shot up. “The truth? Really? Wow. Seems you

got more balls than I gave you credit for.”

“Thanks.”
“No, seriously. You told them you’d bonked me and that I’d

gotten out of the cuffs while you were asleep?”

“Uh, not that truth. I told them I’d cuffed you to the bed in my

room to keep an eye on you and you escaped when I went to the
bathroom.”

“Ah, I see. That truth. Not quite the way I remember it, but I’m

sure that version must have stung badly enough.”

“You have no idea,” Julian admitted. “But at least that version

won’t get me sacked, and since there was no one around who told a
different story, I got away with it.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell if you don’t

tell.” Romeo smiled sweetly, but Julian wasn’t fooled. It wasn’t just
concern for Julian’s career that made Romeo want to keep their
liaison a secret.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

45

 

“Well, no, I imagine you wouldn’t want the people you do

business with to know just how close you got to the FBI, would you?”

The smile on Romeo’s face faltered and became strained. “Not

really.”

“Good. So how did you say you picked the cuffs again?”
“Julian, please…” Biting his lip, Romeo shook his head. “Don’t

do that.”

“Okay. Forget it. You wouldn’t believe me if I said I’m just

curious anyway.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t believe you don’t want to put cuffs on

me again at some point.”

“Well, you’re probably quite right about that. I’m only glad that

you couldn’t pick that safe after all. You stealing whatever was in
there would have really gotten me into trouble.”

Romeo regarded him with a long, peculiar look. “That’s what

you’re thinking? That I couldn’t pick it?”

“Well…yeah. Obviously, seeing as it was still untouched.”
An odd expression had crept onto Romeo’s face, and just like that,

Julian knew. He was torn between mentally slapping his forehead and
congratulating himself. “You could have picked it,” he concluded.
“But you chose not to do it. Why?”

“Why do you think?”
“Because of…” Julian barely dared say it out loud. “Because of

me?”

Romeo gave a tiny nod that said more than a thousand words

could have expressed.

Julian shifted. He didn’t know what to say. “So, how do you want

to take it from here?” he asked after a long moment of awkward
silence.

Romeo rubbed the back of his neck and then shrugged. “I’ll keep

my eyes and ears open. If I find out about anything else, I’ll let you
know. Until then, you take good care of yourself.” He jerked his head

46

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at the discarded mug. “No need to bother, by the way. You won’t find
any usable prints on it.”

“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re the first and only one who ever caught me, and you’re

selling yourself short if you think I’m not taking you seriously.” He
went to the door in a few long, graceful strides and hesitated,
doorknob in hand, head half-turned to Julian. “I’m twenty-eight, by
the way.”

Julian didn’t get the chance for a response. Romeo slipped out of

the door and out of his life once again as silently and unstoppably as
he had arrived.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

47

 

Chapter 4

“Barnes?”
“Sir?”
“Do me a favor. Run this for fingerprints and DNA, but keep it

quiet, would you?”

A frown crossed Barnes’s freckled face. “Sure, sir. Everything all

right?”

“Absolutely. I just want to make sure this is what I think it is

before word gets out.”

“No problem. I’ll get forensics to hurry.”
“Thank you.” Julian handed over the mug, knowing that even if

the people from forensics were in a good mood and didn’t react the
way they usually did when put under pressure—go back over every
scrap of evidence in a twenty-four-year-old case first—it would be at
least two days until he could expect a result, if there was going to be
one at all. He’d thoroughly considered his decision. From what he
knew about Romeo, he wouldn’t put it past him to have tampered
with his fingerprints. But then again, maybe Romeo had just hoped
for Julian to expect this and thus not bother having the mug examined.

Julian sighed. Logic versus reverse logic. No matter how many

times he tried to get it right, in the end it came down to having the
right gut feeling at the right moment. Too bad that when it came to
Romeo, Julian’s gut feeling seemed to have dropped by a few inches.

Unenthusiastic, he went to fetch himself some coffee, which he

took back to his desk. He switched on his computer. Nothing
happened. He frowned and pressed the button again. The hard disk
drive obediently whirred into life.

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When the computer had finished booting, Julian stared at the

screen for a while, taking in nothing of the clinical background blue
or the gold of the logo. Eventually he typed in his password,
wondering why his name was already entered in the box. Didn’t he
usually have to enter both? Unless the computer hadn’t shut down
properly in between sessions. Or not? Abandoning the thought, he
clicked an icon on his desktop. A folder window popped open. Julian
stared at the files. What they had wasn’t all that much. Sure, there was
a huge folder on the crimes as such. The pieces that had been stolen,
details of the heists, the technicalities of the actual theft, crime scene
pictures, testimonies.

The folder that contained the information they had collected on

the thief’s person was a different matter. There was a single visual of
him. A snapshot, grainy and in shades of gray, taken from a
surveillance camera that he must have failed to notice. Usually the
man was well aware of cameras and avoided them by using the blind
spots or blocking them altogether. That one time, though, he’d made a
mistake. A minor one, but still, he’d let himself get caught on tape. It
wasn’t enough to run a check with the enormous facial recognition
database because the lines of the face were too blurred for the
computer to make out the details it needed. The human eye, though,
could make out the similarities, especially if it knew exactly what or,
rather, whom it was comparing the fuzzy shapes to.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Julian whispered. It was easy to recognize the

curve of the jaw, the high ridges of the cheekbones, the line of the
mouth, and those mesmerizing eyes, of course. But that was nothing
new. Julian knew Romeo was their man. What was new was the
twinge he felt at the sight of the nebular face on his computer screen.

It doesn’t do the real one justice, Julian thought, and he tried to

close his mind to the much clearer image of Romeo’s face that kept
coming up. And to the memories of his body, well-proportioned, lithe,
and elegant, and moving with that natural, understated gracefulness
and strength.

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49

 

Julian had no difficulty remembering what was hidden underneath

Romeo’s clothes, even though it had been a while. He was tingling all
over whenever he recalled the late-night visit Romeo had paid him.
Fuck. For a good part of the past months he’d succeeded in fooling
himself that the Christmas Eve they had spent together in the
mountains had left him with nothing but an even fiercer determination
to track down the bastard and lock him up for good. Now things
looked a bit differently. The attraction between them, or at least the
attraction Julian felt to Romeo, still undeniably existed.

A cautious knock on the door yanked his thoughts back to the

present, much to his relief. Glancing across the room, he saw Barnes
standing on the other side of the glass and waved him in, bewildered
by the self-satisfied expression on the young agent’s face.

“Sir, have a look at this.” Barnes handed him a thin folder.
“What is it?”
“The result of the check you had me run on the coffee mug. There

was no usable DNA on it, but I’m sure you’ll like this.”

Julian was more than a little astonished. “I gave you that half an

hour ago. How…?”

Barnes’s grin widened. “There’s this new girl, Hilarie. I told her

she’d earn extra credit if she made it quick.”

“Seems she really wanted that credit,” Julian observed and opened

the folder. He let out a low whistle. They had not just one but two
usable prints. Given the surface they’d been taken from and the fact
that Romeo’s fingerprints must have been interlaced with his own,
that was really rather good work.

“Hilarie, you said? I think we should keep an eye on her. She’s

good.”

“I know, sir. Just what I thought.”
His tone made Julian look up. Sweet. It seemed Hilarie was

already right on the front page of Barnes’s good books. “Do we have
a match, too?”

50

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“Oh, we certainly have. You’re gonna love this.” Barnes now was

definitely smug as he handed Julian another folder. Julian instantly
recognized it as one of the files they kept on identified felons. So
Romeo had been caught before. Caught, convicted, and registered.

“May I ask where you got the mug from?” Barnes asked as Julian

flipped open the file expectantly.

“Uh, well, I…This can’t be right.”
“Sir?”
“The prints. They’re wrong. There must be a mistake. A wrong

match or a mix-up.”

Frowning, Barnes picked up the sheet with the fingerprint analysis

and glanced at it. “Sir, there were two usable prints. One of them is a
perfect match, and the other one is partial but also close enough for
identification. It is him.”

“No, it’s not.” Julian sighed.
Barnes stared at him. “How do you know?”
“Because”—Julian held up the file and pointed at the mug shot—

“The guy who had that cup in his hands is twenty-eight years old, not
sixty-two, and he doesn’t look anything like this, uh, Mr. Branson
we’ve got here either. I don’t know how he did it, but the slick little
bastard must have planted those prints.”

“Who?” Barnes’ tone was high pitched with bewilderment.
Julian indicated his computer screen that still showed the blurry

snapshot. “Romeo.”

“You’re still chasing him?”
“Of course I am.”
“No disrespect, sir, but do you think you stand another chance

with him?”

“What?” Julian asked sharply enough to make Barnes cringe.
“Well, I just think that maybe you should accept that he’s too

good. You had him that one time, but perhaps it’s just not meant to
be. Perhaps he’s your one that got away, so to speak.”

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51

 

“I’m not letting him get away!” Taking a deep breath, Julian

forced his voice down. “He’s not that good. One day he’ll make a
mistake, and when he does, I’ll be right there waiting for him. I’ll get
that son-of-a-bitch, and I’m going to lock him up for good.” He
handed Barnes the files. “Put these back into storage and tell that
hilarious girl from forensics to log in the mug as evidence.”

Taking the files with an almost timid expression, Barnes asked,

“Sir, uh, you still haven’t told me how you even got the mug in the
first place and how you know it must be Romeo’s fingerprints on it.”

There was no point not telling Barnes. These questions would

have to be answered anyway if the mug was supposed to be of any
value in the case.

“The mug is from my home. He was there. I saw him touch it, and

he drank from it, so the prints on it must be Romeo’s.”

Barnes boggled. “He was at your home?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you had coffee with him?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Barnes shifted the files from one hand to the other a few

times before he asked, “What did he want?”

Perhaps he’s your one that got away. No. No, he wasn’t. Any

piece of information might prove vital and help putting together what
would eventually lead to Romeo’s downfall, even the ones that Julian
would have preferred to keep to himself.

“Close the door, please.”

* * * *

Barnes listened without interrupting Julian once, but behind his

eyes the wheels were spinning almost visibly.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” he said when Julian

finished his account of the night before. Julian looked at him
encouragingly, bracing himself.

52

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“Why would he take the risk to warn you? Seeing it from his

perspective, it must be the best thing that could possibly happen to
him—the agent who’s been on his case forever gets taken out once
and for all. No one knows his case as well as you do. It would take
weeks for someone else to even remotely gain the knowledge you
have on him.”

That was the crucial point. The one Julian had been giving a lot of

thought to himself. “But he wouldn’t know that, would he?”

“Not unless he knows that you’re the one who could easily sit a

test on his every move.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cringing at Julian’s sharp tone, Barnes avoided meeting his eyes.
“Barnes?”
“Just that…well, there are voices who say that you’re taking an

unusual interest in this case. Even the chief said something along the
lines of you taking it personally that he got away after you caught him
last year.”

“Someone’s got to stop the bastard,” Julian grumbled. “And I’m

just taking my case seriously.”

“Sir, I’m only telling you what I’ve heard.” Poor Barnes sounded

almost apologetic, as if it was his fault that in this particular case his
superior had snatched the bit so tightly between his teeth that he was
likely to just run away with the carriage should anyone try to rein him
in. Yes, it was an open secret in the office that Julian had messed up
and wasn’t happy about it. And yes, he was taking it personally. Just
not for the reason everybody assumed he did.

“Well, chances are he does not know how we operate,” Julian said

acidly. “That set aside, what else could be his motive for tipping me
off?”

Barnes mulled it over. “I don’t know, sir. Unless he’s got a

personal interest in your well-being, I’ve no idea why he should warn
you.”

A Thief on Christmas Eve

53

 

And again. The point Julian had already figured out by himself.

Nice to have it backed up by someone else. He leaned in. “How about
he just wants to keep me busy?”

“I’m afraid I don’t…oh.”
Julian had to stifle a laugh. The click inside Barnes’s head was

almost audible. “You mean he’s planning something and thinks that
by leading you to believe your own life was in danger you wouldn’t
concentrate on his moves?”

“Exactly.” Barnes had his bright moments, although occasionally

he needed someone to flick the light switch for him.

“What do you think he’s planning?”
“I haven’t got a clue, but one thing’s for certain—I’m going to

find out, and when he gets there, I’ll be waiting for him, and then I’m
going to nail the bastard.” Julian winced at the unfortunate phrasing.
Wasn’t that what he had done the last time? Exactly what he had done
the last time? And see where that had left him. At least it was proof
that he was indeed capable of figuring out where Romeo was headed.
If he could do it once, maybe he could do it again.

Barnes’s gaze rested on Julian with a hint of concern, which was

entirely understandable. Julian was pouring a lot of resources into this
case with so far little result to justify what was already being
considered a waste of those resources.

“Where are you going to start?”
Julian sighed. If only he knew. “Find out if there are any major art

exhibitions or other events that might be of interest to him, meaning
anything that involves rare and valuable pieces of art. Include
churches and political venues. Look at a time span of let’s say one
month. If there’s nothing there, we’ll extend the search.”

Barnes stared at him with wide, unhappy eyes. “Sir? Are you

talking nationwide?”

Julian smiled pleasantly. “Of course I am, Barnes. We’re the FBI.

We operate nationwide, don’t we?”

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Barnes nodded forcedly, looking exhausted already. “Very well,

sir.”

“That would be all. Show me anything you’ve got as soon as

you’ve got it, okay?”

“Sure.” Pushing out of his chair, Barnes gave him a somewhat

strained smile and rushed out of Julian’s office. The poor man
probably feared that if he stayed a minute longer, there were only
going to be more orders that would leave him with a stupendous
workload.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

55

 

Chapter 5

Three days later, Julian was staring thoughtfully at a long, long

list. He was staring so hard, the words were beginning to turn into
blurry little blotches of black ink on white paper in front of his
watering eyes. The list was bound to be long, but even he was
astonished at how long it was.

There was little doubt that it was concise. Barnes was a very

thorough researcher, and the other members of Julian’s small team
were equally conscientious, although Julian strongly suspected that
what spurred them on was the hope to be relieved at long last from the
burden this case had become rather than the wish to chase down their
quarry as such. Julian refused to think about what it was that spurred
him on, just as he’d been refusing to think about what he wanted to do
with Romeo if he ever caught him again. Put the thief behind bars,
where he belonged no less.

The question that remained, and which was the one he was far less

sure he had an answer to, was what did he want to do with the man?
No matter how hard he’d tried to forget about that particular
Christmas Eve, during the ten months that had passed, Romeo had
become a persistent presence on his mind. Julian didn’t dare examine
the reasons for that too closely. The fact was, he kept remembering
their night of forbidden, shared pleasures with disturbing frequency,
always irked by the question if what had happened between them had
just been a setup, a means for Romeo to distract Julian so he could
regain his freedom. The answer he kept coming up with was that, yes,
it had only been a means to an end for Romeo. But what had it been
for Julian?

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If circumstances were different, I’d make every effort not to let

you get away.

He’d thought it, and Romeo had said it. Julian ran his hand

through his hair then tried to smooth it over before he picked up his
coffee mug and made himself look at the list again. No point brooding
over spilled…milk. No. And not over any other fluids that had been
spilled, either. He set the mug down firmly.

Romeo had played him, used him. The man was good at reading

people and had detected the weak spot Julian had for him and used it
in his favor. Now it was time for Julian to prove how well he could
detect Romeo’s weak spots and make him pay for everything that he
had done. The crimes and…well, just everything.

He stared at the list. Divided into sections, it showed every

possible target a thief of Romeo’s caliber could be interested in. They
had ignored the minor art exhibitions, auctions, and whatnots, and still
the list contained over a hundred different items. Nationwide.

Julian groaned. It was impossible to tell what Romeo was after

this time. If his assumption was correct at all, Romeo really had made
up the warning that Julian’s life was in danger just to keep him off his
back for a while, but there was no guarantee that assumption was
right. It was still possible that whatever Romeo claimed to have heard
was true. That someone was indeed after Julian’s life. But who would
that be and why? And why would Romeo, an elegant art thief who
despised violence, be in close enough contact with hit men to
overhear a plot against an FBI agent? And if all that was true, then
why did Romeo take the risk to warn Julian rather than be glad that
the agent who was chasing him with the grim eagerness of a
bloodhound would soon be history?

The more Julian thought about it, the less sense all of it made.

Once again he stared at the list. Objets d’art en masse. And not the
least clue where to start. Unless…why hadn’t he ever thought of that
before? He’d been so busy concentrating on Romeo’s person, so

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focused on how he pulled off the heists, that he had completely
ignored looking at the case from another angle.

* * * *

“Chief Baxter?” Julian didn’t feel the need to support his terse

knock on the door with his voice, but it was the best alternative he
could come up with to bouncing across the office and yelling, “I’ve
got it! I’ve got it!” like a crazed scientist who’d just discovered a way
to synthesize gold.

“Special Agent Harris.” Chief Baxter regarded him with her cool,

gray gaze. “Please come in and get whatever it is you need to tell me
off your chest before you leave dents in my door.” Flicking her hand,
she indicated for him to take a seat.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He forced himself to sit down, although he

would have preferred to keep standing. Or even better, to jump up and
down. “I believe I have identified Romeo’s next target.”

“Do you?” She regarded him over her thin wire-framed glasses as

she asked, “And what would that be, Agent Harris? Juliet’s sister?”

“Chief…” Julian started but bit it off as he caught the twinkle in

her eyes. Yes, they all loved it, and nobody could resist the temptation
to mock the name. Nobody. Not even the stern chief.

“Yes. This is it.” He dropped the two pages with all the details on

the desk in front of her and watched her face. Chief Baxter was one of
the few women who had really come far in this still somewhat
misogynist institution. Her tough, unyielding but fair way had earned
her a lot of respect, and if asked, Julian would have instantly admitted
to liking her. Above all, he appreciated her professionalism.

She glared down at the sheets, read the information, raised her

eyebrows, and then she went back a couple of lines to check
something. Looking up, she regarded him with the same blank, cool
expression as before. “What makes you think it’s this?”

“Quite simple—it’s stolen.”

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For a few long moments, Chief Baxter sat frozen to the spot, and

then she exhaled a breath that in most other people would have been
an exasperated sigh. “Close the door and tell me more.”

Julian got up, closed the door, and sat down again. “I failed to

notice the connection until just…well, now,” he admitted. “But I
checked the information we have on all the other pieces he’s taken,
and apart from three cases, in which I’m still waiting for an answer,
all of the items he has stolen had been stolen before. Or at least they
were not in the hands of their rightful owners at the time of the theft.
Several of the pieces were confiscated by a government as items of
historical value and so on.”

Romeo had told him, hadn’t he? But Julian had been too

distracted at the time and not paid attention, and thus he failed to hear
the answer he’d been searching for. Romeo had stolen the artifact that
had been taken from his Greek lover’s family years before. Or, more
accurately, Romeo had retrieved the artifact which had been stolen
from the Greek ambassador’s family. Retrieved and returned it. Julian
had no doubt about that. It was the same with the other objects he’d
stolen. Somewhere along the line, they all had been taken from their
rightful owners and eventually had turned up somewhere else, usually
in the hands of someone who could prove that the items had been
legally acquired and that they’d had no knowledge of the history of
the piece they had set their little enthusiastic collectors’ hearts on.

“It’s why there were only so few reported thefts,” Julian

explained.

Baxter’s eyebrows shot up. “Few? The trail he left is what you

call few?”

Julian held her gaze, unblinking. “Compared to what he could

have done, yes. He’s definitely got the potential to do a lot more, and
I’m convinced that he has done more. But the difference is that his
other heists consisted of retrieving things from people who did not go
to the police because they couldn’t come up with a reasonable and

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believable explanation of how they came into the possession of these
items in the first place.”

“So if I understand you correctly, this Romeo—”
“Hasn’t stolen so much as retrieved things that had been stolen

before, and in all probability, although admittedly that part is an
assumption, he has returned those items to their rightful owners,”
Julian finished, struggling to keep his impatience under control.

“And you think that now he is going to steal—retrieve—a”—

Baxter checked the printed pages—“an Egyptian necklace? I just hope
you’re not going to tell me that he’s trying to retrieve that one for the
original owners, Agent Harris.” Her expression was unemotional at
best. At worst, it was frosty.

“Ah, no.” Julian gave her a smile to thaw some of the ice. “Not

quite. You see, this necklace was part of a whole set of items that
were discovered in the tomb of an Egyptian pharaoh in the early
1940s. The man who led the expedition and located the tomb handed
everything he found over to the Egyptian government—everything
apart from that necklace. He took it back home as a present for his
daughter, who was born shortly after he left for the expedition. It was
the first time he saw his little girl, and he died within two months of
his return.”

“Hmm.” Baxter looked at him skeptically. “The curse of the

pharaoh’s mummy?”

Julian shrugged. “Probably not. My guess is some kind of exotic

disease he caught in Egypt. Apparently that happened quite often and
was what created the rumor of the mummy curse. Anyway, more
important than the father’s death, at least for us, is that five years ago
a young Egyptologist stumbled across the report of that particular
expedition and found it worth following up on. She wrote an article
about it, which was received very well. Unfortunately it was received
so well, and by such a wide range of people, that the government of
Egypt got wind of it. Our young graduate had made her article more
appealing by adding a personal element to it, you see.”

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“The story of the devoted father who brings his daughter back a

necklace from a two thousand-year-old pharaoh.” Baxter’s expression
had become a lot more enthusiastic.

“Exactly. And what do you know, within a week’s time, seventy-

year-old Emily Miller was paid a visit by some representatives of the
Egyptian government, and the one thing that reminded her of her
father was confiscated and taken back to Egypt to become one of
roughly a couple of thousand pieces of exhibits.”

“I believe I get your drift, Agent Harris. And now this particular

piece happens to come to the United States as part of another
exhibition, and she wants to seize what will probably be her only
chance to get it back.”

“That’s the theory.”
“I like your theory, agent.” The corners of her mouth lifted in

what might have been the hint of a smile. “Okay. You convinced me.
Get your team and wait for the guy. Retrieval of family treasures or
not, he has been keeping us busy for years. Besides, there are some
questions that I’d really like to ask this man.” It wasn’t hard to guess
which direction these questions were likely to take.

Julian got up and went to the door, but when he was about to yank

it open, she called after him, “Good thinking, Harris.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Her praise meant, for all its sparseness, a lot

to him. Especially since he knew it was earned.

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Chapter 6

Preparations seemed to take forever. A precautionary phone call

had resulted in a relieved Julian on one end and a troubled security
chief on the other. Nothing suspicious had occurred during the days
leading up to the exhibition on jewelry of ancient times in the small
rural museum that hosted it. Nothing had happened that led anyone to
believe that there were arrangements for a heist on the go. Not that
that meant anything, the security chief had hurried to add. Julian had
merely laughed at him. If indeed Romeo was after that necklace,
nobody but him and his client would know about it until after he’d
taken it.

At least there was only a very limited time span during which the

heist could be executed. The exhibition was a rather unimportant one
and of interest only to a few select individuals, so it would be in town
for no longer than a week. Some parts of it were going to be sent
ahead to the next location, where they would be on display, but
nobody really seemed to know what pieces were going when, so
Romeo had only four days in which he could be sure of a chance to
snatch the necklace.

Once more relying on his gut feeling, Julian had accepted a bet

that Romeo would try to land his coup on the first night of the
exhibition or not at all. Unsurprisingly, most bets were on not at all,
which stung. Pushing the thought of this lack of trust on his team’s
side to the back of his mind, Julian crouched deeper into the shadow
of the low wall surrounding the small museum’s rooftop. And he was
rewarded for his own trust. A lithe, black-clad figure scurried across

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the open space in a low crouch, just a few yards away from Julian. He
stood.

“Hi, there. Looking for something?”
“Damn it. I knew this was a setup.” Romeo straightened up and

turned around, hands held out in model surrender pose.

“You seem to remember the moves,” Julian mocked. “Do you

remember the next ones as well?” He dangled the handcuffs from his
thumb as he approached Romeo, watching him warily. Just because
he hadn’t been carrying so far didn’t mean that he hadn’t started
somewhere along the way.

Romeo pulled a face, ogling the cuffs with much the same

expression one might a dead mouse, and about as much interest. “I
don’t have a firearm with me,” he said. “There is an army knife in my
pocket, though. The left one, outside.”

“Thanks.” That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have to pat Romeo down

anyway as a matter of principle, but it was nice to know what he was
dealing with. Julian didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth.

“Oh, by the way and just for the record—FBI, you’re under

arrest.”

To his credit, Romeo did not roll his eyes. Instead he smiled the

slow, secretive half smile Julian remembered so well. “I know.”

“So, I wonder, what brought you here this time?”
“I’m sure you have the answer figured out already or you

wouldn’t be here.”

“Yep, I have. You’re after the necklace, aren’t you? Kind of

ironic, really. Romeo getting caught over the theft of a piece of
jewelry.”

Romeo tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, there is a certain irony in

that.”

“You specialize in the retrieval of stolen items, don’t you?” Julian

blurted out, curious to hear his assumption confirmed.

“I suppose you could call it that.”

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“Why? Do you think it makes a difference? That it’s not really a

crime to take back what was stolen before?”

“No. No, I don’t think it makes a difference,” Romeo replied.

“I’m a felon. I commit crimes. That’s what it is. Retrieving things, as
you call it just…well, that way at least it all makes a little sense.”

“Why do you steal things if you don’t like it?”
“You’re not listening. I said it doesn’t make much sense. I didn’t

say I don’t like it.”

“So you do like it? Is that why you do it?”
Romeo exhaled his breath in a weary sigh. “I have bills to pay like

everybody else, and this is what I happen to be good at.”

“Have you ever considered a career change?”
This time Romeo did roll his eyes, and he let out a quiet chuckle.

“You’re not going to make me a converted man, Jules,” he said in a
soft tone.

“Maybe not. But I’m going to make you a convicted man. Hold

out your hands, please.” Julian flicked the cuffs.

“You’re not listening, Agent Harris. I said I knew this was a

setup.”

“You mean as in…?”
“Uh-huh.” Romeo nodded. “Somebody tipped me off.”
“Why did you come anyway?”
Romeo looked as though Julian had just asked him why grass was

green. He held up a little box. “To get this, of course.”

Julian’s breath caught in his chest, and heat welled up in his

cheeks. “But…how did you get this? You’ve only just arrived and—”

“Oh, Jules.” Romeo regarded him for a moment with an amused

expression on his face before he said, “You don’t believe I’d let
myself get cornered if I didn’t already have what I wanted, do you?”

“Maybe not,” Julian replied with a confidence he didn’t feel. “But

you don’t believe I’d let you get away with it, do you?”

“What makes you think I’d need you to let me get away?”

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“You are under arrest,” Julian reminded him. “And surrounded by

FBI agents. Even if you believe I would be willing to let you go, hell,
even if I was willing to let you go, you don’t think I could just call off
my team, do you?”

Romeo shook his head in a curiously indulgent gesture. “I just

told you I knew you were waiting for me here. Do you believe I
knowingly walked into a trap without an escape plan?”

“But the plan is not to let you escape,” Julian said, insisting

mulishly and with a logic he didn’t bother to analyze any further.

“That’s your plan.” Romeo’s smile softened around the edges.

“Remember I told you my job is not to get caught?”

“Yes, but…” Any second now, Romeo would pull some magic

Houdini trick and disappear. Julian knew it, and what was more, he
knew he wasn’t going to stop him. In all probability wouldn’t be able
to stop him. Romeo would have seen to that. It was indeed foolish not
to expect him to have come up with an escape plan, impossible
though it seemed. It could be the last chance. The last time Julian
even saw him.

“Wait. I…” Julian started, but there was nothing to say. Nothing

he could say. Everything that came to his mind sounded awful,
inappropriate, or just plain ridiculous. “We need to talk,” he muttered
rather lamely.

Romeo regarded him with quiet intensity and, for once, without

the usual gleam of amusement in his eyes. To Julian’s surprise, he
nodded. “I’ll find you.”

Julian watched him turn and walk away, wondering what on earth

he was doing. He could stop this man. Had to stop him. He was an
FBI agent after all. He brought his hand up. The metal that rested
against his skin was warmed from his body’s heat. “Freeze! FBI,
you’re under arrest!” he snarled.

Slowing down but not stopping, and certainly far from freezing,

Romeo looked over his shoulder and sent that crooked half smile of
his back to Julian. “You wouldn’t shoot me.” He kept walking with

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even strides that could be those of a man taking a late-night stroll in a
park, not of a thief caught red-handed by an FBI agent and with a gun
trained to his leather-clad back. Romeo was right, though. Julian
wouldn’t shoot him. In fact, he felt rather ridiculous standing there
with his gun pointing at nothing. Romeo was gone.

* * * *

“Shit!” Julian jerked into action. He shook off his stupor and ran

after Romeo, or in the direction he’d taken anyway. What had he
done? He’d let the manipulative bastard get away—again. Why?
Because of some bittersweet reminiscing over a night spent together
almost a year ago? A night that had meant nothing to Romeo but a
chance to manipulate Julian and to use his weakness to escape. Use
Julian’s weakness to make his escape. Exactly what he had just done
again.

Numb and with the strangely detached feeling of someone looking

in from the outside, Julian went through the farce that followed. The
lies that had to follow unless he was willing to sacrifice his career for
the slick, handsome bastard. He radioed his team and told them he
had visual contact and was following the intruder. He gave them his
current location, off by a few yards, and kept going. His story would
be that he’d seen the thief and chased him for a bit but that he had
neither gotten near enough to stop him nor had a decent chance to
shoot. Unless someone had spotted his tête-à-tête with Romeo, there
was nothing unbelievable about this story. The thief had gotten away.
It happened. It happened to the best. And it had happened to Julian
not just once, but twice.

If circumstances were different, I’d make every effort not to let

you get away.

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Chapter 7

Julian barely even felt it. Saturday morning, downtown New

York. There were a lot of people in the streets, and sooner or later
some of them were bound to accidentally bump into each other.
Except no one had bumped into him accidentally.

“Sorry, buddy,” a male voice muttered in passing, but the man

was gone before Julian even had the chance to realize what happened.
He lifted his hand, brought it to his hip, and gingerly fingered the
pocket. It could be anything. Maybe the guy had really just brushed
him in passing, maybe he had tried to pick his pocket, or maybe he
had dropped something into it. The pocket contained nothing, so
either a small-time criminal had been unsuccessful or Julian’s pocket
now contained something which it shouldn’t.

He slipped his fingers inside. Nothing. He pushed deeper and

felt…a scrap of paper. Paper? He struggled to remember what it
might be. A long-forgotten shopping note perhaps? He gingerly
closed his fingers around an edge and pulled it out, immensely
relieved when it was really just a piece of paper, nothing unusual. The
kind one used for—shopping notes. Except it wasn’t a shopping note.
It wasn’t something Julian had written himself, either. The
handwriting was neat, in black ink, and spelled Thirty minutes, Café
de Paris. Café de Paris? It sounded vaguely familiar. If he was
supposed to be there in thirty minutes—he quickly checked his
wristwatch, hoping he hadn’t lost too much time finding the note—the
place couldn’t be far away.

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Julian took out his smartphone, punched in the location, and

waited for it to come up with a result. As expected, the Café de Paris
was nearby. Just off the main road half a block down.

He started walking. His heart pounded excitedly. The note hadn’t

said so, but it was clear that he was expected to turn up on his own. It
could be a trap. It could be Romeo. I’ll find you. That had been two
weeks ago.

The Café de Paris was a charming little place, tucked between two

much larger buildings in a small alley, and as the name suggested, it
was French style through and through. Elegant arrangements of tiny
welded iron tables with matching chairs dappled a tiled floor that
instantly brought the rough pavement of a French place de ville to
mind. Unlike any of the overpriced, pseudo-French places he had
been to before, this one looked both appealingly genuine and
genuinely appealing.

Julian made a mental note to come back on a quieter day to try the

food and simply enjoy the atmosphere. Now his mind was on other,
more urgent matters. He scanned the faces of the few patrons. Hell,
even the people around him looked like the real deal. There was a lot
of olive-tinged skin and dark-brown eyes, and, indeed, Julian spotted
one or two berets. No trace of Romeo, though, which meant that this
was either a trap or a practical joke. He scanned the inside of the café
again, this time opening his mind to all possibilities instead of merely
searching for what he was hoping to see. Again, no result. There was
nothing suspicious, nothing—

“Café au lait et un pain au chocolat d’accord avec toi, mon cher?”

a soft voice right behind his ear inquired politely. It sent a shudder
down Julian’s spine.

“What the—?”
“Assieds-toi.”
“I don’t speak French,” Julian grumbled, just to make a point.
“Don’t you? Too bad. Take a seat.”

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Julian grabbed a chair. Romeo put the tray he was holding onto

the table and slid on the fragile-looking little bench at the back of the
niche their table was in. An excellent choice strategically. It gave him
perfect view of the entrance area and anyone approaching while
shielding him, or rather both of them, from the view of anyone who
happened to cast a glance through one of the windows. If Julian had
brought backup, Romeo would have plenty of time to escape before
anyone could get close to them.

“What do you want?” Julian asked, trying to make his visual

inspection of Romeo as discreet as possible. Gosh, but the man looked
good. It was the first time Julian saw him in the light of day—well,
café—and it definitely became him.

He was dressed in a fine-knit, dark-gray turtleneck sweater which,

from the looks of it, was cashmere again, and it evoked memories
Julian really didn’t need. Matched with black slacks and a tailored
coat, Romeo’s style was not much different from the average New
Yorker in this part of the city. He could have been anyone, from stock
market broker to one of the dozens of lawyers who had their offices in
the vicinity, or even an actor whiling away the time between
auditions.

Julian was beginning to understand why no one had been able to

give them a usable description of Romeo. It wasn’t so much that his
disguise was too good or that he wasn’t striking, which he was, but he
blended in. Handsome though he was, he would be hard to describe,
even for someone trained to give memorable and identifiable
descriptions of people. Julian quickly compared the visual profile to
what he saw, just for the hell of it. Caucasian male, six foot, a
hundred and seventy pounds of lean muscle, brown hair, and blue
eyes. Nice, strong jawline. Cleft chin, high cheekbones. No distinctive
features like scars on his face. Not on any other part of his body,
either, although the official description didn’t mention that. Sensual
lips that looked wickedly erotic when wrapped around his partner’s
erect cock. Lips that were currently twisted into a disturbingly

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knowing half smile. Julian knew he was screwed in more than one
way.

“Unless I’m mistaken it was you who wanted to see me,” Romeo

said calmly. Yes, right. That desperate plea. We need to talk.

Weren’t those the words that had every guy run for cover as fast

as he could while he still could? And yet, Romeo had obliged, had
turned up and taken the risk of walking into a trap. A small risk
admittedly, seeing as the time and place of their meeting had been his
call. And anyway, why shouldn’t he have come? It wasn’t as though
their little interlude a year ago could have left Julian pregnant with his
child. No, that would have been Romeo, in fact, seeing as he had been
the one—Fuck, why do I have to keep coming up with these entirely
inappropriate thoughts? Why can’t I just be mad at the little fucker?

Across the table, Romeo’s breath hitched. His eyes narrowed, and

their focus was on Julian for what was quite possibly the first time.
Well, if Romeo was at least halfway as good at reading people as
Julian believed him to be, he was bound to get more than just a little
hot underneath his cashmere sweater at what he found imprinted on
Julian’s mind.

“Uh, right.” Julian cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming.”

What did he need to talk about with Romeo? Apart from bouncing his
litany of reproaches and accusations off him, perhaps, which wasn’t
an option.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again after…Christmas Eve,” he said,

seemingly surprising Romeo as much as himself with the
vulnerability that his voice transmitted along with his words.

“Me, neither,” Romeo admitted after a moment.
“The threat you mentioned—was that a ruse?”
“You mean to keep you busy so you would be out of my hair for a

while?”

“You catch on astonishingly fast for someone who hasn’t

considered that option,” Julian said, but Romeo held his gaze
unwaveringly.

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“I thought this would be the first suspicion you had when I told

you.”

“You didn’t think I’d believe you?”
“No.”
Julian was baffled. “And yet you came to tell me?”
Romeo gave a casual shrug. Too casual, maybe. “I had to, didn’t

I?”

“Why?”
“Because…” Romeo looked a lot like he was biting off his

original answer in favor of an edited version. “I’m a thief, Julian. I
steal things. Watching people wind up dead is not part of my job
description.”

“But you didn’t have to watch,” Julian pointed out. “If it’s true at

all, that is. You could have just let it happen, be glad that someone
plucked me off your back and—”

“For fuck’s sake, Julian!” Romeo’s irritated shout and scowl were

all the more effective for their rarity. Julian shut up. Watched. Used
his own skills in reading people. Romeo clearly had something to say
and was struggling to find a way to express it without giving away the
things he did not want to admit to.

“I heard about it, okay? That is the truth. I told you I was trying to

get more information, but so far every trace I followed was a dead
end. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know who’s after you,
but I’m fairly certain that there is something going on. And as far as
I’m concerned, that’s enough not to take the risk of you dying. At
least not if I can help it.”

“I…uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“Huh?”
“Well, you said you were fairly certain that there was something

going on. What do you think it is?”

“Fuck if I know,” Romeo mumbled, but Julian wasn’t deceived.

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“Come on. You’re the one with the grand master plans here. You

must have given this some thought.”

Looking indecisive, Romeo sipped some of his coffee, probably to

buy himself time to think. Julian remembered his own so far
untouched cup and picked it up.

“I have a theory,” Romeo admitted. He sounded a little unwilling,

as if he didn’t want to voice an idea he couldn’t prove. “It’s quite far-
fetched, but it’s the best I’ve come up with as of yet.”

“Gonna tell me?” Julian grabbed his pain au chocolat. It looked

good, and it gave him something to do besides watching Romeo’s
struggle with himself.

“I’m not sure you want to hear it.”
“Why don’t you tell me anyway?”
Romeo pulled a face but shook his head. “I’ll have to give it some

more thought. I wouldn’t want you to worry just because I made a
wrong assumption.”

“Great. So where does that leave us?”
“Same as before,” Romeo replied with a shrug and pushed to his

feet. “I’ll keep eyes and ears open, and when I’ve got something, I’ll
find you.”

“What if I’ve got something? Should I contact you then?”
The question brought a smirk to Romeo’s face. “I’ll be in touch.”
Julian watched him leave. Patiently. The moment the last bit of

black vanished from his view, he jerked into action. He didn’t bother
making the girl behind the counter go through the credit card slips.
They wouldn’t run away, and besides, he didn’t know if Romeo had
used a card at all, but he probably hadn’t. He called Barnes on the
way and told him where to go and what to look for while keeping an
eye on his quarry. It had been a while, and Romeo wasn’t the easiest
to trail, but once Julian had fallen into the routine again, it went a lot
better than he’d hoped for.

He followed Romeo through several rather crowded areas,

including a public park, always careful not to be spotted. Eventually,

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much to his surprise, Romeo walked through the wide, welcoming
entrance doors of the Hotel Centurion, an establishment that, although
well past its prime, still managed to cling to the fine-worn threads of
long-faded glitz. Peeking through the huge glass panels that made up
the hotel’s front, Julian assured himself that Romeo indeed stepped
into one of the elevators before he entered.

He quickly strode across the entrance hall to the reception desk.

The receptionist, a bored-looking blonde with too much makeup on
her face and too much weight on her hips, watched his approach
disinterestedly. Until Julian flashed his badge and asked her sternly
who the man was that had just entered the building. That spurred her
into action. Well, it made her click her red acrylic fingernails on the
keyboard in front of her, but the expression on her face remained
unenthusiastic at best.

“John Duncan,” she mumbled. “Room three eleven. Third floor,”

she added helpfully. Julian was already on his way. The elevator ride
took far too long, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Taking the stairs wasn’t an option.

For all of one second, Julian considered stalling and waiting for

backup so he could position some men in the front and, more
importantly, the back of the building, but he decided against it. The
bitter humiliation of his team arriving just so he could tell them that
their suspect had run was still too much of a presence in his mind. No,
he’d have to catch Romeo on his own, if at all. And if he failed, well,
at least then he would be the only one who knew about it. Even as he
knocked on the door he wasn’t convinced that Romeo was in that
room. If he was, he was likely not to open the door or to make his exit
via the fire escape.

Romeo opened the door with a smile, clearly unsurprised. “Miss

me already?” he inquired.

“Hardly. Can I come in?”
“Be my guest.” Stepping back, Romeo held the door open for him.

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“You should be aware that this is an official FBI visit,” Julian

announced, much to his annoyance, but he knew well enough that if
he didn’t play by the rules, said rules might be turned on him and used
to bite him in the ass. Under no circumstances was he going to risk
losing a court case because of procedural inaccuracies. If there was
ever going to be a court case.

“Oh.” Romeo held his gaze with perfect calm. “In that case, Agent

Harris, may I ask what grounds you base your visit on?”

Bastard. Julian had to think fast. Backing off now would mean

that Romeo had been given a warning and was likely never to turn up
again. Proceeding meant that Julian had to be extremely careful on
every tiny step of the way. All he needed was something to ascertain
that there could be just any charge pressed against Romeo. Once the
man was locked up, there would be more time to build the case
against him and make it airtight.

He racked his brain. What they had were mostly suspicions and

assumptions without real evidence. If he used any of these and
couldn’t back them up with proof if it counted, Romeo would be out
and about again faster than one could say mess-up. What was worse,
even if they managed to eventually unearth the evidence they needed,
there wouldn’t be another chance to take Romeo to court for that.
Unless…Capone had gone in for tax evasion, hadn’t he?

“Of course you may,” Julian replied pleasantly. “I’m basing my

visit on the assumption of identity theft.”

For the fraction of an instant Romeo’s eyes widened in surprise.

He covered it up quickly and hid behind his usual mask of nonchalant
charm, but it was enough for Julian to know that he had landed a hit.

“Do tell me more,” Romeo invited. His posture hadn’t changed.

The door was still open for Julian.

“The receptionist identified you as a John Duncan. I suppose

that’s not your real name, is it?”

“It’s not the name I was born with,” Romeo answered with a

minute inclination of his head.

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Julian felt a small wave of pride surge through him as he stepped

into the hotel room. “Well, at least I just burnt another one of your
aliases. Oh, and just in case you wonder—you are under arrest. Hands
where I can see them, please.”

“I thought so.” Romeo flashed an unconcerned smile as he raised

his hands obediently. “John Duncan isn’t an alias, and I’m sure he’ll
appreciate getting his wallet and cards back. May I?” One eyebrow
raised, he brought his hand to chest level.

Julian gave him an affirmative nod and watched Romeo pluck a

dark-brown, battered wallet from his inside pocket. He took it from
Romeo’s outstretched hand and peeked inside to check its contents.
Credit cards, driver’s license, some cash. What he saw of the cards
confirmed his assumption. John Duncan. He glimpsed at the driver’s
license. John was in his early thirties, and while above average in
looks, he wasn’t anywhere near Romeo’s league. The similarity was
just enough to fool someone who either didn’t bother checking or
wanted to believe that the man before them matched the ID.

“What’s your story?”
“My story?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t get caught with this if you didn’t have an

explanation.” Julian’s voice was surprisingly steady given the turmoil
in his head. He should have known. Should have seen it coming. Of
course, Romeo wouldn’t allow himself to be caught red-handed using
a false identity. Or would he?

“There is no story. At least not the kind you want to hear. I picked

the pocket of a guy I saw in the street for the very reason that he looks
like me. Well, similar enough. Then I used his credit card and driver’s
license to book a room in this hotel. End of story.”

Julian let his breath out slowly to give himself time to think. It

didn’t help. “Why would you do that? What do you need a hotel room
for?”

“To have a quiet place to talk to you, obviously. A place where I

can be sure that no one disturbs us.”

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“But that only makes sense if you knew I was following you and

wanted me to find you here.”

“If you say so.” The smile on Romeo’s face didn’t falter.
“You wanted me to follow you and track you down?”
“Do you really believe you would have stood a chance at trailing

me without me realizing I’d picked up a tail?”

Put like that…Julian had been a little astonished at how easy it

had been. Well, not exactly easy, more like Romeo had seemed to
always let Julian see his next move. He hadn’t done anything
unpredictable and nothing that could be considered a serious attempt
at vanishing. Julian hadn’t given this much thought since he’d
assumed that Romeo never even knew he was being followed. But
what if he had known all along…? Julian knew it was the truth.
Romeo had allowed himself to be traced. He must have, otherwise
Julian really wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“Why?” he asked, his voice rough in his own ears.
The smile on Romeo’s face dimmed. Not because he was getting

serious, but because his expression became soft, melancholic almost.
“Can’t you guess?”

Julian shook his head. He couldn’t guess. And the one reason he

wished for was too far-fetched to even think about saying it out loud.

Romeo let out a strange little sound, a mix between sadness and

amusement. He scanned the room in an unusually shy bid for time.
His gaze lingered on something for the briefest of moments and,
following its direction, Julian found himself staring at the bed. Big
and comfortable-looking, it gawped back at him, its lush duvet and fat
pillows taunting him in wordless invitation.

When Romeo’s blue eyes found Julian’s at last, the meaning in

them was clear. “I wanted to see you again,” he whispered.

Julian had to force the words through his suddenly too-tight

throat. “You can’t possibly be serious about that.”

“Why not?”

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“You used me to escape once already. Twice, actually. Do you

really believe I’d fall for that again?”

Still holding Julian’s gaze, Romeo bit his lip. “Firstly, I never

used you,” he said with quiet urgency. “Not for my escape and not for
anything else. Secondly, I don’t need to use you for my escape now
since there’s nothing holding me here.”

“Oh, you think I’ll just let you walk out of here, do you?”
“There’s no way for you to stop me now if I decide to go, and I

will go. I’m not lying to you about that. The question is, do you want
me to leave now or later?” The sentence hung in the air, and the
silence that followed it was heavy with meaning.

Julian stared at him, disbelief at the mere improbability of the

situation fighting with…he didn’t know what he was struggling with.
He couldn’t put a name to all the emotions surging through him.
Surprise, need, and hope. Longing. Lust.

He would never know who made that final step, the one that

covered the last inches between them. They met in a kiss that was
anything but gentle, latching onto one another with a need that was
desperate enough to bruise.

Julian didn’t wait for permission as he pried Romeo’s lips apart

and slipped his tongue into that delicious, silky mouth. Amazing that,
after all this time, Romeo’s own flavour was still familiar to him. He
felt the scrape of Romeo’s stubble on his chin and heard him hiss as
his lip got caught in the assault between their teeth, but none of it
mattered. All that mattered was that they were together and feasting
on each other, tugging at clothes that had just become offensive while
trying to do everything at once with their mouths, kissing, caressing,
sucking, licking, tasting, and devouring.

Romeo groaned, and Julian gasped. Pressing their groins together,

they rubbed their matching erect cocks against each other. They were
naked within moments and somehow made it to the bed where Romeo
once again ended up sprawled on his back with Julian doing his best

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to hold him down with his weight. Not that Romeo was trying to go
anywhere.

Tilting his head back, he looked up at Julian with lust-glazed eyes.

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this,” he choked out in between
husky whimpers.

“Have you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why did it take you so long to find me?”
“It’s—oh, fuck, yes—complicated.”
“Is it?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Damn, Jules. Do you really want to talk right now?”
Watching the unconcealed lust on his lover’s face, Julian had to

admit that no, he didn’t want him to talk. He wanted the only sounds
that came from his mouth to be the sounds of passion. Gasps, groans,
moans, and, of course, those adorable little cries he made when he
came.

Julian shifted and tilted his hips to increase the pressure of his

own hard shaft to the equally solid ridge underneath him. Romeo
grunted, and then he, too, moved to improve the angle. He met each
of Julian’s powerful thrusts with lustful greed, grinding his own
swollen cock against Julian’s with an intensity that must have been
near painful for him.

It certainly was for Julian, and he would have loved to do the real

thing, but there was no time for that. Not to mention that neither of
them had the necessary supplies. Not even cooking oil like the last
time. Julian refused to think about that last time. This was now, and if
now was all he could get, then hell, he would take it.

He reached down and wrapped his hand around both their

throbbing cocks. He crushed the two steel-hard rods together as
tightly as he could stand it. He felt the touch of Romeo’s hot flesh
against his own and the dry friction tugging at his skin. The sensations

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of them sliding against one another like that nearly blew his mind. He
squeezed hard and didn’t hold anything back as he jerked them off,
rubbing himself on his lover’s hard shaft again and again. It was
urgent and rough, and it was desperate. But it was good. Incredibly
good.

Romeo’s harsh, ragged breaths echoed Julian’s, their fumbling,

groping, and humping equal in the frantic quest for relief. When it
found them at last, much too soon and yet not soon enough, Romeo
came with a barely suppressed yell, spurting his hot cum over Julian’s
hand and his own sweat-soaked stomach. Julian climaxed a mere few
seconds later, adding his own spunk to create an alluring blend on
Romeo’s quivering body.

For a few precious moments they just lay there, exhausted,

winded, and sated. Julian forced himself to withstand the tempting
fatigue that threatened to wash him away. He couldn’t let that happen.
He had already gone way too far, well beyond what he should have let
happen. And yet…he struggled not to give in to that sweet, warm
feeling that was beginning to tug at his heart with tender fingers. Not
this time.

Shifting his weight to his left arm, he freed his right hand from

where it was trapped between their bellies and wiped it pointedly on
the sheets to rid it of the evidence of their passion. He used the motion
to slide it down in an inconspicuous move, slip it between the sheets,
searching, to where he’d left his—

A sharp metallic click, followed by a tug at his left wrist, and his

hand was yanked upward. A second metallic sound followed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Julian snapped, half in surprise,

half in fury. Romeo wriggled out from underneath him, and in spite of
the situation, Julian had to admire his strength. He easily outweighed
his lover by at least twenty-five pounds, but Romeo handled him
seemingly without effort.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” Romeo whispered. “But you really shouldn’t

have brought these cuffs into bed with us.” Turning away, he picked

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up his clothes and dressed, and then he ran his fingers through his hair
and smoothed over the disheveled brown strands.

When he looked at Julian, his face was blank. Too blank. More

like carefully void of emotions, although his eyes were dark and
haunted. There was a gash in his bottom lip, and the unmistakable
traces of a stubble rash reddened his chin. Yes, he looked freshly
fucked, and the look was good on him. Bending down, he picked up
Julian’s slacks and checked the pockets.

“This it?” he asked, holding a small silver key between his

forefinger and thumb. Julian nodded, too numb and mortified to speak
when Romeo sat down on the side of the bed next to him. The
expression in Romeo’s eyes was tender, and he frowned in
concentration as he focused on Julian’s face, as if he was trying to
memorize every line before he lowered his head and planted a gentle
kiss on Julian’s startled mouth.

“Take care,” Romeo whispered. “And don’t bother coming after

me. This time I won’t be waiting for you.”

He was off the bed and across the room before Julian’s befuddled

brain could come up with anything worthwhile to say.

Julian could have tried to go after him. Romeo hadn’t made it

impossible for him this time. He had even pressed the key right into
Julian’s palm, but by the time Julian had unlocked the cuff around his
wrist and put on his clothes, he knew it was pointless to even try to go
after Romeo. It was too late. The slick little weasel had escaped yet
again.

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Chapter 8

The moment the elevator doors opened with a subdued, polite

little ping, Julian knew that something was up. He stepped out of the
cabin and crossed the row of desks that lined the path to his own
office and, two doors down, the fish tank. Chief Baxter’s office. The
blinds were down, covering the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, which
was never a good sign.

“What’s up?” Julian asked when he stopped at Barnes’s desk.

Following the direction of his look, Barnes gave a shrug. “No idea,
boss. Apparently she’s having a meeting. One of the undercover boys
came in with an outsider I don’t know. Probably an informer. They’ve
been in there for over an hour now.”

“Hmm.” Nothing unusual so far. And yet there was this strange

feeling of excitement in the air, or was that just Julian? “I’ll be in—”
He swallowed the rest of the sentence when Baxter’s door was jerked
open. Antonio Ramirez, one of the agents whose job it was to mix
with the city’s lowlifes and keep eyes and ears open for all sorts of
illegal activities, stepped out. He was followed by an unprepossessing
figure. The short, mousy man had petty criminal written all over his
sharp, pockmarked features and was visibly uncomfortable in his
surroundings as he trailed along in Ramirez’s wake. He ogled the
agents suspiciously. Poor guy. He was probably expecting at least one
of them to jump up and shout “You’re under arrest!” at him before he
had time to leave the building.

Julian’s observations were interrupted by Baxter’s stern voice.

“Special Agent Harris, a minute, please.” The word “please” couldn’t
mask that it was an order. Nothing about her could mask her air of

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authority. Daughter of a general in a long line of generals, she had
inherited her family’s predisposition for leadership, even though she
had chosen to execute it in a different branch of the government. The
youngest woman to achieve the rank of a chief in the history of the
FBI, she was now in her early forties with a reputation for being hard
as nails and as demanding of her agents as she was uncompromising
in her decisions.

“Good morning, Chief,” Julian greeted with a respectful bow of

his head. She was certainly not one for sycophancy, but politeness
was never out of place in Julian’s eyes.

“Agent Harris. Close the door and take a seat, please.”
Julian sat down. He refrained from glancing at the pictures that

decorated the walls. There were only a few, and the fact that they
were all exactly the ones you’d expect in the office of someone like
her—herself shaking hands with the current mayor, the mayor’s
predecessor, and some other important people—said perhaps more
about her than the absence of any personal items.

“You know about the nature of Agent Ramirez’s assignment, I

assume?” Baxter asked without further introduction.

“Yes, ma’am.”
She gave a light nod. “Although it is not exactly in his field of

duty, it seems that he has come across some information that appears
to be connected to your Romeo case.”

Julian’s head snapped up. His heart did a funny somersault in his

chest. How could Ramirez have information on Romeo? He mostly
dealt with minor street criminals, gamblers, and pickpockets, but
nothing like Romeo.

“Agent Ramirez has been tipped off about a planned heist, and we

have reason to believe that your Romeo is the one who’s going to do
it.”

“What’s it about?” And why hadn’t he, Julian, figured it out?

He’d been keeping an eye out for all potential targets, but nothing
among the exhibitions and various art-related activities scheduled for

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the near future had rung a bell. Maybe Ramirez was wrong. In all
probability he was wrong.

“It’s a major break-in and theft.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t believe that he—”
“The target is the FBI archives.”
Julian’s heart did a flip and plummeted to somewhere in the pit of

his stomach. The FBI archives? “That’s ridiculous!” he exclaimed
before he could stop himself. “It’s impossible to break into the
archives, and it would be beyond madness to even try to do it. He
must know that, and besides, it’s not his usual MO. He’s an art thief,
and he’s only after objects—”

“That have been taken from their rightful owners. I know your

theory, Agent Harris,” Baxter cut across him. “And yet, I’m inclined
to believe Ramirez’s report, but you’re welcome to see for yourself,
of course. Take a look and tell me what you think.”

Julian gingerly picked up the slim case file she shoved at him. It

was a neat and well-structured report by Agent Ramirez, containing a
lot of detailed and very convincing facts. The kind of facts that Julian
knew were impossible to deny. Romeo was going to break into the
FBI archives. What was worse, the FBI had gotten wind of it.

“Do we know what he’s after?” Julian asked while his mind was

racing.

“Not exactly, but we assume he’s trying to either steal or mess

with some of the evidence stored there. We’re still trying to narrow
down the possibilities.”

“But that’s crazy. Downright madness even to think about doing

that. What is the plan?”

“Well, we try to get as far ahead as we can in figuring out how he

intends to pull this off, and then we’ll just wait for him. We may not
know the how and the when yet, but at least we know the where.
When he turns up, I’m determined to nail that bastard’s ass on the
wall once and for all.”

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At the tone of her voice, Julian’s heart squirmed in its newly

assigned location in the pit of his stomach. “Nail him as in ‘have him
arrested and lock him up in prison,’ right?” he asked uncomfortably.
Why did the thought bring such a bitter taste into his mouth? It was
what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? Track that beautiful, clever
crook down, catch him, and put him behind bars.

You know what’s going to happen to me in prison.
And if Julian wasn’t the one who caught him, the chances for the

deal he’d offered were off. Romeo was a clever guy, though. Maybe
he would remember what to ask for when he negotiated with the FBI.
If he even got the chance to negotiate. The realization hit Julian
squarely in the chest and left him breathless.

Chief Baxter held his gaze, and he wondered what she saw in his

eyes as she answered, “Ideally, yes, but that depends on his
cooperation. If he surrenders, fine. If he doesn’t…well, the guards are
under order to shoot to kill.”

Shoot to kill. The pale-gray office walls started spinning along

Julian’s line of vision. Romeo wouldn’t surrender. Never. He’d play
his usual games and probably let the agents get near and lead them to
believe they’d caught him and then try to escape. But unlike Julian,
the other agents wouldn’t hesitate. And if they were ordered to kill,
there was no doubt that they would do exactly that if Romeo resisted
arrest.

Julian left Baxter’s office on autopilot, barely acknowledging her

final words of “I’ll keep you informed on further proceedings.”

There was only one kind of further proceeding he was interested

in. He had to find Romeo. Track him down, warn him, and get him to
call this stupid plan off. No matter how much he wanted to put an end
to Romeo’s dubious career, and regardless of what crimes the man
had committed, letting him die for it was not an option. Even if
warning him would put an end to Julian’s own career, should his
superiors ever get wind of it, he owed it to Romeo. After all, Romeo

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had already proven that, when he was thrown into the same situation,
he was willing to take the risk to warn Julian.

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Chapter 9

It turned out that tracking down a professional art thief like

Romeo wasn’t all that difficult. It merely required resorting to
measures Julian would have preferred to steer clear of, but once he’d
taken the first step that led him off the officially approved path, it
became astonishingly simple.

Once again Julian came to realize that he’d been so focused on

catching the thief when he committed the crime that he had neglected
to follow up a far easier trail. It was nothing but the logical
continuation of the direction he’d already taken. Rather than waiting
for Romeo to commit a theft or try to figure out where the next crime-
scene-to-be was and wait for him there, Julian had now decided to
take matters into his own hands. He was actively searching out the
one professional who could help him on the quest to retrieve a
beloved but long lost family gem.

It was the approach most likely to prove successful in getting in

touch with Romeo, but of course it wouldn’t have been much help if
Julian was still trying to merely find him so he could arrest him. The
option of simply taking Romeo into custody had crossed Julian’s
mind, and he didn’t rule it out as such, but it was unlikely to have the
desired effect. There still wasn’t enough evidence to build a proper
case against him, no matter how obvious it was that Romeo was their
man, so he would be out and about within twenty-four hours.

Struggling to keep his nerves under control, Julian tightened his

grip around the thin leaflet he was holding. It was kind of ironic,
really. After almost a week of skimming the shadier places of the city
for a hint, a trail, or just any clue, it had been a note in Ramirez’s

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report that had told him where to start. At a pawn shop, no less. Julian
didn’t fail to see the irony in that, either. What better place to begin
their search for someone who was looking to retrieve a treasured
belonging than a location where a lot of people parted with their
treasured belongings?

The owner, an ancient-looking little man with wiry, gray hair that

matched his wiry, gray body, seemed to buy the story Julian fed him
readily enough. Julian’s grandmother, now wilting away, had told him
about the ring she’d once been given by a secret admirer in her long-
lost youth. The promise of marriage, though made in earnest on either
side, had never been kept. The secret admirer had met a tragic death
in an accident, leaving young Rosemary with nothing but the ring on
her finger and the baby in her belly.

She had bravely raised the child on her own but had been forced

to sell the ring, a valuable antique piece, in order to buy food for
herself and her little girl, Julian’s mother. Now, in the last stages of
her life, she yearned for the ring that reminded her of her long-lost
love to be reunited with her once more and, potentially, forever.

It was the last wish of a dying woman, and Julian, the boy who

had inherited his grandfather’s eyes, was determined to do anything to
fulfill her wish. Anything, he emphasized, at which the shop owner’s
eyes narrowed briefly. He couldn’t help him with the ring, the old
man had said, visibly moved by Julian’s heartbreaking story, but he
might know someone who could. He had given Julian a signal to wait
and shuffled off to the back area of his tiny, crammed-full shop.

Now, three and a half hours later, Julian stood staring at the

painting of a mostly unknown nineteenth-century artist in the
museum’s wing that was exclusive to mostly unknown nineteenth-
century artists and thus little frequented by the general public. At the
sound of footsteps behind him, he casually flicked the leaflet on
nineteenth-century art he was holding in his right hand.

As secret meetings went, this really wasn’t a bad setup. The

museum was a public place and provided a minimum of third-party

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security, including video surveillance and metal detectors at the
entrance, so concealed weapons were not an option. Making the
potential client stare at this particular painting left them unable to see
anything of the room, as the painting was hung up in a niche, which
was without a doubt a blind spot to the surveillance camera. Asking
them to hold the leaflet in their right hand had the nice side effect of
keeping what was the preferred hand for most people occupied and in
plain view.

Julian hadn’t failed to notice that Romeo himself was a lefty, so

this little particularity added to his conviction that he was on the right
track. Whether or not that track was going to take him where he
wanted to go remained to be seen. At least he wouldn’t have to wait
much longer. The footsteps approached him, not quite purposefully
but determined enough not to be a random visitor who was just there
to admire the art. Listening attentively, Julian tried to estimate the
exact moment when he would come into view. If the other person was
indeed Romeo, he was likely to recognize Julian even in profile, so
Julian kept his head at an angle that would conceal his features for as
long as possible, showing only the dark-haired back of his head.

Romeo didn’t even need to see Julian’s profile to recognize him.

Julian knew it was him because the faint squeaking noises of leather
soles on rubber floor stopped for an instant, lingering, only to turn
away again, not quite rushing but moving faster than before. Yes, the
museum provided a minimum of third-party security, but it could also
be turned into a very effective trap with its surveillance and super-fast
closing doors. Romeo wasn’t stupid. He must have been well aware of
that flaw, and Julian would have certainly made the most of this if he
had been there to catch Romeo. As it was, he was merely trying to
talk to him, which Romeo, of course, couldn’t know.

He spun around, all pretense of interest in the stupendously awful

painting abandoned, and gave chase.

“Wait! This isn’t a trap. I just need to talk to you!” It was pretty

gutsy to call that across a public museum room, even if said room was

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empty, but it had the desired effect. Romeo slowed down and stopped
right beside the emergency exit. If he went through that door, or if he
so much as opened it, he would set off the alarm system, which would
result in an emergency closedown of the entire building. Julian had
checked it, so Romeo was guaranteed to know exactly what would
happen, too. Which meant that he must have a backup plan. Of course
he had.

Romeo watched Julian’s approach. Every muscle in his body was

flexed and ready to act, his jaw a firm, set line, his blue eyes blazing
with unconcealed anger. Whether the anger was directed at Julian for
outmaneuvering him or at himself for allowing himself to be deceived
was something Julian couldn’t tell, but he suspected that it was a bit
of both.

“Well done, gotta give you that,” Romeo muttered through

clenched teeth when Julian walked up to him. “Sweet story you came
up with, too. Fred was close to tears when he called me.”

“Thank you.” Julian leaned against the wall next to Romeo, who

shifted his weight in a still careful, tightly wound gesture. Like a
startled deer about to bolt. Or a caged tiger, getting ready to attack.
No, probably not. Romeo had said that he didn’t appreciate violence,
and Julian was inclined to believe him—not that Romeo didn’t look
like he was well capable of defending himself if he had to, and he had
already proven that he could take on Julian.

“You can relax,” Julian said quietly. “This time I’m not here on

official business. In fact, this isn’t official at all, so I’d appreciate it if
you could forget this meeting ever happened, should anyone ask.”

Romeo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to warn you.”
It wasn’t as though Romeo’s answering chuckle was unexpected,

but it still stung a little.

“I’m serious. You’re planning to break into the FBI archives,

aren’t you?”

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Romeo did a good job at covering up his reaction, and he’d

definitely make an amazing poker player, but Julian had been
watching him closely and was beginning to get rather well acquainted
with Romeo’s minimalist giveaway signs. He noticed the brief
fluttering of Romeo’s eyelids as well as the muscle that flexed in
Romeo’s jaw, although the latter was so obvious that Romeo was
likely to be aware of it, too.

“What makes you think that?” Romeo asked in a tone bare of any

expression.

“A rather convincing informer who talked to one of our

undercover agents.”

“Shit.” Romeo’s gaze flicked across the room again, checking and

searching.

“This isn’t a trap,” Julian repeated. “If it was, I’d have you cuffed

and ready to go by now.”

“Mm-hmm. So the grass is jumping, and all of a sudden you have

this glorious inspiration where to find me and don’t seize that chance?
How stupid do you think I am?”

Julian let out a sigh. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all, just—”
“Not here.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll talk to you, but not here,” Romeo said curtly, already turning

away from Julian.

“Wait, where—?”
“I’ll find you.”
Apparently Romeo did believe him after all, because he didn’t use

the emergency exit, his escape route, and he left the museum like any
other visitor. At least that was what Julian assumed he did. He
followed Romeo briefly but lost him when he tried to get past a group
of tourists who were in frenzy because one of them had fallen victim
to a pickpocket. It wasn’t hard to figure out that this was Romeo’s
doing, but it was hard to accept that Romeo could really get rid of him

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so easily. Maybe Julian was just out of practice. Or maybe Romeo
was just really good.

* * * *

By eleven o’clock that evening, Julian was close to calling it a

night and just going to bed. Romeo hadn’t turned up yet, and if Julian
was honest, he knew the beautiful thief wasn’t likely to turn up at all.
They hadn’t arranged where and when to meet, and yet it irked Julian.
Who did the little bastard think he was? Julian had gone to great
lengths to save his smooth, lightly tanned hide, but the ungrateful—

“Good evening.”
“Fuck!” Julian only just stopped short of jumping out of his skin,

but it was too late for the glass in his hand. He dropped it, and it fell
to the floor where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Romeo didn’t sound

remotely apologetic. If anything, he sounded amused.

“Well, that’s what happens when you sneak up on people in the

dark,” Julian replied. “You’re lucky I don’t have my firearm on me. I
could have shot you.”

“Not if dropping whatever is in your hand is your usual reaction to

being startled,” Romeo pointed out calmly and slowly crossed the
room to where Julian was standing. “Besides, I told you I’d find you,
didn’t I? So you had a warning.”

“I…” Julian started but interrupted himself. No point finishing

that sentence. Instead he asked with a good measure of acidy sarcasm,
“Does that mean you’re ready to talk or, rather, listen now?”

“Yes.”
“Lucky me.”
Romeo looked surprised at the bitter note in Julian’s voice but

didn’t comment on it. “What’ve you got?”

“Nn-nn.” Julian shook his head, overcoming his surprise and

returning to his own plan. “We play this by my rules. First I want to

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know if it’s true that you’re the one planning to break into the FBI
archives. I’m sticking my neck out for you far enough as it is. I’m not
going any further if it’s not true.”

Romeo stared at him with unconcealed skepticism, and for a

moment, Julian thought he would just leave, but then Romeo gave a
slow, hesitant nod.

“When?”
“I’m sure you understand that I can’t give you any details,”

Romeo said.

“Of course you can’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. They’ll be

waiting for you.”

“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t.”
“You don’t understand, Ro—” Julian cleared his throat and

repeated earnestly, “You don’t understand. The guards know that
you’re going to break in, and they have the order to kill you if you
don’t surrender right away.”

Romeo let out a curious half-sad, half-affectionate sound. “Oh,

Jules. You’re really worried about me, aren’t you?”

“I just—”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you so worried about me that you risk your job to warn

me?”

Good question. It was the same question Julian had begun to ask

himself a while ago. He still wasn’t sure about the answer, but what
he had come up with so far was definitely not something he cared for
Romeo to hear.

“You did the same for me, remember?” he replied instead, trying

to sound casual.

“So that’s all? You’re feeling obliged?” Romeo took a step closer.
“I just…I think getting shot at for breaking into an overrated

storage building is a bit over the top,” Julian said.

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“So you wouldn’t do all you have to do to stop a thief?” Another

smooth, catlike movement brought Romeo to within an arm’s length
of Julian and close enough for Julian to notice the glimmer in his
eyes. A glimmer that matched the heat that suddenly welled up in
Julian’s own groin.

“Well, of course I would, but…”
“But what?” Romeo flicked his tongue across his bottom lip.
“But…oh fuck. Stop that!”
Romeo grinned playfully. “Stop what?”
“You can’t just bat those blue eyes of yours every time we’re

together and expect me to…to…”

“To what, Agent Harris?” There was a new, more serious tinge

underneath the teasing.

“You’re confusing me.” Julian let out a groan as he helplessly

stared into Romeo’s eyes. “Every time you’re around me, I seem to
forget what I’m supposed to do,” he admitted.

“At least then you know how I feel.” Romeo’s voice was just as

tight as Julian’s had been.

“Huh?”
“Come on, Jules. Don’t tell me you don’t know exactly what I’m

talking about.”

“Well…uh, what are you talking about?”
A tender half smile tugged at Romeo’s lips. “The attraction

between us. The fact that we can’t seem to keep our hands off each
other, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances might be.”

“Well, you said that if circumstances were different…”
“I’d make every effort not to let you get away,” Romeo finished

for him. “Yes, I remember, and I meant what I said.” Tilting his head
to the side, he watched Julian intently. “I still mean it, you know.”

“But circumstances aren’t different. This is what it is. You’re a

felon, and I’m the guy who’s chasing you, and one of these days you
will get caught. If it’s not me who does it, then it will be those guards
in the archive.”

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“I know.” Romeo nodded. “But that’s nothing I care to think

about right now.”

“Not? What do you want to think about then?”
Covering the last few inches between them, Romeo brought his

hands up and cupped Julian’s face. “I want to think about you. I want
to think about nothing but your taste and the feel of you on me and
inside of me until you make me stop thinking altogether.”

The last threads of Julian’s resistance melted away. Romeo was

right. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. The only
difference was that, this time, they were a lot gentler with each other.

Maybe it was the fact that this was Julian’s home or that they had

all the time they wanted, at least until the night was over. Maybe it
was the knowledge that they had each taken a risk for the other. Or
maybe it was the knowledge that this could well be their last time
together.

They indulged in long, slow kisses, relearning every curve, every

nook, and every crevice of each other’s mouths before they allowed
themselves to take it further. They even made it to the bedroom fully
clothed. As with the kisses, they took the time to thoroughly
appreciate each other’s bodies.

By the time Romeo was done exploring him, Julian was shivering

with need, but he forced it back in favor of enjoying everything about
Romeo’s beautiful body that he could. Trailing the firm globes of his
ass, he remembered how he had longed to have Romeo that way the
last time and how he had wanted to take him. He’d barely been able to
hold back, knowing that, given the circumstances, it had been right
not to accept Romeo’s invitation.

This time was going to be different. Julian sank to his knees,

hands still planted on those tight buttocks, and took Romeo’s straining
cock in. Romeo made a sweet, startled sound and flexed his hips,
instantly trying to thrust in deeper. Julian let him as far as he could
take it, relieved when Romeo didn’t need to be told when to stop but
pulled back right before it was getting uncomfortable. Alternately

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swirling his tongue around the glistening pink head and taking him
deep, Julian worked Romeo until he could sense him struggle to cling
on to his self-control, and then he pulled off. Suppressing a smirk at
Romeo’s frustrated groan, he looked into his lover’s flushed face.
“Let me fuck you.”

“Oh, hell yeah. I thought you’d never ask.”
Julian knew that he was safe to say that Romeo was ready for it

when he entered him a seemingly endless time later. He had coaxed
Romeo’s muscles into total submission and massaged generous
amounts of lube into his skin until the tight channel was slick and
supple and Romeo was writhing on the bed with lustful yearning.
Romeo came within minutes. Julian couldn’t blame him. He’d lasted
astonishingly long given his worked-up state, and Julian himself was
more than happy to let go and find his release, wrapped up in his
lover’s strong arms, head buried in that sweet refuge Romeo’s neck
and shoulder created for him.

They remained just lying there for a long time. Julian kept dozing

off, and if Romeo’s slow, deep breathing was anything to go by, he
was drifting in and out of sleep, too.

It was the early hours of the morning already when Julian finally

felt Romeo stir and gently extricate his shoulder from underneath
Julian’s head. Pretending to still be asleep, Julian took the chance to
observe his actions, but there wasn’t much to observe. Or rather, it
appeared that he was being the one observed. Romeo pushed up on
his elbow and watched Julian for a while, and then he leaned down
and breathed the softest of kisses on his temple, his forehead, the tip
of his nose, and, ultimately, his lips.

“You can stop faking now. I know you’re awake,” he said at last,

an affectionate smile in his voice.

“Oh, too bad.” Julian sighed contentedly. “I thought you were

going to kiss me some more.”

Romeo’s regret sounded sincere as he said, “I’d love to, but I’ll

have to leave soon.”

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“Going back to Juliet?” Julian asked, still feeling drowsy. There

was a sharp intake of breath and then Romeo’s flat reply. “There is no
Juliet.”

“Well, maybe not Juliet, seeing as you’re—”
“I’m not with anyone if that’s what you want to know,” Romeo

explained with only a hint of impatience.

“Oh.”
“Don’t do this, Jules.”
“Do what?”
“Ask me questions I can’t give you the answers to.”
“But why not? It’s up to you what answers you give me. You can

just tell me anything you w—”

“Hush.” Leaning down, Romeo silenced him with a kiss. “Don’t

ask, ’cause I won’t tell.”

“Very funny.” Julian sat up as Romeo slipped out of the bed and

started collecting his clothes. “Wanna take a shower?”

Romeo watched him for a moment then he shook his head. “I

don’t want to tempt you.” What exactly it was that he didn’t want to
tempt Julian with, joining him in the shower or coming up with a way
to trap him after all, remained unsaid, but it was nothing that Julian
cared to dwell upon. Instead, he joined Romeo in the task of sorting
out which pieces of clothing belonged to whom, and he got dressed,
too.

“What happens now?”
“I’m going to leave.”
“What about the break-in?”
“What do you think?”
“Gonna call it off?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t.” Something in Romeo’s voice was off, but Julian

couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Of course you can. It’s your decision,” he pointed out sensibly.

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“I can’t, Jules. I have to do this.” For the first time since Julian

had met him, Romeo sounded genuinely concerned. Frightened, even.

“But why? Is it some kind of criminal’s code of honor or what?

Did you give someone a promise?”

Romeo closed his eyes briefly and turned away, frowning, but

then he sighed and looked at Julian earnestly. “I think we ought to
talk. Sit down.”

He waited until Julian had made coffee, filled two cups with the

scalding-hot, strong black liquid, and placed one in front of him.

“We’ve been played, Julian. All of this, the threat to kill you, the

necklace heist—it’s all part of this greater plan.”

“What makes you think that?”
“It makes sense. I was meant to overhear that conversation about

you being the target of a hit man. It was a way for whoever is behind
it all to find out how much you meant to me, and I promptly fell for it
and did what they’d hoped for.”

“You came to see me.”
“Exactly. That was the first confirmation they got that there was

really something going on between us.”

“But there was nothing going on between us. We didn’t even have

contact for almost a year, and what about the necklace heist? Where
does that fit in?”

“It was a setup. A way to get us together so we’d talk or, well,

intensify our…relationship in one way or another, I guess.”

“They sent you after the necklace just so we’d get in touch?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Didn’t you notice that something was off?”
Romeo made an impatient snorting sound. “Of course I didn’t

notice, or I would’ve acted differently. But that story of the little girl
and all that…it was really kind of sweet. I fell for it and didn’t bother
checking the facts. I didn’t realize that the necklace hadn’t been
reclaimed by the Egyptian government as much as handed back to
them. The old lady is, well, totally senile. She doesn’t have a clue

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what that necklace is and can’t even remember her father. How could
she, seeing as she’d only spent very little time with him almost a
lifetime ago.”

“So she wasn’t your client?”
The look Romeo gave him clearly spelled Did you have hash

cookies for breakfast? But he didn’t say it out loud. “A nice elderly
lady like her wouldn’t even have the contacts necessary to get in
touch with someone like me. It was her son—or rather, someone who
claimed to be her son. The real one hasn’t spoken to his mother in
over a decade and said he didn’t even know she had an old Egyptian
necklace.”

“Great,” Julian said, finding it anything but. “Their plan has

worked.”

“Yes. I know.”
“What’s going to happen now?”
“I’m going to do what they want. Break into the archive and get

whatever it is they’re after. I don’t even know what it is yet. They
won’t tell me until I’m actually inside.”

“Why do you do this?”
Romeo took a breath and let it out in a deep sigh. “I’m being

blackmailed, Jules. I don’t know who’s behind it, but I have to do this
break-in, or they’ll kill you.”

“Oh.” Julian spent the time he needed to digest this, stirring cream

into his second cup of coffee and drinking half of it. “I don’t
understand why they would use me to put you under pressure.”

Remaining perfectly silent, Romeo watched him for a few

moments. His blue eyes were full of turmoil, and a melancholic
expression appeared on his face when he answered. “You’re not the
only one who fell in love that night, Julian.”

Julian’s heart skipped a beat. “You…I…What makes you think

I…?”

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“You wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice your career for me if you

didn’t, and I’m not willing to save mine if it means sacrificing you. I
have to do this.”

“But it’s not just about your career for you, is it?” Julian argued

desperately as he was beginning to realize in full what Romeo was
saying. “You could wind up dead. You will wind up dead if you don’t
let yourself get arrested.”

The smile grew, amused if still a little forced, as Romeo shook his

head. “Ah, Jules. Give me a little credit. I’ve never even been
caught.”

“You have. By me. And you know that this time you will get

caught again and be locked up for good. If you make it out alive, that
is.”

At last Romeo’s smile faltered as he quietly said, “So be it.”
“I can’t stop you, can I?”
Romeo shook his head, wordlessly, determinedly.
“When?”
The smile flickered up again. “If it were done when ’tis done, then

’twere well it were done quickly.”

“Don’t you quote fucking Shakespeare to me!” Julian growled,

trying to keep the sinking feeling in his chest from dragging him
down.

“Why not? At least it’s not Romeo and Juliet.” Romeo grinned

crookedly.

“No, it’s not.” No bittersweet story of lovers facing the end in

their hope to be united forever. Instead mayhem, madness, and
murder.

With a quick glance at his watch, Romeo sighed and stood up.

“Time to go.” He looked at Julian for a long moment, solemn and
concentrating, as if trying to imprint every line of Julian’s face onto
his memory. And maybe that was what he did.

“Romeo?” Julian said, stopping him for one last time as he turned

away.

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“Yes?”
“What’s your real name?” He had been good. So good, for so

long. Had pushed the words back and gritted his teeth against them
every time they’d held each other in those forbidden, stolen moments
of passion. There had never been the time to ask. Never been time for
anything but to make the best of what little they had together, but now
their time was running out. Irretrievably, irrevocably running out and
the thought that he might never know, would never know, in fact, was
becoming unbearable for Julian. If this was over and there was
nothing else left, he wanted to at least know the name of the man he
grieved. The real name, not a nickname he himself had come up with
to identify an excellent art thief.

Romeo looked at him with a mischievous glitter in his blue eyes,

and Julian knew the answer before he heard it.

“I’ll tell you when this is over.”
“No! Please—” But the plea met empty air. Romeo had turned

away, and in no more than four elegant, long strides, he had covered
the distance to the front door and was gone.

Julian shuddered. Romeo was right. He had fallen in love that

night. Fallen with all his heart and all of his soul. He sucked in a
breath, desperate for something to make his chest expand against the
pressure that threatened to crush it, crush him and, potentially, crush
him whole.

Slowly sinking to his knees, he gave in to the tears that needed

out. He’d held them back for too long, and now the flood had become
impossible to hold back any longer. They broke the dams he’d put up
and tore down the walls he’d thought he had built strong enough to
protect him in this moment. The moment he had known all along
would eventually come. With an overwhelming sense of
apprehension, he knew that Romeo would never tell him his real
name. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he wouldn’t have
the chance to. Romeo wouldn’t end up in prison when this was over.
That was the good news. The bad news was that he’d be dead.

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Chapter 10

It was warm. It was uncomfortably crammed, too, but above all it

was just way too warm. Julian checked his watch for what must have
been the hundredth time in the last hour alone. Overall, it must have
been a lot more than a hundred times. It was past two already. He
checked the board with the little lights that showed what parts of the
high-tech security system were working. All of them were. No
surprise there. Cameras, check. Motion detectors, check. Heavily
armed security guards, check—well, they, of course, didn’t show on
the board, but he knew they were there anyway.

Just like Romeo was there. Somewhere in the huge building with

its web of confusing, seemingly endless rows of shelves holding old
and not quite so old files and carefully labeled boxes containing
evidence on closed or cold cases. Apart from that, dust, spiders, and
an army of high-tech security equipment. The FBI archives were a
safe place. Maybe not secured quite as well as the average bank, but
what they lacked in electronic gadgets they more than made up for in
fiercely determined human guards. Armed human guards.

Julian suppressed a shudder and tried to tell himself that it was

just fatigue that caused it even though he knew better. Apparently it
was going to happen tonight. Ramirez’s informer had tipped them off
on very short notice, saying that he’d only just gotten wind of it
himself but was convinced that Romeo was planning to break into the
archives that night. Choosing to believe him, Chief Baxter had sent
every available agent to the old brick warehouse that was the facade
of the far more modern, reinforced concrete building hidden inside it.

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Julian had, much to his annoyance, been assigned to stay in the

small, overheated, plastic-stench-filled surveillance and electronics
room. His task was to keep his eyes open for any signs of movement
and, if necessary, give the two-man teams of agents inside the
building directions.

Personally, Julian didn’t believe it to be likely that Romeo would

allow any of the surveillance cameras to catch him, but the position
still needed to be filled. Maybe it wasn’t all that bad, either. At least it
kept him out of the main action, if there even was any, which meant
that he wouldn’t be faced with the decision what he was supposed to
do should he be the one confronting Romeo, or worse, chasing after
him and having to stop him. The thought had been keeping him
anxious and with a knot in his stomach for days.

No, it was better like this. He wouldn’t be able to help Romeo in

any way, but at least he wouldn’t have to point a gun at him, either.
What the other agents did was a different matter and nothing Julian
had any influence on. All he could hope for was that Romeo would at
last understand the seriousness of his situation and surrender. Julian
let out a snort of bitter amusement. Romeo and surrender? He already
knew him better than that. The sound made Agent Ramirez, the only
other person in the room, look up curiously.

“Anything funny?” he asked in a whisper. There wasn’t really a

need for hushed voices, as the surveillance room was soundproofed,
but the darkness and nature of their operation had that effect even on a
well-trained agent like Ramirez.

“I just thought what an incredible waste of resources it would be if

Ro—our suspect didn’t show tonight.”

Ramirez watched him with a gleam in his eyes that made Julian’s

spine tingle in an entirely not-good way. It was as if Ramirez was
trying to assess him and looking for an answer he knew Julian wasn’t
going to give voluntarily.

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“Oh, I’m sure he will show. Or do you have reason to believe

otherwise?” The question was presented so casually in a light
conversational tone that its implication barely registered at first.

Julian kept his voice just as light and conversational as he replied,

“If I had reason to believe otherwise, I would have let you and the
chief know, Agent Ramirez. I had sufficient opportunity to voice my
concerns, after all.”

In fact, he’d had a little heart-to-heart with Chief Baxter, entirely

on her insistence, of course, during which she had asked him very
persistently what he thought was going to happen that night and
whether he believed it likely or not that Romeo would show. That he
was the one they were after, even, seeing as he specialized in the
retrieval of stolen pieces of art or jewelry, none of which were stored
in the FBI archives. Julian had felt a certain somewhat-perverted
amusement at the fact that Baxter had indeed ordered a handful of
pitiable agents to go through the inventory lists to find out if there was
anything of that kind among the evidence stored, but the search hadn’t
delivered any results.

A movement on one of the screens made Julian snap back to the

present. He’d barely noticed it and would have missed it altogether if
he’d so much as blinked at that precise moment, but as it was, he
hadn’t. Taking a closer look, he focused on the screen which was
connected to the camera that fixed its unblinking eye on an aisle at the
back of the building. Nothing. Just the same empty hallway it had
shown for the past five hours. He kept staring at it, hoping that the
picture wouldn’t change. His hope was in vain. It was barely more
than a flickering in the shadows that the dim night lights cast across
the narrow passage, but there was definitely something moving down
there. Someone, rather.

Julian could just about recognize the faint outlines of a human

body that moved in a cautious yet appealingly graceful way. Elegant
and supple, almost like a ballet dancer. Julian knew only one person
who moved like that. Before he could stop himself, his gaze flicked to

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Ramirez, who was busy fumbling with his earplug, back half-turned
to Julian. And the screens. It would be easy. Julian could just pretend
not to have noticed. Even if Romeo was detected at a later point, it
would be exactly that—later. Maybe it would give him the advantage
he needed to escape. To survive. Julian closed his eyes. Opened them
again. “He’s here.” His voice sounded dead even in his own ears.

Ramirez spun around and scowled at the monitors. “Where?”
Julian jerked his head at the screen. “Former maintenance

passage.”

Watching in silence for a moment, Ramirez sucked in a breath.

“The guy’s got balls, gotta give him that.” Julian couldn’t agree more.
When working through possible scenarios earlier, they had ditched
the option of the old maintenance passage as Romeo’s entryway
mainly on the grounds that it was, with the exception of the main
entrance, the most obvious way into the building. It had seemed above
unlikely that Romeo would even consider taking this route. And yet
there he was, approaching his target with the soundless, natural grace
of a cat. A cat on its way into a trap.

Julian pressed the button that activated the tiny microphone

clipped to his collar. “We’ve got visual contact. He’s in the old
maintenance aisle, almost at the door. Progress as planned.”

They had ditched the option but, thorough as they were, there was

a plan for it anyway. They’d use the time Romeo needed to open the
massive steel door that separated the aisle from the one leading
straight to the main storage area to close in on him from either side.
There was nowhere for him to go if he didn’t make it through that
door before any of the agents arrived from the inside. Retreating
wasn’t an option anymore, either, because three teams of two agents
each were right on his heels and would be in the maintenance corridor
any moment now.

Knowing what was going to happen, Julian averted his gaze. It

was either handcuffs and a long, long time in prison or…

“Everything all right?” Ramirez sounded genuinely concerned.

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“Yes. Of course. Seems we’ve got him at last. There’s no way out

for him now.”

“Right. Let’s go join the party.”
“Shouldn’t we stay here? Hold the position?”
Ramirez gave a short, barking chuckle. “What for? They’re about

to take him out. Frankly, I can’t wait to get a look at the guy who’s
been playing us for fools all this time and then walks into this trap
like a fucking toddler. Seriously, I—what the fuck…?”

Frozen to the spot, Ramirez stared at the row of screens, a dark,

angry flush spreading across his face. The cameras on either side of
the door showed teams of agents, but the slender, black-clad figure
they had seen mere seconds ago had vanished. “Where the fuck did he
go?”

“I have no idea,” Julian said truthfully, hoping that his relief

wasn’t too transparent.

They remained in the surveillance room, trying to keep track of

what was going on as outside, chaos broke loose. The agents on either
side had recovered from their surprise at finding only each other when
someone finally pried the door open. They were understandably
frantic to find the intruder. One didn’t just lose a quarry one had
closed in and within arm’s reach.

As it turned out, they hadn’t lost him. Just…misplaced. The

intruder had made his exit via a ventilation shaft, a maneuver so much
of a cliché that no one had even taken it into consideration, especially
since no one had believed it possible for him to reach said ventilation
shaft. At a height of well over eight feet above ground, it had seemed
inaccessible for anyone who didn’t happen to carry a ladder around
with him. And yet, somehow Romeo had reached it, and the overall
confusion had bought him enough time to get to the main part of the
archives and spend at least a few minutes inside them before someone
bothered to send a team back there to check.

It wasn’t one of the most glorious FBI operations ever, and there

was likely to be some sort of aftermath to it, but the imminent result

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was even more chaos and confusion as two teams chased after the
intruder while the others frantically tried to identify and block all
possible exit routes. All the time, Julian was safely tucked away in the
surveillance room under the increasingly irritated supervision of
Agent Ramirez. Maybe it was best this way. There was nothing he
could do to help anyone. Not his own team and certainly not Romeo.

* * * *

“Gentlemen.” Chief Baxter gave them each a curt nod as she

waltzed into the stifling warm surveillance room. “I think it is safe to
say that this was the worst cock-up I’ve ever seen.”

Neither Julian nor Ramirez had anything to say to that, so they

both nodded mutely. Baxter watched them austerely for a moment and
let out a sigh.

“At least we should be able to close this case quickly—along with

your other case, Special Agent Harris.”

“Chief?” Julian stared at his boss, struggling to keep the emotions

from showing on his face while his mind went blank. Numb. It wasn’t
what he had expected. Maybe it was a good thing.

“The Romeo heists. It’s over. The case is closed.”
“What do you mean the case is closed?” Julian made himself ask,

hearing his voice come from a long distance.

“Well, I think you’ll agree that the person who took a stroll in

here tonight was none other than your main suspect in the Romeo
case. Your only suspect, in fact. We have reason enough to match him
to the heists, and unless there are any other burglaries that we have to
attribute to him in the months to come, I consider this matter to be
over.”

“But we have no positive ID on either tonight’s intruder or

Romeo. I’m the only one who’s ever seen him, and I did not
recognize him on screen,” Julian protested.

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“Agent Harris. If you compare notes with Agent Ramirez, I’m

sure you will find convincing facts that the intruder and your Romeo
are the same person.”

“With all due respect, Chief, that still doesn’t explain why you

want me to close the Romeo case.”

Baxter took a breath. The thin line of her lips softened a fraction.

“I want you to close it because the suspect in that case—your
nemesis, Romeo—is dead.”

Julian had expected it and tried to prepare himself to hear the

words, but they still hit him with the merciless, annihilating force of
an atomic explosion.

“Are you…” Julian had to force the words through a throat that

felt as though it was lined with parchment. Old, faded, and frail. It
was likely to crumble from the strain. “Are you sure?”

She gave a tight nod. Of course she was sure, or she wouldn’t

have said it. “I saw it myself. He took a bullet and fell.”

“Where is the…body?” Julian’s voice died on the last word.
“We haven’t found it yet.”
“Then maybe…” The spark of hope flickered briefly, but Chief

Baxter extinguished it with a shake of her head.

“Agent Harris,” she said. “He took two bullets, at least one square

into the chest. I’m not sure where exactly the second shot hit him, but
it doesn’t matter. The first was enough to take him out. Then he fell
off the roof. Thirty-five feet into water that’s just above freezing
temperature. Even if the bullets didn’t kill him, falling into water from
that height is like hitting a wall of concrete. You don’t survive that
unless you’re an experienced diver, and certainly not when you’re
free-falling after being shot at. And then there’s still the matter of the
water temperature. If he was still alive, then the cold alone would
have killed him within four minutes.” Julian’s face must have given
his feelings away. Her eyes softened even more, and there was a
gleam in them that probably no one in the entire FBI had ever seen in
them before.

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“I’m sorry, Agent Harris. Julian.” It was the utmost display of

compassion and the closest to a condolence he was going to get, as
well as the only admittance she would—could—ever allow herself to
make that she knew what her agent had been up to. Julian tried to be
grateful for it, but feelings like gratefulness were something he didn’t
find in him to feel anymore. Maybe never would be able to again.

Romeo was dead. He tried not to picture which one of the

scenarios Baxter had just presented him with had ultimately been the
fatal one. He could only hope it wasn’t the last. Drowning, or worse,
freezing to death in ice-cold, black water, alone and maybe—
certainly—seriously wounded. Had Romeo known he was dying? Had
he met the end consciously? Had he…Julian struggled to stop that
train of thoughts from pulling him along. It was only going to drag
him under. He shuddered. Underwater.

“Chief.” Ramirez’s voice broke through the mist of Julian’s mind.

“There is a surveillance camera on top of the building, and I’ve just
checked the recordings…We’ve got it all, and it’s definitely good
enough to ID him. Agent Harris, you know what this Romeo guy
looks like, right?”

“Yes.” The syllable sounded hollow and surreal against the

background noise of the electronic whirring that almost drowned it
out entirely. Yes, I know exactly what he looks like. I could draw his
face blindfolded. It’s imprinted on my memory and always will be.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to watch it and identify him,

Agent Harris,” Baxter said softly. “But if you’d rather wait until
tomor—”

“No, it’s okay. Let’s get this over with so we can all go home and

catch some sleep,” Julian cut across her. It said a lot about her that she
let it pass, just as it said a lot about Agent Ramirez that he was once
again very busily readjusting his earplug.

By the time Julian finished watching the gruesome scene the

camera had observed, there was no doubt that the intruder had indeed
been Romeo and that he couldn’t have possibly survived. The

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moment the bullet hit him squarely in the chest and his whole body
was yanked backward in a twisted motion by the impact before he
toppled off the rooftop kept replaying on Julian’s mind’s eye in a
cruel, tormenting but unstoppable loop while he went through the
formalities of identifying Romeo.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Chief,” he said stiffly after he’d

finished and turned to leave.

“Harris,” she called after him, her tone still a notch softer than

usual but already back on the way to business. “Take the rest of the
week off.”

“Chief, I…”
“I mean it. Go visit your family. I don’t want you in the office. If

you turn up, I’ll have you evicted and banned from the building. Got
that?”

“Yes, Chief,” Julian answered pointedly and left the overheated

little room.

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Chapter 11

Julian had the graveyard shift. No, actually he didn’t. This was

worse than the graveyard shift, but it didn’t really matter. He’d
volunteered. At least that way the other members of his team got to
spend an extra holiday with their families, which was only fair after
the disaster he’d made of it the year before. Christmas Eve. Again. He
sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall across from his desk. Only
one more hour to go anyway.

He flicked a quick glance to Chief Baxter’s office. The door was

firmly closed, just as it had been for the past hour or so, ever since his
boss’s boss had arrived in the company of another big shot Julian had
only seen the back of. It was an elegant back, dressed in an insanely
expensive suit that was well above Julian’s income level. The two of
them had strode past the silent guard of deserted desks that lined the
aisle to the chief’s office and entered, and a second later the blinds
had come down to cover the glass walls of the fish tank.

Julian would have loved to know what that was about. A visit

from the big boss? On Christmas Eve? Whatever the reason, nothing
good could come of it. With any luck, Julian would be out of the
office by the time the fish tank was opened again. Although maybe
the real luck would be if he was made to stay in order to work on
some big international crisis that had just occurred. At least that
would keep him busy. Hopefully until well past the dreadful holidays.
Ideally, well past the whole dreadful rest of the year. Make that the
rest of the year to come as well.

Chief Baxter had kindly told him to take a few days leave—

again—but he’d declined with a shudder. Again. Bad enough that he

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was going to have to pass the days until the New Year somehow. A
whole week during which his division was closed. No one thought it
likely that a major art-related crime would be committed in that week.
Why not? Did art thieves have a union which kept them from working
during the festive season? No one cared that he could barely stand to
spend the time between shifts at home, not to mention being alone
with himself for hours, even days on end. There was no way he could
stand that. And least of all he could stand being in his own home
where everything reminded him of—no, the solution was to simply
keep busy. Keep himself too occupied to even think about—Work. He
had to think about work.

Determined, he picked up another file from the small stack on the

side of his desk. Potential case files. There were only a few of them
these days but still enough for him to not get bored. He stared at the
file in front of him without taking anything in. Something to do with
an art theft, that much was clear. The details, well, they didn’t really
matter, did they? Most of the items that changed hands in the art
world only meant something to a very limited number of people
anyway. If someone was willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money
to acquire something, legally or illegally, they were welcome to do so
in Julian’s opinion. Had he lost his grit? Maybe. Probably. But the
dark side of the art world had lost its appeal to him ever since a dark-
clad figure had tumbled off a roof and disappeared into the darkness
beyond.

“Special Agent Harris? Can I see you for a moment?” Chief

Baxter’s crisp voice dragged him out of the black, bottomless river he
couldn’t help imagining whenever he thought about the end Romeo
had met. The back of his neck prickled. Maybe something had come
up after all. Something that would require him to stay and work,
work, work. He would happily move into the office, although he
suspected that that would be taking it too far, even in Chief Baxter’s
stony-gray eyes.

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“Chief?” Julian left the door open behind him. There was no one

else in the other offices anymore. The entire floor was empty.
“Director Jones,” he added with a respectful inclination of his head.

Jones studied him briefly then dismissed him and looked at

Baxter. “That’s him?”

She nodded. “Special Agent Julian Harris, head of the Division

for Art-Related Crimes.”

Jones’s granite gaze fell on Julian once more. “I heard you were

successful at last in that big art theft case you got.” Listening, Julian
swallowed tightly. Yes, he had been successful. If you could consider
the death of your one and only suspect a success.

“Good. I appreciate it when my agents are successful. I also

appreciate it when success comes with a minimum of expenses. Both
in finances and time. In other words, Special Agent Harris, I expect
you to solve your cases a bit faster from now on.”

Anger sparked up in Julian, but he wrestled it down. “Sir. I’m

doing my best.” It sounded lame, like an excuse, and maybe it was.
He had done his best, but he hadn’t been the best. The best had
been—don’t go there now, he reminded himself firmly.

Jones watched him, unruffled. “I’m certain of that, and to help

you make your ‘best’ a little more effective, I have taken the liberty of
adding a new member to your team.”

Julian felt the ground under his feet quiver. Flaring up again, his

anger created a nice steady heat in the pit of his stomach. A new team
member? On the last fucking working day of the year? To make his
work more effective? Why didn’t they just sack him? That would be a
lot easier and far more honest than introducing the guy who was most
certainly going to replace him within a few weeks’ time as just a new
team member.

Ignorant of Julian’s growing rage, Jones plowed on. “The choice,

as well as the time of year to start, might seem somewhat unusual, but
we—that is Chief Baxter and I—thought that you wouldn’t mind
using the time until the next year to prep your new guy for the job so

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he doesn’t have to start off with the whole team on his first official
working day.”

“Of course, sir,” Julian said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

So what if they added disrespect to his faults? They were going to
sack him anyway. Good manners weren’t going to change that.

Chief Baxter stood up, casually brushing the arm of the guy in the

expensive suit as she passed him. If anyone in the room ought to
reconsider his manners, it was costly suit-guy anyway. Ignoring the
conversation, and thus basically the prelude to his own introduction to
his new boss, he was staring out of the window, his back turned on
the others in the room. The cheek of him. Julian swallowed again.
This wasn’t the time or the place. Maybe he could use the prepping
time to teach the man some of the manners that were valued in federal
service, seeing as he was quite obviously not familiar with those. He
wasn’t a federal agent anyway. That much was clear by now. The suit
alone was giving him away.

“Agent Harris, I’d like you to welcome the latest addition to your

team. Your new consultant, Mr. Paris Moore.”

“Mr. Moore, nice to…”
The words died in Julian’s throat as Moore turned around and

looked at him with blue eyes that sparkled with barely concealed
mischief. He stuck out his hand. “Agent Harris, it’s a pleasure to meet
you. I’m Paris Moore.” He pronounced it Pah-reese, and Julian
fleetingly remembered that it was a Greek male name originally. He
also remembered the flawless pronunciation of a Greek name on
another occasion. Aware of both Chief Baxter and the big boss
watching, Julian tried to cover up the emotions that crashed over him
like a wave. He grabbed the hand of the man in front of him and
shook it vigorously. If he was clinging on to it too tightly, which he
doubtlessly was, the man hid it well.

“I believe that would be all then,” Baxter said calmly, dismissing

Julian—and his new consultant.

A Thief on Christmas Eve

113

 

* * * *

“Paris Moore?” Julian asked pointedly as they were alone at last

in the elevator on the way to the exit.

“Uh-huh.” The blue eyes glittered cheerfully and with only a hint

of the usual mischief.

“Moore?”
“Yep. Anything wrong with it?”
Julian tried hard to keep the huge grin that wanted out within

halfway-decent limits. “Let’s just say I recognize an anagram when it
slaps me in the face.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent Harris.”
“Of course you haven’t.” Julian smiled. A tiny part of him was

disappointed, but what did it matter? “It’s not your real name though,
is it?”

“Sorry, still no idea what—”
Julian silenced the rest of whatever feeble excuse there was to

come with a long, long kiss.

“You promised to tell me when it’s over,” he said huskily as he

pulled out of the kiss, still holding on to his newly acquired
consultant, and reacquired lover, firmly.

“Right.” The mischief was back on full blast. “I promised to tell

you when it’s over. It’s not over, Jules. We’re only just getting
started.”

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Epilogue

“Chief Baxter? This is Julian Harris.”
“Agent Harris? Oh, this is a surprise. I expected you to be quite

busy.” Julian could easily picture the frown on her face as she was
trying to assess the situation and whether or not her interference
would be required. “I hope everything’s, uh, all right.”

“Yes, it is, Chief, and I’m very sorry to disturb you, but…you

know who he is, right?”

For a few moments her carefully controlled breathing was all he

could hear. “Am I correct in assuming that he would be Mr. Moore?”
Her voice was crisp and clear as a spring morning.

“Yes.” Raising his head, Julian listened for any giveaway sounds

and carefully looked around, but Romeo—Paris—was still fast asleep,
his lithe, graceful body stretched out like a happy cat between the
sheets. “You do know who he is, don’t you?” he inquired more
urgently.

“Is this a real question or a rhetorical one?” Chief Baxter asked

warily.

“Either, I guess,” Julian replied.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. So long that

Julian was beginning to wonder if the chief had fainted or maybe had
simply hung up on him, but at last she sucked in an audible breath. “I
am aware of Mr. Moore’s professional background, and although he
may admittedly be a somewhat unorthodox choice, I am confident
that his…skills will make him a valuable member of your team,
Special Agent Harris.” Okay. So no bad surprises there.

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“Fair enough. But…” He cast another quick glance at his lover.

Still lost to the world. “Do you know his name? The real one?”

There was another thoughtful pause. “Enjoy your holidays,

Julian.”

This time, he heard the click before the long silence followed. He

stood staring into space for a while, wondering not for the first time in
the past days how Romeo had come to work for the FBI. So far Julian
had assumed that somehow Romeo had managed to deceive them all,
but learning that the powers that be in fact knew who he was, even
knew who he really was, cast a different light on the matter and raised
a whole string of new questions. Questions he wasn’t sure he wanted
to hear the answers to.

Julian’s thoughts were brought to an abrupt end when strong arms

snaked around his hips, and he was pulled back against a solid body.
His mug fell to the floor where it shattered with an enormous amount
of noise, and yes, he would have jumped in fright if he could have
moved that much. As it was, he found himself in a hold that, although
not uncomfortable in its firmness, gave him reason to believe that
breaking out of it might be a lot harder than he thought.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” a soft voice whispered into his ear.

“Up so early? It was my turn to make coffee.”

“I know.” Julian swallowed. “I just, uh, couldn’t sleep.”
“You worry too much,” Romeo said tenderly and spun Julian

around in his arms. Lifting his hand, he brushed a strand of hair back
from Julian’s forehead in a carelessly intimate, affectionate gesture.
“All that thinking.” He pressed a gentle kiss on Julian’s dazed mouth.

“Well, getting some answers might help with that.” Julian huffed

irritably, gathering the fragments of his pride that had shattered on the
floor along with the mug around him.

Romeo leaned back a little to look at him. “Does knowing my

name really mean so much to you?”

“Shit. You were awake all along, weren’t you?”

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“Oh, Jules.” Romeo chuckled. “You are the cutest thing ever.

How about I fetch you a fresh cup of coffee and we sit down and
talk?”

That sounded promising. Julian’s heart took a little leap of hope.

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me who you are at last?” he
asked, keeping his voice gruff so it wouldn’t give his excitement
away too easily. Already on the way to the kitchen, bare feet not
making the faintest of sounds on the tiled floor, Romeo turned back to
him. “Oh, Jules, but you know who I am.”

“Huh?”
“I’m Paris Moore, consultant to the FBI’s Division for Art-

Related Crimes.”

Julian sighed. He knew that particular tone of voice and had

learned that the pleasant facade hid a steel wall of determination. He
would never get the answer to that question until Romeo chose to give
it.

“What if I don’t like that name?” he asked anyway.
Romeo smiled his easy, disarming smile. “Well, you can always

just call me Romeo.”

THE END

WWW.SAGE-MARLOWE.COM

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’ve been dreaming about writing a book for, well, ever. But as it

is so often with dreams, reality got in the way, in the shape of a mind-
numbing day job and an enormous lack of inspiration.

Then—rather unexpectedly, I admit—a very generous muse made

an appearance in my life, hand in hand with an incredibly persistent
character’s appearance in my head. They just wouldn’t be ignored,
and although it came as a bit of a surprise that said character was gay,
it explains a lot.

From that night on, writing took on a dynamic of its own. I’ve

become the willing slave to all those fascinating characters who want
their stories told and keep turning up sometimes faster than I can take
notes. This has resulted in several manuscripts at various stages of
completion, so I’m always working on clearing some much-needed
head space and giving all the gorgeous guys who live in there the
happy ever afters they deserve.

My characters often have a dramatic, sometimes even traumatic,

past and have to overcome some mostly internal conflicts to be with
the one they love. The fact that they tend to get quite a bit of naughty
action along the way is, well, a very nice side effect.

For all titles by Sage Marlowe, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/sage-marlowe

 

 

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com