She shrugged. “A sporting goods store, probably.”
“Can’t be too many of those on this island. Think it’s worth tracking down?”
“Our particular talents are probably better used elsewhere. Why don’t I mention it to Detective D’Abeau? He’s got plenty of manpower to check it out, and he’d love to hear from me again,” she said lightly.
A black look flitted across Jeff’s gaze, but to his credit, he made no comment.
Feeling a little guilty for the poke, she said quickly, “What are the odds that we can guess where the Ghost will strike next? I’m not fond of always being one step behind the guy like this. I’d rather be waiting for him at his next hit.”
Jeff opened his mouth to reply, but a knock on the hallway door startled them just then, and he was out of the room before she could blink. She leaped out of bed and threw on pants, grabbing a pistol and sliding toward her bedroom door on bare feet.
“You can come out,” Jeff called. “The hotel had some faxes to deliver.”
She didn’t question the fact that he knew to tell her to stand down. He’d assumed she would cover his back, and he’d assumed correctly. She stowed the pistol in the holster sewn in the back waistband of her slacks and stepped out into the sunny living room. “Who’re the faxes from?”
“Lloyd’s of London sent you a pile of stuff. And there’s one here from Viper-unless you know anyone else who signs their notes, V.”
She scanned Viper’s fax quickly. “The supercomputer came up with a catalog called ‘Undiscovered Masterpieces of the Great Artists,’ published last year. All the paintings stolen so far have been in it.”
Jeff gaped. “No kidding?”
She passed him the paper. “Vanessa says she’s contacted someone who’s going to send a copy of the catalog to her. She’ll scan it and send us the file as soon as she gets it.”
He nodded slowly. “The Ghost’s employer isn’t an art connoisseur if he’s using a catalog to identify what constitutes great art. Which means any rich bastard in the world could be our guy. I was really hoping a sophisticated trend would emerge in the collector’s taste. It would narrow the suspect list considerably.”
His logic sounded on target. Which meant they couldn’t go through the Ghost’s client to get at the thief. They’d have to catch the guy directly.
Jeff was flipping through the second sheaf of papers, the ones from Lloyd’s. “If we can get a hold of that catalog, we can check it against this list of insured art on the island and see if any more of the paintings in it are here in Barbados. Your friend Michael didn’t only send us Lloyd’s list of insured art, here. It looks like his buddies at Lloyd’s called all the other major insurers of art worldwide and compiled their lists of insured pieces in Barbados, too.”
“Gotta love that British efficiency.”
He grinned. “Yeah. And friends in high places.”
“Amen. So. With that list in hand, do you think we can predict the next piece the Ghost might go after?”
“It’s worth a shot.”
Kat’s PDA beeped distinctively on her nightstand. “That’s the incoming e-mail signal. Maybe that’s the catalog now.” She dashed into the bedroom to check. “Yup, it’s the file.” Jeff hurried after her, and they huddled over the handheld device as the pages of the catalog scrolled across its tiny screen.
She was not paying attention to the fact that she and Jeff were sitting on the side of the same bed. She was not imagining falling backward across it, their limbs tangled in naked abandon while they made passionate love with each other. She hardly saw the paintings go scrolling by, so vividly aware was she of Jeff only inches away from her, smelling like expensive shampoo and subtle aftershave. He smelled good enough to eat. She probably smelled like the sour sweat of last night’s exertions, and her hair was no doubt sticking up all over her head like broom straw.
She mumbled, “Mind if I jump in the shower while you compare this catalog to the list of pieces here on the island?”
Such was Jeff’s concentration on the incoming file that he barely acknowledged her as she slipped out of the room. Or maybe he was just covering up being as flustered as she was. She hoped the latter was the case.
When she stepped out of the bathroom a half hour later, wearing form-fitting white yoga pants and a matching tank top, lotioned, powdered, perfumed and primped within an inch of her life, Jeff looked up from the papers…and stopped cold.
“Wow. You look fantastic.”
She smiled even as she mentally shook her head at her absurdly pleased reaction to the compliment. She had to admit, having him around did wonders for her ego. “Any matches?”
“Yes. Several. What say for our third date we stake out a ghost? I’ll even throw in a picnic.”
Another date. Complete with the close quarters and adrenaline rush of a stakeout? And food, no less? How could a girl say no to that? Her mouth curved up into a smile. “I had no idea that running a Special Ops mission could be so civilized. We Medusas have obviously been doing it all wrong.”
“Obviously.” His dimples flashed and her knees went weak on cue. “Stick with me, babe. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“Or maybe I’ll show you how it’s done, big guy.”
His dancing gaze met hers. “We haven’t even begun to have fun yet, darlin’.”
Chapter 9
From the catalog, Jeff picked out the likeliest painting of the three that were still left to steal here in Barbados, and he and Kat obtained grudging permission from Detective D’Abeau to stake it out. But after Kat had advanced a plausible “theory” of how the Ghost had gained entrance to the Valliard estate, the cop had owed her one. Not to mention that she’d flirted with him some more. The memory of her casting come-hither looks at that cop continued to set Jeff’s teeth on edge. It might be just business, but he still didn’t like it.
Kat’s buddy in London had sent them the house layouts and security plans of the likely target, along with a note that of the three properties they’d identified as being probable targets, this one had the least extensive security system. If the Ghost was going to strike again, Jeff was betting they’d pegged his next mark correctly.
He and Kat spent all afternoon poring over the house plans and wiring diagrams, planning how they’d rob the place if they were the Ghost. Anticipation at the idea of nabbing the bastard made Jeff edgy. His tension had nothing to do with the mesmerizing woman leaning over the drawings across from him, giving him tantalizingly incomplete glimpses down her shirt of small but perfect breasts that his hands itched to touch and his mouth itched to taste. He was a cad to look, but his gaze broke completely out of his control every time she leaned across the table just so.
This mansion, a sprawling one-story affair unoriginally called Shangri-La, had copious security measures inside the house as well as out. Kat suggested several outrageous methods of bypassing the system…things even an acrobat of her caliber would surely not be able to pull off.
But when he challenged her on it, she casually claimed she could do everything she was suggesting. And somehow, he believed her. He’d about passed out when she took off down that railing last night. She’d looked like a circus performer running along a tightrope. He’d never met another operator who could do some of the things she could. And damn if his imagination didn’t keep straying to adventurous things he’d love to try with her in bed that took advantage of her athleticism and flexibility.
After hours of brainstorming together, they arrived at the conclusion that the Ghost would have to disable the entire security system, or simply set it off and move in fast to make the hit and leave before the police arrived. And, frankly, if there was a way to turn off the security system and not have the police know about it instantly, the two of them couldn’t find it.