The Taming of the Thief (30 page)

 
   
 
And
so it went. Every answer earned a new question, a deeper investigation of her
work and Sophie met each one head on. She didn't know where the confidence came
from, but after everything with Callum, the committee didn't terrify her.

Five
weeks later…

 
   
“I
t's
official, she completed her degree.” Max sprawled on a floral sofa, one ankle
resting carelessly on his knee. Pietr had woken to find him in the villa,
helping himself to the wine and making himself at home. He ignored his cousin
and poured himself coffee. It was just after three in the afternoon and he
wasn't quite ready to begin today's drunken festivities, at least not until he
got rid of Max.

 
   
 
“What
do you want Max?” He fought the surge of pride at the news. He'd worked hard on
keeping his nose out of her business, not tracing her activities or monitoring
the security reports of the team he'd left in place.

 
   
 
Jacques would call him if he needed to act.

 
   
 
“I
want to know why you've locked yourself up in this corner of Verona. The
wedding is ten weeks away and Anya is getting antsy that my best man has gone
missing.”

 
   
 
“Ten
weeks is not today. I'll be there when I'm supposed to.” He'd been ducking his
future cousin-in-law's phone calls as well. It was bad enough that the two were
drunk with happiness on each
other,
he didn't need to
rub his face in it.

 
   
 
“Pietr, call her.” Max set aside the wine
glass and leaned forward.

 
   
 
“Not
managing to keep Anya satisfied, Max? I think that should be your phone call,
not mine.”

 
   
 
“You
know exactly who I am talking about.”

 
   
 
“I've
caused her enough problems.”

 
   
 
“You
know, I never pegged you for a coward.”

 
   
 
“It
is not cowardice to admit one is
not welcome nor
desired.” He refused to rise to the bait.

 
   
 
“How
the hell do you know if you're not welcome? She called your hotel the morning
after you boarded the flight for Argentina. She called Sauvage Industries one
afternoon later. She's left a dozen messages with my secretary.”

 
   
 
“Did
you talk to her?” He couldn't help the question. He'd caused Sophie enough
grief. The raw wound in her eyes when he'd found her looking at the file, the
blind panic in her face in the museum vault and the wicked stillness that
robbed color from her cheeks when she collapsed haunted him.

 
   
 
“No.”
Max said slowly. “I wasn't going to get her hopes up if you were still playing
the idiot. A role, I must say, you are ill-suited for.”

 
   
 
Pietr
turned, hiding his disappointment with another swallow of coffee. He left Max
on the sofa to step out onto the wide veranda. Below, the vineyards lay spread
out in circular formation away from the hill occupied by the house. At just
under fifty acres, it was a very small property, but well tended and loved by
an extended family that kept homes at the edges of the property line.

 
   
 
“You
can't hide here forever.” Max dogged his steps, following him to the balustrade
and looking down at the grapes shining under the Italian sun.

 
   
 
“I'm
not hiding.” Pietr replied automatically. “I consider it a strategic retreat
while we wait for word on the Buddha – unless your fiancé has finally seen
sense and is giving up on this fantasy quest.”

 
   
 
“Not hardly
.” Wry affection softened Max’s tone as it always
did when Anya was mentioned. The man was well and truly gone about his fiancé.
“But she doesn't want you to look for it anymore.”

 
   
 
Pietr
frowned, jerking his gaze away from the vineyard to stare at his cousin. He
wasn't sure what the game was now, but something had shifted in his tone.

 
   
 
Max
held up his hands. “Don't shoot the messenger. She's talked to Walter about it
and he's agreed.”

 
   
 
“To what?”
Annoyance flashed through him. His shoulder still
ached despite regular therapeutic swims and careful lifting. He'd lost some
range of motion, not enough to really slow him down, but more than enough to
make him consider his choices.

 
   
 
“To keep you out of the information loop.”
The easy sympathy
in Max's smile should have warned him.

 
   
 
“You've had news on it.”

 
   
 
“Oh, not me.
Walter has a lead.” Max leaned against the
balustrade, gaze studying the landscape.

 
   
 
“And?”

 
   
 
“And what?”
Too innocent.

 
   
 
“Maxwell, you are a terrible liar. What
information did Walter obtain?”

 
   
 
“Well
it seems your little Doctor…”

 
   
 
“…Sophie?” Alarm rang through Pietr. “What
about her?”

 
   
 
“Hmm,
maybe I shouldn't. You seem pretty intent on ignoring her and this isn't the
kind of thing you can ignore.” Max hedged and Pietr clenched his fist, setting
down the coffee cup before he shattered it.

 
   
 
“What.
About.
Sophie.”

 
   
 
“Maybe you should call her. Let her tell you.”

 
   
 
Pietr
took a step towards him and Max turned to face him fully. A quiet anger
scratched at the inside of Pietr's skin. Sophie had been safe when he left.
Safe and recovering.
Callum locked up.
The
Buddha gone.
There was no need for anyone to go after her, talk to her
or in anyway involve her in the Buddha again.

 
   
 
Max whistled, low and slow.
“You know, I think I finally
understand that doom and gloom you were complaining about in Majorca last year.
You've fallen for her, haven't you?”

 
   
 
“Stop
changing the subject. What did Walter do and what does it have to do with
Sophie? I didn't leave her so your fiancé and her idiot friends could get her
mixed back up in this.”

 
   
 
“So
why did you leave her?” Max straightened, his shoulders pushing back and
challenge etched into every facial muscle.

 
   
 
“It's
none of your damn business.” Pietr jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled
out his phone. He dialed Sophie's number and listened to it ring.

 
   
 
“The
number you have reached is no longer in service…” Pietr frowned at the message.
He punched in a number for the museum, ignoring the knowing look on Max's face.
When he entered Sophie's extension, a message told him the extension was no
longer assigned.

 
   
 
A
fist slammed inside his chest. Pietr's gaze jerked to Max as he hung up the
phone.

 
   
 
“Where is she, Max?”

 
   
 
“Are
you sure you want to know?”

 
   
 
“I
hope the accommodations are
satisfactory,” Walter Curry was a study in contradictions. Tall, tan and
vaguely Native American, his hair was so blonde it seemed white and tethered in
a single ponytail by a leather thong. When he'd assured her someone would fetch
her from Heathrow, she hadn't expected a personal escort or his taking the time
to show her around the research facility she would be running.

 
   
 
“It's
wildly impressive.” Sophie didn't have to manufacture the compliment. Her
office was easily four times the size of her old one and boasted a wide
veranda, French doors and an antique oak desk that seemed as sturdy as it was
elegant.

 
   
 
“Well, I promised you I would make this year
worth your while and I intend to do just that, Doctor Kingston.” She was never
going to get used to the appellation actually meaning something now. “The IAAR
has taken a real interest in your work, your research and your ethics. I think
you're going to be a great fit here.”

 
   
 
Sophie blushed and rubbed a hand against her
side. She'd had an uncomfortable flight despite the first class accommodations.
Hunger nibbled at her backbone, but the last six weeks had left her stomach in
something of a twist where food was concerned. She was never certain what would
be acceptable and what wasn't.

 
   
 
The
salmon on the flight had smelled sumptuous, but her stomach revolted at the
thought so she'd contented herself with the salad and the rice. Not even hot
chocolate soothed her fickle digestion. She could only hope that settling in
here and a careful bland diet would repair the damage her nerves had done.

 
   
 
Sophie smiled. “I'm still only committed to
that year, Mr. Curry…”

 
   
 
“…Walter.”

 
   
 
“Walter.
I needed a change and I think this is a good one, but I'm still not so sure
about living so far away from my family. My parents weren't pleased.”

 
   
 
“Parents typically don't like it when their
young leave the nest, but you needed a change.” The last wasn't a question.
Sophie's parents had been smothering her. The day she told them the package
arrived in her apartment, they'd begun insisting that she move back home. She
hadn't been able to turn around without tripping over her father, her brother
or one of their friends. When she'd spotted Jacques at the park on the day of
her dissertation it had been the last straw.

 
   
 
Leaving New York meant leaving friends, family
and loved ones, but it also allowed her a respite from bad dreams and a
hauntingly beautiful face that wouldn't leave her, even if he wouldn't call her
back.

 
   
 
“Is
it all right if I get started today?” Sophie glanced around the office. She'd
slept on the plane, not as much as she would have liked, but she needed to
acclimate to a new time zone regardless. All she had to look forward to outside
of the office was a hotel room and flat shopping, neither of which interested
her at the moment.

 
   
 
“Absolutely.
I thought we'd start off slow, let you get used
to the system. You'll have a chance to meet the rest of the staff on Monday.”
Arriving on Friday hadn't been in the original plans, but Walter accommodated
her need to move up the trip. “I've handpicked about a dozen items for your
initial study. Six have been recovered. Six are still in play. I thought you
could familiarize yourself with our methods, previous research and apply it
forward.”

 
   
 
“Thank you. I do appreciate the job.”

 
   
 
“No
need to thank me, Doctor Kingston…”

 
   
 
“…Sophie.”