The Taming of the Thief (23 page)

 
   
“I don't have
The
Fortunate Buddha
.”
Sophie cradled her hot chocolate, sipping it. He could hear the virtual wheels
churning in her mind as she processed the data.

 
   
“Personally.
Non
. You do not.
Professionally, I think it's a different story.” From the moment she'd shown
him the empty displays for the one hundred Buddhas around the world, he'd
understood exactly how
The Fortunate
Buddha
arrived in New York, how it had slipped through customs and how a
thief might retrieve it. He had his suspicions about the rest.

 
   
“You think the thief used the museum to get
it across national boundaries, because our collections are often certified and
cleared through customs without a hand-to-eye search.”

 
   
Pietr smiled, pride filling his chest. He
loved her mind.

 
   
“
Oui.
I think that
is the root of all these issues. I think your research upset the thief.”

 
   
Sophie frowned, setting her mug on the
coffee table and leaning forward, elbows on her knees.
“And
your angle?
You've already said my research alerted you. Are you the
thief using museum back channels to move your stolen goods?”

 
   
“
Non
.” Pietr wanted to laugh, but Sophie's whiskey colored
eyes reflected no humor. “Walter Curry works for the IAAR, he planned to come
to New York to vet you himself, but he was detained on other business. Anya
intended to come, but Max wants her focused on the wedding and not this hunt
for the Buddha. He's worried that she'll get hurt, particularly because it's
become something of an obsession.”

 
   
“So you're here for Max.”

 
   
And just like that, she sliced through to
the heart of the matter. Pietr inclined his head soberly.
“
Oui.
Max asked me to meet you, learn whether or not you knew anything
about the Buddha and weed through the details.”

 
   
“That night in my
apartment?”
Her gaze narrowed. He could see the longing swimming behind
the suspicion in her eyes. She wanted to believe him, but she wasn't quite
there yet.

 
   
“When I told you I had waited at the museum
and then your apartment building for several
hours, that
was true. I planned to bump into you and make your acquaintance. I planned to
introduce myself, charm you and find out what you knew.”

 
   
Hurt crashed down on her face and he hated
himself for being the cause of it. Pietr put his own coffee cup aside and
reached across the distance separating them to seize her hands. They were icy
and unresponsive, but he gripped them, holding her gaze with his own.

 
   
“I said that's what I planned to do. When
you didn't make an appearance at the museum and I never saw you come home, I
grew concerned. If we had been tipped to your interest in the Buddha, perhaps
someone else had been as well. I broke into your apartment to make sure you
were okay.”

 
   
“And the file?”

 
   
The damned file.
A
file he'd barely skimmed on the flight, annoyed that Max had delayed their
weekend in Monaco for another round of ‘find the damn statue’.

 
   
“The IAAR compiled that file. Not everything
in it is about
you,
most of it is leads they've been
vetting with regard to
The Fortunate
Buddha
.”

 
   
“Including me.”
She
tugged her hands from his grasp and rose, all long legs and he suddenly envied
his own shirt. The hemline skimmed the middle of her thighs, hiding her rounded
bottom, but shaping over it invitingly.

 
   
Sophie paced the room, picking up the
scattered pieces of file items, examining each one as she did so. He stood,
intending to help, but the censure in her gaze had him sitting down again.

 
   
She verified his story he realized belatedly
and suppressed the vicious fist pump of satisfaction that filled his chest.
Trust, but verify.
Good girl
.

 
   
Tearing his eyes away from her lithe form,
he took his cup over to the rolling table and refilled it.
“Danish?”
He offered, forcing himself not to stare at her pert little rear every time she
bent down to scoop up another sheet.

 
   
She read them.

 
   
All of them.

 
   
“No,” she said over her shoulder, clearly
distracted.

 
   
He nodded and forced himself to take a berry
one. It tasted like cardboard, but gave his hands something to do without
picking her up and kissing her senseless.

 
   
Pietr's body tightened at the thought. It
wasn't an unpleasant alternative, but he'd seen the bruised trust in her
expression and he wanted to repair that damage, not overwhelm it.

 
   
“It says here that they located the Buddha
in Switzerland and later documented suspected sightings in Syria, Iran, South
Africa and the Phillipines.”

 
   
“
Oui,
but none save the Switzerland sighting were authenticated. I think the others
are false trails designed to throw the IAAR and other collectors off the
scent.”

 
   
“Then the thief is still planning to move
the Buddha or it hasn't arrived at its final destination.”

 
   
“Exactly.”

 
   
Sophie carried the stacked sheaf of papers
back to the sofa and curled one leg under her as she sat down, giving him a
peek at a pair of silky yellow bottoms.

 
   
“Do you have a photo of it? I never turned
up one in my research, only legends and cultural tales associated with it.”

 
   
Pietr set aside the Danish and moved around
to sit on the settee next to her. The nearness was agony, but preferable to the
vast gulf dividing them. “May I?” He indicated the papers in her hand.

 
   
She handed them over, reluctance echoing in
her expression. She was curious, he realized belatedly, not just about him and
verifying his story, but also about the Buddha itself.

 
   
Forcing his mind back to the issue at hand,
he flipped through the documents and drew out an old telegram with a grainy
black and white photo attached. Sophie all but yanked it out of his hand,
bending over it eagerly.

 
   
“The Buddha belongs in a monastery in
Taiwan. While the temple is open to the public, the monks didn't allow
photographs, believing that the Buddha's gift was one that had to be visited
personally. I have no idea who took this image, but it's the only one we have
of it. Max and Anya would recognize it because they've both seen it.”

 
   
Sophie's fingers traced over the outline of
the Buddha, her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

 
   
“Sophie,” Pietr brushed a long lock of hair
behind her ear, pulling her attention away from the photo. “I came to New York
as a favor to my
cousin,
I did need to ask you about
this. But everything else that's happened, that wasn't for Max or Anya or the
ridiculous statue. It was for you and for me.”

 
   
She stared at him so long, saying nothing,
that he worried he'd pushed it too far. He let his hand fall away, forcing
himself to wait, to be patient.

 
   
“I want to believe you.”

 
   
The words filled his heart with hope.

 
   
“But you lied...”

 
   
“I didn’t lie.” Pietr frowned. “I may not
have told you the entire truth.”

 
   
“Pietr, in my world, not telling the whole
of the truth…that's lying. You had an agenda and I knew that. I did. But I
asked you, more than once, about why you'd come to see me and I'll give you
that first night, with the shooting, but last night…” Hurt crumpled the strong
line of her jaw, filling her eyes with sadness that ate away at him. “…you
should have told me before we made love.”

 
   
“Why? It wouldn't have changed my feelings.
It hasn't changed my feelings. I don't give a damn about the statue.”

 
   
“It might have changed mine.” Her words were
gentle, without heat, but her self-recrimination stabbed at him. “I don't know
that it would, but you didn't give me the opportunity to make that decision for
myself. So much has happened over the last two days…”

 
   
“You can trust me.” Pietr scowled at the
retreat he glimpsed in her eyes. “I haven't hurt you and I wouldn't.”

 
   
“I want to trust you,” Sophie laughed, the
sound edged by tears as she stood and paced away from him, the grainy photo
still in her hand. “It's so stupid. I feel lied to, betrayed, used and not sure
who to trust.”

 
   
“You can trust me.” He stalked to her,
gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him.

 
   
“But that's just
it,
I don't know what to believe. This is an elaborate lie if it's a lie and it's
terrifying if it’s the truth.”

 
   
And there it was.

 
   
Her fear.

 
   
“Then let me put to rest your fears that it
is a lie. I'll call
Max,
you can hear it from him.” He
didn't wait for her response before grabbing the phone. It was just after lunch
in London. When it started ringing, he put it on speaker, his eyes on Sophie.

 
   
“Sauvage Security and
Industry.”
A woman’s brisk, clipped and clearly British voice answered.

 
   
“Francine, put me through to Max.”

 
   
“Oh, good afternoon
Pietr.”

 
   
Sophie lifted her brows at the woman's
softer, simpering tone and Pietr shrugged. He couldn't help Francine's
reaction. The woman liked him, but he'd never encouraged it.

 
   
“Max, please.
Now.”
He didn't have time to be nice, to coax and cajole or to play the assistant's
game. He certainly wasn't going to do it with Sophie listening.

 
   
“Pietr!
Where the
hell have you been? I've left you a dozen messages and why am I on speaker?”

 
   
“Maxwell, I would like to introduce you to
Sophie Kingston, the curator at the museum you sent me here to meet.”

 
   
“Ms. Kingston.” Max's tone grew guarded.

 
   
“How do I know this is really Maxwell
Sauvage?”

 
   
Pietr shot her an incredulous look. She'd
heard the receptionist answer the phone.

 
   
“How do I know this is really Sophie
Kingston?”
Came
the droll response.

 
   
“Point taken.”

 
   
“
Bien
.
Now, what is this about?”

 
   
“Pietr told me that you sent him here to
follow up a lead.”

 
   
“And?”

 
   
Pietr sighed. Max wasn't making this easy,
choosing his words carefully. “Maxwell, please tell Ms. Kingston the truth.”

 
   
“The truth?”
Amusement colored the question. “What have you done to alienate Ms. Kingston,
Pietr?”

 
   
Pietr suppressed a growl. But Sophie
answered before he could,
drawing
closer to the phone.
To Pietr.