Page 20 of The One-Night Heist

My vision whited out as I painted the shower wall with what felt like an endless release, my breath momentarily lodging in my throat before emerging as a sound that was more animal than human.

As the hot water finally kicked on, I leaned my full body weight against the—shockingly clean since I had some standards—shower wall, realizing to my horror that I was also looking forward to seeing Giancarlo tomorrow, fucking or not.

Mostly to see if he’d dressed up pretty like I’d asked him to, of course.

Just for me.

For now.

Seven

Rowen

I arrived at The Andervelt to find Agent Markel pacing outside the grand front entrance, stomping around like a toddler who wasn’t getting his way.

“What’s the ruckus, Markel?” I snickered, glancing at my watch to confirm I wasn’t horribly late.

4:02.

I deserve an award.

“The museum director insisted we be here at closing time, but now I’m being asked to wait because he’s with an ‘important donor.’” He finished his tirade with exaggerated air quotes, and it took everything in me not to grin like a supervillain.

Because oh, how I love to mess with him.

I frowned, doing my best to look genuinely puzzled. “Are you saying the person the director’s meeting with isn’t an important donor?”

The agent threw his hands into the air. “That’s not what I said, Quincy! You know what I mean…”

I widened my eyes in my best impression of a surprised Pikachu before dropping my voice to a whisper. “Do you think this important donor might be the art thief?”

Markel stared at me in the same way he always did—like I was both the stupidest and most annoying person he’d ever encountered—and, as always, it brought me immeasurable joy.

I gotta get my kicks where I can nowadays.

“Maybe you’re the thief,” he grumbled. “We’re investigating a missing bronze statue today and we both know how much you love to get your hands on those.”

Asshole.

Of course, he had to go there, because it was a similar item that got me into this mess in the first place. I was about to reply that, last I checked, his mother wasn’t a bronze statue, but then the door creaked open and a smiling brunette popped her head out.

“Agent Markel? I’m Sabina Belanger, Head Curator. Director Bradley Westcott is still in a meeting, but I’d be happy to take you to the East Gallery to begin the investigation.”

“That would be fine, thank you,” Markel gruffly replied, even though I could tell his little ego was bruised.

Boo-hoo.

Sabina’s friendly gaze shifted to me and I held out my hand. “Rowen Quincy. I consult for the Art Crime Team and have personally stolen multiple bronze statues from institutions just like The Andervelt.”

Her eyes widened before crinkling in the corners with laughter. “Well! That is a useful background to have in this case. Unless you’re the one who stole it, that is…”

Unlike with Markel’s snide comment, I could tell Sabina was joking, so I matched her energy. “Oh, no, my art thief days are behind me. I’m a respectable member of society now.”

Said no one.

Sabina tittered in approval before swinging the door wide to let us pass. We then waited on the other side of the empty guard station while she blocked the view to reactivate the alarm.

At least they have basic security protocols in place.