Chimera and the Cat Burglar (FUC Academy #46)

Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

Don’t let ’em see you squirm. Boo checked the tickets inside the envelope for the umpteenth time as she and Willy hurried to the event entrance. She should have been pleased everything was in order as she fanned through the documents, but her quest to locate the Bastet statue hovered in a state of limbo.

Entering the dark web of the auction world, a place she’d sworn off the day she’d found herself behind steel bars, was looking danger in the face.

Would she be recognized?

Would she find the toxin-lathed artifact before someone else fell sick?

If something went wrong, would Alyce know where to find them since they’d ditched their cell phones in the van parked blocks from the alleyway entrance?

“You dressed quickly.” Willy adjusted his tie. “We were both lucky the tailor was on site for minor alterations.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” Boo righted her shoulder strap and glanced at her finger to make sure the ring was in place, as it was a size too big.

“A little,” Willy rebutted.

Hiss. “If this bank routing number doesn’t work when the item comes up for auction, we’re screwed.”

She needed to return the borrowed jewelry to Alyce as soon as possible, which bothered her less than Alyce’s ticket delivery speed, a detail she shoved to the back of her mind. They had the tickets, and she was closer to achieving her goal.

She could taste success. At least she was trying to convince her nerves of that.

“Have faith.” Willy rapped his knuckles on the metal door in the dark alley and adjusted his bowtie. “We look amazing and couldn’t be more in love.”

The arm he yoked her bare shoulders with pressed down on her even though she automatically leaned into him.

She hadn’t fully forgiven Willy or herself yet, even though she was moving forward. They’d both wronged the other. She needed more to heal than a conversation, a few moments of laughter, and a risky charade.

A hand-sized window opened. “Password.”

Password? Boo looked inside the envelope and strummed through the papers containing the bank information and the map of the auction’s entrance.

She tried to moisten her lips and failed. Her tongue felt like desert sand. Her nerves were already frayed, and her past was crowding in, telling her she was on a treacherous path.

“Time’s up.” The tiny window slid?—

Boo poked her finger into the space, her nail stopping the movement. It was now or never if she wanted to complete the mission. “Wait. I have it.”

“Keypad is on your right.” The window snapped shut.

Sure enough, a keypad hung on the side of the door under a discreet metal cover. Boo lifted the lid, and a neon-lit number pad illuminated the keys.

She hovered her shaking hand over the numbers. Once she was inside, there was no turning back. Had she come this far for confidence to escape her?

“Do you need me to do it?” Willy’s shadow rolled over her.

Did she?

No. She wouldn’t let fear control her. She forced herself to enter the code: R@v3nsG8

The door clicked and sprang open.

Willy took hold of the handle and opened the door, finding the space inside unguarded. “Mysterious.”

“At least we’re in,” she said with a tremor in her voice.

Willy checked behind them, making sure they were still alone before entering. “Let me go first.”

Boo quelled her urge to protest. Willy was a powerful shifter, and brute strength wasn’t on her side. She had to work with and not against him if they were to pull off teamwork, even if she was tuned to working alone.

“Lead the way.” She motioned.

A dark hallway led down a flight of stairs, a single bulb hanging above and elongating their shadows.

Willy glanced over his shoulder. “Are you sure this is the place? It doesn’t look formal at all.”

“Keep going.” She brushed a stray curl that had escaped her hastily swept updo.

Her faux confidence was a ploy to convince herself to put one foot in front of the other. FUC agents didn’t show fear. Zeb had boldly entered the classroom in search of the thief.

And nearly died.

Keep it together, Boo.

They moved quickly, passing beneath numerous city blocks to the auction house’s underground network of hidden rooms.

The city may have been unfamiliar, but the setup was similar. Enter through the industrial part of town and follow the prohibition-era underground network to the ritzy side.

Willy reached behind him, taking up Boo’s hand.

She squeezed, appreciating his touch. Willy provided the comfort she’d lacked on her previous private missions. This partnership wasn’t so fake after all.

But would they succeed in their mission?

They came upon a line of ten bidders, and the doorman verified the documents before allowing each person to enter.

Boo recognized faces, which sent a chill through her body. Would they remember her? “I can’t do this.”

Willy put his mouth to her ear. “You know these people.”

It wasn’t a question. “The woman in the red dress is Ursula Quessin. Ursula is the curator of the Shrines Museum in New York. The gentleman behind her, Mr. Owen Coldspell, is here with his husband, Theodore, owner of Coldspell Museum and an archaeologist. We’ll need to keep our eyes on them.”

The three were obvious curators of ancient artifacts, but who were the new players who created the glowing lineup? Their presence didn’t make entering less risky.

In fact, Boo felt a hiss gather in the back of her throat. Did she smell canine?

A woman cloaked in fur stopped before Ursula, the two ladies acknowledging each other. Ursula handed the other woman a receipt-sized paper, which she pushed into her pocket.

How many backdoor deals would happen tonight? What was on the paper that had the fur-clad woman dashing past Boo to stand behind her in line?

Was she reading the note out loud?

Boo cocked her head. If only she could shift and use her cat ears to home in on the murmured words.

Cemetery.

Plot.

Dig.

The words had once filled Boo’s mind when she’d dug up graves to reunite antiques to their rightful families, most belonging to her own. But which cemetery and plot?

A tap on the shoulder spun Boo around.

“Boo Bombay? Is that you?” The woman adjusted her framed glasses, rounded green eyes staring back at Boo and a pinkness riding her ebony cheeks under the floor-length, hooded fur coat.

Boo attempted to mask her shock, but her doe-eyes must have given her away because Ginnie Springston stepped into her personal space.

The woman lived in Willow Wisp. Not only did the woman recognize Boo but she had practically raised Boo as her mother’s best friend and neighbor.

Hot paws on a tin roof.

Coming here was a mistake.

Boo would never earn her mother’s approval if her mother learned from Ginnie that Boo was involved in illegal dealings. Again.

“I’m sorry,” Boo said. “You must have me confused?—”

“I don’t think so. Boo, you’re the spitting image of Cecilia,” the woman said, whipping her furred hood backward to expose fine lines skirting her eyes and the corners of her ruby lips.

The insistence that Boo resembled her mother sent a quiver down Boo’s spine, and a hiss perched on her tongue like a dreaded fart in a packed elevator.

Keep it together!

Boo knew it was a possibility that she’d be recognized, but she didn’t expect Ginnie to show up at the black-market event. “I’m sorry, like I said?—”

Ginnie touched Boo’s hand. “Boo, Boo, it’s me, Ginnie. I won’t tell your mother you’re still gathering family artifacts. You can trust me to keep this meeting between us.”

Boo pulled her hand away, and not because Ginnie noticed the one-carat ring riding Boo’s finger. There was no escaping her past, but she tried. “I’m not Boo. I’m, I’m?—”

“Miss Emma Greenswald, my fiancée.” Willy gathered Boo to his side and wrapped a protective arm around her waist. “Soon to be Mrs. William Tagger, my wife.”

The woman squared her shoulders and split her gaze between the two of them as if trying to assign Boo the new name as well as her future married title.

Was Willy crazy? Couldn’t he have given an alias? Boo wasn’t as lucky as Will to have matured in a doctored way that concealed his identity from townsfolk.

“That’s right. William and I are to be married.”

Ginnie extended her and then lowered it. “You can’t lie to me, Boo. I know you, and I knew the Taggers before they passed.”

Boo spun around, turning her back on Ginnie, guessing neither of them were fooling Ginnie.

Rats!

Boo mouthed to Willy, “Emma Greenswald ? Mrs. Tagger?”

“Later,” Willy mouthed, his face as red as a boiled beat.

Would they get in the door before disaster struck?

Ginnie hadn’t bought the lie. If she didn’t accept Boo’s pseudonym, would others when it came time to purchase the Bastet artifact with the fictitious company they represented? Would Boo set herself up to become a target?

Boo and Willy shuffled forward until they reached the doorman.

“Papers?” The doorman scrutinized their IDs. He handed them a numbered bidding stick and opened the door, allowing them access to the event.

The basement was as grand as any five-star hotel banquet hall, with twenty-foot-tall marble pillars, mosaic flooring, and multifaceted crystal chandeliers. Boo lost count of the number of bidders and support staff, who guarded the cloaked items on the stage.

Boo let out a breath. They were in. She didn’t know anything about faith, but she remembered a time when she trusted in herself.

Willy placed his hand on Boo’s back.

Could he feel the reluctance in her sluggish pace as he guided her toward their seats, which they took in the back row so that they could note the attendants?

Their efforts to appear as a fresh couple in the underground smuggling ring had already failed and they’d barely sat.

“You did well back there.” Willy tossed his head toward Ginnie. “Who is she?”

“Someone from my past, Ginnie Springston.” She twisted the bidding stick round and round, her confidence in purchasing the statue threatened. “Thank you for the save, even if it made me uncomfortable and didn’t change Ginnie’s mind.”

“That’s what partners do for each other.” He winked. “I have your back.”

No one had ever had Boo’s back. She spent a moment inspecting the number on her bidding stick: eight. It was an alarming number. In some cultures, it represented terrible luck.

Death.

She sighed heavily.

“Have faith,” Willy reminded her.

Faith was an illusion, one Boo hadn’t befriended. Could she trust Willy?

Ginnie came into view, her hand shoved into her coat pocket as she made her way to her seat.

The microphone sent a shrill whine into the crowd. “Testing, testing.”

Boo’s chest tightened as the auctioneer introduced the first piece, a Ming Dynasty painting, which sold for five hundred thousand dollars.

The buyer didn’t cringe at the price.

Willy leaned over, whispering, “I trust Alyce provided an ample budget.”

Boo twisted her bidding number. If she were outbid, she would scope out the buyer and create a plan to steal back the piece. It was the only way to ensure no one else got injured.

Instead, she explained, “Egyptian Bastet artifacts aren’t as pricey as that painting. Unless someone knows of the statue we’re looking for and believes the myth of its time-bending properties.”

“Up next is an artifact from Egypt.” The auctioneer motioned to the newly uncloaked statue that appeared on a pedestal, centerstage.

The woman in the red dress, Sophia, raised her number.

It was a feline artifact, but not the one Boo came for.

She glanced at Willy. “Are your shifter forms picking up anything?”

Willy sat taller and twitched his nose. “This basement is no more than fifty degrees, so I’m not trusting my goosebumps.”

Boo trusted Willy to be truthful about sensing the statue. She no more felt the object than he did. Had the low temperature been set on purpose?

She hugged her bare arms, wishing she could spring fur.

Three more statues originated from Egypt. Ten others were feline-based from various continents. Boo thought the auction would never end as she waited for the Bastet statue to be unveiled.

Over the time it took to present and sell each item, Boo noted Sophia held a particular interest in feline artifacts.

“Sold to number nine,” the auctioneer had repeatedly announced. “This concludes the event.”

Boo’s anticipation withered, and a knot gathered in her tummy. Where was the Bastet artifact? Had bidder nine hoped to find it there tonight as much as Boo and Willy had?

Willy gaped at Boo, both of them disappointed, obviously.

“Well, shit. Now what?” Willy murmured.

“We attend another event until we locate the statue. It’s bound to show up.” Boo scouted the crowd.

Sophia found Ginnie, who’d shed her coat and motioned toward the back of the room and the cocktail bar.

Boo’s curiosity shot through her. She was taking a risk, but that was what FUC agents did, right? “I need to use the restroom. Do you mind waiting here?”

Boo stood from her seat before Willy answered, her heels rapping against the tiled flooring as she targeted Sophia.

The woman trailed through the dispersing crowd, her cape resembling Red Riding Hood’s.

Boo knew the truth. The woman was a wolf shifter whose dress couldn’t cover the mutt’s stench. No wonder Boo had the urge to hiss when she had made eye contact.

Sophia paused near a marble column, tucking herself behind it but not enough to conceal herself or Ginnie.

Boo stood out like the sun. Why hadn’t she worn black like she used to?

Was Willy setting her up to fail like her mother had?

There was no time to debate. Alyce required evidence to solve the case.

She crept closer and placed her back against the opposite side of the column, gluing to the shadows to eavesdrop on the conversation as the crowd grew thin.

“Boo Bombay is here,” Ginnie said.

Ginnie hadn’t bought Boo’s alias. Yowl!

“If she’s here, where is her mother?” Sophia asked. “Are they working together?”

Working together?

Boo’s mother was a righteous saint, critical at best, a Willow Wisp councilwoman, who’d disowned Boo for meddling in stolen artifacts.

“Could be Cecilia nabbed the artifact backstage,” Ginnie said. “She’s a smart cookie.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Sophia added. “Cecilia comes off as right-hand do-gooder to the mayor of Willow Wisp, but she’s been thieving for decades. You need to check the plot and make sure it hasn’t been disturbed.”

Questions batted Boo’s mind, and she twisted her pendant, running her fingers over the smooth stone. Why would her mother disown her when her mom’s closest friend was involved in the black market? How closely was Ginnie working with Sophia?

But more importantly, where was Ginnie’s fur coat and this plot she mentioned?

Had the thief hidden the Bastet statue with plans to sell the item?

Boo backtracked to the entry doorman. “Excuse me, I’m twisted around. Where’s the coat room?”

The bespectacled man shook his head. “Down the hall, take a left.”

Boo hurried in the direction of the room, pausing when she spotted Willy scoping out the crowd. He was no longer seated, which meant he’d come looking for her shortly if she didn’t return soon, but for now, he was talking with the Coldspells.

Boo teetered, part of her wanting to drag him into her plans. But she resisted. She wouldn’t put him in unnecessary danger.

She picked up her pace, checking behind her. No one followed.

She came upon another line, this one to the make-shift coatroom—a skeletal cube with canvas walls.

“Explain to me what the jacket looks like.” The clerk held pen to paper.

“It’s a coral and green plaid jacket with eagle-feathered embossed gold buttons...”

Boo thought quickly. Ginnie would retrieve her coat soon.

When the attendant leaned forward and wrote the description, Boo entered the glorified closet from the rear.

She expected to find numbered velvet hangers and neatly hung jackets, but she discovered a nest of wool and fur, each coat piled on top of the others.

Shameful . Boo shook her head. Where to begin?

She pulled one item at a time from the pile, finding the plaid jacket, which stood out like a unicorn among burros. She swooped up the piece, set it closest to the ringed curtain door, and returned to examine the pile.

Boo tapped her cheek. Ginnie’s coat was more red fox than gray, right? But among the dozens of participants, Boo had been hyper-focused on the prize when she should have noted details, like the unique making of the coat.

The more layers she uncovered, the more confused she grew.

Double rats!

Boo had faced Ginnie directly. How could Boo become a FUC agent if she couldn’t recall the color of a key suspect’s fur?

She thrust her hand into one jacket pocket and then the other. Nothing there. She tossed the coat toward the room’s opening, creating a second pile as she searched more pockets.

“I’m here for my fur coat,” Ginnie said. “It’s a Russian sable.”

A what? Boo added another thing to learn on her list of things to learn.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the clerk answered, a tinge of irritation in his voice.

Heart jumping, Boo did the only thing she could do to save herself from being caught. She sprouted furred ears and pushed out her tail. A second later, she fell onto her kitty paws, her black fur blending into the pile as she freed herself of her blinding yellow dress.

She searched every pocket, poking her face into the furry pile, hunting for Ginnie’s feline scent among the humans, a benefit of her heightened feline attributes.

Bingo!

She touched the paper with her nose and pulled it out with her teeth. Her eyes blurred as she read the handwritten, coded words.

Triple rats!

“Boo?”

Willy?

She popped her head out of the pile and retook her human form, as naked as a Library Gentlemen’s Club stripper in Vegas, or in her case, a feline shifter and Willy’s ex-girlfriend.

“You’re naked as a jaybird.” Willy gawked before wrapping her in a coat.

“What?” she said, nonchalantly. “It’s not like this is your first time seeing me without clothes.”

Willy brandished a grin. “You’re killing me, Boo. You’re also not alone in this venture, so what are you doing pillaging the coats?”

“I could ask the same thing.” The clerk stood behind Willy, who faced Boo.

Willy stiffened, his face reddening before he yanked Boo close, kissing her passionately. He paused to say, “It’s cliche, but it was on my bride’s bucket list.”

“Well, get a hotel. The coat closet isn’t a fuck shack.” The clerk snapped the curtain closed upon exiting, swearing under his breath about missing the good old days.

Boo couldn’t disregard Willy’s disappointment in her or the fact that disappointing him bothered her. He’d asked her to trust him, and she’d let him down. She’d let herself down. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you had your reasons. I trust you. Can you trust me from here on out?” He cocked a brow.

His adorable look warmed her shame-filled heart. Faith was about trusting her partner, the man she once loved, even if she was relearning how to lean on Willy. “I’ll try to do better.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Willy held Boo’s dress, allowing her to step inside.

Once dressed, Boo stood on tiptoes and kissed him, lingering for a moment too long before pulling away. “This is me trusting you.”

“With a make-out session? I like it.” Willy purred.

She opened her hand. “Tell me you excel in decoding so we can figure out our next clue.”