Once a Thief Read Online Free Page B

wary.
    Still, she wanted to see the exhibit; the hours she put in overseeing her own forthcoming exhibit would make a visit during regular hours somewhat of a problem. And she was confident of her ability to handle an amorous curator. There would be security guards, in any case.
    “That’s funny,” her date murmured as he used his key and let them in a side door.
    “What?”
    “The security light in this hall should be—”
    It should have been on, Morgan knew, but her escort never got a chance to finish his sentence. They had taken no more than three steps into the dark hallway when he suddenly let out a soft grunt and crumpled to the floor.
    Morgan was never sure afterward if she
knew
what had happened in that first instant or if, in the thick blackness surrounding her, pure survival instinct had taken over. She didn’t reason that Peter’s limp body had fallen between her and the door, preventing that exit; she simply whirled and bolted down the hallway.
    After half a dozen steps she managed to kick her heels off without losing much speed, and her instantly quieter passage made it possible for her to hear the pursuing footsteps—fast and heavy, and all too close behind. She had the advantage of knowing the museum well; like many archaeologists, she considered the storehouses of ancient treasures as alternate homes and tended to spend many of her off hours losing herself in the past.
    That was what she wanted badly to do now—lose herself in the past. She was making her way with all the speed she could muster out of the warren of offices and storerooms and into the larger rooms of the museum proper. There was a drawback to that action, but she had little choice. Most of the exhibits were individually lighted, which would make her visible to her pursuer unless she could hide before he emerged from the hallway. As she turned the final corner, she could see the dim glow ahead.
    The first cavernous room she burst out into was a hall of paintings offering no place of concealment. Barely feeling the cold, hard marble beneath her feet, Morgan darted through one of the two big archways without immediately knowing why she’d made the choice. Then she realized. There had to be more than one of them and they’d be after the most portable valuables, wouldn’t they? Jewelry, then—and a large display of precious gems lay in the direction she hadn’t chosen.
    Along her route were several larger and less valuable—to the thieves—displays of statuary, weapons, and assorted artifacts, many large enough to offer a hiding place.
    She made another desperate turn through an archway that appeared to house a room dimmer than some of the others—and found herself neatly caught. A long arm that seemed made of iron rather than flesh lifted her literally off her feet, clamped her arms to her sides, hauled her back against a body that had all the softness of granite, and a big, dark hand covered her mouth before she could do more than gasp.
    For one terrified instant, Morgan had the eerie thought that one of the darkly looming statues of fierce warriors from the past had reached out and grabbed her. Then a low voice hissed in her ear, and the impression of supernatural doings faded.
    “Shhhh!”
    He wasn’t a security guard. The hand over her mouth was encased in a thin, supple black glove, and as much of his arm as she could see was also wearing black. Several hard objects in the vicinity of his waist dug into her back painfully. Then he pulled her impossibly closer as running footsteps approached, and she distinctly felt the roughness of wool—a ski mask?—as his hard jaw brushed against her temple.
    She didn’t struggle in the man’s powerful embrace, although she couldn’t have said just why. Instead, she concentrated on controlling her ragged breathing so that it wouldn’t be audible, her eyes fixed on the archway of the room. She realized only then that she’d bolted into a room with only one entrance. Her captor had