Jason Banes is a thief, he readily admits that, but he’s quick to deny that he’s also a murderer. Accused of multiple homicides, and theft, he agrees to help a multi-national task force find the real killer. When he’s assigned to an FBI team for protection, he meets Agent Taylor Driscole. It’s a race to find Orchid before she kills again. Though she’s reluctant to use Jason’s skills, Agent Driscole realizes that sometimes, It Takes a Thief to catch a murderer.
Excerpt from It Takes a Thief
The man on the left looked puzzled, the man on the right and the driver chuckled. Driscole stared straight ahead. Jason shrugged. He wiggled around trying to get comfortable, but his companions took up most of the seat. He was more of a wiry build himself, but he had very broad shoulders. Feeling slightly claustrophobic, he wiggled some more.
Mr. Left gave him an evil eye. Mr. Right eased slightly toward the door, angling his shoulders so the each had a little more room.
“Thanks,” Jason murmured, smiling a little.
The man said nothing, but nodded and a smile flickered for a second and was gone.
“May I ask where we’re going?” Jason directed at the group.
No one said anything. Driscole shifted in her seat, ignoring him.
“Oi,” Jason said rather more loudly. “I know I’m a criminal, but I think I’ve got a right to know if I’m going to be safe. Might I point out, that you need me—rather a lot?”
Driscole glared at him over her shoulder. Firming her lips, she inhaled slowly. “Look, Mr. Banes. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to protect you. The less you know about our destination the better.”
“What? Am I going to yell out the windows and give it away? Who am I gonna tell, Special Agent in Charge Taylor Driscole? Eh? And while we’re having this lively repartee, perhaps you could ask one of the kind gentlemen to undo the handcuffs? I assure you, I’m not inclined to go anywhere. Besides, they’d break me in two before I even got to a door or disabled the driver—not that I know how to do that in any case. I’m a thief, not an assassin.”
Agent Driscole nodded to the man on Jason’s right. He took a key out of his pocket and undid the cuffs, putting them back on his belt.
“Thanks, mate. Jason Banes, thief.” He extended his hand.
Somewhat surprised, the man took it. His grip threatened to crush Jason’s hand. Instead of giving in, he met the other man’s bone crushing grasp with his own. He knew how to move his hand to make the bones and sinews grind together. He didn’t quite do it, but Mr. Right got the idea and eased up.
“Greg Kisler,” he replied politely.
“Pleased to meet you.” Jason turned to the man on his left and went through the same process.
“Alex Graves. The driver is Tim Stuart. We’ve been assigned as your primary team. We’ll be seeing a lot of one another.”
“Really?”
“We’ll be living with you—at least until the rest of the team members are assembled. Taylor’s in charge.”
“Is she?” Jason couldn’t help being happy about that.
“Enough socializing,” Taylor snapped. “He’s our primary, not our best friend.”
“Being polite, Taylor. We’re going to be under the same roof. We might as well be friendly.”
“I didn’t come to this point in my career to be chummy with a petty criminal,” she replied.
“Hardly petty, love,” Jason corrected.
“I am not your love,” she snarled.
“Expression only, I assure you. And I’m not asking to be your best chum. A little courteous conversation, maybe knock back the odd beer…. And I haven’t been a petty criminal since I was sixteen.” His feelings hurt, he sat back in the seat with his arms crossed petulantly.
Driscole stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the road, her back ramrod straight. The men watched their environment, never taking their eyes off their surroundings. After they’d driven about half an hour, the neighborhood became increasingly upscale and familiar. Jason looked around him taking in the details. It was hard to see from the back seat, but he was sure he knew this area. When they slowed down, making a sharp left turn into a driveway, he grinned. The security gate stopped them, but the driver leaned out toward the monitor, taking down his dark glasses.
“Agent Timothy Stuart. Package has arrived.”
Jason smiled happily, dark eyes glittering excitedly.
“By corky,” he said with a chuckle.
“What?” Alex asked him.
“Home Sweet Home,” he announced, holding out his hands toward the Spanish style three story mansion. “Gentlemen, Agent Driscole, welcome to Casa Blanca.”
Three of them gave him a questioning look. Agent Driscole gave him what could only be described as a withering glare.
“You’re kidding, right?” she said with a sniff of disdain.
“Seriously. This is my house. I call it Casa Blanca. Not because of the movie. You see, Banes means white and it’s a Spanish style house, or casa…. Well, it seemed a good idea at the time.”
“Cool house, JB,” Kisler, the youngest of the men, said. “Got a pool?”
“Indoors. And a hot tub, gymnasium, sweet home theatre. Just finished putting it in.”
“And you paid for all of this by stealing things from other people?” Driscole was disgusted.
“Actually, love, this is built with investment money that I made by removing rather expensive objects d’art from unsuspecting, disreputable people who thoroughly deserved to be robbed.”
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