The coordinators for the event started to push in as the guests dispersed.
Her gaze ignored those acting as they should and instead found a man who switched places with the woman gunning for the bracelet. His back to her, Claire started to move forward.
His hand reached out to touch the jewelry. Something many of the guests had done all night. But when Claire peered closer, she saw something dangle in his fingers for less than a second. With a flick of his hand, he switched the bracelet on the table with whatever he had in his palm. If she’d blinked, she would have missed it.
Her heartbeat sounded in her ears as her adrenaline started to pump.
“We have a situation,” Claire said into her mic as she moved to intercept the man.
The silence that followed had her cussing dysfunctional equipment.
She didn’t run, didn’t call out. These events called for diplomacy, so unless someone was flashing a weapon, the team was meant to apprehend and deal with any situation with as few witnesses as possible.
The thief kept his back to her as he slowly walked away. Unlike the other guests, he wasn’t headed to a table or the bar line that never seemed to end. He headed toward the back of the house to where the catering vans were clustered.
Claire looked away for less than a second to signal to Jax. Only Jax’s view was blocked by the exiting guests. When Claire looked back, the man was slipping around the house and out of view.
She reached down and took off one spikey heel and then the next before she picked up her pace.
“Someone lifted the sapphires and is headed to the back of the house. If anyone can hear me. Male, approximately six one, wearing a black suit.” Just like every other man there. “I didn’t see his face. He is on the heavier side and needs a haircut.”
As soon as the voices behind her drifted away, Claire started to run, her shoes dangling in her hand.
The side of the house was deserted, only the fleeing thief swiftly walking away.
“Hey!” Claire yelled.
He didn’t look back.
Instead, he started to run.
Claire had the advantage. If there was something she took pride in, it was her ability to beat anyone on the team in a one-hundred-meter dash. So she dashed. Her skirt hiked higher and her legs took off.
She was on him before he reached the pavement.
Her arms tackled his waist from behind and brought him to the ground.
He rolled with her.
Claire attempted to grab on to his skin through his clothing and found her hands filled with padding. Almost like he was wearing something under his suit.
He used her hesitation to twist out of her grasp and scramble to his feet.
Only she was faster. She kicked his legs out from under him before he managed to run a second time.
She jumped onto his back and had his right hand twisted behind him and her knee to the back of his shoulder blades, pinning him to the ground face first. “You’re not getting away, buddy,” she said between pants.
He heaved his body and Claire put more pressure on his arm. “Okay,” she heard him say. And then, for whatever reason, the man’s body started to shake.
With laughter.
She pulled on his arm again.
“Okay, uncle.”
Something about his voice.
“Who are . . .” Her hold softened, she moved her knee from his spine, and the man twisted out from under her. Without warning, she was on her back and he was straddling her.
Clear, calculated, and well-practiced moves started to unfold inside of her. Her arms and legs moved at the same time. Her knee came up and met something entirely too hard to be mistaken for flesh, especially male genitalia, which was what she was aiming for. Even without that jarring surprise, she twisted her legs up with his and heaved her weight until he was on the ground under her.
And he was still laughing.
Claire brushed the hair out of the man’s face and finally saw him.
Her mouth opened and her eyes narrowed.
“Cooper?”
Their eyes connected. “Hello, Yearling.”
Cooper Lockman hadn’t seen her in nearly six years.
Six long, education-filled years.
Six years in absence because it was the right thing to do.
Six years where not one day escaped that he didn’t think of her.
Claire’s surprised expression was followed by flailing hands that slapped at his chest in a much more playful way than when she was tackling him. “What. The. Actual. Fuck!”
And he laughed.
“You’re the one that asked for drama.” Neil’s voice sounded in both of their ears.
Cooper could see Neil’s words register in Claire’s head at the same time they did his.
Claire settled on top of him. Her legs spread over his hips, her body upright . . .
Slowly, she started to smile.
When she did, her body relaxed on top of his, and it was then that Cooper realized that six years had changed absolutely nothing.
He placed his hands on her hips to move her off of him.
Once she was on his side, he felt he could actually say something intelligent. Something other than . . . God, you’re beautiful and just as amazing as the last time I saw you.
“I thought we lost you to Europe,” she said.
“And become an expat? Never gonna happen.”
Her smile moved from happy to radiant seconds before she threw her arms around him in a hug of unadulterated happiness.
Cooper allowed his arms to encircle her in response.
He closed his eyes and found himself lost in the moment.
Not that it lasted.
“I trust no one is hurt.”
Cooper looked over Claire’s shoulder to find Sasha standing several yards away.
“Never better,” Cooper told her.
Claire stopped smiling in a millisecond, and without warning she placed her hand on the cup that protected his sexual future. “I knew it.”
He brushed her hands away before her touch made him turn red.
They pushed off the ground at the same time. Cooper shrugged out of his jacket and lifted his shirt to tug on the Velcro that kept the fake pounds around his waist.
“When did you get back?” Claire asked.
“Last week.”
“Are you back to stay, or does Neil have you slated for the London team forever?”
He opened his mouth to offer an ambiguous reply only to be cut off.
“The reunion can wait. We still have work to do.” Sasha walked up to the two of them and handed Claire the shoes she’d tossed to the ground before she did a full body tackle to take him down. Not that he resisted all that much.
Claire pulled at the hem of her skirt and smoothed a hand over her stomach. “Is my dress okay?”
Cooper wasn’t sure the question was directed at him since she turned a full circle in front of both him and Sasha.
“You look like you’ve been rolling around in the grass,” Sasha said, her Russian accent always apparent.
He reached out and pulled a leaf out of Claire’s blonde hair.
Claire was all smiles. “Or maybe people will think I snuck away to get lucky.”
He laughed.
“Run a brush through your hair. It’s getting dark, no one will notice the grass stains on a black dress.” Sasha turned to Cooper. “Relieve Lars. We’ll recap at the end of the evening.”
Claire turned toward the back door of the Victorian home. “Glad you’re home,” she called out over her shoulder.