She was near the auction tables, thirty feet away, half-turned from him. Her hair was different—shorter, or pinned to look shorter, curling against the nape of her neck instead of the sleek twist he remembered. Dark red dress, fitted close. She washolding a glass of champagne and listening to a man in a gray suit talk, her head tilted at the angle of polite interest.
Four months. Four months since waking up alone after their night together.
He’d let it go. Or at least told himself he had. Filed it underThings That Didn’t Work Out. Then moved on the way grown-ass adults move on.
His hands went still at his sides.
She hadn’t seen him. She was angled away, her attention on the man in gray, her body positioned with her back to Isaac’s side of the room. He watched her laugh at something the man said—her head tipping back, her hand lifting in a gesture that looked easy and warm.
But the timing was wrong. Too quick, too even. He’d seen her real laugh, and it didn’t look like that.
He made himself breathe. Two events in Boston, two disappearances. If she spotted him, she’d be gone before he could cross the room. Whatever chance he had of talking to her depended on her not knowing he was here.
Although he wasn’t sure why he’d want to talk to her at all.
She moved away from the man in the gray suit. Casual, unhurried. She drifted toward a cluster of guests near the bar, champagne glass still in her hand, and slid into the group’s orbit without anyone registering the addition.
Isaac kept his eyes on her. She’d positioned herself at the edge of the group near the bar, standing close to a tall man in a charcoal suit who was gesturing expansively with his drink. The man was holding court—big gestures, animated face, the people around him reacting on cue. Fallon matched them. Her free hand brushed the man’s arm as she leaned in.
Then her hand moved.
Isaac almost didn’t see it, it was fast. Her fingers dipped inside the man’s jacket, past the lapel, into the interior pocket,and came out with something small and metallic that caught the light for a fraction of a second before it disappeared into her closed fist.
A money clip. She’d lifted a money clip out of his interior breast pocket while the man was mid-sentence, mid-gesture, surrounded by six other people, and not one of them had seen it happen.
She was already moving. Two steps back from the group, a half-turn toward the bar, the champagne glass set down on a passing tray with the same hand that was now empty and relaxed at her side. The money clip was gone. The whole thing had taken less than four seconds.
The tall man kept talking. He hadn’t felt a thing.
Isaac stood very still.
The room kept going. Glasses clinked. The band played something with horns. Three hundred people talked and laughed and performed for each other, and none of them had the slightest idea what had just happened ten feet from the bar.
Fallon was a thief.
He felt it land in his chest first. Then it spread. Every conversation from Boston restructured itself in real time.
Working, technically. Scoping out for an event. I’m supposed to be taking notes on the layout and the lighting.
Her at the first gala, reading the room, reading the people, cataloging details he’d assumed were professional curiosity. Her at the Arts Alliance fundraiser in a different look, different makeup, different energy. Her at both events, positioned near the edges of the crowd, near the exits, always half-turned toward the door.
He’d watched her read three strangers across a ballroom and thought she was perceptive. Charming. Someone who paid attention.
Shedidpay attention. She paid attention so she couldstealfrom them.
Everything he thought he knew about her was wrong. And the part that unsettled him most wasn’t the lie. It was that even now, standing here with the truth laid bare in front of him, he couldn’t look away from her.
He breathed through it and let his training take over. Feelings later. Decisions now.
She was drifting toward the edge of the room, heading for the south terrace doors. No urgency, no hurried exit. She moved without drawing attention, without leaving a ripple. Smart.
But he wasn’t going to let her go.Couldn’tlet her go.
Professionalism had nothing to do with it. Zodiac wasn’t here to prevent petty theft, that was the building security team’s problem. Sure, he could turn Fallon in, and maybe he would if the circumstances were different. But they weren’t.
This wasn’t a professional decision; it was purely personal.
He crossed the room. Adjusted his path to intersect with hers before she reached the exit. He kept his pace even, his posture relaxed. A man at a party, heading somewhere specific.
