Moon Glamour by Aimee Easterling (books to read to be successful TXT) 📕

“The rich guy has it insured. The museum doesn’t. That fact was in the newspaper article. A quote of appreciation from a board member. The museum won’t lose out.”

As I spoke, I dropped the small block of wood from my collar pouch to the ground, kicking it close to the door and preparing to wedge the space open for easy retreat. Finally, I shook a mini pry bar out of the pouch, letting it fall onto my palm.

No fingerprints on either item. There wouldn’t be, even after I was finished. Just wolf saliva. My preparations were complete.

“Are we done with the inquisition?” I demanded, preparing to turn the door knob. I was frustrated by my own reaction to Tank’s presence. I needed to focus and the hormone storm inside me was making that difficult.

Taking a deep breath, I ran through the plan one last time. The door knob was the only part I needed human fingers for, and if I smeared as I turned there would be no prints left behind. After that, I would be an unidentifiable wolf. It would work....

“Ready,” Tank agreed, reaching around me to yank the door open. Wedging his body into the gap, he used the back of his hand to smudge away any evidence of his grip.

That solved the fingerprint problem, but a question ripped out of me anyway. “What are you doing?”

The faintest smile pulled subtly lopsided lips upward in a gesture that was almost beautiful. “Every thief needs a good lawyer. I’m coming with.”

THERE WASN’T TIME TO argue. Not when opening this door would make the first warning ping show up on the guard’s cell phone.

So I gave in. Shimmered back down to wolf form in tandem with Tank, falling through the doorway even as the door glided shut.

Or, rather, not quite shut. The wooden block stopped the metal barrier one inch shy of its frame just as I’d intended. Meanwhile, my second tool—the iron pry bar—lay cold against my tongue.

Then I was running, counting down the seconds. I had no way of dodging motion sensors, so I didn’t try to. Which meant the security guard would be getting a second alert right about now. The question was, would Harper be able to talk him into ignoring the double dose of digital caution? How long did we have before he realized notifications were more than a malfunction and alerted the police?

Despite the countdown, I was exhilarated as my nails clicked against smooth marble. The scents of old paint and new floor cleaner curled around me. Tank, at my shoulder, was a presence that felt strangely right.

Then the ancient British exhibit loomed before us. The plexiglass case that covered the bracer wasn’t alarmed or high-tech, its purpose just to shield the art from sticky fingers. My pry bar would do the trick.

I’d practiced this with wolf teeth. Tricky to hold the tool between sharp canines, but doable. Trickier, I found, to try the same while standing up on my hind legs.

The pry bar made my teeth feel brittle. The beveled end should have slid into the crack, but it refused to do so. Instead, the tool bounced off, the other end biting into the soft interior of my cheek.

Despite myself, I whined. This wasn’t going to work. Seconds were ticking by faster and faster. I couldn’t leave Harper on the phone long enough for cops to be alerted and start tracing the call to Highlands....

I huffed out frustration. I’d have to abort.

THEN TANK WAS ABOVE me. His furry body cupped mine far too intimately. As if I really was in heat and he was an animal guided only by the urge for reproduction.

I froze.

He responded by biting me. Gently, on my nose. Not an animal bite. A human bite, telling me to hurry up.

To shift. Use human fingers while his body shielded mine from the inevitable cameras.

That required trusting him. Trusting a male. Worse, a male werewolf. Something my past promised was a very bad idea.

But this wasn’t depending on a guy to watch my back for the long term. This wasn’t signing on the dotted line and giving a drunk access to my bank account. This wasn’t agreeing to be part of a pack.

No, this was one moment of accepting assistance from a willing companion. I wasn’t so emotionally scarred that I couldn’t do that.

So I slid into humanity. Tank’s fur brushed against my bare skin, making me shiver. Ignoring the sensation, I spat the pry bar into shaking fingers, forced the narrow end into the gap between plexiglass lid and matte black pedestal, then pounded down on the other end of the lever with my fist.

The hinges snapped. The plexiglass lid toppled off. The bracer before me gleamed in the dim light of the glowing exit sign.

I tensed, waiting for Tank to snatch up the precious artifact. After all, why else had he come along? Did he intend to turn me in or take the prize for himself?

Neither. Tank nipped me again, even gentler than before as if he was well aware of the effect wolf teeth would have on the thin, human skin of my shoulder. He hovered above me, a protective presence, while I thrust the pry bar back into my collar—wouldn’t have to leave it behind after all. Then I shifted and plucked up the bracer between lupine teeth.

Only after Tank saw that I had what I’d come for did he leap down and take the lead for our retreat.

We sprinted back through the dark museum together. Retraced our footsteps past the stairs I’d hurried down yesterday in an effort to escape the Samhain Shifters, back through the staff-only hallway, all the way to the door I’d doctored with my wooden door stop.

It was still open. But my conversation with Tank plus my moment frozen by the bracer had added up. Harper must have gotten off the phone just when I told her