London’s summer sunshine was yawning in a burning bronze across the skyline, turning the aqua skies a deep, passionate scarlet as silver crowds began to drift by. Through the windows, the sun was still peeking her way past the blinds that blocked her out and splaying her long tendrils over the bed, warming the feet of the man that laid there, watching the television playing a friendly between a couple of the country’s most esteemed football teams, though he had never bothered to learn the rules. His hands were preoccupied with the rhythmic cleaning of his handgun, the brush moving back and forth over the metal.
The ball found the back of the net on the screen and the roar of the crowd made the speakers crackle. His eyes lifted and his passionless gaze assessed the players as they ran across the pitch, skidding across the last handful of metres before falling into a clump together. His upper lip curled and he took his eyes back down before dropping his brush into the case by his side. Then, slowly, he began to reassemble his weapon, setting it down finally next to the one he had cleaned earlier as a feral sort of smile slipped over his features.
“Oh, they scored.”
The lilting sound made his heart constrict and he looked up, his mouth drying at the sight of the woman before him, paused on her tiptoes in the doorway of the bathroom. Dressed from head to, nearly, toe in black, it was only the shimmer of her golden hair that broke the blockade of colourlessness. He swallowed but it was crusty skin rubbing against crusty skin and he opened his mouth, the sides of his lips quirking up as her cornflower blue gaze fell over him, stumbling as though she’d forgotten he was there.
“You’re so sexy,” he murmured, holding out his hand. “Why is that?”
She giggled and laced her long fingers with his own. He pulled his arm in, drawing her to him and though her eyes jumped to the firearms, she fell against him without complaint, trusting the safeties were on. He exhaled contentedly and wrapped one arm securely around her waist while the other came up to draw some hair out of her eyes which, with his index finger, he traced – one, then the other. A wistful smile drifted over his pointed features and her brows came together curiously, her lips parting to question him.
“I love you,” he murmured, drawing his fingers down the side of her face.
“I love you too,” she replied, her voice cracking a little as moisture rose in her eyes.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he insisted, sitting up. He lifted her with him, his hands coming to cup her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing underneath her eyes to swipe away any falling tears. “You’re too beautiful for tears, Allie. Our life begins tonight. Tomorrow we’ll be on a jet to the Bahamas and we’ll be brushing shoulders with all kinds of celebrities and businessmen to add to our fortune with.”
She wrinkle her nose but smiled anyway. “What about our cottage in the Cotswolds?” He laughed, a cold, high sound that stilled something within her. Her brows furrowed. “David?”
“What?” He asked, sobering himself as his gaze fixed back on her. “You didn’t really think we should stay here, did you? Baby,” he brought his lips to her forehead. “We won’t be able to stay here after this.”
A light push to her shoulders and Alice sat back, watching, dumbstruck, as her fiancé got to his feet. He stretched, his dark t-shirt riding up to let her peek at the olive skin of his back and she nibbled the inside of her cheek, glancing down at the guns beside her. Inhaling shakily, Alice lifted her hands into her lap and glanced up at him just as he turned round.
“What are you looking so upset for?” David asked incredulously, a chuckle in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry baby but what did you expect?” Alice shrugged her shoulders listlessly. “We can’t stay here. It’d be too dangerous for us. They’ll be all over us in a heartbeat. We have to leave as soon as we sell it. Don’t you remember the plan?”
“Yeah,” Alice rose to her feet, rubbing her hands across her belly and removing any lingering lint. “I do.”
“Well, come on then!” He enthused, grabbing his gun off of the bed and tucking it into the back of his jeans. “We’ve got ourselves a painting to steal, baby.”
Impulsively, David reached forward and pulled the blonde woman by the hips into him, his head ducking down to capture her lips with his in a fierce kiss. She seized up, unsure what to do but eventually his coaxing tongue brought relaxation into her frame and she lifted her arms around his neck. He chuckled against her mouth and brought a hand up, disentangling her fingers from the downy hair at the nape.
“Later, gorgeous,” he promised her. “You’ll have me for the rest of our lives after this.”
“Swear?” She asked with a gentle smile that reached her eyes and sent them sparkling, making David’s stomach lurch uncomfortably within him. He returned it, though, and loosened his grip around her.
“Swear,” he returned. “Now c’mon. We’ve gotta go.”
When they arrived, stepping out of Charing Cross Station, there was a light rain falling over the dry, grey concrete pavements, ushering in men and women in thin tops and short into the cover of coffee shops and restaurants to wait it out. Turning up the collar of her coat, Alice tucked her hands inside and split off from David as they always did. They hurried through Trafalgar Square, disturbing pigeons and not even bothering to have a look at the fountains. Instead they hurried up the steps and ducked inside the gallery as the last light began to die.
David reached out and Alice slipped her hand into his, her feet giving a bit of a skip as she tried to keep up with his wide gait. She swallowed and looked round as a security guard trundled round the corner. He was texting and part of her wanted to lose the breath she was holding inside of her but she couldn’t bear it – and if he looked up and saw them then David would never forgive her. Alice found herself slamming to a stop when David turned, though and he thrust her forward, money gleaming in his eyes as their collective gaze fell upon the painting.
“Go get it, girlie.” He whispered to her.
“There are loads of security things, David …” She pointed out, turning only to find him gone. She froze, her fingers curling into her palm.
Suddenly, Alice could feel her heart coursing through her ears as fear leapt up within her. She swallowed and dropped her hands into her coat pockets again, her eyes glancing round for help – or, at least, any sign he’d not left her to work it out on her own. All of a sudden, the lights went out overhead and Alice fixed her eyes back on the painting. There was her sign.
Seizing forward, Alice slammed her hands either side of it and then paused, waiting for the alarm that never came. Then, with both hands, she wrenched the painting off of the wall and finally the bleating sound rose into the air. Alice took off at a run and she clattered into David just as he came out of one of the utility rooms. He grinned at her and pulled at her hand before slamming open with his shoulder one of the internal staircases. He pulled her up and Alice struggled along after him, holding onto the painting as best she could and with all her might.
They came out on another level of the gallery and David’s eyes went up to the skylight, as though considering going through there. He turned and yanked the painting from her hands, a cold, determined look flooding his eyes. Alice froze and she looked up at him, fear trembling her lower lip. David paused and Alice threw herself forward, shocking him and giving her enough leave to grab the painting from him. The guards appeared just in time and Alice flew across the landing, hurrying through a door into another exhibit entirely. It was there she took a breath but it didn’t take long for David to catch up with her.
“Give it to me,” he hissed, his fingers grasping for it. “Alice, I swear to God. I need this.”
“You never cared about me, did you?” She asked, her breath catching awkwardly in her throat.
“Believe what you want to believe, baby. Just give me the painting,” he insisted, stepping forward. “Look, we don’t have time for this!”
“Did you ever care about me?” She insisted, her eyes widening imploringly at him.
“No, love. I never cared. Give me the painting.” He retorted sardonically. “Give it to me, Alice.”
“Go to hell,” she hissed.
At that moment, more guards flooded the exhibit. Both wriggled out of their clutches and Alice nigh flew down the corridor, darting through the rooms, trying to find anything, anywhere, to just pause for a second and catch her breath. She dived into another room, one that was pristine and office-like. She realised with a start exactly where she was – the guard office. It was simultaneously the best and worst place to be. She exhaled and slowly lowered the portrait down and strode further into the office, determined to find some brown paper and string to do up the portrait in. It wasn’t subtle like this – not that a large package was, either, mind you.
The door opened and Alice inhaled sharply through her nose. She ducked behind a pillar and waited, closing her eyes desperately. Don’t do that. Alice opened her eyes up a gain and looked about herself, her eyes pricking at the sound of heels on the tiles. A woman. Thank Merlin. Biting her lip, Alice pulled the vase down off of the filing cabinets behind her and turned round, hurling it at her head. The woman crumples and Alice stills, looking down at her hands and wondering what on earth she had done.
She shook her head and darted forward, knowing that she had to be quick about it. She tore off her turtleneck and wriggled out of her jeans and hurriedly stripped and re-dressed the unconscious woman in her clothes before donning hers and examining the name badge – Hannah Jefferson. It could’ve been worse. She was blonde, too, so that helped but it didn’t stop Alice from tucking all her hair under Hannah’s – her’s now, she supposed – cap. Then she continued her search for the brown paper, pulling it out of a drawer and managing, as luck would have it, to find some string.
At the sound of clattering footsteps, Alice looked up at the screens and blanched at the sight of guards coming toward her door. She stowed the painting underneath Hannah’s desk and quickly took her gun out, pointing it at Hannah’s slumped body as the door crashed open. She glanced up, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. The fear was what they’d attribute to the run-in with the paint thief and she truly wished she could’ve said it was that. Instead, it was fear of them. Just in case the ruse wasn’t enough.
“You got her,” one of the younger ones said with a tinge of amazement.
“Never leave a man to do a woman’s job,” she retorted shakily, putting the safety back on the gun.
Chuckles rose up amongst them and they carted Hannah off, leaving Alice behind – to fill out the paperwork, she assured them. She intended on doing nothing of the kind, though. Instead she rifled her way through Hannah’s things, turning her bag out onto her desk and opening up her drawers to see what she had. All told, Alice found around a hundred pounds as well as an ID, car keys and other nonsense things which she all put back in the bag before slinging it onto her shoulder. Then, she went in search of the woman’s locker which she emptied also – though not before changing into the clothes that Hannah had obviously worn there before exchanging them for her uniform.
Never, ever, would Alice ever be upset by a pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She tucked it into the former, tightening the black belt around her middle because the jeans were a bit too big. Then she pulled on the boots that Hannah clearly had a great affinity for and shrugged on the leather jacket which was also hung up in there. Bag firmly fixed on shoulder with the painting shrunken inside, Alice left the gallery a free, and very wealthy, woman.
Hurrying down the street, Alice was determined to get to Charing Cross before the last train. She could’ve taken Hannah’s car but telling though the key was, she didn’t have the first clue where the woman had parked it. She trundled down some steps as a bus hollered by and she turned, disappearing down the road before dipping into a back alley and emerging out on another, more public street not too far from the Leaky Cauldron. And that’s when she bumped into him, his hands gripping her arms to catch her should she’d have fallen.
Alice shook her head as the smell of pine and dew invaded her nostrils and she stood back, horror lapping up her features as he looked down at her.
“Hello gorgeous,” he grinned at her. It still scuppered her heart despite how much she wanted to hate him. “Got something for me?”
“Piss off,” she hissed at him, her eyes glancing round furtively, her hand coming up to grip the strap of her bag. “You lied to me. About everything, David. How could you?”
“In there, is it? Alice give it to me. C’mon.”
He took a step forward and she mirrored him, taking one back. Then another, then another, then he finally jerked forward and pulled the strap over her bag but there was no way Alice was ever going to let that go. She threw up her knee straight between his legs and he froze, scrunching over as a hand went to his groin. He recovered seemingly after a moment but it was only long enough to backhand her across the face and Alice’s hand flew to her cheek as the hot taste of blood spread over her tongue. Then, with her other hand she threw him a punch and swiftly planted her foot back between his legs again, though this time he slumped over without incident, allowing her to swing her leg venomously into his gut.
She looked up. People were beginning to cross the road towards them, mutterings about calling the police rising in the air. Alice felt for her cheek again and she staggered back, bumping into someone in the process. She looked up, her swimming eyes connecting with warm ones and then she couldn’t help herself. She turned the waterworks on and brought her hands to her face as the first sobs wracked through her, her stuttering apology lifting into the air.
by Alice Rousseau Wed Apr 08, 2015 9:35 pm
