Free Hot Ice by Cherry Adair

damn bloodhound, made a few guesses, followed his gut, and finally caught up with her here in Houston. Out of five possible jobs she could have pulled that week, Mick the Greek's collection of jewelry, on loan to the Houston Museum, was one. Hell, it had been a long shot. But a long shot was better than no shot at all.
    It had paid off.
    He was going to keep his eyes fixed on her for the duration. She wasn't going to be slipping by him. Not this time, sweetheart .
    She played a dangerous game, targeting only those with questionable backgrounds. She didn't rob the Trumps or the glitterati of the entertainment industry, heads of state, or financial titans. She robbed people who had something to hide. People who didn't want a bright light shone under their rocks.
    In fact, some of the very individuals Homeland Security, and T-FLAC themselves, targeted. Coincidental? Not bloody likely.
    Very clever.
    The gems and jewelry in this exhibit were on loan from one Michael B. Corda. Corda, or Mick the Greek, a midlevel mob boss who'd done very well for himself in arms sales to the Middle East. Mick was smooth and sophisticated, and very, very wealthy. This display of his wife's jewels was a taunt to the authorities who hadn't managed to catch him. Yet .
    Precisely the kind of setup his girl liked, Hunt thought, watching her uncanny stillness through narrowed eyes. No, damn it, not his girl. He frowned. But not precisely the overpriced, oversecured venues she usually robbed. The Houston museum's security systems were basic, and no frills. Typical of most tightly budgeted small museums. Even with the few high-tech additions installed for this exhibit, hardly a challenge to someone with her skill and talent. And it was more than likely she didn't know that anything had been added.
    Hunt leaned a shoulder against the wall and settled in to be entertained. " Okay, sweetheart. Let's see you do your thing ." But he knew this time she'd bitten off more than she could chew. The traveling gem and jewelry exhibit was valued upward of $25 million. Most of the gems were big and flashy—like Mick. Obviously, the guy believed size mattered.
    Infrared was passive, not the clearly visible red lines portrayed by the movie industry, and therefore invisible to even the most sensitive equipment. Hunt had an addition to his nvg's to see the lines surrounding the display cases quite clearly.
    The grid was basic. But basic or complex, since she couldn't see it, she was about to set off the silent alarms. And he was quite content to hang back and wait. "Let her feel handcuffs for a change." And a fat lot of good that would do, he thought wryly, since apparently she could quite easily slip out of them.
    He had to think like her. So, to see just how hard it would be to stay in the museum after closing, he'd paid his six bucks and entered with the rest of the crowds. He could've, of course, gone the official route. But she wouldn't have had that advantage.
    Blending with the crowds, he kept an eye out for a slender woman with brilliant blue eyes. Yeah, right. As if she wouldn't hide such a distinctive feature. Still, he'd looked at everyone. Twice. Hell, it was like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. Just before closing, he found an excellent hiding place in the exhibit hall and settled in to wait. It was now 8:00 P.M.
    No alarms had gone off, which meant she hadn't breached the perimeter security system to enter the building. He deduced she too had paid admission, then hidden until the guards had slipped out for dinner and the cleaning people were done and gone.
    She'd go for the sapphires, he knew instinctively. There were seven cases containing the entire sapphire collection. They weren't the biggest or flashiest gems in the exhibit, but they wouldn't draw unwanted scrutiny once they were recut, and they'd turn her a very nice profit on the secondary market. Somewhere around the two-million mark if she got them all.
    Her task was impossible. Hunt knew