Free Thieves Like Us by Starr Ambrose

took your advice and questioned her about our visit to Portman’s.”
    “Huh. Good for them.”
    “What do you mean? Do the police really think this is some sort of international conspiracy, with Ellie spiriting the rest of the loot out of the country?”
    Her outrage seemed to amuse him. “I doubt it, but it’s good to know the detectives are looking into all possibilities and questioning everyone involved, even though I don’t have much faith in their ability to find the rest of the jewels. They don’t have enough contacts in that world to even know where to start.”
    She considered his answer. “And you do?”
    “I did.” He paused. “Yeah, I suppose I still do. But it’s not my job to investigate robberies and find stolen jewels. Let the FBI do it.”
    She felt strangely relieved to hear that he had no interest in contacting people from his former life.
    He pulled into her driveway, and she winced at the sight of her damaged car. The first thing on her agenda today was to get it to a repair shop and arrange for a rental car. “Thanks for the ride,” she said, grabbing her overnight bag as she got out of the car. Rocky met her at the front bumper.
    She stopped. “Where are you going?”
    “Into your condo. Give me the key. You’re not going inside until I check it out.” He held out his hand.
    It had been so long since a man had tried to look out for her instead of putting her in harm’s way that it took her by surprise. Wordlessly, she handed over the key.
    She stayed on his heels as he climbed the steps and unlocked the door. As soon as he pushed it open, she stepped forward, following him in. One step put her on the threshold; the second step made her run smack into his back.
    “Hey! What are you do—” her complaint stopped when she noticed the alarm box on the wall beside her. The cover was dangling from the only wire that wasn’t cut. Peeking around Rocky, she saw what had made him stop.
    “Holy shit,” she whispered.
    Sofa cushions had been flung to the floor and slit open. So had the exposed back of the sofa. And the chairs. Janet stared, eyes wide and mouth gaping, barely able to comprehend the destruction. Paintings off the walls, furniture overturned, books scattered everywhere. Nothing seemed to have been spared, even the carpet, which had been sliced and pulled back in places, revealing the subfloor.
    The scene hit with a visceral blow that left her gasping for breath. Strangers had been here, searching her home, handling her things, destroying whatever they touched. Violating her. Deep inside, something primitive and territorial screamed, “My stuff! My home!” They had no right. They’d probably even gone through her drawers, touching her most intimate possessions. Anger churned, building energy and seeking release.
    Rocky forced her backward, out the door, and she turned on him, unleashing the outrage that had nowhere else to go. “Let me go!” She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm. “It’s my house!”
    “You’re not going in there until the police go through it.” He caught her struggling arms, holding her away from the door and absorbing a few flailing jabs in the process.
    “I have to go in! Where’s Jingles? Damn it, Rocky, what if they hurt him? Let go of me!”
    “Janet, stop.” When fighting him didn’t work, she stood and glared. “Your cat’s all right. He’s probably hiding under the bed or on top of the refrigerator.”
    She aimed a vicious look at him for patronizing her. “You don’t know that.”
    “I know whoever broke in doesn’t care about your cat, and they wouldn’t waste time catching him. They had only one thing in mind. Believe me, Jingles is fine.”
    She broke free with one final twist, still reluctant to back down. “He’d better be. How did this even happen? I thought the alarm system was supposed to go off if the wires were cut.”
    Her anger seemed to bounce off him without effect. He pulled his cell phone out but