Page 2 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)

TWO

“It would be my honor to express gratitude.”

I admired Senator Thaddens’s ability to complicate the donation to the point where anyone listening in on us would be bored to tears and have no reason to believe there was anything amiss. He checked every line of documentation, asking me for clarifications whenever he wasn’t certain of something. In a way, I appreciated the work. To all appearances, he took a thorough and patient approach, ready and willing to spend money but needing assurances all would go well with the library.

The idea he could assign funds to specific projects pleased him, and much like a child on Christmas morning, he got caught up in learning everything he could about the library system and how he might leave a lasting legacy. From acquisitions to historic building maintenance, there was no project he wanted left unfunded. It amused me that he was determined to have an individual transaction for everything, resulting in us spending four hours submitting wires, shooting off emails to make certain the contribution amount and purpose were appropriately linked, and otherwise leaving a paper trail so complete not even the government would suspect anything going on.

For lunch, he’d called in a favor from his wife, Emma, who brought over a feast of Chinese food from his favorite restaurant, which was just outside of delivery range. We blitzed through eating so we could wash our hands and steal a few extra minutes handling the ancient books, preserving their covers, and marveling over their aged pages.

When the final transaction completed, we recorded everything to the senator’s standards, and as I had nothing left on my list, I made a show of checking my watch, heaving a sigh, and saying, “I have a long drive ahead of me, so I should probably hit the road. If I don’t return Bradley’s baby before midnight, he will have a meltdown of the likes nobody wishes to see. That I’m the one driving his baby will only enhance the ridiculousness of his meltdown.”

Senator Thaddens laughed. “Yes, men like him do get quite upset when their women and their cars go on adventures without them. Please allow me to show you a little gratitude for everything you have done, especially for Senator Maybelle. We often did not agree on things, but she would have been dismayed had things gone any way other than they did. She loved people.”

I could see the woman having loved people who fit her demographic and might serve her cause, but I would play the game. I nodded and replied, “That’s not necessary, but thank you.”

“Still, it would be my honor to express gratitude.”

As I’d learned arguing with the politicians rarely won me anything, I smiled, nodded, and went through the motions of accepting his unknown gift.

Rather than grab for a gift card, as most did, he pulled out a filing box from under his desk, set it on the polished surface, and opened it to reveal a bed of dark cloth, the kind the library used to protect fragile books. Then he went to his shelves, pulled down the codices depicting Emperor Hadrian’s architectural exploits, and tucked them inside, taking care to layer cloth between them. On top, he wrapped the book preservation kit, keeping the liquids aside.

Those went back into their leather case, which he set on top of the box once he closed it.

“These two books have brought you joy I’ve rarely witnessed before, so I feel they will be treasured in your hands. Senator Maybelle’s life was priceless. I know President Castillo has also given his praise and regard for your efforts, but I would repeat his sentiment. You have done the United States a great service, and I am proud to be able to thank you personally for it.”

I spluttered, recovered, and managed to stammer out my thanks for the prize, flabbergasted that he would even consider giving me such treasures. “I will take good care of them,” I promised.

Senator Thaddens smiled. “And before you worry, I had already discussed this matter with the wife, and we agreed that we would gift the book—or in this case, books—that evoked wonder for you. I had wanted to send you on an adventure to several of my favorite antique bookstores, but Emma thought this was more personal. And she’s right, of course. She often is, and I would be wise to listen to her more often.”

From the neighboring office, with its door open to allow easy passage, his wife laughed. A moment later, she strode in. “He’s right. You deserve those old things, where they will be loved. Let’s get you headed home, dear. You have a long drive, and that old car will probably give you trouble for the fun of it.”

“I’m hopeful it’ll hold on until I get home, but I’m expecting it to put up a fuss along the way.”

Senator Thaddens carried the codices while Emma took the leather case with the oils. At Bradley’s car, we did a final farewell dance, and I grinned at the evidence Senator Thaddens had either grown up or had been to the southern part of the United States often.

We lost thirty minutes to small talk, and it took checking my watch, apologizing profusely, and claiming I needed to go be Bradley’s Cinderella and make it home before midnight. I even quipped his red car might transform into a pumpkin, complete with fire under the hood if I didn’t get it back to where it belonged.

Once I escaped, I drove until I found a gas station carrying Bradley’s preferred grade and brand of gasoline, filled his thirsty beast up, and called him while I pumped.

“Is everything okay?” Bradley answered.

“Everything is fine,” I promised, laughing at his anxious tone. “I finally escaped. Senator Thaddens wanted to donate to every single project we’re doing individually, and it ate up a lot of time. Then we had the departure dance, which took longer than expected. I have received a gift, and it’s my favorite of the gifts a politician has given me.”

“This is going to be good. That one representative gave you thousands of dollars at a bookstore, and I thought you were going to explode from joy, especially as the gift included free delivery for anything you couldn’t carry. You managed to fill an entire shelf of treasures in your office. Where are you?”

“I’m filling up your car, which I stole this morning.”

“I had noticed my car had vanished from the lot while your new SUV remained in its spot, being spoiled like the pavement princess she is. You haven’t had any problems driving?”

“It’s been fine. I am considering myself as fully graduated from my car driving therapy program, and I wish to be taken to a car lot with sporty vehicles. It’s time for this baby to be retired.”

Bradley sighed. “All right. I’ll ask my parents if they mind storing it at their place in the Hamptons. I refuse to get rid of it.”

“We’ll run the tank out of gas after I return, and then we’ll have all the lines purged, disconnected as needed, and prepared for showroom storage. It’s time for some new beginnings.”

“That sounds like a good plan. How long do you think it’ll be until you’re home?”

“I expect four or five hours. I’m hopeful I’ll miss the worst of the traffic at this stage. If I don’t get lucky, tack on two hours. I will arrive hungry,” I informed him.

I would let him decide which type of hungry I meant, and if he failed to detect the innuendo, I would enjoy surprising him.

“Indian, Thai, Chinese, or barbecue?”

“Let’s go with Indian, and make it as spicy as you can. I’ll be home soon. I suggest that you wait up for me.”

“And what do I get if I don’t?” he challenged.

I grinned, well aware he understood his fate should I catch him snoozing when I arrived home. Either way, we would both win. “Nap and find out.”

“Let me know when you’re twenty minutes from home, and I’ll make sure our dinner is on the way—or warming up if traffic doesn’t cooperate.”

“You got it. No trouble, you. You’re only permitted to get into trouble when I’m there to help you out of it.”

“I’ll stay out of trouble. Anyway, I should be the one telling you that.”

“If I see any goats blocking the road, I will likely try to stay out of trouble but fail to do so.”

He snickered. “I’ll take you to see our goats and horses on Saturday. Just try to stay away from dangerous animals and politicians until then.”

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises on that score.”

While Bradley’s old car protested, I made it home without incident. I parked the red beauty next to my SUV, stopping to take the time to appreciate change and its unrelenting nature. Both vehicles were the same color, but Bradley’s paint had dulled over the years while mine gleamed in the overhead lights. Our family car, which we battled over fiercely for the right to drive, took the spot on the other side of my SUV.

In reality, once the sporty car retired, Bradley would drive the family car while I maintained jealous control over my SUV.

Thus far, I’d allowed him to drive my baby once and only once, and that had been during the test drive phase of purchasing.

No matter what we did, life changed. Time played a role in that. I wondered at a lot of things, and my visit with Senator Thaddens gnawed away at me. No matter how many times I revisited our conversation, the looming fear of having missed something critical took root and grew.

What had I missed?

How had I missed it?

The memory stick in my purse would burn away at me given time, but at least I could solve that problem readily enough. I would hand it over to Bradley, and he’d dig out his special laptop, one that had no ability to connect to the internet whatsoever and was erased at least once a week, reformatted and reinstalled so all evidence of our activities disappeared.

I expected the memory chip would be introduced to some explosives or a metal grinder until nothing but scrap remained—scrap that was melted down into a blob so that there was no hope of recovering the information on it.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I couldn’t help but feel the doomsday clock ticked down, and it skipped seconds at its whim.

With the care the ancient codices deserved, I removed the box from the car and set it on the roof of my SUV while I got out the box of oils meant to keep everything in pristine condition. I was locking Bradley’s car when he showed up, chuckling at my slow ways.

“You’re late, Janette.”

I checked my watch and rolled my eyes. “By two whole minutes. But since you’re here, you can carry part of my plunder. Senator Thaddens knows what a librarian needs, and he provided.” Before he could protest, I handed over the wooden box. “That’s part of a kit for caring for precious aged tomes.”

“Ah, I see. My librarian would like to go antique book hunting now that she has been enabled through the tools required to keep her new hoard safe.”

Unable to help myself, I grinned and nodded before retrieving my codices. “He started my collection with two pieces, and he taught me how to care for them, but they’ll have to go to a university for specialty care every now and then. I’ll probably take them in yearly unless they have a different recommendation.”

“The politicians seem to have clued in that you enjoy books.”

“I will even tolerate their presence for numerous hours at a time should books be involved. I have successfully completed my mission, and my boss will be pleased with me. I have taken a senator for a great deal of money, all of it funding our library system. I know, for a fact, that I will have a beautiful acquisitions budget for our new floors, for I witnessed him send the wire specifically earmarked for those exploits.” Aware nothing except the interior of our home was safe from watchful eyes, I hustled towards the elevator. “I trust you secured supper, sir.”

“Supper arrived five minutes ago, as I have learned that a hungry woman is an unhappy woman. I made certain to acquire the restaurant’s spiciest dish for you to try—and I asked them to see if they might defeat you. I’m hopeful. One of the reviews of the restaurant implied their dishes should come with a biohazard label due to excessive heat.”

“That sounds promising. Let’s put this stuff in my office, and then we’ll eat. Yes, the senator fed me, but I ate what is socially acceptable.”

I could—and often did—eat twice as much as most people while running a risk of losing weight.

“Clearly, you are starved, and I must do my sacred duty as the man of the household, beating my chest and providing supper after a long and fierce battle with my prey.” Bradley snickered, beat me to the elevator, and pressed the up button. The doors opened, and he stepped inside, making certain to keep his foot in front of the sensor so I could enter at my leisure. “I battled an uncooperative cell phone, but I emerged victorious.”

One day, I would get fed up with Bradley’s phone and chuck it off the balcony to the street far below, where its days as an annoyance would come to an end. “What did it do now?”

“Apparently, it has lost the ability to stay charged for longer than twenty minutes. We will be going to the store tomorrow. I could tolerate the rest of the problems. Twenty minutes on a charge is unacceptable.”

Finally. “We could both get new ones, and my old one can become a spare.”

“Your old one is not very old,” he reminded me.

“But we can be phone twins.” Well aware he liked matching, I challenged him with a raised brow. “Are you going to walk away from such an opportunity? The old phone can get a new number and live here. It’ll be the cellular version of a landline.”

“And as I refused to get a landline but have complained bitterly over the lack of a landline, your suggestion has great merit. All right, we shall venture forth and visit the phone store tomorrow after we handle all those work things we would rather not.”

I laughed, well aware that Bradley had thrown himself back into his business affairs with childlike delight after our return from California. The same glee infected me, and I’d twirled and danced my way through my first day back at work, much to the alarm of my co-workers.

They remembered the me from before my kidnapping and operation, unable to walk without pain.

The new me had found a renewed lust for life, embracing the moment with a joy I hadn’t been able to experience for so long.

In addition to ten thousand steps a day, I attended dance class three times a week with Bradley, and we made a point of going out and experiencing the world when we weren’t attempting to solve the mystery of how our government had fallen so far.

The why of it we understood.

Absolute power corrupted absolutely.

Tomorrow, I would make a point of revisiting old articles and stories about the various senators and representatives resting in their graves. Every time I snooped through the media reports, I learned something new.

Some had fallen prey to vigilantes, or so we believed.

Others had fallen prey to mysterious forces nobody was willing to speculate over—at least in public.

Once on the top floor, I considered Bradley through narrowed eyes.

“You have thoughts, and you don’t like them,” he observed, tucking my box under his arm long enough to unlock the door. “How many pennies will I need to pay for them?”

“I’ll accept removed clothes as currency later,” I informed him in a solemn tone. “After we deal with these wretched thoughts, I will need a distraction. I’m sure you can provide.”

“I am prepared to sacrifice my body for the cause.” Once we were both inside, he put on a show of locking the door. “Are you in the mood for tub, candles, and romance or a struggle?”

Bradley enjoyed both modes of evening indulgence, so I took my time considering my options. “Can we explore both? Tub and candles as a precursor for a struggle?”

“We certainly can. So, what sort of old books did Senator Thaddens gift to you? You are clutching that box as though it contains a priceless treasure.”

“These, sir, are two codices written during Emperor Hadrian’s reign of the Roman Empire, detailing all of his architectural exploits. There are blueprints of his buildings in here, sir. And Senator Thaddens is going to email me copies of all the pages so I can try to build models of everything.” I engaged him in a staring contest. “Sir.”

Bradley’s eyes widened, and his gaze fixed on the box. “You’re surely joking.”

“I am not. I even know how much he paid for them, and we’re going to have to take out an insurance policy for them.”

“Dare I ask?”

“A million per.” I hugged the box close. “A politician loves me, Bradley. They’re quite possibly the most beautiful things I’ve touched in my life, and they are mine .”

“Do you even know how to build models?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I guess we’ll discuss how to build models over dinner, and then I will reward my librarian for a job well done. Is there anything I should know?”

“We’ll talk about it while we eat,” I promised. While our home didn’t have eyes and ears in the walls, I held more than a few doubts. Bradley’s father sent numerous employees of his security firm to check for bugs—and they swept once a week to be certain nothing had been added. Then, in an effort to keep the place secure, we had cameras and microphones installed to catch anyone attempting to install monitoring equipment.

Thus far, the garage had been targeted, something my dash cam had caught and recorded, as the individual installing the bugs had needed to get within the vehicle’s five foot range. The motion detector had activated, the dash camera had turned on, and we’d gotten a video of the entire installation process.

We kept the system hooked up to a portable battery capable of lasting for three days before it needed to be charged, and Bradley handled making certain our vehicles were monitored when we weren’t with them.

His recorded around the clock, and we used mine to determine if there was reason to check his footage with extra care.

I suspected our conversations in the garage did a good job of boring anyone listening in on us. When we weren’t flirting, we discussed engagement party plans—and the possibility of moving up the timeline so we could get on with the rest of our lives. We’d had a few heated discussions on when and how many children we wanted, making it clear we couldn’t decide if we wanted three, four, or five future librarians in our flock. I’d suggested six once, and he’d spent the entire trip to our condo muttering about pregnancy hormones and the inevitable death of the entire universe.

Once safely inside our home, I locked the door, kicked off my shoes, freed my feet from my socks, and made use of the bin we kept in our entry cabinet to stash them until we did the laundry again, and said, “Can you get your laptop, please? There’s something I want us to watch while we’re having supper.”

“The older one or the new one?” he asked.

I reached into the depths of my purse and pulled out the memory stick. “The old one. I’m in a vintage mood after receiving such lovely books today.”

“Vintage it is. Should I dig out the vinyl player and put on some music?”

“Absolutely.”

The record player had been my idea; when he turned it on in the entry, it was impossible to hear anything going on in our kitchen or dining room from the door. He took the hint, went to the cabinet we used to stash our keys, my purses, and our shoes. He kept several records along with the player inside, which he set on the surface, plugged in, and turned on. Once classical music played, the kind he enjoyed performing on his grand piano, he headed for our dining room. “What’s going on?”

“Senator Thaddens hid a memory stick in his bathroom, and he was being monitored. The phone was recording him for certain, but judging from his collection of books, the walls in his home have eyes and ears.”

“Ah.” Bradley sighed. “I wondered if that was the case. The politicians have been in a mood lately—a quiet, reclusive mood.”

Following my recovery and return to the real world, a lot had changed. In some ways, the election campaigns had taken a somber, quiet tone. Somehow, my name kept cropping up with all the candidates, as if the media worked to make certain nobody forgot about my existence.

I questioned that, too.

Why remember me? I’d expected news coverage upon escaping from captivity. Senator Westonhaus had showered me with praise for my bravery and saving his life, as had President Castillo. The other candidates likewise took the same course, taking care to echo the President of the United States whenever he spoke my name.

It had been two blissful weeks since I’d gotten significant mention in the press, but I expected that to change once the latest donations were processed by the library. President Castillo had picked up the public services cause, taking care to encourage the wealthy to seek out their local libraries and give resources and tools so that all Americans could be gainfully employed and appropriately educated.

“This is going to put me in the limelight again,” I complained.

“I know. And I think I know why it’s been happening so much.”

“Oh? I haven’t a clue. I mean, I get it. Americans love heroics. I’m probably the only person who hasn’t offended somebody just from breathing lately. I’m unaffiliated!” I’d learned my lesson early on; the instant I picked a side, I would be stuck with that side for life, so I had forgone picking a specific party for most elections, instead opting to cast my vote during the final stages of the election cycle. “Did you know that those who are unaffiliated used to be called independents?” I asked.

I’d learned about that gem when digging through the old historical records at the library.

“I did know that. My mother told me about it. Did you know there hasn’t been an unaffiliated candidate in over a hundred years?”

I shook my head. “I did know that the independents changed their name to unaffiliated at least a hundred and fifty years ago. That’s also when aptitude became particularly important.”

“So, mistakes were made,” Bradley announced.

As we had a tendency of making such claims at least once a day, I nodded my agreement. “What’s today’s flavor of mistake?”

“My mother is your attorney, and she’s had power of attorney rights over all elements of your life since you signed the contract with me. She still has those rights, and she did something rather sneaky.”

I raised a brow. “Did she process a marriage certificate for us without informing us? That’s the kind of sneaky I can get behind right now. I am dreading the engagement party and would appreciate moving straight to happily married.”

“I wish. If she’d done that, we wouldn’t have to deal with so much bullshit. I am also regretting having once had interest in an elaborate party. I’m okay with admitting I was wrong.” Bradley herded me to the dining room table, grabbed two different takeout containers, and placed them in front of my normal seat. “I am expecting my librarian to eat every bite. Only then will she get dessert—and I ordered from elsewhere to make sure she has the perfect dessert tonight.”

I read between the lines: whatever Bradley’s mother had done stressed him to the point he intended to eat his feelings, and he liked his feelings having liquor inside the dessert in just enough volume to take the edge off.

The bakery down the street made a variety of different treats absolutely slathered in liquor. The tiramisu was his favorite while I had a tendency to gravitate towards the rum balls. “Are we even going to be sober enough to make it to the candles and tub portion of our evening?”

“Possibly not,” he confessed.

“What did your mother do?”

“After your disappearance, she registered you as a candidate for the election. According to her, she did it as a way to memorialize your heroism. President Castillo even called her and praised her method of acknowledging your bravery and service to our country.”

My eyes widened. “She did what?”

“Do you need me to repeat that?”

“I might. That can’t be real.”

Bradley held out his hand, which I took to be a request to hand over my phone as his wouldn’t handle the task with any grace. I unlocked it and did as he requested. A few minutes later, he handed the device back.

The website, which belonged to the government and tracked campaign hopefuls, listed everyone with a valid registration. Sure enough, my name was listed three different ways: my birth name, my pseudonym, and my future last name with a note that I was engaged to Bradley and we were taking the slow and traditional approach with our union.

I tapped on the link, which used pictures of me taken from the library. It detailed my public service record, my current aptitude, and details of the crash that had almost claimed my life. In good news for me, there was a note indicating that I had been registered by my power of attorney, I was not running a funded campaign, and that the media was to contact Bradley’s mother with questions.

“Why did she do this?” I blurted.

“That’s what I don’t know. Maybe she thought she could better protect you?”

“Considering one hopeful is already dead, I do not feel well protected right now,” I informed him. “Was she trying to get secret service resources to find me?”

“That’s the best theory I have. And she did get to consult with the secret service after she filed the application and spoke with President Castillo. She confessed earlier today, and she admits she did it right at deadline as a drastic measure. It shouldn’t change anything for us.”

Shouldn’t and wouldn’t were two very different words, and I feared the nuances would result in serious problems for us in the future. “Do you think that’s why the media keeps reviving my name?”

“Familiarity is a marketing tactic, and you’re the only common ground all candidates have. All of them have, in some shape or another, endorsed you. They have to know you’re registered as a candidate by now.”

I checked the list totals, raising a brow at the number of people who had registered as a candidate. “This list has over ten thousand people on it, Bradley.”

“It costs two dollars to register, and only when the campaign spends over five thousand dollars must it submit information on the treasurer and so on. My mother pre-registered your campaign despite a notable lack of spend, and she claimed all the required spots in the campaign with the exception of the treasurer, who is one of my father’s accountants who has an interest in politics. Apparently, being the treasurer of a campaign, even a non-active one, is a dream come true for him.”

I laughed at the thought of some accountant having a ball with an entirely bogus political campaign. “All right. I’m in agreement. Mistakes have been made. We will interrogate her later regarding the why of it. Your mother doesn’t act without good reason. Now, knowing that there is a bogus campaign in my name does change things a little. Do you think the politicians will be more inclined to donate towards my library, understanding that if I’m too busy processing their charitable funds, that I can’t dip my toes into politics? Let’s face it, Bradley. There is no amount of money on this planet sufficient to convince me to join the clusterfuck that is American politics.”

“It’s worth a try, especially with President Castillo pushing public services as hard as he is lately. But I’m worried, Janette.”

As was I. “I’m sure the fact my name could be written in on the ballot is the least of our concerns right now. It’s not like I’m actually running for office. We will view this as a very strange prank your mother pulled on us during a stressful time in our lives.” I sat, stuck out my right foot, and wiggled my toes at him. “The serial killers took the blame for my foot, Bradley. Doctors around the world absolutely scolded this group for putting my life at risk in a twisted show of apology. And the world has bought it hook, line, and sinker. I will forever be labeled as the victim of a group that showed remorse for missing a shot at an assassination.”

Bradley took my phone, tapped at the screen, and returned it a moment later, showcasing the article originating the false belief the assassins had been my kidnappers. “I thought about sending this reporter flowers and chocolate. She made it so the world will never be able to uncover the truth, all for your benefit.”

And the benefit of the team who’d saved my life.

Without them, I would have died.

“Do you think President Castillo has been kind to us because he knows if he isn’t , the assassins might start striking again? Everyone believes they’re behind my kidnapping at this point.”

“It’s possible. We just don’t know. We don’t know what their end goal is. We know nothing, really. All we know is that after you were kidnapped, the killings stopped. Maybe they’ve accomplished their goals. Maybe they’re waiting. But for what?”

“Do you think we’ll ever know?”

After sighing, Bradley shrugged. “All we can do is try to find out.”

No matter how hard we tried, would it be enough?

Only time would tell.