This was supposed to be an easy job, in and out with no one the wiser until the owner returned a week later to find one of his prized possessions stolen with no leads, just after he got into a rather inconvenient shouting match with another art buyer across seas. It was quite fortunate luck that another man had alluded to taking the piece of artwork that morning, that he would ‘do anything to get it back’. By the time her placed his body guard on the job (a man who was currently twelve hours away working another job) the piece would already be taken and she would have had it in her possession. The man wouldn’t realize his mistake until it was too late, and then he would implicate his rival in the case. Neither Seamus or Genevieve would ever be a passing thought in investigators or the victim’s mind, they had little to do with the man after all.
As long as Seamus’ source was correct, the house would be empty and the painting would be toward the back behind a secret bookcase and a thick vault who’s combination she would have to figure out herself, a task she had basically mastered over the past few years. Quietly she moved through the house, her steps quiet on the wooden floors of the expensive mansion, making her way up the stairs. Just as she was about to reach for the bookcase she felt something hit her hard across the head. Stumbling back she clutched the taser gun in her hand, her eyes attempting to focus on the large man in front of her…the damn body guard had gotten there earlier than she had been told. Gritting her teeth she swung, making contact with the man’s face and stunning him for a moment. He had most likely believed she would go down due to the blow on her head but she had managed to dodge more of a severe wound that might have completely incapacitated her entirely.
A fight ensued, one that the neighbors would no little about except for the occasional grunt and groan as a punch was landed. By sheer luck the larger, more awkward man had stumbled back on an ottoman, leaving Genevieve the perfect opportunity to hit him with a large voltage of electricity from her taser. Panting the battered woman stumbled out, slipping out of the window and moving as quietly as her brain would let her feet move. Slowly she moved toward her hotel, making sure she kept straight and kept her face away from any security cameras that could be lurking on street corners. To most of the public she looked like a normal woman on a briskly cold night, huddled in her coat for warmth. Those she past saw little of her bruised face or the blood slowly trickling down her side. Finally, just as her knees were about to give out she slumped into the elevator, leaning heavily on the wall as she waited for it to bring her to her room. Her legs slowly stopped working just as the dark haired woman made it into her room and closed the door behind her.
Suddenly her legs buckled as black started to creep across her vision and she fell to the floor. The French woman wheezed, sure she had at the very least fractured her wrist, bruised a rib and had both a head wound along with a cut across her side. She could feel the blood trickle down her forehead as her eyes closed and her vision was overtaken by black.