A pair of feet in expensive, designer boots were planted on the floor and there between them, her bag. All he need do was stretch his arm through and grab.

And be quick. No time to think.

Just go!

He lowered himself, so he now lay flat—an unpleasant thought considering his location—and crab-crawled himself to within arm’s reach of the large tote.

Breathe. Breathe, breathe out. But quietly. I’m a thief. A stealth spy. Suck in that air and…

Strike!

William’s arm shot out at a speed he never imagined he possessed. His hand arched, followed by a striking-snake move. As his fingers enclosed the bag’s handles adrenaline kicked in with an explosion of energy. If his swiftness going in was impressive, his withdrawal with the bag was remarkable. He leaped to his feet, marveling at agility he had only developed in the last thirty seconds. His heart threatened to blow a gasket, but he’d heard that’s good with athletes, and right now he could sprint a mile.

A scream roared from the cubicle as he bolted for the door.

“Noooo!”

It was definitely her. He’d heard her voice in his nightmares too many times, but it still made him jump and froze his body for half a second. And then he was through the door, sprinting along the hallway, running through the café (not caring anymore who saw him) and outside into the street before he’d even taken two breaths.

Would someone follow him? If not Orelia, possibly one of the staff who came to investigate the scream and would give chase.

Get out of sight.

A French pastry shop, two doors along, presented the next open doorway. As a hiding place it sucked. The windows were floor-to-ceiling with a brightly lit interior but, yes, the get out of sight command demanded he take the first opportunity to do just that.

The shop’s bell chimed a merry hello as he entered. In his mind, he imagined the damn thing calling out his guilt in a high-pitched voice.

Thief! Thief! Thief in here!

He gave the too-blond, too-sweet, smiling young thing at the counter an I’m-just-looking headshake, while moving the hand with the bag well behind his back.

“Well, you let me know if I can help you sir.”

Nope, nothing you can do to help. In fact, nobody, nowhere can help me.

“Our cinnamon rolls have just come out of the oven. We’re famous for them,” she said, as she pulled a tray from a nearby shelf and stacked the delightfully spiced cakes into the display cabinet.

“Ah, maybe, thank you. Let me just look around.”

William pretended to examine the bread rack by the door. In the meantime, he slid the bag around to the front of his body, holding it close to his skin like a magnet, covering it as best he could with his arms to make it less noticeable.

The window was a big, big problem. If Orelia came looking and spied him in here, she’d know in an instant who had taken her bag. And the book. He toyed with asking the girl if he might use the store’s bathroom to hide, but he didn’t want to be too memorable.