Maybe? Allie texted Tasha as she left Rick’s apartment. What the hell does that mean?

Tasha: Wait, what? U slept with him?

Allie: Don’t judge. U went back to the guy who dumped U.

Tasha: Not judging. UR just not the type to sleep with a guy U have only known just over a week.

True enough, but Allie was changing. Shifting from the go-with-the-flow, good girl into a woman who took charge of her sexuality and her life. She liked it, this change. Except for the “maybe” thing. What did that mean? Where did she stand with Rick?

Later, Allie texted as she reached the elevator, pocketed her phone, and stepped inside.

“Allie, hold the elevator!” a woman called.

She put her hand against the door to hold it open for the woman to catch up. It was Mindy Renfro, the manager of the Goodnight.

Mindy was fortyish, attractive, and recently divorced. She stepped breathless into the lift. “Thanks.”

“Morning,” Allie said.

“Good morning to you, too.” Mindy smiled like a fox in the hen house. “Did I just see you coming out of Kade’s apartment wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday?”

“Kade?” Allie frowned, perplexed. Did Rick’s twin brother live in the same apartment? If so, why hadn’t Rick mentioned it? “No, I was with Kade’s twin brother, Rick.”

Mindy looked as confused as Allie felt. “Huh? Kade doesn’t have a twin.”

“Yes, he does,” Allie said, feeling a slippery, ugly sensation wriggle around in her belly.

Mindy shook her head. “I’ve known Kade Richmond since he was a kid. His mom and I are good friends.”

Allie blinked, confused. If Kade Richmond lived in the apartment she just left, then who in the hell was Rick Braedon? Bigger question, who had she just had sex with?

Mindy’s eyes grew wide and she slapped a palm over her mouth as if she’d just had an epiphany. “Oh, shit.” She flapped her hands. “Never mind what I said. You’re right. You spent the night with Rick. Forget everything else.”

Stunned, Allie’s brain struggled to keep up with the deluge of information. The picture on the wall of the cowboy bull rider had looked exactly like Rick. Was Kade actually Rick? If so, why would he lie about his identity?

Why? Well, you trusting little dumbass, he wanted to get you into bed, but that’s all he wanted, so he lied about his name.

There was still something wrong with that assumption, but Allie couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Mindy was acting super weird. She bolted from the elevator the minute the lift settled on the ground floor.

“Have a good day,” Mindy called over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner, leaving Allie dazed and perplexed.

Blistering shame crawled up Allie’s spine, and she couldn’t get past the truth. Rick, Kade, whatever his name might be, had intentionally duped her. Lied to her. Even though she couldn’t figure out why, it was fact. What a gullible fool she was!

That’s what you get for having sex with someone you barely know.

Shattered to her core, Allie stumbled to the second elevator that went to her wing of the apartment complex. All the happy afterglow she’d felt this morning dissolved into a puddle of pain.

Lies.

It all came back to lies.

Lies hurt.

Rick…Kade…had lied to her. She’d lied to Dr. Thorn. She thought about how Rick…crap, she kept forgetting that wasn’t his name…what Kade had told her. He advised her against telling Dr. Thorn that she didn’t know Lila. But, of course, that would be his advice. He was a liar.

Liars lied.

And she’d been lied to. Knew how badly it hurt. She couldn’t keep lying to Dr. Thorn. If he fired her, so be it. If she had to move back home, so be it. Going home a failure was more honorable than lying.

Maybe Dr. Thorn would forgive her. Maybe not. Either way, she had to clear her conscious.

It might be a Pollyanna maneuver, a real rose-colored glasses hope, but she chose honesty over deception. The truth had always worked for her. She had to trust it would work for her now.

* * *

At eight-thirty a.m. on Saturday morning, July 1^st, it was already ninety-seven degrees. Allie walked into the relief of the air conditioning in the main room of the popup art gallery where Daphne, aka Ennui, had led her on the day she was hired. The museum didn’t open to the public until ten, but the Remington was already up, having arrived a half hour earlier.

Allie was thirty minutes late to work, it had taken her that long to stop trembling with hurt and fury at Kade. Anxiety twisted her up. She was on a mission to come clean, and she was pretty sure she was going to be fired.

And as far as Rick/Kade went? Well, she couldn’t think about him right now.

Because underneath her anxiety lurked a swell of sad so big she could barely swallow. Would she be able to find her voice when she spoke to Dr. Thorn?

No one was in the exhibit room, which seemed unusual with the Remington freshly installed, but she knew the paintings were protected with twenty-four hour security cameras, motion detectors, and Art Guard—playing-card sized devices fixed to the backs of art canvases that emitted high-pitched screeching if the painting was unhooked from the wall mounts.

Heavy blackout curtains over the windows kept out the morning sun. The only lights in the room were the ones fixed underneath the paintings, casting the chamber in numerous shadows.

Hands clasped behind her back, she stepped up to the Remington for a better look, the artist in her eager to assess the beauty of the brushstrokes. The woman in her desperate to get Kade off her mind. She studied the Remington a moment, cocked her head, bewildered by what she saw.

The door leading into Dr. Thorn’s office opened and he walked into the room. “Good morning, Allie,” he greeted.

“Dr. Thorn,” she said, turning in his direction, still puzzled by what she’d seen in the Remington. “I need to speak to you.”

“Can it wait?” he asked, hurrying toward her. “I’m rushed for time. A VIP client is coming in to buy a piece of art.”

“No,” she said. “It can’t wait, but this won’t take long.” Because you’ll be firing me as soon as you know the truth.

He stopped, looked irritated. “What is it?”

Allie ironed her shoulders straight, tucked her chin in, pulled up her spine, making herself as tall as she could, ready to accept her licks. “I have to tell you something important.”

He chuffed out a breath, folded his hands across his chest, scowled. “Well?”

Allie’s heart knocked. He’d never been impatient or upset with her before. The good girl inside her wanted to mumble, “Never mind,” and slink away, but she had to set things straight.

“I lied,” she said.

Dr. Thorn’s expression didn’t change. “About what?”

“Lila didn’t recommend me for this job. I don’t know anyone named Lila. Daphne suggested that if I pretended I knew Lila, I would get the job. I let you believe I knew Lila, but I realize now that it was a mistake. It was wrong to let the lie persist, and I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Dr. Thorn shrugged as if she’d just told him she’d eaten the last donut and he was gluten free.

Huh? “How did you know?”

A tinge of a smile brushed his full lips. “Because there is no Lila.”

“Wait?” Allie pressed her second and third fingertips to her forehead. This had been a very mystifying morning, and she was beginning to think maybe she was trapped in some weird dream. “What?”

“It was a test,” he said.

She thumped her forehead as if it might help process the information faster. “A test?”

“We needed to hire someone who was…” Dr. Thorn paused as if gauging his words carefully. “Who was suggestable.”

Rankled, Allie frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You tend to go with the flow. You don’t buck the status quo. That’s what we needed. A follower who didn’t have the guts to speak up.”

Ouch! Her bottom lip trembled and a tiny muscle at the corner of her right eye jumped the way it did when her feelings got hurt. “Why do you think that about me?”

“You didn’t deny knowing Lila. You went with the flow.”

Well, she had denied it at first, but her desire to land the job had won out. “And going with the flow is a bad thing?”

“No,” he said. “That’s precisely why we hired you. Because you don’t ask questions. You trust others to know what’s best for you.”

He was calling her gullible? Allie was insulted, even as she acknowledged the truth of her naivety. She did trust too easily, assumed other people’s motives were as pure as her own.

Why? Why was she so trusting? Stupid! Kade’s betrayal had taught her the fallacy of trusting the wrong people.

A kernel of anger knotted up inside her stomach, took root, grew, popped. She was tired of being made a patsy.

“Actually, Dr. Thorn, that’s not true,” she said sharply. “Because I have questions, lots of questions. One important question, in particular.”

“What’s that?” he asked, looking a little less certain of her than before.

Bolstered, indignant, she sank her hands on her hips. “Why is there a fake Remington hanging in place of the real one?”

He laughed, flinty and fast. “You noticed.”

“Of course, I noticed. I have a Master’s Degree in Fine Art. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

He shrugged, a blasé lift of his shoulders, as if to say, yeah, I did. That pissed her off even more. “Listen, it’s no big deal. The museum curator was uneasy about putting the real Remington in the popup with the rolling blackouts going on, so he put up a duplicate instead.”

“That’s cheating the museum goers,” she said, feeling the anger building hotter inside of her.

“The Mona Lisa is behind bullet-proof Plexiglas. Does that cheat the museum goers?”

“Yes, actually it does. But it is the Mona Lisa and it’s been stolen before. She is the most famous painting in the world, and requires protection.”

“And the Remington doesn’t just because it’s not as highly valued?” His upper lip curled into a snarl.

Something was fishy here. If they were that worried about the Remington, why not leave it out of the event entirely instead of putting up a fake? “Where is the real Remington?”

“In a safe place.”

Allie didn’t believe that, not for a second. She was done blindly trusting people and taking them at their word. “I want to see it.”

His face was unmovable, stony as a gargoyle. “And if I say no?”

“I’m going to see the museum curator,” she said, “and get to the bottom of this.” Blood pounding crazy fast through her temples, Allie turned on her heels, headed for the exit.

That’s when Thorn lunged for her.

* * *

“Kade,” Mindy Renfro called to him as he headed through the lobby of the Goodnight. “I think I might have blown your cover.”

He froze, pivoted, came back to where Mindy was sticking her head out of her office. “What do you mean?”

“I saw Allie Grainger coming out of your apartment—by the way, good choice, she’s an awesome girl—and I dropped your name. I didn’t know you were going by an alias with her. I’m truly sorry.”

“What did she say?” he asked, resisting the urge to curse. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Allie must be thinking about him right now.

“She didn’t say much, but she looked pretty upset. I hope you can smooth things over with her. You two would be so good together.”

Crap. He hadn’t even thought about Mindy knowing the both of them when he’d brought Allie back to his apartment. Hell, he hadn’t thought about much of anything except getting her into his bed. He was going to have to do some serious groveling to mend this rift.

“Thanks for letting me know, Mindy,” he said. He couldn’t blame the apartment manager. He was the fool for mixing business with pleasure.

Shoving a hand through his hair, he hurried to the parking lot for his pickup. His phone dinged, letting him know he had a text.

After Allie had left his apartment, he’d texted his point person at the FBI to ask if there had been any power outages during the popup art galleries in the cities where the paintings had gone missing.

Confirmed, texted the FBI agent. Power outages during all eleven popups where paintings were stolen.

Kade texted: That must be when Thorn switched the paintings with the forgeries. Check with the power company to see if it was really rolling blackouts or if someone hacked the power gird.

FBI agent: On it.

Kade pocketed his phone and strode toward his truck, his mind turning over everything that had happened that morning. His job might be to catch Thorn before he stole the Remington, but his mission was to find Allie and set things straight. It killed him to think that he’d hurt her.

The streets were quiet when he arrived at the Cowboy Hall of Fame. The Stockyards thrived on the tourist trade, and most buildings were closed to the public until ten. He didn’t expect the main entrance to be open, but he knew Allie entered through the rear door when she went in early.

He drove around to the back, spied Thorn’s car parked beside Allie’s. His gut kicked and the hairs on his arms lifted, and he just knew, as if by some strange telepathy, that Allie was in trouble.

Gun. Glove compartment. Now.

He didn’t question his instincts. Grabbed the gun, and slipped in through the back door just in time to see Thorn tackle Allie to the ground.

She shrieked and her terrified sound sent ice through his bones.

“Fort Worth Police Department,” Kade growled, gun in one hand, badge in the other. “Let the girl go!”