Chapter 13
“He’s got a gun!” Ethan rushed for Olivia and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You okay? You’ve been hit?”
“I think it’s just a flesh wound.” She took her hand from her neck to reveal a little blood, but not enough to make her worried. “Was it the couple?” She turned and spied the twosome getting into the car. The man was shoving the woman in forcefully.
Olivia took off across the parking lot, wishing her gun was in her purse. Dodging around the boot of a black limo, she swerved toward the car, where the man was opening the driver’s side door.
Ethan ran past her. “Stay safe! I got this!”
He arrived at the car just as the man swung up a fist. Ethan blocked the punch with his forearm and returned an undercut to the man’s ribs. The husband groaned and spat obscenities.
“Don’t hurt him!” Olivia warned.
Ethan twisted the man’s arm behind his back and slammed him against the car, forcing his head against the top. “Call in some back-up, yes?”
Olivia headed for the passenger door. It opened, and the woman jumped out, crying. “I hate you!” she yelled at her subdued husband.
“You are a slut!”
“And you are a mad man! You could have killed me!”
“I think it’s actually me he could have killed,” Olivia said, glaring at the husband. She hooked an arm through the woman’s arm, intent on getting her away from the immediate danger. “Let’s get you back into the mansion and to safety.”
A security guard rushed up to the back of the car, his gun pointing at the sky. “I called the police. What the bloody hell is going on?”
“Domestic squabble,” Olivia said as she helped the woman shuffle away from the car. “Take him into custody, will you? I’m Constable Lawson with Scotland Yard. And that’s…special agent Maxwell.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Leaving Ethan and the guard to handle the husband, Olivia helped the woman toward the mansion steps, but she insisted on staying outside. She didn’t want anyone to see her in tears, and with her mascara running.
It was too late for that. A crowd had gathered. Cell phones flashed madly.
Blocking the curiosity frenzy as best she could, Olivia moved Marcy to the end of the stairs and near the hedges, and sat beside her on the concrete stoop.
“He’s so jealous! Why can’t I have a bloody life?” Marcy tugged out some tissues from her purse and blew loudly into them.
Olivia’s entire body shook. She touched her neck again. It burned, but there was no more blood. The bullet could have hit her in the skull and, if not maimed her, it could have killed her. Had Ethan not called out to her, she might be dead right now.
His timing was definitely improving.
* * * *
After the security guard handcuffed the shooter, Ethan thanked him and headed for the steps, where the elite sniffed their noses at the unruly fuss. Would it have been more exciting if it were an art thief they’d just apprehended? Probably.
He found Olivia at the end of the stairway. Sitting next to her, Ethan brushed aside her hair to inspect her neck. There was little blood, some bruising and burns. Another centimeter, and it could have hit the carotid.
“Marcy left with another officer,” Olivia said. “I told her we’d need to question her. I should have gone with them, but…”
“She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine.” He brushed her hair forward, suspecting she’d want to keep the wound quiet and the attention away from her. Olivia shook. Ethan fought the urge to wrap his arm across her back and pull her in for a hug. She dropped her head onto his shoulder. “You okay?”
“I will be. Just a little shaken.”
“I’ll drive you home,” he said. “Or to hospital?”
“No, I’ll be fine. Just need to call in a report about this.”
“I instructed the arresting officer that we’ll want to question the wife about possible connections to art theft. Perhaps the husband as well. They are both being taken in and booked for disturbing the peace, and, on his part, domestic violence.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.”
“Time to call it a night, eh? Let’s go.” He put his arm across her back and led her to his car.
“Thank you, Ethan,” Olivia said as they walked through the parking lot. “I feel so stupidly incapable right now.”
“Don’t worry. No one noticed your nerves. You appeared a confident, capable police officer who took control of the situation immediately. You took off after the shooter. And you weren’t even on duty. You can let out your breath when you get to your flat.”
She didn’t understand why he was being so understanding. But it felt…supportive. And that was something she’d never felt from a man before. When he opened the passenger door and helped her inside, Olivia had to dash her finger across her cheek to wipe away a tear before he saw it..
* * * *
Ethan had seen the tear, and his immediate thought was that women should seek desk jobs and leave the real police work to others. But then he backtracked and gave himself a mental slap. Olivia was a skilled investigator and sharp at what she did. No one could take that from her. Not even him.
And getting shot at? He supposed that was worth crying over.
He didn’t say anything about her emotions as he drove to her place in Soho. He walked her up to her flat, thinking she would want to be alone, but she surprised him by inviting him inside.
After spending a few minutes in the loo to freshen up, Olivia now paced before the table where the case files were laid out. Ethan stood off by the sofa.
“We need to talk this over,” she said. “To figure what painting the vandal may next target. Because he will. This is a game, and he’s invited us to play. And the couple in the bedroom? Are they related? I don’t think so. It was a random incident. But we’ll need to question them. I should have gone to Scotland Yard tonight to talk to the wife. I could still do it.”
She was obsessing now. Ethan realized it was the nervous energy from the shooting. But he let her have that. He’d never been shot at, and he suspected the rage she felt at having been an accidental target must be immense.
“Why forgeries by a dead man?” she continued. “Why you? Why the Pre-Raphaelites? Ethan, are you going to participate in this conversation?”
It was more a gush of energy than a conversation.
Feeling it necessary to intervene, he pulled her into his arms. At first, she struggled and tried to turn away from him, but then he felt it. Her sigh. And a deep breath in. Her body relaxed. Muscles softened. She surrendered.
“It’s over,” he said quietly.
“No, the vandal is still out there.”
“Olivia, I mean what happened tonight. The shooter. He’s in custody and his wife is being questioned. I’ll ensure they are both questioned about the Renoir. You can relax.”
“Sorry.” She sighed again. “I can handle this. Really. I’m a big girl. I am. I’m just not used to handling such stress with others around.”
He leaned back to study her eyes. “I can leave if you wish.”
“No, I’d like you to stay. Right here.” She finally wrapped her arms around his waist. “I wouldn’t mind enjoying this hug a little longer. I need it. Thank you.” She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “You’re a kind man, Ethan. You’re a mystery, but you’ll make some woman an excellent partner.”
“You’re some woman. And I am your partner. For this case, at least.”
“You know what I mean.” She stepped out of the embrace, which had gone beyond its comforting allotment. “You don’t have a girlfriend?”
Now his personal life was fair game? If she needed the details to get her mind off the shooting, he would open up.
“Haven’t been in the market for one lately. But always receptive to the possibilities.”
Her eyes widened with a smile, and she nodded. “Too bad you’re not on my dating app.”
He didn’t know how to respond. Ethan looked to the kitchen and spied the kettle. “It’s bloody damn tea time.” He marched over and began the ritual, but turned to look over his shoulder. “Sorry. That’s how my father always put it. It was always tea time for him.”
She laughed, but then told him to brew her a cup, too. “I’m glad you came up. I know it’s late, but I’m wide awake. Put on some chamomile, why don’t you? Maybe we can do some work, if you don’t mind?”
“I’m game. What were you thinking about?”
“We need to figure where the vandal will next strike.” She leaned over the table, touching a few of the files.
Ethan set the burner to medium high and put on the kettle. “You believe he’s targeting you?”
“No, not me specifically.” She shrugged. “Perhaps the investigator? He’s not a simple vandal. He’s dangerous.”
“Right, but anyone could have moved that painting away from the wall. Including Camila Wright, who said she had touched it.”
“True. I forgot about that. I’m sorry, I’m still a little nervous from what happened.” And her pacing proved it. “They didn’t return to the Renoir.”
“I saw that,” Ethan said. “I suspect it was more boastful wish fulfillment. Unless Marcy and her lover have planned heists before. They do have their Friday lunch breaks.”
“They do. Oh! I can’t believe I was stuck in the closet listening to them.”
“I was there, too.”
“Yes, you were.” She ducked her head away from his gaze, but Ethan saw the smile curve her lips. “Where’s that tea?”
“It’s coming.” The kettle whistled. Ethan poured them both a cup and plopped in the tea bags.
“I checked with my assistant earlier,” Olivia said. “No sign of the vandal on the Scotland Yard databases. Remarkable. What about your organization? Interpol has a larger reach. Can you have them check him out?”
“I’ll send the picture to my man in systems right now.” Ethan tugged out his phone. He sent Chester Clarke the image and requested a thorough dossier on him. He also told him to check the Stolen Works of Art database for their vandalized paintings. “Done. And he’ll check our art database as well. It’s much smaller than the Art Loss Register Scotland Yard uses, but it is updated more frequently.”
“Good call. It could help in determining if the vandalized paintings are actual forgeries.”
“They are. Trust me.” He handed Olivia her cup of tea. She’d settled onto the couch, bare feet on the ottoman. He sat next to her, not too close, and just when he was going to put up his feet, he remembered his shoes. He kept them on, and his feet off the ottoman.
“We have the list of your father’s forgeries,” she said, “so that narrows down the vandal’s next move.”
“Only if my father is the connection.”
“It’s our strongest bet so far. Tell me about your father. That might help me to understand the case better.”
“Didn’t you look him up already?”
“I did,” she confessed with a flip of her hair. It was a devastating move to Ethan’s still-present lust. “And the information was minimal. What crime was he sent to prison for?”
“Uh…isn’t it obvious?” Ethan asked.
“But why redact a forgery conviction? It bothers me. Why didn’t you follow in his footsteps? Seems a boy who grows up watching his father’s profession would have no other goal than to do the same.”
How the hell am I going to get through this one? Ethan sipped his tea. He’d wanted intimacy with Olivia, but not like this. “It’s not important whether my father wanted me to follow his life of crime. What is, is that some stranger—the vandal—knows too much about him. And me.”
“Then he can’t be a stranger.”
“He could. The Internet, and all. Phishing. Identity theft. So on.”
“I’m leaning toward a family friend or acquaintance. Did Christopher Maxwell have a style? A favorite painter? Students? Maybe it’s a disgruntled student who finally decided to shout out about some cruel treatment.”
“That makes little sense. First, because my father was not a cruel man. Second, if that were the case, why not say something about it when my father was alive?”
“Maybe he didn’t dare? Was your father a taskmaster? Gruff? A force to reckon with?”
“My father was kind and yet, never trusted anyone.”
“Especially women?”
“You remember I said that, eh?”
“It would be difficult to forget. I initially thought you a bit of a chauvinist, but you’ve proven otherwise.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. I may have developed some ridiculous work ethics because of things my father has said to me, but I do try to overcome. And working alongside a smart, sexy woman like you makes it an easy task.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Even if sexy is not a requirement to do my job. Actually, it’s a detriment when it comes to earning respect.”
“Then you should never wear red around your colleagues. A man’s thoughts can only go one place when seeing you in that dress.”
“I’ll remember that.” She smiled and stroked a finger across her cleavage, but it was an absent move, not quite the come-on Ethan wanted it to be. Or was it? He was a little confused. And that put him out of sorts.
“So.” He set down the tea cup on a nearby table and turned to face her. She no longer shook, so he assumed she was feeling better. “Can we talk about that kiss in the bedroom?”
She set her cup aside as well. “What’s there to talk about?”
“A lot, actually. It was entirely unexpected. You kiss many men whom you’ve hidden with in closets?”
“You’re my first. Do you always hide out in closets while at parties?”
“Probably as often as you do,” he countered.
“Ethan, the kiss was a tease.”
Hmm. And yet… “You don’t strike me as a tease. It was nice. The kiss. Better than nice. I’d do it again if you offered.”
“Is that so?”
She glanced out the window over the table. It was dark, likely close to midnight. Ethan should be anywhere but here. But there were no rules about extracurricular activities at the ECU. And nothing that defined work relationships after hours. Or that prohibited them.
“Did that question make you uncomfortable?” he asked, hoping to earn back her attention. A flutter of her lashes. A long and lingering look into her starred eyes. She still looked away.
“Yes and no.” Now she did look at him, and her smile was genuine but it fell too quickly. “I’ve never had to deal with something like this before.”
“This?”
“Being attracted to a coworker.”
Ethan straightened and crossed his legs so his body shifted to face hers.
“Have you?” she asked.
“Can’t say that I have. But why does it have to be something we have to deal with? Can’t we just…let things happen?”
“In theory, that sounds wonderful.”
“But?”
She sighed and dropped her gaze to her lap.
“Right. You’re looking to get a promotion out of solving this case, and you think that if any after-hours hookups were discovered, it could jeopardize your chances.”
“Something like that should never bother me. And I do have a life. Whom I date is no concern for Scotland Yard. It’s just that you are working for Scotland Yard right now.”
“Actually, I’m not. They’re not signing my paycheck. We two are working side by side, but for different agencies.”
“Tell me more about this mystery agency you work for?”
He winced and shook his head. “You’re changing the subject.”
“I need to know more about it. I asked Superintendent Wellbrute about the Elite Crimes Unit, and he brushed me off. Why is it such a secret? You’re not black ops. If you were, you wouldn’t have given me the name of your unit in the first place. But the secrecy around it baffles me.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know.” Ethan brushed his thumb over her knee. “For a kiss.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“I’ve never claimed to be an honest man.”
She tilted her head at him, and Ethan felt that she could read every wrong thing he’d ever done or thought about doing. He was pressing his luck. Daring her to abandon her work ethics. And for what? A roll in the hay? No, it was more than that. It was a step out of her comfort zone.
So when she leaned forward, and he knew the kiss was coming, he met her mouth with his and pulled her closer until her legs nudged up against his. He pushed his hand through her silken hair and cupped the back of her head, holding her to him, not wanting to let her go now that he’d earned her kiss. It was at once soft and then also firm. A little demanding as she leaned closer and her breasts hugged his chest. All of her felt so wanting, warm and delicious. He grew instantly hard.
He tilted his head to change up their connection and teased open her lips with his tongue. Olivia moaned softly as he entered her and tasted the chamomile tea. Her fingers clung to the front of his starched black dress shirt. He wished she’d tear away the bow tie, but a nudge of her knee found his erection, and he made a surprised noise in the kiss.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “That fellow seems to pop up at—”
“Most any time I am near you,” Ethan finished. “I want you, Olivia. I won’t deny that. You’re a sexy woman, and you kiss with such command. I could get lost in you.”
“That’s quite the confession,” she said. “But if we don’t stop this right now I won’t let you leave tonight.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. And everything.”
“You’re struggling with morals and ethics in a clash that I can’t relate to.”
“Probably. It’s late. And I do need to be up early for work tomorrow. But don’t think I’m being a tease. I’m not. I’m…attracted to you too, Ethan. Can we take this slow?”
He kissed her again. “I’m good with that. Thanks for letting this happen. You make me want to be a better person, Olivia.”
He stood and started toward the door.
“Why do you need to be a better person?” she asked. “What have you done, Ethan, that compels you to have such a thought?”
He gripped the door knob and bowed his head. “Nothing.” And everything. “You’ve just made me feel that way, that’s all. See you tomorrow?”
“Yes. Bright and early.”
“I’ll swing by and pick you up?”
“I’d like that. Thanks.”
Closing the door behind him, Ethan strode down the hallway toward the lift. Easing a hand over his erection, he blew out a breath. Yes, a very good thing he’d not stayed the night. Because by leaving, he’d deftly avoided the very reason for the kiss in the first place. She’d asked him to tell her more about the ECU.
“Secrecy intact,” he muttered as he pushed the button for the lift. “As well as major sexual frustration.”