Scarlett

I woke up to a room full of darkness and a heart full of guilt. Despite my anger, I had let him have his way with me. We had sex not once, but twice, and I secretly think he was trying to tire me out so I wouldn’t yell at him.

Gabe was a cop. Suddenly everything made sense. Now I understood his casual demeanor, his confident questioning. His friend on the police force wasn’t a friend from the army, but a coworker. Evidently they both had been working this case for a while. Between kisses, he told me of his suspicions, and how important it was that we identify those paintings. He promised me that everything was going to be fine, and all I had to do was trust him. He’d take care of everything.

Trust him, despite the lies. I felt as if I was in high school all over again. Part of me wanted to walk away from all of this. I didn’t need this, especially with my gallery in so much financial trouble. On the other hand, if Bridget was selling stolen paintings and involved with the Escort Killer, then everyone in the art world was at risk. She had made a lot of enemies during her career. All of them would be in jeopardy. I owed it not only to myself, but to my colleagues, to get to the bottom of this. It was for that reason that I decided to help Gabe with his little trip to the Morales estate. Nothing more.

I squinted as a cell phone light blinked on next to me on the mattress.

“Who are you texting?” I asked.

“Sal. I have to let him know that you know, and what we’re planning to do.”

“Is he going to get a warrant?”

Gabe shook his head. “There isn’t enough time, and I’m not entirely sure we can convince a judge we have probable cause. Besides, we don’t know how well connected these people are. If they learned of a warrant to search the mansion, they could move the artwork and we’d have to start over.” He brought the phone closer to his face and read the screen. “He wants us to take pictures while we’re there.”

I turned and stared up at the ceiling. “So he’s okay with us breaking in to someone’s house to look at the paintings?”

“Not exactly.”

I turned to face Gabe. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabe texted something and put down the phone. “I’m under cover. That means I do whatever it takes in order to get the job done, even if it is a little shady.”

“Shady? What we’re talking about isn’t shady, it’s illegal.”

He shrugged. “If it gets us the information we need, then it will be worth it.” He picked up the phone and began texting again.

I tossed my arm over my head and closed my eyes in disgust. This wasn’t going to end well. I could feel it.

Gabe was right, though. We didn’t have many options, and we were running out of time. There were so many questions, and so few answers. Somehow, everything I wanted to know centered on the man in bed next to me. It didn’t give me warm fuzzies. The last time we were a couple, I had felt the same way. He had told me all of these hurtful things back in high school, things that had sent me into a depression that took months to recover from. Back then, I had thought that we had formed a real connection, but learned that he was only using me as a “pleasant diversion” his senior year. Now, just when I thought he was starting to care for me, I learned that he was using me to gain access to the art show so he could catch a killer.

Funny how history repeated itself.

When Henri and Bridget manipulated and betrayed me, it hurt, but I got over it. Gabe’s lies cut deeper, perhaps because I thought we were starting to move beyond the lies of the past. I thought he had changed, but it seemed as if he was the same old Gabe, not afraid of using people to get what he wanted.

“Sal has a good idea,” Gabe said as he put down the phone and moved over to my laptop. He tapped on the keys until a prompt of my password appeared on the screen. “Do you mind?”

I frowned and moved over to the computer to put in my password and unlock the screensaver. “What was his idea?”

“All of the victims have been confirmed as being part of the escort world.”

“Except for Henri.”

“Who hired escorts.”

I pressed my lips together as anger bubbled through my bloodstream. I didn’t like to be reminded about that fact.

“We don’t know if all of these people are part of the art world, though. We could only confirm the first two. Sal thought that if you looked at their profiles, maybe we could connect them somehow.” He called up a browser and started typing in a Web address. “Specifically, we want to see if we can connect them to Bridget.”

“Bridget.” I stared at the screen as a Miami police Web site came up. Gabe typed in his log-in information and navigated to a screen with several pictures.

“Here, take a look at these.” He stood and motioned for me to sit in front of the computer.

“What am I looking for exactly?”

“Just tell me if you know them, or if they have ever worked with you and Bridget.”

I winced as I flipped through the pictures. “These bodies are so gruesome.”

“Just do the best you can.”

I stopped on a picture and leaned closer to the screen to examine it. “I think . . . I think I may know this person.”

“You do?” Gabe crouched down until he was next to me.

“Yeah.” I turned to another one. “And this one, too.” I flipped to two more, then sat back in my chair. “Two were emerging artists back when I was working with Bridget. They came to her gallery quite a bit.” I blinked at him. “The others are amateur collectors. They came to me last year looking to start personal collections but didn’t really feel passionate about anything I had to offer.”

“Perhaps because your gallery shows work that is too contemporary?”

“Perhaps, but I can’t be sure. They didn’t say why they didn’t connect with any of the art, only that they didn’t.”

“Huh, interesting.” Gabe picked up his cell and began tapping.

“Why would someone want to kill young artists and amateur collectors?”

“That, my dear, is what we need to find out.”

“Are you sure that there’s no other way? If these paintings are fakes, then we’ll end up embarrassing ourselves.”

“But what if they’re real?”

I put my fingers to my lips and glanced back at the computer screen. “If they are real, then someone is selling stolen artwork on the black market. Those pieces belong in a museum.”

“My thoughts exactly. That’s why we need to go back there and confirm whether or not those pieces are authentic.”

I shook my head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. We need to go to the police.”

“I am the police, remember?”

I stood and walked across the room, desperate to put some distance between us. “I don’t know.”

“Trust me.”

“Trust you?” I chuckled and shook my head. “You keep saying that, but you’ve been lying to me from the beginning.”

He straightened and crossed his arms. “Would you prefer it if I were a real escort?”

“At least then you’d be telling me the truth.”

“Scarlett, please.” He took a step toward me, and I retreated. I didn’t want him to touch me or get into my personal space. I knew him too well. He’d turn on that Gabe Ferreira charm that always seemed to work on women and before I blinked I’d be on my back and having the best sex of my life. Then he’d manipulate me into doing exactly what he wanted.

Just like I was manipulated by Bridget, then by Henri. My entire life I had been led around by the nose. Even in high school, when I thought Gabe and I had something special, I learned that I was only a pretty distraction. When he graduated, he told me that he needed to focus on his real life, a life without me. He had used me then, and he was using me now. Some things never changed, did they? Well, I was different now. Gabe wasn’t going to manipulate me as easily as he did in the past.

“You’re not being fair. This is my job. If I don’t maintain my cover, then people could get killed. I didn’t lie to you to be mean, I did it to protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“The less you knew about the case, the better, or so I thought.”

“Then I was attacked.”

“Yes, and I realized that you were somehow wrapped up in all of this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I tried to, but things were happening so fast. It just, it didn’t seem important.”

“Not important?” I turned my back and crossed my arms. If this guy thought telling me the truth wasn’t important, then perhaps I misjudged him.

“You should go.” I turned to face him. “Or better yet, I should go.” I didn’t want to spend another moment in the same room as this liar.

He crossed the distance between us and placed his hands on the wall on either side of me, stopping my escape. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Scarlett.”

I was acting like a child, but I couldn’t help myself. He had hurt me, damn it. Didn’t that mean anything?

“Look, I get it,” I said. “After Henri was found, you realized the killer was somehow connected to the art world. You agreed to stay with me for the week because you needed access to the art show. I was the perfect cover.” God, I was such a fool. “Well, you don’t need me to check those paintings. You could bring in a real professional, someone who can tell for certain if those paintings were stolen.”

“Haven’t you been listening? There isn’t time. Besides . . .” He hooked his finger under my chin and turned my head up to meet his gaze. “I already have a professional.”

I blinked back tears. “No, you don’t. Not anymore.” I pulled my chin from his grasp and ducked under his arm.

“Scarlett—”

“You manipulated me, Gabe, just like you did in high school.”

“Just like I—Look that was different.”

“How?”

He pressed his lips together, but said nothing.

“I thought so.” I walked over to the hotel room door. He was immediately there, beside me, sliding his fingers over my hand as I reached for the handle. “Hear me out.”

I pulled back my hand and looked away, not quite trusting myself to meet his gaze.

“Back in high school . . . I had a lot going on. I’m not justifying my actions, Lord knows you deserved better, but I was just a stupid kid.”

“And now?” I glanced up and noticed the worry lines around his eyes, the stubble along his jaw. It looked as if he was worrying about a lot more than just closing this case.

“Now, I’m just trying to honor my father’s memory.” He let out a long breath and let go of my hand. “His dying wish was for me to carry on the family name by building a career on the police force.”

“Just you, and not Cruz and Max?”

“My brothers were young when he died, but they eventually joined the force as well. I’m the only one doing undercover work like him, though.” He pushed his hand through his hair and walked a short distance away. “I’m under more pressure than the rest, being the oldest. My father . . . he wasn’t an easy man to live with, but he was a good man, an honorable man. Every time I close a case, I can almost feel him smiling down on me, offering his approval.” He let out a short laugh. “I suppose that sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“No, not really. My parents never thought I could make a living in the art world and encouraged me to enter a more stable career.” I chuckled as I remembered my father’s disappointment when I told him I was leaving for New York. “Every time I close a deal, it’s as if I’m proving to them, and myself, that I can do this.”

“You did do it.” He stepped forward. “You continue to do it every day.” He rubbed his hands up and down my arms, sending tingles of pleasure over my skin. “You’ve come a long way, Scarlett. I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

He waggled his brows. “Of my escort abilities?”

I playfully slapped his chest. “No. Of carrying on the family name. Of becoming a cop.”

His smile faded. “Then you know why this case is so important to me. There isn’t enough time to get a warrant. Besides, it seems as if these people have connections all over the city. If I go get a warrant, chances are they will find out about it. Those paintings will be gone before we have a chance to go in there and look at them.”

I stared at him for a long moment, considering his words. “I don’t know if I have the skills—”

“You do. I have faith in you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. It was the first time I had ever heard someone from my childhood say such things and mean them. Gabe probably didn’t know it, but his words meant a lot to me.

“Okay.”

“Okay, you’ll do it?”

I nodded. He grinned and pressed his lips against mine.

“Thank you.” He gave me a quick bear hug before letting go.

“I’m assuming you have some sort of a plan?” I asked as he moved back over to the computer.

“I do.” He began typing on the keyboard. An aerial photograph of the mansion came up on the screen. Gabe grinned at me. “The Internet is a wonderful thing, isn’t it?”

I smiled. “It is.”

He blew up the picture so we could both see the land surrounding the house. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do . . .”