Protecting His Interests Read online

  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 . . .”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gabe

  This wasn’t my best plan. This wasn’t even a good plan. Unfortunately there wasn’t any time to come up with anything else.

  “I’ve never broken into a van before,” Scarlett murmured from behind me.

  “That makes two of us.” We had parked the car a couple of blocks away from the flower shop and were watching the employees load up the vehicle. Thanks to my cover at the escort service, I knew that Edgar liked his flowers as much as Rocco liked his art. Every Friday afternoon they had fresh blooms delivered to the Morales mansion and placed throughout the rooms. A little flirting with Edgar’s secretary confirmed that he ordered flowers from this shop, an exclusive boutique in the heart of downtown Miami.

  “How do we know that this van is the one going to his mansion?” she asked.

  A man in a maroon polo and jeans brought out a large bunch of white and purple orchids, similar to what had been delivered to Cox’s office earlier that week.

  “That’s it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s going through an orchid phase right now.”

  “You can have an orchid phase?”

  “Evidently.” The man moved back inside to get another bunch of flowers. “Come on.”

  We crept along the side of the building and hid behind a nearby sedan. Two men came out and loaded up more flowers, then went back inside.

  “Let’s go.” I dragged Scarlett up to the van and helped her climb in the back.

  “Where should we hide?” she whispered.

  Thankfully the van was almost full. I motioned her toward the back, where a large stand held multiple bouquets of orchids, tulips, roses, and chrysanthemums. No sooner had we crouched down, the men returned with more flowers.

  “What a waste,” one of them said. “I hate going to this place every week. That guy is cranky and he doesn’t care for his flowers.” He pushed his bouquet back into the van and climbed up on the rim. “If he bothered to water the ones he has, he wouldn’t need to buy fresh every week. A little TLC would save him a ton of money.”

  “A little TLC would put us out of business, Harry,” the other man joked. “He’s paying a premium for these blooms. The money is fantastic.”

  I tried to cover Scarlett the best I could as the delivery guy picked up the vase and moved to the back of the van.

  “I know,” Harry said. I held my breath as he placed the vase on the rack right above my head. “I just can’t help but think that there could be some other use for them, you know?”

  Scarlett held her body stiff against me. I could tell she was scared. If we were caught, it would ruin our entire plan. Everything hinged on this moment.

  “You and your conscious,” the other guy said. “Just shut up and get back here. Once this delivery is made, we’re done for the week. I don’t know about you, but I have an entire season of Walking Dead and a six-pack of beer waiting for me.”

  Harry snorted. “All right. Let’s go.” He turned away from us and made his way back out of the van. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed behind him.

  “That was close,” Scarlett said as the van started moving. She pulled away from my arms and I fought the urge to keep her close. She felt so good next to me. It was the perfect fit. Part of me was reluctant to let her go.

  “Do you think they locked the van?” she asked.

  “I hope not. Things could get messy if they did.”

  She crawled out from behind the rack and glanced at all of the flowers around us. “It’s rather romantic, don’t you think?”

  “Romantic?”

  She turned to me and smiled. “Hiding out among a bunch of flowers.”

  “Yeah.” Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about it, but if she thought it was romantic, I could play along. Anything to get her close to me again.

  “Do you think the paintings are still where we last saw them?”

  “I’d imagine so. The auction itself is scheduled for the same place. I can’t see why they’d want to move anything.”

  “True.” She shivered and averted her gaze.

  “Hey.” I slid close and put my arm around her. “What’s wrong?”

  “What we’re doing is dangerous.”

  I hooked my finger under her chin and lifted her head to meet my gaze. “I’m a cop, remember? Danger is my middle name.”

  She snorted and pulled her jaw from my fingers. “Well, it’s not my middle name. I haven’t done anything this crazy since . . .”

  “High school?” I asked.

  She smiled at me. “Yeah. Since high school.”

  I rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. “Remember when I showed up at your bedroom window after dark?”

  “That was a crazy night.” She grinned and rested her head on my chest.

  I pressed my lips to the top of her head as the memories came flooding back. “That was a terrible movie.”

  She chuckled. “Yes, but it was rated ‘R,’ and our parents didn’t want us to see it. It was exciting.”

  Exciting and stimulating, if I remembered correctly. I was trying to hide my raging hard-on for most of the night.

  “You were wearing a blue dress,” I said after a long moment.

  She turned in my arms to face me. “You remembered.”

  How the hell could I forget? The flimsy sundress showed more upper thigh than I had ever seen in my eighteen years. “Of course.”

  She leaned in closer. “Do you remember coming home?”

  “And how your father thought there were raccoons in the bushes? I swear that shotgun was aimed right at us.”

  “But he didn’t use it.”

  “No, thank goodness.”

  “And then, after he went back inside.” She shifted her gaze to my lips. “Do you remember what happened then?”

&nb
sp; Oh yes. There was no way I was going to forget the night of our first kiss. I had kissed girls before, many times, but that one time underneath her bedroom window was magical. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline rush we had from the shotgun incident, or the excitement of doing something forbidden. Perhaps it was just the fact that I had been waiting to kiss her for months and finally had the opportunity. Let’s just say that the kiss exceeded expectations.

  “My memory is a little hazy,” I lied. “What did we do?”

  Scarlett chuckled and slid her arms around my neck. “Let me see if I can refresh your memory.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against mine. Immediately, my body responded, tightening with anticipation as she worked her tongue into my mouth.

  It only took me a few seconds to recover. When I did, I tilted my head and deepened the kiss as I slid my arms around her torso. Time stood still as we tasted and explored each other. For one long, blissful moment, I was transported back to my teenage years, before my father’s death. Before I was forced to break up with the woman I loved.

  Scarlett moaned and shifted her weight, leaning into my chest. I eased back toward the floor, dragging her along with me. Sliding my hands up under her jacket, I fumbled with her shirt until I finally touched her skin. She felt warm and soft. As she pressed her body on top of mine, I eased my hands down her jeans and ground my hips against her, eager to be inside of her once more.

  I probably would have gotten inside of her, if the van hadn’t stopped.

  “Shit.” Scarlett pulled away and straightened her clothes. “We’re here.”

  I blinked and tried to clear my head as she tucked her shirt back into her pants. “We could just be at a light.”