The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense (12 page)

He prayed that rift stayed firmly in place until he could get this job done.

Sophie hunched in her chair in the corner of the plain, white room. She pulled her knees up under her chin, the palm of one hand pressed against her forehead, her other arm around her legs. If she could keep her anger contained, not let it spread down the table toward the guard reading the paper at the other end, maybe he’d get fed up babysitting her and let her go. Fat chance. Gage had been pretty explicit about keeping her here. What was taking him so long?

“What time is it?” Her voice sounded hoarse, as if her vocal chords had partially seized up.

The guard glanced at his wrist watch. “Nine twenty. I should have been outta here twenty minutes ago. My wife’s gonna kill me." His grey, doughy face twisted into a lemon-bitter grimace.

“So go home. It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong.”

The guard lowered his newspaper to meet her gaze. “Do I look stupid?”

“Guess not.”

“FBI or not, Agent Gage didn’t look like the kind of guy I’d want to make mad." He returned his attention to the paper.

She’d thought the same thing; that Gage wasn’t someone to mess around with. But on the way here, when he’d lost it and yelled, she’d fired right back at him without the least bit of trepidation. It hadn’t occurred to her to be afraid. At least, not right then.

The door opened, and Gage stepped into the room. She raised her head, her gaze locking on to his guarded expression. Oh God, what had he done with her brother?

“Sorry. I didn’t think I’d be so long. Thanks for doing this." Gage spoke to the guard, but moved across the room to where she stayed huddled in her chair.

She felt the weight of his hand rest briefly on the top of her head, then slide down to her neck. “Let’s go, Sophie.”

She shook his hand away. “Did you put him in jail?”

“Just for the night.”

Without a word, she stood and strode out of the room. No way would she give him the luxury of justifying his decision.

“Sophie." Gage grabbed her arm as she exited the airport, but she yanked it out his grasp and continued toward the line of taxis parked in front.

She edged back from the curb when he planted himself between her and the taxi. The vein in his forehead was throbbing again. Not a good sign.

“Don’t give me a hard time. Not now."

Sophie considered arguing with him, but noticed the lines of stress carved into his face. They were both strung tight, not to mention hungry.

“Damn you." She started walking toward his truck in the parking lot. After a minute, Gage caught up to her and took her arm again. As they moved from one pool of light into another, skirting puddles left from the rain, his tight grip loosened, and he slid his hand down to entwine his fingers with hers.

She glanced sideways at him and saw his anger had been replaced by a hint of amusement as if he were laughing at himself. Or maybe at both of them.

For a minute–just a minute–she wondered what it would be like to love a man like Gage. To have the time and the right to discover the whole man–the good and the bad.

“Will Raphael get out tomorrow?” As she waited for him to unlock the passenger door to the truck, she rubbed her arms against the late night chill.

The door groaned on its hinges when he tugged it open. “Don’t you ever wear a coat?”

“I forgot.”

He took his jacket off for a second time that evening, wrapped it around her and helped her up into the truck. She sat on the edge of the seat, facing him, his hands lingering on her waist.

“I have to confirm if the painting is authentic or not." He moved as if to touch her cheek, but at the last second pulled his hand back and placed it on the roof of the truck. “It’s my job, Sophie. I’m not going to apologize."

She hadn’t expected less from him. But it had cost him this time. She heard the suggestion of a plea, and his vulnerability, as small as it was, brushed against a corner of her heart and settled there.

Oh help. She wasn’t really going to fall in love with Vince Gage, was she?

“I’m starving." She pushed him back and grabbed the door handle. “I know a great greasy spoon where all sorts of freaks come out at night. Let’s go there. Or you can drop me off if you don’t want to stay.”

He glared a not-a-chance-in-hell look, closed her door and walked around the truck and climbed in the driver’s side.

“You know I’ve changed my mind about you being a SUV man. This old truck suits you. Practical and trustworthy." She bared her teeth in what she hoped was a grin. So she lusted after the man. Love and lust didn’t necessarily go hand in hand.

“When I get my driver’s license back, I think I’ll sell my MG and buy a truck. Just like this one, maybe. Are you going to sell yours soon?”

Gage draped his arm along the back of the seat and cocked his head to one side as he watched her unravel. She tried smiling again, but everything inside felt stretched too tight. Something was going to crack or snap or break.

“We should go. I’m hungry." She’d said that already, hadn’t she?  She bit her bottom lip, turned and looked out the side window.

“You didn’t have anything to drink at the airport, did you?”

“Coffee." The night was so black, she could see his reflection in the window. A normal man would have been exasperated by now, but Gage looked genuinely curious.

His hand settled on her shoulder. “Coffee affects you the same way wine does?”

A caffeine high. Why hadn’t she thought of that?  She opened her mouth to agree, but lying had never been her strong suit, and with Gage it was near impossible.

“It’s not the coffee." She looked at him, looked back to the window. “I think I’m on overload. It’s not every day someone stashes dope in my refrigerator, and my brother gets set-up to take....”

Her gaze zapped back to Gage’s face. Dammit, he knew and he hadn’t mentioned a thing. She shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “Someone’s setting us up?”

“It’s one possibility." He stuck the key in the ignition and turned the motor on. “I need directions on how to get to Raphael’s. You have the key to his apartment, right?”

He acted so calm, as if dealing with this kind of vicious corruption was an everyday occurrence for him. Why would someone choose to work at a job that brought him face to face with the worst society had to offer?

“If someone is trying to set you and Raphael up, they know what they’re doing. Seatbelt, Sophie." He put the truck in first and pulled out of the parking spot.

Her hands shook as she clicked her seatbelt on. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, they know what they’re doing?”

“I never met a family with more secrets than yours. Do you three ever talk to each other?”

“Of course we do." She squirmed in her seat, dipped her nose inside the collar of Gage’s coat and took a deep breath. “Raphael lives on Hester Street.”

“I know. It’s the apartment number I can’t remember.”

“Raphael has been away a lot lately, so maybe we don’t talk as much as we used to,” she continued, thinking out loud more than explaining her family’s relationships to Gage.

“And Mother is...." She shrugged. “Raphael is better with her than I am. But we don’t hide things from each other, for heaven’s sake.”

Gage raised his eyebrows. “Who’s your father?”

“Not fair." She slid further down into the folds of his coat.

“Okay. Raphael’s been traveling a lot lately. Where does he go? What’s he do when he gets there?”

“I don’t know.”

He flicked on the turn signal and pulled into the middle lane. “I do."

“You do?”

“Yeah. I also know about the trust funds your father set up for you and Raphael.”

“No way. We promised each other we’d--”

“What?” Gage bit the word off. “That you’d keep it secret?”

“The trust funds are different.”

“Different from what?”

She plowed a hand through her hair and tried to keep her voice at a reasonable level. “You’re deliberately trying to confuse me.”

“Am I?” He shot her a look before making a left turn at the intersection. “Which building is Raphael’s?”

“The brick one on the right.”

Well, that took care of one of her worries. Sophie stared straight ahead as Gage maneuvered the truck into a tight parking spot. No way could she ever fall in love with a bully.

Before she could open the truck door to escape, Gage caught her wrist and wrapped his long fingers around it. “Raphael’s in serious trouble, Sophie.”

He raised his other hand and awkwardly patted one side of her head as if he were smoothing her hair down. Her racing heart gentled under his touch.

“If that tin in your refrigerator really did contain an illegal substance and another law enforcement officer had discovered it, you’d be in jail, too. And then there’s the threatening notes you received." He cupped her face with both hands, one thumb rubbing the soft spot just under her ear lobe.

“Things are not looking good, buttercup. If you have any more secrets tucked away, now’s the time to tell me. I don’t want anything else coming at me from left field if I can avoid it."

Sophie clenched her jaw to keep herself from turning her face into his wide, calloused hand and pressing her mouth against his palm. It occurred to her it was possible she could be more than a little in love with Gage. Especially right this minute, when she wanted nothing more than to crawl into his arms and stay there forever. Was that left field enough for him?

“I hate it when you call me buttercup." Her voice scraped out of her parched throat.

“Liar.”

She tried to duck her head, but he held her chin firmly in his hand.

“Come on, Sophie. I went out on a limb not writing up your suspicions about the drugs in your refrigerator. If you’re holding out on me, it could screw both of us up.”

She tried not to look guilty as she stared just to the left of his earlobe. Some things were best not said out loud. Gage wouldn’t welcome her falling in love with him any more than she embraced the thought.

And that’s all it was–a thought, not a reality. She steeled herself to look straight into his eyes. “If I have any more secrets, they have nothing to do with this case."

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“It’s the best I can do."

Gage watched her for another minute, then sighed and pulled his hands away from her face. “The MG Midget you were sitting on out behind the art gallery is yours?”

Why she would feel like crying now after keeping it together for the last few days, she had no idea. Except Gage was no longer touching her and the absence of his touch created an emptiness inside her, as if by taking his hands away, he took a part of her with him.

“Yes." She rubbed the back of her hand against the tingle in her nose.

“You should have paid those speeding tickets and slowed down a bit."

His message came through loud and clear.
I’m an FBI agent with a file on you, and I’m building fences here.
She drew in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It’s what she wanted after all, a safe distance from the feelings he stirred up. She had never intended for any of this to happen. Not just the trouble she and Raphael were in, but the way her and Gage’s lives were locking together, piece by piece. She had the sinking sensation if one of those pieces were taken away, the hole left behind would remain forever empty.

Oh God, she was in trouble, wasn’t she?

Sophie scrambled out of the truck and dug in her pocket for her key ring and the key to Raphael’s apartment. “Why are we here?” She glanced up as Gage walked toward her.

Still wearing his black sweater and jeans, he moved as though he were part of the night, dark and dangerous and offering unthinkable possibilities. A wave of desire threatened to engulf her, and Sophie stumbled onto the sidewalk.

“To look for the bag Raphael intended to take with him. He says it’s the same as the one that held the Matisse, but the clothes he’d packed were different,” Gage explained in his deep voice as he took her elbow and steadied her.