by Lisa Harris
“But why us?”
Seriously? She hoped he’d stop with the questions. Then again, it would be beneficial to know what he thought about his grandmother’s matchmaking efforts.
She wasn’t going to take the bait. “I’m not going to answer that if you don’t know.” Hmmm. Time to redirect. “So what would I do next?” A gust of a salty breeze wrapped around her. She drew in fresh air and let it clear her mind. “Contact my informant.”
Reg clapped the railing and headed for the parking area. “Let’s go see him.”
Nicole followed. “Her.”
He used his key fob to unlock the Range Rover. “Pardon?”
“You said him. My informant is a her.” Nicole climbed into the passenger side.
Once Reg had turned on his vehicle, he looked at her. “Where is she?”
“I usually call her. I don’t usually just show up.” In fact, she didn’t know where to show up.
Reg let the vehicle idle. “Call her now. We need some intel so we know where to go and what to do next. Who wants these paintings and why?”
“Paintings that Nazis had stolen.”
“As I said before, that’s ancient history. I’m not sure that plays into this.”
“You’re not the art crime expert here.” The more she thought about it, the more unsettled she felt. “Quiet now. I’m making the call.”
Her informant answered. “Yes.”
“It’s me.”
“Yes. How are you?” Her informant’s words sounded unusually stilted. Maybe she couldn’t talk, at least to Nicole.
In that case, Nicole would skirt around her real question so she wouldn’t sound like a cop. “How’s your mother? Has she been keeping up with her art classes? Painting a Van Gogh Starry Night?”
“She’s still painting.”
“If I wanted to take some classes, where would I go if I wanted to learn to paint like Darrow?”
Her informant exhaled. “I . . . I know just the place. Downtown Seattle. It’s called The Blue Door. You’ll find an excellent teacher there. His name is Chameleon. Oh, but it’s private. Members only. Sorry about that.” Jillian ended the call.
Wow. Nicole stared at her cell. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a more cryptic conversation.” She shared the details with Reg. “The way she answered the phone I just didn’t think I could ask her outright.” And the way Jillian had said private almost sounded like she didn’t want Nicole to go there, was warning her away. And yet she’d given her the information.
“We’ll figure it out. She gave you something. Let’s find this place. While I’d like to get back to Grandmother’s house and scour the place in search of evidence of my own, I have to trust the county’s evidence techs. Who knows? Maybe they will actually find the painting. Or both of them. Wouldn’t that be something? Then we could mark off art theft as the reason for last night’s chaos.”
“I suppose it would be good if they found one or both. We can put them under lock and key. But it’s not as if your grandmother imagined they were stolen.”
“I’m not sure this is about the paintings even with the footprints in the basement where the painting had been.” Could it be related to the undercover case he worked before? How could he know for sure one way or the other? All he could do was keep moving forward. He wasn’t supposed to be working. “But we have that thread and we’ll keep pulling on it. If we were to find the painting—one or both—we could use it as bait and see who comes for it.”
She laughed. “Oh, that would be a great idea. Like I want to face off with mercenaries again. The problem is that we might not see them coming next time.”
“Oh, I think we’ll see them coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re already on the lookout for that possibility, and now we know how aggressive they can get, again if that was their purpose for being there. But we’re going to get to this guy first. Or woman. The person behind this could be a woman. So you asked your informant about the artist, Darrow, hoping that she would know something about the theft, and her cryptic message is to send us to this Blue Door place and an artist named Chameleon. Do you know anything about him?”
“Never heard of him. Must be a new code name or something. Let me ask you, if you were profiling Chameleon, who are we looking for, exactly?”
“Isn’t that your territory?” he asked.
“Art thieves come in many varieties, including those who would sell paintings to fund terrorism.”
“It’s that last category that has me concerned.”
Chapter Eleven
Reg drove them toward downtown Seattle, leaving Nicole to her thoughts while he got lost in his own, trying to figure out the puzzle pieces. Once downtown, he steered the Rover into a hotel parking garage.
Nicole yawned and stretched. “What’re you doing?”
“Let’s get settled. We need a place to regroup. This hotel has security cameras everywhere. Doormen. I want to keep you safe, even while we’re not actively chasing bad guys.”
“What do you think your boss would think about your planned activity? You’re on a medical leave, right?”
Reg shrugged. “I’m keeping him informed and up to date.”
“But he’s okay with you looking into things?”
He sighed. No, he wasn’t. “I’m supposed to go into the office here in Seattle tomorrow.”
He found a spot near an elevator and parked.
“I know how much being an agent means to you.”
He turned to look at her. “Yeah, well you mean something to me too, and I don’t know if the danger remains.”
He opened the door and got out and waited for her at the back of the vehicle.
“About the hotel room . . .” She held his gaze, a question in her eyes.
“We’ll get adjoining rooms, of course. Don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t all that worried.”
“Really?” Why because she didn’t think he was attracted to her? Or was it the other way around?
“I trust you,” she said.
Reg caught her wrist and gently pulled her into a shadowed corner. And closer. Her lips parted in surprise and something more. He couldn’t deny her and met her halfway, pressing his mouth against hers. Emotion flooded his heart. He wanted to deepen the kiss. The memories of their time together flooded his heart, but he wanted something more with her, something new.
Slow and breathless, he eased from the kiss but held her close. He had his answer. She still felt something for him. Something deep and passionate.
“Reg.” His name coming from her lips drew him closer.
Still, this wasn’t the time or place. They were still in danger.
“I said I trust you, and then suddenly you kiss me. Are you trying to make a point?” she asked.
“Yes, and I think I made my point, but you can still trust me.” He winked.
She leaned a little closer and smiled, then gave him a soft kiss. “Point taken.”
They stepped apart and got into the elevator. “I want to check out The Blue Door before we go in, okay?”
Reg checked them in under an alias he kept in case his real name was compromised.
After Reg cleared both hotel rooms, he gave Nicole a weapon he’d taken from Grandfather’s collection since he’d had to leave the guns he’d used in the shootings with the sheriff’s evidence collection. “You keep this.”
“I don’t want to touch it. I killed a man last night.”
“A man who would have killed you, and my grandmother. You saved lives, Nicole.” He took a step closer. She seemed so vulnerable. “You protected my grandmother.” He stepped even closer and pushed a strand of her loose hair behind her ear.
“Reg, I . . .” Her voice was breathy.
Reg wanted to step away from her. “I don’t think I thanked you yet.”
“You did.”
“Did I?” He couldn’t remember.
A tenuous grin lifted half her face.
“Don’t tell me it’s your traumatic brain injury.”
Good that she inserted some humor into it. Way to go, Nicole. Give him an easy out. With a grin, he stepped back. “Nothing as easy as that. Look, I apologize if I overstepped in the garage. Let’s look into this place that we’re about to visit. You’ve got your tablet, right?”
“Yep. I keep it in my bag with me. I wish we’d had time to stop by my apartment to grab my laptop.”
“Who knows if we would find it intact.”
“Gee, thanks for putting that image in my head.” She made to close the door separating the rooms.
“What are you doing?”
“I’d like some privacy.”
“I thought we were working.”
“We are. It’s just that. . . No offense, but I need some space from you if I’m going to clear my head enough to think.”
The way she smiled when she said that gave him the hope of a future he shouldn’t be looking for. Because falling for Nicole again could only end in disaster.
“Fair enough. Please bolt your door. Um . . . I don’t mean the door separating us. You can trust me.”
“I know what you mean. It’s already bolted.”
“Shout if you need me.”
“You’ll be the first to know.” Nicole smiled as she closed the door, something resembling longing in her eyes.
He got it. He shouldn’t have kissed her. What had he been thinking? He’d let his emotions get the best of him when she’d acted as if there was nothing at all between them. Nothing for them to be concerned about. Sure, they were Christians, but even Christians had emotions and desires and had to be smart about them. Not put themselves in challenging situations. But kissing her had made the situation even more challenging.
He scraped both hands through his hair. If only he could send her on a cruise of her own and into safety while he figured this out, but Nicole would not be set aside so easily. He couldn’t work this alone but had to be with her, but on the other hand, working with her was brutal to him personally.
And that didn’t bode well for their joint investigation.
A deadly force, a dangerous “someone,” was still out there, and he couldn’t be sure they would not be targeted again.
He moved to the windows and peered into the gray afternoon, though the skies were beginning to clear. He hoped Grandmother was enjoying her cruise and they would have this figured out before she got back.
Seven days. He would shoot for three.
His cell phone buzzed with a text.
you have twenty-four hours.
Nicole pressed her back against the door separating the two rooms.
What was the matter with her? How had she ended up kissing him?
She’d held her composure as long as she could, but he was getting to her again. If she hadn’t kissed him, maybe it would be easier to pretend they were nothing more than two people working together on a case, and had no history whatsoever.
She inhaled deeply to slow her heartbeat and pushed from the door to look out the window at downtown Seattle. The landmarks—the Space Needle. Puget Sound.
No matter that they had barely escaped with their lives last night, life around her continued. Crowds bustled beneath her on the streets. Cars honked. People rode their bikes, even on a rainy Seattle day, though it didn’t appear the rain had pounded the city, leaving it in puddles like the Pacific storm that had battered the coast last night.
Okay. So she’d slowed her breathing and calmed her heart.
But that didn’t mean she could forget the kiss.
For just this moment, Nicole would let herself remember. She thought back to the time she’d spent with Reg at the University of Washington. She had been working on a double major of art and criminology. Reg had studied information technology focusing on cybercrime to increase his chances of being accepted into the FBI.
They’d both had that goal, that dream, but . . . Oh, Reg.
She recalled her words to him when she’d broken things off. What a cruel, brutal move on her part to break up with a guy who had been willing to give up his dream, his career aspirations—or at least put them on hold—to stay behind with her as she finished her last year in college.
What was worse, she hadn’t broken things off with him because she was sacrificing so he could achieve his goals. Instead, her reasons for pushing him away were selfish. She hadn’t wanted him to resent her when she left him to head to Quantico. He was a distraction to her mission in life.
She’d been selfish and foolish. How did one overcome past mistakes?
Was their meeting a second chance? A sign they should try again?
The problem was, Nicole might trust Reg, but she did not trust herself. She simply couldn’t risk hurting him like she’d done before. She could end up pulling the same thing on him.
Sure, Nicole had grieved for the loss of their relationship. For the way she’d hurt him and hurt herself. But if she wanted to learn the truth about that fateful day her father had been murdered, she had to remain single-minded. She never should have allowed herself to fall in love to begin with.
How did she end up in this position again—caught up in this whirlwind called Reg? And this time, it was a matter of life and death. Now, she couldn’t walk away from him or tell him to walk away.
They needed each other.
She closed her eyes and remembered the kiss. For a second or two, she’d savor the sensations. Again, her heart rate kicked up. Nicole pressed her hands over her eyes.
God, what am I going to do?
She turned from the window and snatched her tablet from her bag. Plopping in the chair, she searched for information about the members-only private club, The Blue Door. Nothing came up offering an address. Except, wait . . .
A google image showed the neighborhood and the door. She had an image. Was this the place? No one would ever know that it housed some sort of private art club. With an image, she could find an address. Still, a private club with no information might be impossible to get into. She knew of exclusive clubs around the world for the rich and famous. Some with secret doors even, like this one.
She and Reg would need to figure out how to get in.
She knocked lightly on the door and could hear Reg speaking with someone on the phone. Even so, she slid it open. Distress carved lines into his forehead as he waved her in.
“Yes, sir. Yes.” He ended the call and sighed. Paced the room.
“What is it?”
“I called my boss and told him that I suddenly remembered I had a USB drive on me when I fled on my motorcycle, but he claims it was not in my things in the hospital.”
He slid his hand around the back of his neck and rubbed it.
“You’re not getting a headache again, are you?” Bad timing. Please, no.
“It’s not that.”
“What then . . .? Wait. You don’t believe him. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what to believe. But the memory was triggered by a text I just received. How did this person even get my number?”
“Who, Reg? What was the text?”
“Twenty-four hours. When I crashed, someone approached me and told me I had twenty-four hours. After I woke up in the hospital I hadn’t remembered that. I didn’t remember until I was at Grandmother’s four months after the crash. Yesterday, in fact, I remembered. But another memory hit me today when I got the text. The thing is. . . that first twenty-four hours warning has long passed.”
“So it would seem the clock has started again. Did you tell your supervisor about the text?”
“No.”
Nicole’s eyes widened. “Why not?”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Because I also remembered that when I woke up in the hospital he was there in the room with me. I remember telling him about the USB drive and what it contained—it was the whole point of my assignment. I risked my life to get that intel out. That moment in the hospital, he assured me that he would take care o
f it. I was off the case and needed to focus on recovering. But now . . . just now on the phone he changed his story. The thing is, I didn’t talk about it at the debriefing because I hadn’t remembered that conversation due to the traumatic brain injury until just now. So . . . it’s only my word against his.”
And the guy wanted Reg to believe his memory was faulty.
“Reg, you have to tell someone at the FBI everything. How did this person even get your new cell phone number? That’s the most disturbing part to me. Think about it. . . your boss has your new number.”
“He isn’t the only one. After last night’s chaos, the sheriff’s department has it. Grandmother has it.” He shook his head. “Could someone within that circle be connected to my past?”
“Could be he hired a hacker to ferret out your new number from your contacts.” Nicole shook her head. “And now with that text, we need to consider that we could be way off track. What happened at your grandmother’s house could be related to your past after all and have nothing to do with the paintings.”
“You think the timing of the text is just a coincidence.” With the rhetorical statement, he crossed his arms.
“What do you think?” Nicole was stumped.
“I don’t know what to believe. All I know is that I was taken off the case. And as far as I’m concerned, my boss just lied to me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to text back.”
“Do you think that’s wise? Isn’t there someone else you can contact at the FBI?”
“I’m a guy with a traumatic brain injury, Nicole. If it’s my word against the Assistant Agent in Charge. Not to mention, I haven’t exactly been following protocol since yesterday morning when I collided with you. Who do you think will be believed? Let’s see this through until we have adequate intel to take to someone. Then we can figure out who we can trust.”
We.
He’d said ‘we’.
She could get used to that.
Chapter Twelve
Reg paced the room, acid churning in his stomach. Too much was coming at him too fast. He wasn’t even working undercover.
