“Is that a fact?” Dakota Smith said, his voice very calm.
The agent recognized him then. At a muffled sound from the reception area, the female agent spun around, her hand going to the small of her back, but Dakota moved in fast, gripping her arm so that the small Smith & Wesson slid free. Dakota caught it with one hand, then shoved her against the wall. “Not in this lifetime are you taking her anywhere, Agent Fuller. The only one answering questions from now on will be you.” He gripped her wrists together behind her back and snapped on plastic restraints.
A moment later Izzy Teague appeared in the front room, with the other agent similarly cuffed. He studied Nell’s new security camera and pursed his lips. “Nice line of sight on that new surveillance video. Set for twenty-four-hour feed, too. What do you think about that, Kolowitz?”
The second FBI agent’s eyes flickered back and forth. His bland features tensed. “Her father is a convicted thief and a probable terrorist agent. You’re disrupting an official investigation. That’s what I think.”
“Actually, you’re the one disrupting an official investigation, Agent Kolowitz.” Izzy gave a cold smile. “That was a bad idea to plant a stolen painting here in Ms. MacInnes’s storeroom three nights ago—especially since we have everything nicely captured on high-resolution video feed.”
“Painting?” Agent Fuller frowned at her partner. “What are they talking about, Frank?”
“I didn’t—” The man cut off an icy answer as he heard the whine of sirens coming up the alley.
“Wrong answer, Agent Kolowitz. We’re talking about burglary, aggravated assault and homicide.” Izzy pushed the man toward the front door. “He and two other men in your unit played you for a fool, Agent Fuller. How does it feel?”
“I don’t believe it. You can’t—”
She started to say more, but Dakota pushed her toward the back door where two uniformed SFPD officers were waiting.
“Say good-night, Gracie.” Dakota watched until the two were transferred to separate cruisers, headed off for interrogation. “That felt good.”
Nell looked at the new camera, then at Izzy and last of all at Dakota. “Twenty-four hour feed? I didn’t order that on my new system.”
Dakota raised an eyebrow at Izzy. “She didn’t order that? Impossible. I don’t know how a mistake like that could happen, do you? We never make mistakes.”
Izzy smiled at Nell and gave a two-finger wave. “Impossible just takes a little longer. Enjoy your week, ma’am.” Then he vanished.
Nell was still working through what had just happened. “These people in the FBI unit were involved?”
“Agent Kolowitz and two others had made some deals with people at the National Gallery, and they were all involved with Gonsalves. For now I can’t tell you more than that, but it’s nasty work. Don’t worry, Nell. It’s over.”
Over.
As Dakota prowled the workroom, she fought an urge to smooth her hair and tug at her sweater. She wasn’t going to let this get awkward and messy and—unbearably personal. He had come here to finish an assignment; no reason to paint a grand drama out of the event.
“How did Agent Kolowitz and the others—”
“We’re still working out the details, but we know they had a contact close to Gonsalves and they were able to tap your father in prison. They were watching for a major piece of art to steal when the Mona Lisa sketch was brought in for assessment. When your father didn’t show adequate enthusiasm for the job they forced your climbing partner to watch you, as ammunition in case your father wanted out.”
“He had no choice, not if he wanted to protect me,” Nell said quietly. “Eric—where is he?”
Dakota put his clipboard down on the worktable. “Hospitalized in England.” Something crossed his face. “I doubt he’ll ever climb again. He was caught in a boat propeller and one hand is badly torn up.”
Nell gulped down a breath, fighting nausea. “He didn’t think they would hurt me.”
“He was wrong, wasn’t he?” Dakota’s voice was harsh. “He’ll have to live with that, along with everything else. Meanwhile, there will be no more police harassment. Izzy and I have taken care of that particular problem.”
“But how—”
“Later.” Dakota’s hands rose, framing Nell’s face. He didn’t move, simply looked at her. The force of his feelings was almost physical, pulling her in. Closer, always closer. His thumb traced her upper lip. When she trembled, he whispered her name and slid his hands into her hair.
And when he finally leaned down, kissing her as if her mouth held all the air to fill his straining lungs, Nell’s world tilted and she knew there would be no going back. Not with a man like this. She sank into the heat of his body, feeling as if she had just come home from a long journey with no signposts except those that she could read in his eyes.
His hands opened, tense against her hips.
Dakota drew a breath, and then kissed her again, gently this time without the desperate greed. There was regret in his eyes when he stood back.
“What’s wrong?” Nell brushed his cheek.
“That kiss will have to last us for a day or two.”
“Why?”
He smiled faintly. “Get your things. First I’m going to feed you. As usual you’re stuck back in the Renaissance, dreaming of spittle and chicken bone glue and linen rag paper. I bet you haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”
“No, but I was going to—”
He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Chinese food. I know a great place on Geary. And after I feed you, we’re going camping in the mountains.”
“But—”
He kissed her hard. “Later.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
DAKOTA DIDN’T TELL her the rest.
The mountains he mentioned happened to be in France, not California.
All the details were arranged. After a brief stop at Nell’s apartment for her climbing clothes and gear, the hours of travel flashed past in a sleepy haze. Nell drowsed off and on during the flight. Whenever she woke, she looked down to find her hands intertwined with Dakota’s. He didn’t push her with questions or make small talk. The solid strength of his presence was enough.
For two nights they traveled, each day passing farther from civilization, cars and noise. On the second night they stayed in the old gatehouse of a vineyard owned by a friend of Nicholas Draycott. Nell got a little drunk from their exceptional wine, and Dakota said very little as he pulled her back into the curve of his arm. He spoke to their host for a long time, discussing trails over a set of topo maps, and they left at dawn the next morning after a short, restless sleep.
Sleep and nothing more.
There was something he wanted to show her, Dakota had said. Something important. Everything else could wait.
On the third night they sat on the peak of a mountain in the Luberon and watched sunset fade from pink to purple. When the first star winked to life, Dakota spread out a sleeping bag and two pillows.
And there in the darkness he simply held her, arms tight, her head against his chest while the stars glittered over their heads. After her return from Scotland, Nell had a thousand questions to ask him.
Now, with his arms around her and the night’s beauty sweet and heavy as a dream, there were no questions worth asking.
SHE AWOKE to a breeze ruffling her hair and the distant cry of an owl. She blinked, disoriented, and felt hard fingers curve around her waist.
“It’s just an owl.” Dakota murmured. “Go back to sleep.”
Sleep? Nell realized she was draped across him like a blanket, her fingers worked under the waist of his jeans.
Warm skin.
Lean muscle.
Heat fluttered through her chest, and she tried to pull her hand away, but he rolled onto his side, trapping her hand right where it was. And then the irritating man went right back to sleep, while Nell’s body shot to full alert. He hadn’t done more than skim her cheek or kiss her since his
arrival in San Francisco, and now her body jolted to three-alarm, head-swimming arousal.
Nell frowned. She tried to pull her hand surreptitiously from beneath his waistband.
“No need to move. It’s fine where it is,” Dakota murmured.
Not for her, it wasn’t. Every movement was torture and every breath he took thrummed across her nerves, inciting reckless possibilities.
“I can’t sleep.”
He moved slightly, drawing her against his chest. “You were sleeping fine a few minutes ago.”
“Then I woke up.” Now she was far too awake for comfort and her hand kept wanting to slide lower until she curved around his wonderfully sensuous heat.
Goaded to her limit, she rolled across him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“What?” He sounded sleepy and absolutely calm.
“Our bodies together like this. Your fingers on my breast and my hand in your jeans. Without…whatever.”
And whatever was exactly what Nell had in mind. Whatever Dakota wanted. Whenever and however he wanted it, under the high cold fire of the stars.
“Anywhere you want to touch is fine with me, honey. Go right ahead.” He rolled a little, sliding his fingers into her hair. The movement drove their thighs together and sent Nell’s hand even lower beneath his jeans.
It wasn’t fair. He was cool and absolutely controlled while she was losing her mind. At least the man should squirm a little.
She remembered their few wonderful hours in the big soft bed at Draycott Abbey. He hadn’t been calm and controlled then. The air had snapped with hot awareness as they’d tangled the sheets and lost all reason, locked in each other’s arms. But the thought of Draycott Abbey brought other memories, along with the slick feel of her father’s blood. How could she think of life when his death was still so close?
Nell sank back, half-sprawled against Dakota’s chest, and tried to slip her hand free.
No luck.
He had her trapped, caught in heat and desire.
Wind played through the cypress trees. Nell watched a cloud drift over the moon, her heart too heavy to speak.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
She wanted to be open with him. She’d sworn not to erect walls around her emotions, but she didn’t know where to start. Even if she did know, why should she bother Dakota with her pain? He had enough stress and uncertainty in his life. So Nell shoved down the hurt and lay very still, watching the clouds make their way south to the Mediterranean.
“Nell?”
“I’m fine. Just tired from climbing.” She manufactured a yawn. “Probably I can sleep now. Why don’t you just turn a little so I can move my hand?”
Dakota frowned in the darkness. Like hell she was fine. Before he was done, they were going to talk about her father and whatever else was worrying her.
Slowly he brushed her lip with his thumb. “Sorry, but I’m not moving. You’ll have to get used to it.”
“Get used to what?”
“Feeling me,” he said quietly. “Having my hands in your hair and my leg over yours. I’m going to be doing that a lot from now on, honey. I know that what happened will never go away and you’re still hurting, so I won’t push you, but I’ll be here. Someday I’ll be as close as forever. Someday—whenever you’re ready.” There was more Dakota could have said, more promises that clamored to be spoken, but he would start with this.
Nell pushed to one elbow and stared at him. “You think I can sleep after that? You think I want to sleep?” She gave a muffled sound of irritation. “My hand is getting hot, you know. Not just my hand,” she snapped.
“Good to hear it.” Dakota moved a little, making her fingers even hotter, sliding his thigh over hers. “Sleeping wasn’t really what I had in mind.” His voice was low and rough. “You are a part of my life now, Nell. This isn’t about a few hours of reckless sex under the stars, with our future put on hold. We’re not going to run from all the possibilities.”
Not a question.
An irrevocable statement of fact. He wanted that absolutely clear to her before things went any further. Which things were going to do very soon, Dakota swore.
Nell caught a sharp breath. “Reckless sex under the stars sounds pretty good to me,” she whispered. As the wind skimmed the slope, she had a sudden sense of bigger connections. Her father was gone, but his memories were clear, alive in her. Later she would have a torrent of questions for Dakota, but now the air was rich with quiet promise and infinite expectations and touching his lean, tough body beneath a sky full of stars seemed to be the greatest miracle of her unpredictable life.
She wasn’t about to let that miracle escape. It seemed natural to trace the hard line of his jaw and then bite his mouth gently. “Giving me orders already, Navy?”
“Not orders.” He frowned. “I will not push you. I want that clear, Nell—”
“Oh, everything’s clear. Beautifully clear.” Nell felt a crooked grin form as she slid her hand lower into his jeans, opening her fingers around his rigid length. Need mixed with a nearly electrical sense of rightness, as if they fit together in deeper levels that she had barely begun to sense.
Dakota kissed the curve at her neck. “You want to explain what’s clear? I’m getting a little…distracted here.”
“Later.” She rolled over, pinning him beneath her. The words would come later. Now was for taking and being taken, for feeling his breath catch as her fingers explored his thighs and tugged his jeans lower.
Trust flowed over Nell in a rush, stealing all speech. She’d never expected to find it, yet here it was.
Dakota’s hands opened on her hips, then rose to cup her breasts and heat washed up, settling in her chest until she couldn’t breathe. When his lips closed around her breast, desire flared white-hot, and hotter still when his fingers cupped her stomach and feathered between her thighs. Slow and clever, they found her, slipped deep and made her quiver in breathless discovery. His lips were on her cheek when the first wave ripped through her and Nell dug her hands into his back, thinking of the tiger that coiled over his shoulder, as beautifully dangerous as Dakota was.
The stars seemed to tilt overhead.
“Dakota, I—want all of this, everything we can share. All the possibilities. Nothing’s been half so good in my life as what I’ve found with you.”
“Me too, honey.” His hands tightened. “Hold on because it’s going to get even better.” He cupped her hips and lifted her to meet his swift entering and Nell gasped at the unexpected heat and force of him inside her. His eyes never left her face as he let her down slowly inch by inch, then drew her back to meet his strokes, while her body came fully alive against him.
Racked by pleasure, Nell closed her eyes, tightening around him. The stars tilted and danced as she bit his shoulder, wanting more speed, more heat, touching the center of all that he was.
He whispered her name. She fell then, lost in the granite strength of his body and the mystery of the pleasure he made her feel. She saw the warrior’s eyes narrow, saw the tiger crouch and twist on his flexed shoulder, the image unbearably erotic as his fingers moved, driving her up in a white burn of pleasure.
Coming home, she thought.
Finding a haven she had never planned to find.
She cradled his face, making her own fierce promises in a language deeper than words, and her breath caught when he made the fire jolt up again, pushing her beyond thought or fear, making her feel more loved and cherished than she believed possible. And her heart, so long girded, spun free, fell like a star along with her shuddering body.
Forever, she vowed. She’d fallen that way. Forever would not be enough time to share his life, to light his dreams.
As the sage-rich wind played over their heated skin, Nell rocked against him, then cried out, consumed in the fire made between them.
Even then Dakota held her, kissed the warm skin at her neck, smoothed her shoulders with slow, fierce control.
Delaying his
own pleasure to savor the beauty of hers.
Her eyes opened. Still shuddering in her pleasure, she gripped his shoulder where the tiger stirred. “Dakota, you didn’t—”
“There’s time. We’ll have all the time in the world,” he said roughly. Ignoring the heat of her body, he pulled her against his chest, thigh to thigh, skin still intimately cradled, the pleasure nearly unbearable.
“But I—”
He kissed her hungrily. “My own fantasy,” he said. “Soaking up the touch of your skin. Hearing the breathless sounds you make when you fall.” He moved inside her in a long, smooth slide of heat. “And here’s the rest of my fantasy.”
The tiger came unleashed then, as their bodies met hungrily. Sweat gleamed on Dakota’s shoulders and Nell locked her thighs around him, drawing him as deep as he could go.
Their hands twined. He breathed her name. They fell together.
THERE WERE QUESTIONS in the darkness after the stars burned away. There were promises in the bluish-gray light that came before the dawn. Most important of all were the quiet plans for a way to tie their lives together despite demanding jobs and uncertain times.
“It won’t be easy,” Dakota warned. “The work I do isn’t nine-to-five. Bad guys keep bad hours,” he said dryly.
Nell traced the tiger, once again at rest on his motionless shoulder. “We’ll work something out. Lucky for us I’m not a white-picket-fence kind of girl.”
“Yeah, in a day or two you’ll be bored out of your head, setting off in search of red ochre pigment or vintage rabbit glue.”
She gave his jaw a mock punch. “Don’t knock the rabbit glue, pal. It’s a prime tool in the restorer’s arsenal.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
Sated from the night’s excess, Nell traced her fingers down his chest. “I found a key in my pocket when I left the castle. Strange, but I still can’t figure how it got there. I made a color photo and sent it to Izzy.”
“If an answer exists, the man will find it. He loves impossible challenges.”
To Catch a Thief Page 25
