An Unintentional Affair (The Affair Series Book 1)

by Randi Ocean

  I looked past Clint and saw Sam reaching into a compartment in the table and pulling out the forgery. Clint was intentionally distracting me, keeping me busy while Sam made the swap. How many times had I been glued to that computer screen, checking every pixel for exposure and focus, and completely missed this? I had to keep my cool and pretend I knew nothing and saw nothing. Sam worked very quickly and quietly. He had the forgery tucked away back in the rack with all the authentic art and the next painting was on the stand, ready to be shot.

  Clint kept glancing in Sam’s direction and when he determined that the swap was complete, he visibly relaxed. He resumed shooting, business as usual, until the last few were paintings were shot. We began packing up, and as soon as we loaded the last of the gear into the van, Clint said, “You don’t live too far from here do you, Emily?”

  “No, I’m just a few blocks across town that way.” I pointed east.

  “I have to make a couple of stops on my way back to the studio, so it will be late when I get back. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? I won’t even count the hours as comp time,” he joked, kind of a dig at my begging on Friday.

  I wasn’t going to argue. It was only three-thirty and I had to get in touch with Adam and tell him what had happened. “Thanks, Clint. I owe you one.” The moment the van was out of his sight, I called Adam.

  “This is Adam. I can’t take your call right now so please leave a message. Beep.” Damn, his voicemail.

  “Adam, I need to talk to you right away. Call me.” I hung up and I texted him: call me. I have info

  I was almost running down the street, my heart pounding. This was so crazy.

  As I reached my apartment building, my phone rang. It was Adam. “Adam. Oh, my God. When I got in this morning, I found out that Thursday’s shoot had been moved up to today. I saw it happen. It all happened so fast.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I just got home. Where are you? I need to see you. I have so much to tell you.”

  “I’m just leaving the FBI. I’ll come to your place. Be there in fifteen.” He hung up.

  When I got upstairs, I fell onto the couch, exhausted and very nervous. I had seen the whole thing go down. Did Clint or Sam know it? Had they noticed me sneaking a glance in Sam’s direction as he made the swap? I started replaying the whole sequence of events. The table exchange had seemed odd to me at the time. Why didn’t I connect the dots and realize that it had something to do with the forgery? Sam must have customized that table to hold the paintings securely so they wouldn’t rattle around. I remembered Clint’s message from Friday night. I connected to my voicemail and tapped in the password.

  “Emily, it’s Clint. Our shoot Thursday has moved up to Monday. Be here at seven to help Sam and me load up.” That was the end of the message, but the phone didn’t hang up. I could hear him talking with Sam.

  “I’ll be relieved when we get this last one done,” Clint said to Sam.

  “You really think they’re just going to let us stop?” Sam asked.

  “I can’t do it anymore. I told Clay that this afternoon when he called to move up the shoot. He just said, ‘we’ll talk,’ and left it at that. There has to be some way that they will agree to let us out of this insanity. The money isn’t worth it,” Clint said.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” Sam answered, his voice trailing off as he was walking away.

  Papers rustled a little, as if Clint was moving things around on his desk. Then it sounded as though Clint had picked up the phone to make another call.

  “Hello?...hello?” he said, and finally ended the message.

  **

  The intercom buzzed. “C’mon up!” I was so relieved Adam was finally there. I walked out in the hallway to meet him as he got to the top of the stairs. “Adam, I saw it happen. I saw Sam swap the paintings!”

  “Slow down. Let’s go inside.” We entered the apartment, and he closed the door behind him. “Start from the beginning. What happened?”

  “We got there and unloaded, but Sam had to move the van off the loading dock. Clint and I started setting up before he got back. I grabbed one of our folding tables to set up the computers, and I guess I pulled out the one Sam had jury-rigged to hold the paintings. He made some lame excuse that the table I had taken wasn’t sturdy enough for the computers and swapped tables with me. He set it up across the room and surrounded it with open cases so I couldn’t see underneath it. When the time came to swap the paintings, Clint was distracting me, or tried to distract me by looking at the shots we had just taken. I saw Sam kneel down behind the other table and open the side edge of it. He slid the forgery out and the real painting in. It was so fast but unmistakable. I don’t think either of them realized I saw it happen, but I’m scared.”

  “Do you know where Clint and Sam are now?”

  “No. Clint said he had to make a couple of stops before going back to the studio, so he didn’t see any need for me to go with them.”

  “Okay. I’m going to let the FBI know what’s going on, and they can send someone to wait for Clint at the studio to intercept him there.” Adam immediately got on the phone and relayed my story to them. They were arranging to send a stakeout to watch the building and wait for Clint to show up. “Is there a back entrance to the building or a loading dock where he will unload the van?” Adam asked.

  “There’s a service entrance, but it’s right by the main entrance to the building. Those are the only two ways in and out of the building.”

  Adam wrapped up the call and said, “Let’s get out of here. If there is any question about whether you know something, you might not be safe here.”

  I packed a bag with some clothes and toiletries, and we headed back to the hotel. As we walked, Adam told me the FBI was going to have two agents watch the building and wait for Clint. They would handle everything from there.

  At the hotel, Adam made a few more calls and checked the computer for updates in the case file. After an hour or so, I was getting really antsy. Adam said, “Why don’t we get out of here for a little while.” We walked to the little French bistro around the corner to get some dinner. The first sip of the tasty Bordeaux took the slightest edge off my stress. I hadn’t realized how tense I was until that moment. Adam took my hand and kissed it.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. Just kind of shaken up. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before.” I immediately realized how ridiculous that sounded. I mean who ever has this kind of thing happen to them? It’s not like being an accessory to a robbery was something I should expect to have experience with.

  Adam rubbed my back. “I know, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” His voice was so soothing. I loved that he called me sweetheart. But was it really going to be okay? I suddenly realized I didn’t have a job anymore.

  Chapter 9

  Monday night, Adam knew I was addled emotionally. He tried to calm me down as best he could. We sat in a hot bath together, and he just held me. He didn’t even try to arouse me. He knew my life was in turmoil and would never be the same. He carried me to the bed and slid in between the sheets behind me. I wept quietly, and he held me tight until I eventually fell asleep.

  Tuesday morning when I woke up, Adam was already up and on the phone. He wrapped up his conversation and came over to sit next to me on the bed. He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

  “I had crazy dreams. I dreamt that my boss was involved in this art theft scheme, and…oh, wait, that really happened, didn’t it?” I covered my face and let out a small scream. “Urghhh. This can’t be happening!”

  “I talked with the guys who’ve been on watch at the studio. No sign of Clint yet. I have to go to the gallery and meet an agent to see if we can find any evidence that will help point to Clint and Sam when we finally catch up with them. There is an APB out for the van.”

  “What should I do?” I asked. There was no point in goi
ng to the studio. Sinclair Studios would be history any second. What a waste.

  “Do you have anything personal at the studio that you need to get?”

  “There are a few things there that I would like to pick up if I can, but it’s not absolutely necessary.”

  “Well, if you want to go, I can give you the phone number of one of the guys on the stake out. He can go in with you.”

  “Let me think about it.” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to go there.

  I mulled it over while I took a shower. Adam slipped into the bathroom. His naked sculpted body sent a wave of arousal through me. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me and nibbled at my lips. I could feel all the tension in my body fall away in his embrace. We held each other and kissed under the steamy water. Adam lathered his hands and gently rubbed my back, pulling me into him. Every nerve ending was standing at attention. He knelt down to bathe my legs. Pushing my feet apart slightly to open my stance, he slowly worked his way up my thighs, inching his way to my sweet spot. He worked with both hands, massaging and moving his fingers in and out of me. I braced myself on the walls of the shower so my weak knees would not fail me as the orgasm exploded through me.

  “Oh, Adam!” I cried as he stood up and sheathed himself. He lifted my arms up to his shoulders, and wrapped his arm around my waist, drawing me to his lips for a longing kiss. He bent his knees slightly and thrust himself inside me, moving up and down slowly while his lips pecked at mine in rhythm with his movements. My heart was pounding and I gripped his shoulders, bracing myself for the next wave of ecstasy that was pushing through me. His head tilted back and hands squeezed my ass as he came hard. We both went limp in each other’s arms, embracing under the warm water cascading over our skin until our heartbeats began to slow. “Emily Ryan, you’re a strong woman. You will get through this.” he said softly.

  “I’m glad you think so, but I’m not feeling very strong at the moment. I’m not really sure what I feel.”

  “I’m worried about you, and I want to help take this weight of the world off your shoulders. I know it’s a lot to deal with, and it isn’t easy. There’s a lot to consider.” He said and kissed me tenderly.

  I shrugged, “I know there is. I’m not exactly sure where to start…but I’ll figure it out,” I said, beginning to resign myself to the situation. “I guess I’ll go to the office, and get what’s there. I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting about.”

  We dressed and went our separate ways. As I climbed the stairs from the subway, I called Joe, who was one of the FBI agents on stakeout.

  “Joe here.”

  “Hi, Joe, this is Emily Ryan. I know Adam Com-”

  He cut me off. “Yeah, Emily. Where are you?”

  “Just down the block. I’m walking toward the building now.”

  “I’ll meet you out front.”

  As I approached the building, I saw a man getting out of a black sedan down the block. That had to be Joe. “Emily?”

  “Yes. Hi, Joe” I held my hand out to shake.

  He shook my hand brusquely and said, “Let’s go.” As we took the elevator up, I could feel him looking at me. “You okay, Ms. Ryan?” he asked.

  “I think so….”

  The elevator door opened, and it was obvious that the door to the studio was slightly ajar. Joe looked at me, wide-eyed, and held his arm out, indicating that he wanted me to stay back as he pulled out his gun. He walked up to the door, slowly listening for any sounds from inside. Nothing.

  He pushed the door open and yelled, “FBI!” The place was ransacked – everything rifled through and turned upside down. What the hell was going on? There had been no sign of Clint coming back here. Who could have done this?

  Joe looked around throughout the office and the warehouse. I walked through slowly once he had determined no one was there. The old darkroom door was standing open, and I could see all of the packing supplies from the paintings Clay had sent over, and materials to repack. Joe walked in and grunted. Instantly, he was on the phone. “Adam? Joe. We have a problem.”

  **

  I was in the back of the black sedan dodging and weaving through the streets before I had a clue what was happening. I finally realized we were heading toward the hotel. Joe spoke to me calmly. “Emily, I need the keys to your apartment. I’m going to get you situated back at Adam’s room, then check your place to see if there’s any sign that anyone’s been there. Adam’s on his way back to the hotel, too.”

  I was numb. I dug through my purse and found my keys. “This one is for the downstairs door, and this one opens the apartment. 3B,” I said, handing him two different shaped keys.

  “Okay. Is there anything there you need?” Nothing came to mind immediately. I shook my head.

  Joe walked into the lobby of the hotel with me and secured a key from the front desk. When we got up to the room, he held out his hand again, telling me to wait until he checked it out. A moment later he reappeared and opened the door for me. “Adam should be here shortly, and I’ll check in with you two after I’ve been to your place. Don’t answer the door for anyone.”

  It felt strange to be alone in Adam’s hotel room. I was very nervous and wished Adam would get back. I went to the bedroom to get farther away from the door. Curling up on the bed, I turned on the TV for a diversion. There was a special news bulletin on.

  “…body has been found at the photography studio of Clint Sinclair. The victim has been identified as an employee of the studio, but his name will not be released until his family can be notified. Clint Sinclair has not been located yet. This is a picture of Mr. Sinclair.” A photo of Clint flashed on the screen. “Another person of interest in this case is a bicycle messenger, Clay Orwell.” Clay’s picture took the place of Clint’s. “The FBI believes he may have ties with the Mob. Anyone with information about either of these men is asked to call 800-555-4567.”

  I clicked off the TV in disbelief. As I sat there, stunned, my phone rang. It was Bec. “Hey,” I answered, with no energy or emotion.

  “Em, are you okay?! What the hell happened?!”

  “Oh, Bec, it’s so crazy. I don’t even know what’s really happening, or where to start to try and explain it. Adam’s investigating it and helping me…it’s kind of a long story. I’m sorry; I can’t even think straight right now. Can I call you later?”

  “Sure. I’m just worried about you. Please call me if there is anything I can do for you. I mean it, sister.”

  “Thanks, Bec. I’ll call you. Love you.”

  “I love you, too, my friend. Be safe.”

  I was totally dazed. I really didn’t know what to do next. Something caught my eye. It was Adam standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

  “Sam?” I asked.

  He nodded. “They also found Clint’s van at a rest stop on the Turnpike. There were signs of a struggle, but no Clint. The stuff from the van was thrown all over the place. It looks like all the equipment is there. The table you described with the compartment where they hid the painting was open, but of course…no painting.”

  Adam’s phone rang. “Yeah, Joe….Uh-huh….Okay, thanks.” His voice was very somber. He sat down next to me on the bed, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me gently on my forehead. He cupped my cheek and looked into my eyes. “They’ve been to your apartment. Joe said it looks very much like the office, ransacked.”

  I couldn’t move. I looked up at Adam, tears welling up in my eyes. “What do I do now? You know these guys - they’ll find me no matter where I go.” My thoughts wandered to my sister and my parents. I panicked. “Is my family safe?”

  “Emily, we have a plan.”

  **

  Adam had ordered some food, since neither of us had eaten all day. Of course he included a bottle of red wine, knowing it might calm me down a little. I wasn’t really hungry, but I picked at some of the cheese and fruit. Adam sat down next to me on the couch. “You can’t stay here,” he said calmly.

&n
bsp; I stared at him for a minute, thinking he was throwing me out. I bolted from the couch, and began pacing and crying. “Adam, I have nowhere to go! Please don’t do this to me. At least let me stay tonight until I can -”

  He stood up and grabbed me, stopping me in mid-sentence. “You don’t understand. We’re setting you up with a new identity. You can’t stay here or anywhere as Emily Ryan. You aren’t safe.”

  “What?!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “Emily, these people will stop at nothing to silence you if they think you know something - and obviously they do, considering what your apartment looks like.”

  I fell back down on the couch, completely numb. He sat down and put his arm around me. After a moment I could tell he was crying, too. I looked up at his enormous blue eyes, and tears began streaming down his cheeks. It suddenly hit me. He wasn’t going with me. There was a knock on the door. Adam seemed to be expecting it, because without hesitation he opened the door. A man walked in carrying a video camera and a small tripod.

  “Emily, this is Dave,” Adam announced. “He is going to record your testimony, any details you know about this case.” Adam was turning the club chair around so it faced into the room as Dave went about setting up the camera. “Just take your time, and tell me everything you can remember, whether it was from yesterday at the gallery or any time before that. Anything you think might be relevant.”

  I was still in shock from his pronouncement that he was setting me up in witness protection. I wasn’t sure I could speak let alone give coherent testimony. “Can I have a few minutes to make some notes so I can try to remember as much as possible?” If he’d only told me sooner Dave was coming, I might have been a little more prepared.

  Having this to concentrate on was actually beginning to me calm down. I tried to replay in my mind how the events of the shoot day had transpired. The table exchange, Clint distracting me, Sam’s sleight of hand switching the art. All the odd little things from the last few months that never seemed significant before were all beginning to make sense. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”