If I Didn't Know Better

by Barbara Freethy

  "We got back early. What are you doing in here?" Mia asked.

  "Taking back what's mine."

  "The painting is yours?" she asked, shock in her voice. "You didn't stay in the studio. How could it be yours?"

  "I stashed the picture when Kent was there. I covered it up with his really ugly painting. I didn't figure anyone would ever look behind that monstrosity."

  "That was a year ago. Why did you leave it here all this time?"

  "I was going to sell it like the others, but the trail was getting too hot. I had to stash it away for a while. Then it was mission after mission. I couldn't get back until now."

  "You stole the painting from the palace in Bahrain, didn't you?"

  "Well, aren't you a clever girl to have figured that out."

  "How could you do that?" she asked.

  "Don't act like it's such a horrendous thing that I did," Barton said, not a hint of apology in his voice. "The painting didn't belong to anyone there. It had been stolen two or three times by the time I took it."

  "It was still wrong."

  "You have no idea of what's right and what's wrong, what goes on in the other parts of the world. Jeremy, Kent, and I risked our lives every day for basically nothing. So I took a few things—so I made a little money. What's the big deal?"

  "I can't let you take the painting."

  "How do you think you're going to stop me? I don't want to hurt you, Mia, but I am taking this painting with me. I have a buyer, and he's ready to make a deal."

  Jeremy had heard enough. "She's not going to stop you. I am," he said, walking into the room.

  Barton jolted in shock, his gaze flashing with anger and guilt when he saw him.

  "What the hell were you thinking, Barton?" he demanded to know. "You were looting during our missions?"

  Barton's jaw tightened as he gave Jeremy a defiant gaze. "It was a few times, a few things. And you know that stuff was already hot."

  "That doesn't matter."

  "Of course it does." Barton stared back at him. "You're not going to turn me in, Jeremy."

  Barton was the last person he wanted to turn in, but how could he let him walk away? It went against his conscience, his sense of right and wrong, everything he'd always stood for.

  "I'm your best friend, Jeremy," Barton continued. "I've saved your life not once, not twice, but three fucking times. And you're going to try to put me in jail? I've been the biggest patriot the Army ever saw. So I took a painting from a terrorist. That's the crime that should end my life?"

  "He doesn’t have to turn you in. I will," Mia said, drawing Barton's attention back to her.

  "You don't have any proof I took the painting, Mia," Barton said smoothly.

  "You broke into my house."

  "It doesn't look like I broke in. The sliding door was open, wasn't it, Jeremy? That's the way you came through."

  "I locked that door," she said.

  "Did you?" Barton challenged. "Maybe I just came by to check up on you, see how you were doing after the break-in. Maybe I was worried about you."

  Jeremy couldn’t believe the way Barton was talking to Mia without any regret or acknowledgement that he was in the wrong. He'd always had too high of an opinion of himself, but this was beyond ego.

  "Why did you do it?" Jeremy asked, truly confused. "Did you really need the cash that bad? Or was it just a thrill for you?"

  "It was both. I want to live better than I've been living. I've spent the last ten years in shitholes around the world, doing what most people aren't willing to do. I was owed."

  "You chose that life; no one made you. You can't make this theft right, Barton. You can't spin it into something that's acceptable. You're no better than the person who took that painting in the first place. I'm calling Kent."

  "Go ahead. I won't be here when he gets here, and you have no proof of anything. It will be my word against yours."

  Barton gave him a challenging look, and he responded accordingly. He stepped forward and swung his fist into his best friend's face.

  Barton's hand flew to his nose, as blood spewed out.

  He looked at Jeremy in shock and then threw his own punch. Jeremy dodged the full force of Barton's fist as it grazed his jaw.

  "Stop it," Mia said.

  "Get out of here," he told her, as he tackled Barton once again. "This is between us."

  "It's my painting, my house," she yelled.

  He ignored her, his attention on Barton. They'd both been trained to fight. It would have been an even contest if he was at one hundred percent, but he wasn't.

  Barton shoved him into the wall so hard a cuckoo clock came loose and bounced off Jeremy's injured shoulder. The pain stopped him in his tracks.

  Barton got the edge again, landing a punch that made Jeremy's right eye feel like it had just exploded.

  Blinded and enraged by pain, he swung his fist into Barton's gut, then used his feet to kick Barton off balance and on to his back.

  Barton crashed into the stool by the island, taking it down with him.

  Less than a second later, he was back on his feet, about to launch another attack when a spray of water hit them both in the face.

  "I said, stop it!" Mia yelled, as she kept the hose from the sink on them. "You are not going to kill each other in my house."

  Spluttering, he backed away from Barton.

  Barton wiped the water from his face, giving Jeremy a wary look.

  Mia turned off the water and stepped between them. "Now that I have your attention, here's what will happen next. You're both going to walk out of this house. I'm going to take the painting to the FBI and tell them I found it in the studio, and I have no idea how it got there."

  "Mia," Jeremy protested. "Barton has to pay for what he did. You're not letting him off."

  "He's going to pay." She looked at Barton. "You just lost the respect of the best friend you've ever had. I think that might mean more to you than a painting you lifted from a palace in Bahrain."

  Barton stared at her, then his gaze swung to Jeremy. "I didn't do this to hurt you."

  "Your motivation doesn't matter. Letting you off is too easy. And you don't care about my respect. If you did, you wouldn't have done this in the first place."

  "You're wrong. I do care. This was never about you."

  "But it was," he argued. "Don't you get it? What you did reflects back on the team. We fight with honor."

  "This wasn't a fight. It was a damn painting. Don't you get that, Jeremy?"

  "I don't," he said harshly. "I thought I knew you. I thought I could trust you with my life."

  "You could and you can."

  "Not anymore. And it's not just about the painting. You broke into Mia's house. You were the one who ripped up her studio, who slashed the paintings, who scared the hell out of her. How far were you willing to go to get this painting back?"

  "I was never going to hurt her," Barton said sharply. "I knew you were out with her tonight. I figured the painting had to be in the house since the studio was cleaned out. I walked in, and here it was."

  "Did Kent know what you did?" Jeremy asked, hoping that he still had one friend he could believe in.

  "No. This was me, only me. The first buyer I had for this painting got cold feet. I had to stash it somewhere while I found another one. When I visited Kent at the studio, I couldn't think of a better place to hide a painting among dozens of others. I kept trying to get back to it, but it never worked out. After Mia's aunt died, I knew I better grab the painting before someone like Mia showed up to clean the house."

  "So you didn't come back for your mother's birthday."

  "I did, but I also wanted to get the painting. Unfortunately, it wasn't in the studio where I'd left it."

  "Why did you have to destroy everything in there?" Mia asked.

  "I had to make it look like kids had done it. You can't prove I did any of this, though. You can turn me in, but it won't stick."

  "I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jeremy w
arned. "Someone else on the team might have seen you take that painting."

  "No one on the team knew anything," Barton replied.

  "But you had a buyer. We could find him or her," Mia put in. "Did someone in town help you—maybe Christina Wykoff?"

  "Don't know who you're talking about," Barton said. "And good luck with trying to find my buyer. All you have is a stolen painting that you found in your aunt's house. You try to take me down, you and your aunt are going down with me. I don't think you want that."

  "Well, you're not taking the painting," Mia said. "We're giving it back to its rightful owner."

  "She's right," Jeremy said, standing between Barton and the painting.

  "Fine. Whatever," Barton said. "I'm taking the job with Kinsey Security next week anyway. I'll have plenty of cash."

  Jeremy did not want to let Barton walk out of the house and get away without being punished for what he'd done, but seeing the plea in Mia's eyes, he knew that he was going to do exactly that, because a stolen painting wasn't worth putting Mia and her aunt under a microscope.

  "Good-bye, Jeremy. I don't expect we'll see each other again." Barton gave him a sad and mocking salute and then walked out the door.

  "I can't believe I let him go," Jeremy muttered, as Mia handed him a towel.

  "You're bleeding. I should take you to Urgent Care."

  "I'm fine."

  "What about your shoulder?"

  "It hurts, but I'll survive." He paused. "I'm sorry, Mia."

  "What are you apologizing for, Jeremy? You saved the painting. You saved my aunt's name from being dragged through the mud, and you saved me."

  "Barton should pay."

  "He will pay, Jeremy. Like I said, losing your respect is going to hurt him for a long time."

  "I doubt that."

  "I don't. He cares about you. You're a brother to him. I'm sure he never thought you'd find out. If we hadn't had that fight at the restaurant, we probably wouldn't have caught him in the act. He'd have taken the painting, and we would have never known it was him."

  "I shouldn't have let you come into the house alone."

  "You had no idea Barton was here."

  "No, but I let my anger lead to a bad decision. I defended Kent to you, and while I was right about him, I was wrong about my other best friend. If you'd accused Barton, I wouldn't have believed that, either. I thought I knew Barton as well as I knew myself."

  She gave him a soft, forgiving smile. "It's difficult to believe the worst about people we love. I didn't want to believe my aunt was a thief. We were both fighting to protect the people we care about."

  "Well, she wasn't a thief. And neither was Kent. We were both right about those two." He paused. "I know you want this to go away, but the FBI may want to investigate the theft more than you do, Mia."

  "If we return the painting, that might be the end of it. It's really hard to prove theft in cases like this, not just because we don't have proof that Barton took the painting from the palace, but also because the people in Bahrain probably stole it from someone else. No one is going to talk."

  "You're probably right," he said. "So, what now?"

  "Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

  He shook his head. "No. I'm okay. That might not be the case if you hadn't turned the water on us."

  "I couldn't let you kill each other. I used to turn the hose on my brothers when they got out of control; I thought it might work."

  "It did. Nice move. Although, I think I told you to run."

  "I couldn't leave you on your own."

  "You could have gone outside and called the police."

  "If it had been someone besides Barton, I would have done that. But I just knew in my heart that Barton didn't want to hurt you or me." She paused. "I was shocked when you came through the door. I wasn't sure when I'd see you again after the way our dinner ended."

  "I knew I'd made a mistake. Instead of getting angry, I should have offered to help you get to the truth. I should have trusted you not to do anything to anyone without proof. You wouldn't have hurt Kent unless you knew for sure he was guilty. I was coming over here to tell you that. When I saw the back door open, and I heard a man's voice, I was stunned. I couldn't believe Barton was in your house. I want to believe he wouldn't have hurt you, but I wasn't sure at that point. The man I knew seemed like a stranger."

  "Thanks for the apology and for believing in me, because I wouldn't have hurt Kent. I might have asked uncomfortable questions, because sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain, but I just wanted to get to the truth. And it's my turn to apologize, too. I also know that you wouldn't have hurt my aunt's reputation unless you had irrefutable proof." She paused. "Now I'm going to get you some ice for your face."

  "Wait," he said, grabbing her arm. "I need something else."

  "What?"

  "You." He drew her to him and pressed his mouth against her lips in a tender, poignant, loving kiss that put everything right with his world. "So we're good?" he asked her.

  She nodded. "Really good. At least until the end of summer."

  He shook his head. "No way. I'm not letting you go at the end of the summer. This is not a fling. This is a relationship."

  Her eyes sparked at his words, but there was still wary caution in her gaze. "We've known each other a week, Jeremy."

  "It feels like a lifetime. And I mean that in a good way. But I can't wait to get to know you even better." He took a moment, wanting to get the words exactly right. "I'm falling in love with you, Mia. Wait a second. I take that back."

  "You do?" she questioned, her brows drawing together in a frown. "So fast?"

  "I'm not falling for you; I've already fallen."

  "Are you sure you don't have a concussion or something?"

  He grinned. "I know what I'm saying. And I don't think I'm alone in the love department. Am I?"

  She sighed and slowly shook her head. "No, I'm right there with you."

  "That's a good thing, babe."

  "There are still all those reasons we shouldn't get together: Ashlyn, your job, my job, the fact that I'm going back to San Francisco and you don't know where you're going. Should I go on?"

  "We'll knock the obstacles down one by one. I'm not afraid of a challenge, and I don't think you are, either."

  "Not of a challenge, no, but I am a little afraid of love," she admitted. "I want to get it right this time. This—you—feels too important; I don't want to screw it up."

  "The only way you can screw this up is by not giving us a chance, Mia. I love you. Now you say it."

  "You do like to give orders."

  "And I expect them to be obeyed," he said lightly, needing her to say the words.

  She offered him a warm, helpless smile. "I love you, too, Jeremy."

  "Thank God. I think I just got my first Angel's Bay miracle."

  "Or I did," she said. "We're really going to do this?"

  "We really are, but there's one last thing. When I commit to someone, I go all in—forever. I want you to know that."

  "Forever sounds perfect and exciting."

  "I'll show you some excitement."

  "Will you? Because you seem awfully interested in talking right now."

  He laughed at her teasing smile. He didn't just love this woman; he liked her. Mia had quickly become his best friend, his lover, and one day he would make her his wife. He grabbed her hand and took her upstairs, so they could start the rest of their lives together.

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later…

  "I hope you're ready to meet the family," Mia told Jeremy as they pulled into the parking lot of St. Mary's Church in Santa Barbara, California. Her cousin Burke was about to marry the love of his life Maddie Heller, and Jeremy was about to meet her entire family.

  He'd met her mom and dad a few days earlier. They'd stopped in Angel's Bay to check out the house before driving farther south to spend a few days in Santa Barbara prior to the wedding.

  Mia had never felt
so proud or so eager to introduce her parents to the man in her life. Sharon and Tim Callaway had liked Jeremy immediately and they'd loved Ashlyn even more.

  Her mom had pulled her aside and told her that she'd never looked happier and that Angel's Bay had obviously worked its magic on her. She'd told her mom that it wasn't magic; it was Jeremy. Her mom had laughed and said, "Finally, one of my kids falls in love. Who would have thought my baby would be the first one?"

  Of course her mom had then quizzed her about a wedding, and she'd had to tell her to slow down. They were moving fast, but not that fast.

  Jeremy turned off the car and said, "I think I can handle your family. Your mom and dad are okay; I expect the rest of the clan will be just as great."

  "I think you'll like them," she said.

  He turned in his seat to look at Ashlyn. "What about you, Ashlyn? Ready to say hello to Mia's brothers and sisters?"

  Ashlyn beamed in her pretty new dress. "Do you think they'll like me?"

  Mia smiled at the hint of vulnerability in her eyes. They'd gotten very close the last few weeks, but there were still times when Ashlyn worried that all the good stuff was going to vanish, that her life would change the way it had before. "They're going to love you, because I love you, and because you're wonderful."

  "What about me?" Jeremy asked.

  "They're going to love you, too."

  "Because you love me."

  "Because I love you," she echoed.

  When they got out of the car, she said, "There's Mom." She waved to her mom and dad who'd just pulled into a spot a few feet away.

  They walked over to the car to greet them.

  Her mother wore a beautiful emerald green dress that set off her pretty green eyes, and her dad had on a dark suit. They were a striking couple, she thought, never having really considered her parents as a couple, but they were certainly a good example of the power of love and the strength of a marriage. They'd started their love story thirty-five years ago and were still going strong.

  "Hello, Mia," her mom said, giving her a hug and then moving to Jeremy and to Ashlyn.

  Her father followed suit. "How's everyone doing?" he asked.

  "We're great," she replied. "Ashlyn is looking forward to her very first wedding."