by Rebecca Deel
“Everything you knew about.”
Blood drained from her face, leaving her skin pale. “I missed something. I only boxed their papers. I didn’t keep any of the furniture. What if I gave away or sold whatever Sierra hid the jewelry in? I can’t live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”
Micah slid his hand across the table and clasped her icy fingers. “It’s not going to come to that, Sophie.” If the absolute worst happened, he’d move with her to another part of the country and set up new identities for all of them. He wouldn’t let her face this nightmare alone.
“What if it does? You can’t guarantee we’ll ever find what they’re looking for, much less by this crazy deadline.” Her hand clenched around his.
Micah came around the table and drew her up and into his arms. “Don’t panic on me, baby. You’ve been a rock through this whole ordeal. I promise you, we’ll find the answers and get the thugs out of our lives.”
“What about you?”
He froze, pulled back enough to see her face. “What about me?”
“Aren’t you in danger as well from these guys?”
“Better me than you and Junior, Sophie.”
“And if I have to run to keep our son safe, will you take him from me?” Her lips trembled, eyes wide with tears pooling in their depths.
“I’ll go with you.”
“You have a family, Micah. They need you.”
“They’ll understand. My family would want you and Junior protected.”
Though various expressions chased across her face at a rapid pace, the dominant one was disappointment. “Of course,” she said. “He’s their grandson. They would want him safe.”
He cupped her face between his palms. “They care about you and not just as the mother of their grandson. They don’t know he exists yet. You heard Dad on the phone yesterday. He and Mom were concerned for your safety.”
“Maybe I should tell them about the baby.”
“No.” Micah’s heart squeezed. “If they knew, Dad would appoint himself your personal bodyguard. I need him with Mom and Nicole and the kids. My brother-in-law’s a great guy, but not handy with a gun or military trained like Dad.”
She remained silent a moment, her eyes filled with a weird mix of fear and sadness. “Why are you reconsidering delivering the paintings?”
“We have around 18 hours before your deadline. The guys after you won’t interfere with whatever you’re doing. They want you to find the item Sierra took, take the pressure off themselves by letting you do the legwork.”
“Has to be jewelry or loose gems.”
With a last brush of his fingers over the soft skin of her face, Micah eased back and urged her once again to her seat at the table. He knelt beside her. “How do you know it’s jewelry? Maybe she took money or something that incriminates the boss.”
Sophie shook her head. “You’re thinking like a cop. Sierra was a jewel thief. Money, papers, items that would attract other thieves never tempted my sister. She was obsessed with glitters.”
Huh. Yeah, he’d forgotten that in the rush of keeping Sophie and Junior safe. Cat burglars weren’t his area of expertise, but he was learning.
“We still don’t know if these portraits have anything to do with the thug.”
Micah snorted.
“Sierra didn’t go looking for jewels to steal after she met and married David,” Sophie insisted. “The only glitz I returned belonged to people who commissioned a portrait and only a handful of those. The jewels had to be spectacular to entice her to break her word to your brother. Those types of jewels draw out the worst in people.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Cops make a lot of people clam up. Might be better if I handled this part of the investigation alone. I bet Brent could wire me for sound so you could hear everything going on. If I get into trouble, I expect a fast rescue.”
“No way, Sophie. One wrong word or move and a bullet could end your life. I’d be too far away to help, to do anything but listen to the echo of the gunfire.” He scowled, resistance to that idea a roaring fireball in his gut. “I’m not taking that chance.”
“But . . .”
His mouth covered hers, stopping her words. No way. The possibility of losing Sophie, not to mention the child he’d never planned to father, sent a shudder of bone-deep denial racing over his body. He deepened the kiss until she gave up her struggles and moaned in surrender. Breath ragged, he wrenched his mouth from hers, though allowing any separation was the last thing he wanted. “We’ll figure this out together and take these guys down. Trust me, baby. Please.”
Micah’s phone chirped. Still holding Sophie against him, he checked the readout. “Hey, Brent. What do you have?” A wry smile curved his lips at the rough timbre of his voice. Yeah, Sophie Valero got to him faster than any woman he’d ever known.
“Adam sent files to your inbox. Also, Abbott requested your record from the Secret Service. Do you want us to run interference on the request?”
He stiffened. Abbott again? The dogged detective was starting to tick him off. “No. I’ve got nothing to hide from him. He won’t find anything to use. However, it might be interesting to keep tabs on him.” Maybe the guy was just grasping at gossamer threads on a case with plenty of dead ends and zero leads. Could be simple posturing, resentment against a fed horning in on Abbott’s case.
No matter. He wasn’t stepping aside to spare Abbott’s feelings. This was too personal. The Metro cop would have to swallow his pride and get on with the job. Somehow, though, Micah doubted Abbott’s motivation equaled his own. His woman and son were in danger. The detective’s motivation was a closed case. Wouldn’t hurt to have one of Brent’s team tail the local cop.
“I’ve got three guys we’re thinking about taking on. Be a good way to test their tracking abilities in the field before we hire them. Sophie okay?”
Micah growled.
Brent ended the call, laughing.
“Did Brent have anything helpful?”
“Abbott’s digging into my service record.”
“Why?”
“Still looking for dirt to sling my direction.” He grinned. “I don’t think your Detective Abbott likes me much.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I can see that hurts your feelings.”
“Breaks my heart.”
Micah pressed a kiss to Sophie’s temple and returned to his seat. “I checked online for anything we can use with the ladies. Mrs. Graham’s birthday is tomorrow. Her family is giving a party for her tomorrow night.” He grimaced. “Black tie.”
Sophie smiled. “Let me guess. You’ve gotten out of the habit of wearing ties. That’s blackmail fodder, Mr. Secret Service Agent.
“My definition of a good day is one without a tie.”
“If you want us to crash the party, I’ll need to visit a maternity store.”
“Tell me where to go and we’ll make it happen.”
Sophie lifted her coffee cup to her lips. “Maybe we don’t have to crash the party. What about a visit with each woman first if we can track them down today?”
“Might not be that difficult. Most of them won’t want to travel until the roads thaw.” He inclined his head toward the plate. “Eat, baby. After breakfast, we’ll get the address for each woman and make a travel plan.”
Micah made quick headway through his own breakfast while Sophie sipped coffee and chewed one bite to his ten, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“You’ve thought of something.” A statement, not a question as the expression made him uneasy.
“The ladies might be willing to show us the jewelry Sierra painted.” She shrugged. “It’s an easy way to find out if they still have the gems in their possession.”
“Unless they have the jewelry in a safe deposit box.”
“True.”
Micah’s mouth curved. “The paintings might stir some interest, though. Adam and Brent’s tech geek are checking backgrounds. I already scanned their preliminary findings.
You can read them on the way to their homes.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sophie shut down Micah’s laptop and set it aside. The gray stone face of Gabe and Danielle Ross’s home glistened in the weak sunlight.
“Ready?”
Micah’s question broke the silence they had rode in for the last hour. “I’m not looking forward to this. Could be unpleasant.” Dani Ross had hated Sierra, something the woman gladly shared with whoever stood within earshot.
“You don’t have to do this, Sophie. I can do it myself or we can find another way to get the information.”
They could find another way, but this might be the fastest method to shake something loose. The countdown to the thug’s deadline continued. “Let’s get this over with. Just make sure Dani doesn’t get close enough to claw out my eyes.”
They made their way to the front door with an oval glass cutout, each step forward tightening the knot in her stomach. At the door, Micah drew Sophie to the side, stepped in front of her and rang the doorbell. Sophie hugged the covered portrait tighter, heart lodged in her throat. She hated Micah placing himself in the line of fire to protect her and Junior. She knew he did what he thought was right, but she wasn’t a job and he shouldn’t have to protect her like he did the President or another political high roller.
A gust of frigid air cut through her puffy winter coat and sent a shiver cascading down her body. Micah pushed the doorbell again. If somebody didn’t answer the door fast, Sophie would have to run for a bathroom.
A minute later, a figure appeared, silhouetted in the glass, and opened the door. Dani Ross’s sultry voice reached Sophie’s ears.
“May I help you?”
“Mrs. Ross, we’d like to speak with you about a painting you commissioned.”
“Painting?” Confusion laced Dani’s voice. “I didn’t commission any paintings.”
In a flash, Sophie realized Gabe must have asked Sierra to paint the portrait. As much as Dani hated her sister, she should have realized Dani would never have agreed to a sitting. Sierra could have used a photograph, though it wouldn’t have been her preference. She claimed the colors from a picture were never true. Sophie mentally shrugged. She didn’t understand Sierra’s complaints. A picture was a picture and a painter’s art was a matter of interpretation anyway.
She shifted the portrait in her arms and eased out from behind Micah’s broad back. “Hello, Dani. It’s been a while.”
The warm, animated expression on Danielle Ross’s face faded to leave a cold, hard mask in its place. “Sophie.” Hard to tell which was colder, the wind chill or the woman blocking the entrance. “What do you want?”
“To deliver your portrait.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Perhaps not,” Sophie conceded. “But I think your husband might. Is he home?”
“He’s busy. You’ll have to come back later.” She started to close the door, but Micah placed his foot across the threshold and halted the door’s progress. He stepped through the doorway, crowding Dani back into the foyer.
“Tell him we’re here. We’ll wait.” His tone brooked no more arguments. Dani glared at Sophie as she eased by. No doubt in her mind Dani would have left her to freeze on the doorstep if she had her way.
Their unwilling hostess slammed the door and stalked away, leaving her and Micah standing in the foyer. Another shiver racked her body.
“Come on,” Micah said. “Let’s sit down. I figure Mrs. Ross will leave us here a while out of spite. No need to be uncomfortable.”
Sophie unzipped her coat and eased it from her shoulders. She took in the living room which resembled a magazine layout’s version of the perfect sitting space. Beautiful, but no heart. She much preferred Micah’s comfortable cabin or her own place to this showpiece. The black and glass conveyed sophistication, though lacking warmth.
She eased down on the white leather sofa, tucking the coat beside her. The soft cushions swallowed her. Terrific. Although the couch was comfortable, she’d need a crane to get out of the monstrosity. With a scowl, Sophie unwrapped the painting and laid it across her knees.
She traced Sierra’s brush strokes with the tip of her finger. Dani might need a personality transplant, but the woman’s taste in fine jewelry was impeccable. Though only a painting, the Twisted Sisters glowed with an inner warmth and appeared almost alive, vibrant.
Rapid footsteps echoed in the hall behind them. Micah turned from examining the oil portrait hanging over the marble fireplace and moved closer. Sophie glanced over her shoulder in time to see Gabe Ross stride into the room, face flushed, lips pressed into a thin line.
From the expression on his face, Sophie guessed Dani had spewed a lot of venom at her husband.
“What’s going on? Dani said something about a painting.”
And probably a lot more. Rather than respond verbally, Sophie held up the portrait of Gabe’s wife.
He said nothing. Didn’t have to speak. His face mirrored the chaotic emotions ripping through him at that moment. Admiration for Sierra’s talent. Raw pain and sadness.
In that instant, Sophie knew. Gabe had loved her sister and Dani recognized that on some level. It explained the animosity toward Sierra and, by extension, her. Didn’t change Sophie’s feelings about the woman, but at least explained her reaction.
He took the portrait from Sophie’s hands, fingers trembling as he caressed some of the brush strokes on the canvas. “I still miss her,” he whispered. “The day she died, my world ended.”
She blinked away the forming tears. “Dani knows how you felt.”
“I never told her. How could she?”
“Women are very intuitive. Trust me. She knows.”
Beside her, Micah stiffened. Sophie shifted to the edge of the cushion and grasped his hand for leverage. Without taking his attention from Gabe, Micah helped her stand.
Gabe finally dragged his gaze from the portrait in his hands and focused on Sophie’s belly. His eyes widened. “Wow. When are you due?”
Sophie’s face flushed. Gabe Ross had just given her another reason not to like him. “Calling me fat, Gabe?”
“Fat? No!”
“Our baby’s due in a few weeks,” Micah said, his arm circling her shoulders.
She shot him a grin. Micah Winter didn’t do subtle male posturing. He’d outright claimed her and the baby. Didn’t mean anything beyond the obvious. By staking his claim, Micah extended his protection to them and maybe warned off the predator haunting her dreams. “This is Micah Winter. Micah, Gabe Ross.”
“Winter.” Gabe frowned, stared hard at Micah. “You related to Sierra’s husband?”
Sophie reached up and squeezed Micah’s hand.
“My brother.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Gabe murmured.
Micah didn’t acknowledge the sentiment beyond a slight nod of his head. “When was the last time you saw Sierra?”
Gabe darted a glance over his shoulder, moved one step closer. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Keep your voice down. My wife is upset enough that Sophie’s in the house with a painting by Sierra.”
“Why be upset over a dead woman? Sierra’s untouchable. She can’t hurt anyone now.”
Sophie drew in a slow, deep breath to counteract the building tension. Did Gabe hire the man who broke into her home? Micah slid his arm from her shoulders and encircled her waist, tugging her tighter against his side. Junior chose that moment to kick hard against her side just under Micah’s hand. Though his attention remained on Gabe, he rubbed Sophie’s side as if soothing his agitated son. Seconds passed as Micah and Junior played tag. No matter how reluctant he might have been to acknowledge his offspring, if Micah Winter responded this way before the baby was born he would be a great father.
“She might be untouchable, but I’m not. I have to live with Dani. What does it matter when I saw Sierra last? I thought her death was ruled an accident.”
“Their deaths, Ross. David died
on that mountainside with Sierra. I was out of the country at the time and questions have arisen in the last few days that caught my interest. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind satisfying my curiosity.”
“My wife . . .”
“Would be pleased you provided essential information in a law enforcement investigation.”
Sophie blinked at Micah’s careful skirting of the truth. Would he get in trouble if Gabe called to verify the nonexistent investigation? Then again, how could he? Gabe hadn’t asked what agency Micah worked for. If he did, she doubted the Secret Service would give out any information to a civilian about an agent, whether on medical leave or not.
“You’re a cop?”
“When did you talk to Sierra last?”
“Maybe eight weeks before the accident.”
“Was that when you gave my sister the photograph of Dani to paint?” Sophie asked.
A wry smile crossed Gabe’s mouth. “Dani wouldn’t sit for any portrait Sierra painted.”
“Why did you choose Sierra to paint it then?” Micah asked. “As much animosity as your wife shows, you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shred that painting.”
“It was a birthday gift for Dani and Sierra was an amazing artist.”
“But that’s not why you contracted with her for the portrait.” Sophie tilted her head. “Sierra turned you down again, didn’t she?”
Under her hand, the muscles in Micah’s arm seemed made of granite. She stroked the soft skin of his forearm, soothing him as he’d comforted Junior. Maybe she anticipated problems where there weren’t any. Wouldn’t take much for his anger and grief to explode into action, however, and, even injured, she suspected Micah could put Gabe on the ground and make it hurt.
Gabe shrugged. “She loved him. End of story.”
“Did she seem bothered or distracted by anything?”
“Not that I remember.” He flinched. “The only thing she talked about after turning me down flat was the baby she and her husband wanted.” His gaze dropped again to Sophie’s stomach. “Sierra mentioned a surrogate. Is that . . .”
“No,” Micah said, his tone hard, flat. “Did talk of them having a baby bother you?”
