Chapter 13
Thirteen
“I thought you were on vacation.” Rolf Pederson stared at Andrei through the video feed. It wasn’t as intimidating as it would have been in person, given that the video couldn’t capture Rolf’s sheer physical size.
Andrei cocked a brow and lounged back in his chair. “I can do two things at once.”
“I know. It’s how you can be a good agent and a pain in my ass at the same time.”
That got a genuine laugh from Andrei, who sat forward, elbows braced on the desk. “I am multitalented. But you signed off on it?”
“Yes, but only because not signing off would raise more questions. You’re on thin ice, Agent Leonard.”
“I usually am.”
Rolf shook his head and ended the video call.
Andrei sat for a moment in the silence, needing to gather himself. It had been a bad mix of desperation and frustration that drove him to arrest Sofie. He’d dragged her back through the tangled garden to the door he’d burst through. As expected, there had been police there investigating the back door being forced open. They’d opened an overgrown gate in the patio wall that he hadn’t notice in his panic to get to Sofie to let them in to the patio.
They’d looked ready to arrest both of them until Andrei flashed his badge.
Then he’d had them arrest Sofie.
He didn’t have the authority to arrest a Dutch citizen, but he could ask the local authorities to arrest someone and then have them transferred to Interpol’s custody, which is precisely what he’d done. Sofie had spent less than ten minutes sitting in the back of a warm police car before the rush paperwork was authorized. Andrei had parked nearly a kilometer away, since parking was scarce, so an officer had dropped him and Sofie off at his car.
He’d brought her back to Club Alibi.
The paperwork he’d filed to authorize her arrest and transfer had been coded to the Club Alibi project, which had a high security clearance. Given that, the transfers had gone through automatically, though clearly someone had woken Rolf, the lead agent, to let him know an arrest had been made in Amsterdam.
Twenty minutes ago, Andrei had stopped being able to ignore messages from Rolf, and after removing the cuffs and passing Sofie off to a very confused Colette and Landon, Andrei headed for the mini office suite they’d built on the private playroom floor to make this call.
Now, it was time to go find Sofie and get his questions answered.
Sofie’s desperate panic to get back into her house had disappeared in favor of other emotions when he arrested her. She’d looked scared when she was shoved into the back seat of the police vehicle, but he’d made sure to always stay in her line of sight. Once she’d been transferred to his car—and he redid her cuffs with her hands in front of her rather than behind her back—she’d gone quiet.
That silence had hurt, because her expression hadn’t given him any hints about the reason for her silence. Did she feel betrayed? Scared? Angry?
By the time they reached Club Alibi, she’d nearly been asleep. If not for the buzzing excitement of having an excuse to spend more time with her, he would have been exhausted.
And acknowledging, even in his own thoughts, that his handling of the situation was driven by a desperate need to spend more time with her was a bit too much honest self-reflection.
The upper floor of Club Alibi Amsterdam was all private playrooms, many of which were complete. Unlike in London, there weren’t any overnight rooms, but there were several playrooms with beds.
The door to one of those rooms was slightly ajar. Andrei nudged it open, then stopped to blink at what he was seeing.
Landon was seated on one side of the bed, back against the ornate tufted headboard. His long legs were stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
Colette was half reclined against his chest. He had one arm hooked around her, casually possessive with his hand cupping one breast.
And curled up in the middle of the bed under a soft white blanket was Sofie. Her cheek was pillowed on Colette’s thigh, and Colette had one hand protectively on Sofie’s head.
Both Colette and Sofie were asleep.
As Andrei opened the door, Landon’s eyes opened. He raised his brows in silent question.
Andrei tipped his head toward the door.
Landon leaned in to whisper to Colette as his hand shifted, thumb gently stroking her nipple. Colette woke with a needy sound, and Andrei looked away.
This moment felt too intimate for voyeurism. And besides, it made him jealous. Not that Andrei wanted a full-time lover or sub, but the closeness was enviable.
He jerked his attention back to the bed when he heard Landon's and Colette’s quiet voices. Colette slid a pillow under Sofie’s head as she slipped off the bed. Sofie burrowed into the pillow, pulling the blanket up over her face. Her pale hair blended with the fabric, until only the person-shaped nature of the lump in the middle of the bed indicated there was anyone there.
Landon led Colette toward the door as she yawned. Andrei stepped to the side to let them pass, his attention on Sofie.
Then nearly fell on his ass when Colette reached back, grabbed his arm, and yanked him out into the hall.
“What the hell?” Andrei snarled.
“Colette…” Landon rubbed the back of his neck.
“Why did you arrest her?”
“Why do you think I owe you answers?” Andrei countered.
“Don’t you think she’s been through enough?”
Guilt and regret gnawed at him, which only pissed Andrei off more.
“I’m not the one who should feel guilty. You dragged her into this.”
“She wanted to go with me,” Colette hissed, keeping her voice low.
“But she’s not a thief, is she?”
“No, she’s not, which is why you shouldn’t have arrested her.”
“But she is your forger.”
Colette didn’t so much as twitch. The woman was an excellent actress. “Forger? She’s not a forger.”
“I was inside her studio.”
“She’s an artist.”
“She had an X-ray machine.”
“She does some restoration work.”
For a moment, Andrei doubted himself. Maybe she was just an artist who did some restoration work.
An artist who was friends with a thief.
Andrei leaned back against the wall, eyeing Colette. Landon loomed at her back, clearly ready to back up his woman, even if she was a damned liar.
“I have questions,” Andrei said after a moment. “I think you can answer them, but I prefer to hear it from her.”
“No,” Colette said quickly. “Let me answer for her.”
“I wasn’t offering you a choice.” Andrei straightened. “Don’t forget, he’s not Interpol anymore, which means you’re guests here. Don’t make me ask you to leave.”
Colette opened her mouth to argue, but Andrei slipped back into the playroom and closed the door.
Not only was she warm and comfortable, there was a delicious weight against her lower back.
Colette rolled onto her slide, and a hard, warm, weight pressed against her back.
Oh, that was nice. That felt good. Safe.
But she wasn’t safe.
She’d been attacked and then arrested.
Sofie’s eyes popped open.
She stared at the arm draped over her hip—masculine, with a very sexy forearm.
Slowly, she turned her head until she could see him out of the corner of her eye and confirm that Andrei was pressed against her back.
She was in bed with Andrei.
She remembered sitting on the bed with Colette. Her friend had asked questions, but Sofie had just shook her head, so Colette had started telling stories of some of her more daring and dangerous heists. Sofie had laughed watching Landon’s expression as Colette talked. Clearly he hadn’t heard some of the stories.
There was familiarity in Colette’s voice and the rhythm of her storytelling. That familiarity had led her to first recline on one elbow, and finally lie down on the bed.
She didn’t remember anything else until now.
Andrei was at her back, protecting her even as they slept.
No, that was wishful thinking. Her romanticism at work. Actually, it was quite problematic that he was in bed with her. He’d arrested her.
Sofie looked around, dread slowly working its way through her. Where was she?
She knew where she wasn’t. She wasn’t at home where she should be.
None of this would have happened if she’d done what she should have and stayed home.
“Breathe, Angel.”
His voice rumbled against her back, slow and sleepy.
Sofie hadn’t realized she was breathing fast and uneven until he said something. She forced herself to take several measured breaths before speaking.
“Where are we?”
“Back at Club Alibi.”
At that, she sat bolt upright.
Andrei grunted, flopping onto his back, one hand pressed to his midsection, eyes closed with a grimace.
Unlike the room they’d been in before, this one had only one glass wall—floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the river. The walls were painted a deep matte navy. The bed was massive, with a royal blue leather tufted headboard. Black leather wingback chairs flanked a round ottoman in one corner, while the other had a brass and glass bar cart. The only overtly sexual item in the room was what at first looked like a lounge chair, but it was too tall. Instead, it looked like a narrow version of the adjustable exam table found in doctors' offices, positioned with the back up and feet down so it looked like a chair.
She saw herself there, in the chair, waiting to be examined. Played with.
Sofie jerked her attention away as she scooted away from Andrei. Back against the headboard, she wrapped her arms around her knees, making sure to bring the blanket with her.
Andrei was still lying on his back, grimacing.
Sofie pursed her lips as she studied him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You elbowed me in the stomach.”
Sofie shook her head. “You’re fine.”
Andrei opened one eye. “I can’t decide if it’s better or worse that you’re accidentally violent.”
“I’m not violent.”
“My tongue and stomach both beg to differ.” Andrei sat up and scooted back to sit with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out. Sofie shifted so she was facing him.
“You arrested me.”
He studied her, and the seriousness of his expression was unfamiliar. For the first time, she could see him as an Interpol agent—cold, calm, implacable. “You were attacked in your own home, and first tried to escape by jumping out the window, but then refused to leave.”
“Are you saying you arrested me to protect me?”
He shrugged, looking almost uncomfortable. “I’m saying that your story doesn’t add up, Sofie Vermeer.”
Hearing him say her full name made her jump.
“Though that’s clearly an alias.”
“It’s not.”
Andrei arched a brow, his expression back to the lazily amused and devilish one she was used to. “Your last name is Vermeer.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re an artist.”
“Yes.”
“But not a forger,” he mocked.
“Replicating existing paintings isn’t a crime.”
“Selling them as the originals is.”
“I don’t pretend they’re the originals.”
Andrei laughed. “Clever. Because you’re right. If someone asks you to paint a copy of The Night Watch?—”
“I wouldn’t, it’s too big.”
“—you do it, and sell it to them as a reproduction. What they do with it afterward…” He raised his brows.
“None of my business.”
“Clever, Angel, clever.” There was genuine appreciation in his gaze, and that made her shoulders hunch.
“It’s not me,” she said quickly. “I’m not clever. My father is.”
Andrei’s expression sobered. “Your father. I saw the message he left you.”
Sofie blinked. “You read Dutch?”
“No, but I know how to memorize and use translation software.”
“Is that…” Sofie stared at nothing, thoughts whirring. “You were watching me. That’s how you saw the men. And you were watching me because you saw the message from my father?”
“It’s not just your father who’s clever.”
“But…why? I mean, why would that message make you watch me?”
Andrei frowned at her, his gaze tracing her features. “Because it was a threat.”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Tell me, in English, what it said.”
“I disappointed him because I’m not supposed to leave my studio, and there would be consequences for breaking the rules.”
Andrei’s frown deepened. “That’s a threat. Saying there will be consequences.”
“But there were! I left, and our enemies found me.”
“That’s who attacked you, your enemies?” Andrei’s frown was deepening.
“Yes.”
“And who are they?”
“Men who don’t like my father’s business.”
“So they attacked you, but didn’t really hurt you.” His gaze shifted to her cheek, and Sofie raised her hand to touch the side of her face. It was a little tender, but nothing bad.
“Sofie…surely you see that your father sent them.”
She flinched, not meeting his gaze.
“Sofie, who is your father?”
She didn’t answer.
“Sofie, do you have a passport?”
At that, she looked up. “I assume so.”
“Do you have possession of it? Is it somewhere in your house?”
She knew where this was going, and in a way, she was…relieved. Maybe it was time. “No, I don’t have it.”
“Fuck.” Andrei leaned back against the headboard, and she watched his throat work. “Sofie, how long have you been painting, as a job?”
“As long as I can remember.”
“Since you were…a child?”
She nodded. “It’s why my father adopted me. Even when I was small, I loved art and he saw that.”
Andrei didn’t say anything, but his eyes had widened at the word "adopted."
“Andrei, why are you…why are you looking like that?”
Andrei opened his eyes and sat forward, twisting to face her. His expression was serious, with a soft edge she’d never seen before.
For a moment, she considered leaning forward and clamping a hand over his mouth, because she was sure that she didn’t want to hear what he’d say next.
“Sofie, do you know the definition of human trafficking?”