Chapter 8
“You didn’t have to come with me,” said Rowan as he drove in the darkness. The car picked up speed as he merged onto the expressway.
“That’s true. I could have kept the home fires burning back at the cabin, so you could tell me all sorts of tall tales when you got back.”
“Ha, ha.”
“Who’s joking? You lie to me more often than you tell the truth.”
“That’s not true.”
“Whatever.” She looked out her window. “So where are we going?”
“Leonardo Depaoli’s house.”
“The art thief.”
“Yes. He’s an old man who’s somehow related to Anthony.
Depaoli did a few really big jobs in the 70s and 80s, served some time with the feds after he was implicated in the theft of some Paul Klee paintings from the Guggenheim.
He’s kept a low profile since his release, but word on the street is that he’s still very much involved in the black market sale of stolen goods. ”
“Word on the street.”
He sighed.
She turned in her seat to face him. “Who are you?”
“I’m an avid art fan. When I owned my own publishing company in California, I did a lot of work in the fine art genre, including a coffee table book on art heists. They interest me. Always have.” He handed her his phone. “Google it.”
Becky ignored him and turned back around.
“It’s true.”
“Oh, I’m sure it absolutely is.”
Rowan exited the expressway and they drove down a two-lane road in silence. The houses got bigger the farther they drove, with the occasional tennis court or horse farm visible in the distance. He rounded a wide bend and turned off the headlights.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Ignoring her, he let the car drift to a stop as he pulled to the shoulder and engaged the emergency brake. They had a good view of the property, the wide house with its brightly lit grand entrance and rolling fields. Lights blazed from the lowest windows, squat and close to the ground.
“Someone’s in the basement,” he said.
“Maybe they’re doing laundry.”
“There aren’t any other lights on in the house.”
“Maybe they left them on for the dog.” She met his glare. “I’m just saying, there might be a perfectly rational explanation for that.”
“Maybe. Or maybe that’s where he’s holding Tamra and Anthony.”
Her brows snapped down. “How did you get from A to Z and skip the whole rest of the alphabet?”
“Look, Leonardo’s related to Anthony somehow, right?”
“Right.”
“And Leonardo’s a bad guy who’s been known to do bad things, right?”
She rocked her head from side to side. “Right…”
“So, who’s to say he doesn’t know about this relationship to the boy and decide he wants to keep him for himself?”
“LMNOP.”
“Exactly.”
“I wasn’t agreeing with you. So what now, Rambo? You going to go over there with your machine gun and shootout the place?”
Rowan leaned across her lap and opened the glove box, retrieving a small handgun.
“Whoa!” she yelled, her eyes wide. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“It’s mine. You stay here. I’m going to go see what’s in that basement.”
“You put a gun in my car?”
“Yes.”
“My car is totally non-violent.”
He looked at her, his lip quirked. “You have a peaceful, passive resistance, hippie chick kind of vehicle?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need to store firearms.” He got out and disappeared into the darkness.
Becky stared at the big house. Was it really possible that Tamra and Anthony were in there?
Had Leonardo moved from stealing works of art to stealing people instead?
The thought was disturbing, the elegant estate taking on a sinister appearance in the moonlight.
Minutes ticked by and Becky wondered where Rowan was now.
A car was coming up behind her and she sank lower in the seat. It passed, then slowed and turned into the driveway of Leonardo’s house.
“Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap…” she chanted.
The car pulled up to the closed garage door, and there, silhouetted between Becky and the house, stood Rowan. She breathed a sigh of relief, then watched in panic as he began to walk away from her and back toward the house.
“Oh, come on, Rowan!” Why couldn’t he call the police, like anyone else? Did he really have to sneak up on the bad guys all by himself?
Another ten minutes passed before he returned, each moment seeming longer than the last. He opened the door and slid across the seat. “You were right.”
“I was?”
“There’s a big laundry room, and some storage.”
She released the tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized she was holding.
He turned toward her. “And a baby’s crib.”
“But no baby?”
“No. That was Leonardo who just pulled in. He had a big pizza box. How many single old men do you know who order big pizzas for themselves?”
“Maybe he likes leftovers.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s feeding my wife and son.”
Becky bristled at him calling them that, then immediately chastised herself. If there was anything wrong with the relationships here, it was with hers and Rowan’s, not his with his family.
They drove back to the cabin, each of them thoughtful and quiet. There was simply too much to take in, too much to understand. Once inside the kitchen, they stripped off their coats, neither meeting the other’s eyes.
“I’m going to take a bath,” said Becky.
“Okay.”
He looked so upset and vulnerable, she longed to reach out and draw him into her arms, but instead she turned away.
“Becky.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming with me tonight. For accepting that there are some questions I can’t answer.”
She nodded. There was more to say, she could see it on his face, knew that the scene would change dramatically if she simply took a step toward him. “You’re welcome.” She walked up the stairs and closed the bathroom door.
Safe in the small room, she let herself imagine she had taken that step, had crossed that line. Turning on the hot water, she slowly stripped off her clothes, pretending she was undressing before her lover.
She slipped into the huge tub, letting the water cover her legs and backside.
The tub filled as she sank deeper. She longed to be home in her own bathtub, surrounded by her things, far away from Rowan and the frightening way he made her feel.
She had all but slept with a married man, and knew she might do it again if she couldn’t get away from temptation.
She loved him.
She couldn’t explain why she felt that way, knew it didn’t make any sense. Curling her legs up to her chest, she let her head fall back, wetting the top of her head, then rolled onto her side. The sound of running water was loud and comforting beneath the surface.
She imagined he knocked at the door.
Come in, she would say.
He would see her naked body, the welcoming look in her eye, and take her here, right now. The thought made her arch her back, a light moan escaping her lips.
There was a knock at the door.
She sat up quickly with a whoosh of water. “What!” she shouted.
“Save some hot water for the rest of us.”
She reached out and turned off the faucet. She didn’t want to save him any water. She wanted him to be uncomfortable, to be unhappy, just like she was.
“Thanks,” he said, and she heard him continue down the hall.
“Hey, Rowan!” she yelled.
“Yeah?”
Invite him in. There’s plenty of room for two. She clenched her fists. “I’m going to bed after this. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He didn’t answer.
“You hear me?”
“I thought we were gonna go over stuff.”
“There’s nothing to go over until the hard drive gets here in the morning. Right?” FileSafe was sending a copy of all of Tamra’s files overnight priority delivery, with delivery by eight AM.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Then goodnight.”
She listened to his steps retreat down the hall.
It was better this way. In the morning, she’d help him load the files onto his computer and be on her merry way.
There had to be a bus station around here somewhere.
She leaned back, resisting the urge to fantasize about him.
Fantasies only got you so far in life, and this one was going to get her in a hell of a lot of trouble.
The next thing she knew, she awoke to knocking on the door. “Are you alive in there?”
“I fell asleep. Sorry, I’ll be right out.” She flipped the drain and dried herself off, wrapping her body in a big brown towel. The hallway was dark, and when she turned out the bathroom light she saw him beside her, making her start. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Hi,” she said.
He took two big steps toward her, surprising her, and kissed her passionately.
Was he waiting for me?
His arms came up and pinned hers to the wall, and she felt her towel begin to slip.
He pulled back just enough to speak before kissing her again. “I need you, Becky. Please don’t send me away.”
It was better than a fantasy, and her pulse pounded in her heated veins as he pressed his weight against her.
His voice was a breathless plea. “I need you so bad.” He reached around to her backside and squeezed her against him, making her knees weak.
She’d never wanted a man this intensely, had never felt passion roar to life so quickly or with such force.
She was wild, her arms snaking up his body to wrap around his neck as she let herself be carried away by this sharp wave of lust.
He’s married, her conscience screamed.
But he doesn’t even like her! She lied to him. She won’t even sleep with him. She made him think the baby was his.
“Come to bed with me,” he whispered, his breath coming in pants as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her towel to pull her tighter against his body.
If he’s telling you the truth.
A sudden stillness settled over her.
He lied to you about this cabin. He lied to you about more than that, you know he did.
You can feel it in your gut. He’s not being truthful.
Rowan leaned in to catch her lips and she raised her chin away from him.
“No, no, please…” he whispered.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to smack him across the face for tormenting her. “Let me go.”
Slowly he dropped his hands. She reached up to grab her towel and secure it.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she said forcefully, thankful for the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks and face.
She was pushing away the one person she wanted more than anything, and she couldn’t be trusted to do it in the light.
“Leave me alone, Rowan. What happened earlier was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry. ”
He moved toward her so slowly she was afraid he might try to kiss her again, but he only whispered in her ear, “Is this really what you want?”
“Yes.” She closed her eyes to shut him out, listening as he leaned away from her and finally walked downstairs.