Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

Ignoring her mother’s protests, Sloane led Derek out of the apartment. She made sure to double-lock the front door.

The elevator ride was silent, and there was definite tension in the air.

Sloane turned up her jacket collar as they stepped outside and began to walk. “It’s cooler than I realized.”

“Don’t,” Derek stated flatly.

“Don’t what?”

“Patronize me with small talk. It’s not going to work. Something’s going on. And you’re going to tell me what it is.”

Sloane blew out a breath. “If this is about your moving in, I’m not getting cold feet. Just be patient for a few more days, a week tops. Once my mother’s gotten the green light from her doctor…”

“Cut it out, Sloane. I mean it. I’m not talking about the move. It’s waited this long. It can wait another week. This is about whatever’s going on with your father.”

“Their place being robbed and my mother being knocked unconscious isn’t enough?”

“It’s plenty. But you’re keeping something from me. We’re not going that route—not again. So I’m asking you straight out—what is it?”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, ignoring the pedestrian traffic that parted to get around them, and the glares of the people as they passed by. She turned to face Derek. “Fine. I won’t patronize you. And I won’t lie to you. I’ll just say that I’m not at liberty to discuss this. It’s confidential. Which is no different than it would be with any other client.”

Client privilege. So she was playing it that way.

Derek was almost relieved. At least she was being straight with him, even if she was ducking his question with a ridiculous excuse. “I understand.”

Surprised darted across Sloane’s face. “Do you?”

“Better than you think.”

“And you’re going to just leave it at that?” she asked warily.

“Now that I didn’t say. I do understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. So I’ll follow your rules and be just as vague as you’re being.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’ll never guess who I spotted at the New York Field Office an hour ago. Then again, I’m sure you already know. That must have been where his morning meeting was.”

Sloane didn’t flinch. “Fine. So you saw my father.”

“Last I heard, it was the NYPD who handled routine burglaries. Then again, this wasn’t about the burglary, was it?”

No response.

“Did I ever mention to you that I have a close colleague at the Major Theft Squad? Actually, he’s the senior agent on the Art Crime Team.”

This time, Sloane started.

“Ah. So you get my drift. Any idea what the Art Crime Team wants with your father? Because I’d much rather hear it from you than the other way around.”

Sloane’s eyes began to blaze. “Why are you so interested in this?”

“Because I think you’re in over your head. And I don’t think even you know how far.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Xiao Long, or “Little Dragon,” as his street name translated into English, crossed the street with his driver, who also served as his bodyguard. The driver unlocked the doors of Xiao’s Mercedes sedan, and Xiao slid into the backseat. He popped a couple of aspirin in his mouth, swallowing them with a gulp of bottled water. His head ached from the effort of carrying on a conversation in unbroken English. His client, the rich collector Wallace Johnson, was a world traveler, so he spoke some Mandarin and Cantonese, but not enough to conduct a whole business exchange. So they used English. As for Xiao’s native dialect of Fukienese? That was far too low-class for Johnson. Xiao was too low-class for Johnson. The old man treated him like a stupid delivery boy. Which, in his eyes, he was.

The irony of that was almost funny. Education didn’t make a man smart, only well read. Xiao was smart. It was he who