Drawn in Blood (Burbank and Parker 2)

“Good. Take care of yourself.”

Sloane stepped back inside and shut the door, more convinced than ever that there wasn’t a shot in hell these men had fooled the FBI agent who’d interviewed them.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Matthew demanded. “Do you believe everyone here is innocent?”

Sloane turned to face her father. “I never doubted their

innocence. Their acting ability? Now that’s another matter entirely.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I walked into a freaked-out meeting of the Knights of the Round Table. Things rapidly deteriorated the longer I stayed. And that’s given the fact that you told them I’m clueless about everything except the burglary.”

Her father began nervously gathering up empty beer bottles. “So you don’t think the FBI bought our story.”

“No way. Every one of those guys is a mess.” Sloane raked a hand through her hair. “I wish you’d let me talk to Derek.”

“We’ve been over this before. The answer’s still no. Look, Sloane, not one of us has been contacted again by that Special Agent Williams. So he must have accepted our story and assumed we were just nervous about being interviewed by the FBI.” Matthew continued cleaning up, tossing dirty paper plates into a large trash bag. “We’re no longer on their radar. Period.”

“You’re burying your head in the sand. FBI investigations take months, sometimes years. If they’d figured out what happened with the real and the fake Rothbergs, the story would be out. The media would be all over it. This one’s juicy. A man was murdered. And, according to the provenance, you guys were the last ones to do business with him before he was killed; maybe even the last ones to see him alive.”

“We didn’t kill Cai Wen. They can’t charge us with anything.”

“Oh, come on, Dad.” Sloane walked over and planted herself in his face. “You’re not naive. You know that the law isn’t always fair, or right. Besides, this is about more than your innocence. It’s about protecting you from the real killer. You know what he’s capable of. Who knows if he’ll go away? Who knows if he’s acting alone?”

Matthew went very still. “Why? Did you find out something? Is he part of some crime ring?”

“I’m not sure,” Sloane answered honestly. “But I do know that he stole a valuable painting. I know that he traveled from Hong Kong to here, that he owns a Mercedes, and that he has the contacts to track you down. That tells me he’s got money. He also has a bodyguard, hangs out with thugs, and arranged for your chance encounter to happen in an area of Chinatown that’s filled with gang-run casinos and brothels. That tells me he’s got power in dangerous circles. He doesn’t sound like an arbitrary killer to me.”

“I never thought he was. But you’re not talking about just a group of thugs. You’re talking about Asian organized crime.”

“Yes, I am.”

Sloane watched the color drain from her father’s face.

“You didn’t go down this path before,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“It didn’t automatically come to mind.”

“But now it has. And you wouldn’t pull it out of thin air. Which means Derek told you something.”

“Nothing concrete. He can’t discuss Bureau business. But I can sense he’s worried. And that worries me. Because if he knows more than we do about whoever broke into this apartment, my guess is that it involves C-6. Mom said the intruders were speaking some Chinese dialect. It doesn’t take a genius to put together the pieces. And if Asian organized crime is involved, that’s even worse than our original idea that you were just being warned off by Cai Wen’s killer and whoever hired him.”

Matthew’s jaw was working. “You think we walked into an even bigger hornet’s nest.”

“Yes, I do.” Sloane wasn’t going to sugarcoat this, not with so much at stake. “Which brings me to my next point. Derek is pressuring me about the move. I’ve been putting him off. I think I should stop, and let him move into the cottage with me.”

Her father did a double take. “Why? If some organized crime group is after me, why would you choose now to move out of the city? I’m having a hard enough time containing your mother and convincing her she’s in danger. Even after I told her the whole story, she still thinks she’s invincible.”

“I have the best security team there is watching both of you. And I’m moving back to New Jersey, not California. I’ll drop by constantly.” Sloane gave a firm nod. “I’ve been away from home way too much. And it’s the right time for Derek and me to go forward with our plans.”

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “What’s really going on here? First, that whole gung ho reaction to having Leo and Wallace redecorate the cottage. Now, this uncharacteristic urgency to get Derek moved in, when you’ve been waffling about that decision for a month. You’re in no hurry to forfeit your independence, so don’t tell me you’re suddenly desperate to play house. Especially under these circumstances. So why now? How is leaving the city going to help? You’ll be an hour plus away from us.”

“And in close proximity to Derek. In a place that distinctly separates work and play. We’ll be living like a real couple. We can talk about our jobs at the end of each day and not have the blurred lines we have now. It’s an important step in our relationship. And, hopefully, it’ll make it easier for me to figure out what you’re up against.”

“You’re going to spy on Derek?”

“No.” Sloane’s reply was adamant. “Nor am I going to manipulate him. Number one, I swore I’d never compromise our relationship again—which doing either of those things would. And number two, he’s way too smart for games. He’d see right through me. I’m simply going to take this official, personal step—one I’m excited about taking, even if I am a little scared—and hope that it also provides an atmosphere where Derek is more likely to let me in.”