Once again he hesitated. Then he said, “I killed people for them.”
Her eyes widened. “You worked black ops?”
His mouth twisted wryly. “Nothing that adventurous. Mostly, I worked on a hostage rescue team as a sniper. I was often called in for situations where I had to wait hours on end to get the right shot. I never missed.”
Something cold and hard in his voice had her taking his hand and linking her fingers with his. “That had to be a lonely life. No wonder you wanted to get away from it.”
She thought of the family gatherings Peter insisted on having every Sunday at his house, and for the first time, she tried to see them the way Cole would see them. Matt was in charge of the grill, Luke mixed the drinks, and her father made an audience out of everyone as he prepared fresh pasta. Italian music blared out of a speaker system, and neighbors were invited so that they wouldn’t complain.
Compared to the sedate gatherings at her grandmother’s, the dinner was loud and confusing and somehow welcoming at the same time. It had held an almost overwhelming attraction for her. She’d wanted so much to belong, to fit in. But now she realized that considering his background, those Sunday get-togethers must have been equally appealing to Cole.
Thinking about it, she slipped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder.
COLE FOUND THE GESTURE almost unbearably sweet. Understanding. He’d never asked it of anyone. Never expected it. He put his arm around Pepper’s shoulder and simply held her. How could she do this to him—push buttons that had feelings he couldn’t even identify moving through him? Perhaps, he’d never understand why or how she affected him this way. Maybe it wasn’t important to understand. Maybe he only had to accept.
For a while they sat in silence except for the fall of the water and the whisper of the palm leaves above them. Cole could feel precious minutes slipping away. He wished that they had nothing more to do than sit here and make love again. But there was the Monet. It would ease his mind a great deal if they knew for sure that Irene had it. And he wanted to know more about the Frenchman with Evan Atwell.
“I’ve been thinking about Evan Atwell and his friend,” Pepper said.
Meeting her eyes, he smiled. “Me, too. Great minds evidently think alike.”
“If they’re a couple coming here to celebrate Valentine’s Day, why didn’t they come on the same plane?”
“Good point.”
“And I’ve thought about something else. I don’t know why I didn’t remember sooner—I’ve been so focused on Irene and you.”
“What is it?”
“Irene said that there was someone else on the hotel roof when she got there that night.”
“Another thief?”
“Looked that way to her. She shot him with a tranquilizer.”
Cole stared at her for a minute. Finally he shook his head. “I don’t imagine that made her very popular with the other thief. But it does throw a slightly different light on the situation.”
“That’s what I was thinking. There were two thieves after the Monet that night. What if there still are? What if the other thief stole the painting from Irene and then sent her off to that island?”
“We won’t know that for sure until Irene arrives. Unless you want to tell Butch the whole story and ask him point blank if he’s been contacted about a Monet.”
She shook her head. “No. Not until Irene gets here. If she still has the painting, I want her to be able to give it to him. So I guess we just have to wait.”
He handed her his cell, and she shot him a curious look.
“There’s something that you can do. Right after Butch called, I got a report from Luke.”
“He found out who this Frenchman is?” Pepper asked.
Cole shook his head. “So far, he’s learned that Evan hasn’t been seen around town with anyone who fits this man’s description.”
“Could H and Butch be wrong about them being a couple?”
Cole shook his head. “I wouldn’t bet on it. It’s more likely that Evan and his friend have been very discreet. How would Mrs. Atwell feel if her son were to come out of the closet?”
She paused to consider his questions. “Not good, I suspect. Maybe that’s why he wanted to continue to date as friends after I broke up with him. If Evan and the Frenchman wanted to keep their relationship a secret, this island is secluded and far away from Mommy.” She glanced around. “It’s the perfect place for a clandestine tryst.” She turned to Cole. “And that could be the only reason they’re here.”
“Could be,” Cole agreed. “But…”
“The timing’s very suspicious. Why this island at this particular time, right after Evan’s painting is stolen? It all keeps coming back to that.”
“Bingo.” He nodded at the cell phone. “Luke could use a name.”
She stared at him. “You’re letting me get the name?”
“It’s your case.”
She hesitated for a moment, deciding who to call. There was Butch or H. But both might have questions about why she wanted to know the name of Evan Atwell’s companion. In the end she dialed the resort number and asked for the reception desk. Luck was with her and she got the same young woman who’d registered her.
“Escapade Resort. Marlene speaking.”
“Marlene, this is Pepper Rossi. I’m not sure you remember me.”
“Of course I do, Ms. Rossi. What can I do for you? Mr. Castellano says that you’re to have anything you want during your stay on the island.”
All the better, she thought. “I have a request that you might find a bit unusual. Can you give me the name of the man who’s staying with Evan Atwell? Evan and I are old friends, and I want to arrange to have a gift basket made up. But I need the name of his friend so that I can put both names on the card.”
“No problem. It’ll take me just a minute to look it up.”
Pepper kept her fingers crossed and counted to ten.
“Here it is. Jean Claude Rambeau. Would you like me to take care of the basket for you?”
“No. I want to make some of the selections in the gift shop myself. But thank you, Marlene. Oh, one more thing. Can you find out what Evan’s plans are for the evening? I’d like to have the basket delivered shortly before midnight.”
“I’ll check with Tommy.”
Placing her hand over the phone, she said to Cole, “I have an idea.”
“Tommy says they have reservations at the poolside café at nine-thirty,” Marlene said. “Then at midnight, they’re having a late supper in the main dining room.”
“Thanks, Marlene.” She handed the cell phone back to Cole. “Evan’s friend is Jean Claude Rambeau.”
Cole punched in numbers and relayed the name to Luke. Then he turned to her. “Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the idea you had when you were talking to Marlene?”
“I’m thinking of accidentally running into Evan this evening. Maybe that would stir things up.”
He smiled at her. “Not a bad idea.”
“How would you have gotten Jean Claude’s name?” she asked.
“I would have probably called Butch.”
“I thought he might have questions.”
“Good point. And he could have offered a name but chose not to.”
“Do you think Butch is hiding something?” she asked.
“I think he’s an astute businessman who plays his cards very close to his chest. Calling the receptionist was a nice move, by the way.”
“How long will it take Luke to check out Jean Claude?”
“Hard to say, but your brother is the best. You’re a lot like him, you know.”
“Me?”
The shock on her face had a little flare of anger shooting through him. “Didn’t your family in Philadelphia ever tell you when you’d done something right?”
“No. But I didn’t give them much cause. I really wasn’t cut out to be a debutante. I had to keep pretending to be one. I kept imagining myself as tall, blond and beautiful—like Britney Spears or Paris Hilton or Jessica Simpson. The game got old.”
He took her chin in his hand and turned it so that she had to meet his eyes. “Why are you still playing the same game with your brothers and your father?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still wearing masks with them.”
Color rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “You see everything, don’t you?”
“I see what you’re doing because I’ve worn a lot of masks myself. If you stop wearing them, you might discover qualities in yourself that you like.”
She said nothing, and after a moment he continued. “I had to play the fitting in game a lot, and I learned that I had a better chance if I played to my strengths. At Rossi Investigations, you should do the same thing. You have good instincts. And you have Luke’s brain. Matt’s the one with the street smarts and the brawn. They make a good team, because they don’t try to be what they’re not. And they could use you because you’re something that they’re not. You’re a woman. And even if you didn’t turn yourself into a perfect Pendleton, you have class. Plus, you have the same kind of determination that your aunt does. Think about it.”