Take My Breath Away…

“Good.” Guthrie met his eyes. “Anything else you haven’t told me? You always save the best until last.”

Gabe told him about his own signature being on the forged statue.

“Where is the forged statue now?”

“I have it safe at my place.”

For a moment Guthrie said nothing, and when he spoke his tone was neutral. “So now we can be pretty sure that more than one person is involved in these thefts, and at least one of them is probably female. And the forgery this time has your signature on it. Where the hell did they get it?”

“The last time I saw that statue it was in my mother’s art studio, the same place you found the Matisse that my father was arrested for stealing.”

Guthrie frowned. “Any artifacts the FBI confiscated when they conducted their search were put in an evidence locker. Your mother’s paintings were eventually authenticated and returned. The Matisse your father stole was returned to the museum.”

The Matisse had been part of an exhibition that had been on a U.S. tour from a gallery in Madrid, and a year earlier, it had been stolen from an art museum in San Francisco. His father’s initials had been on the forgery that was left behind. At the trial he’d denied both the theft and the making of the second painting. But the evidence had been overwhelming.

Nick Guthrie took a notebook out of his desk and picked up a pen. “I’ll look into it.”

After scribbling a few notes, he met Gabe’s eyes. “And this forged statue with your signature makes you strongly suspect that someone in my office is involved.”

“Whoever is behind these robberies had to have known that it existed and they also had to have access to it.”

Guthrie leaned back in his chair. “That’s the real reason you didn’t fill me in on the prototype, and it’s also why you requested to meet with me alone this morning before you filled me in on all the details. I have to be your prime suspect.”

If there was one thing Gabe admired about Nick Guthrie, it was his ability to hide his emotions and keep his focus on the case.

“There’s only one person I trust at this point,” Gabe said. “Besides you.”

“Who?”

Gabe had thought long and hard during the night about the best approach to take. Now, he chose the most direct one. “I trust Nicola, and starting right now, I want you to make me her assignment.”

Guthrie leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes. “Why should I do that? She’s an inexperienced agent.”

“As far as I can see, she handled herself well last night. As for why you should assign her to this case—there are two reasons. First, someone is trying very hard to pin these robberies on me. The fact that they left that forged statue behind suggests that the St. Francis might have been on their to-steal list all along. If they’d been successful last night, you would have had to arrest me. So if Nicola watches me twenty-four-seven, you cover the bureau’s ass—in advance. The second reason is the more important. She’s already involved in this. The thief was not going to get the St. Francis. But she may have thought she could, given enough time. Nicola and I prevented that. And Nicola shot her. That news is bound to get out. Nicola’s name is already in the paper. The fact that she shot the thief will be in the report she types up. Whoever is behind this is not going to be happy that a key member of their team is out of commission, and they may blame Nicola. These thieves haven’t had much experience with failure up to this point. So far, everything has run like clockwork. Until we’re sure how they’re going to react, I say we take precautions.”

“You think she’s in danger?”

He met Guthrie’s eyes very steadily. “I hope not. There’s been no violence yet. But I’d rather be safe than sorry. I don’t want her out of my sight until this is over. Assign me to her and she’ll be under the protection of G. W. Securities, and you have eyes on me. If I’m wrong, you still get eyes on me until we have somebody behind bars.”

“Shit.”

It was only the third time Gabe had ever heard Nick Guthrie swear. And all three times had been since he’d walked into the office this morning.

Guthrie ran his hands through his hair. “All right. Until this is over, you’re Nicola’s assignment.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

“Done.” Gabe rose and held out a hand. “You won’t be sorry.” Then he said a quick prayer to St. Francis that he would make good on his promise.

8

NICOLA TAPPED THE PRINT BUTTON on her computer. It was 8:00 a.m., and she’d finished the report on what had happened last night at St. Francis Church. Through the glass wall of her office, she could see the papers shooting out of the printer that sat just to the side of Mary Thomas’ desk.

Filing the report had been the assignment Mary had given her when she’d arrived a little after 7:30 to find that her father was already in a meeting behind closed doors. And in spite of the fact that he’d lowered the privacy shades, she was pretty sure she knew who was in there with him— Gabe Wilder.She’d felt him right down to the marrow of her bones. Even right now, she was tingling in anticipation that she might see him again—much the way she’d felt on those long ago Saturday mornings when Marcia would drive her to the St. Francis Center.

At first she’d suspected that special agent Mark Adams was with them. But when he’d arrived at 7:45 and gone straight to his office, she’d felt better. At least she wasn’t the only outsider. Mark was a tall, dark-haired man in his late thirties, and he’d been working with her father for nearly a decade. That meant he was a good agent.

She shifted her gaze back to the door of her father’s office. When she’d told Mary that she should be part of the meeting, the woman had given her a sympathetic smile and explained that her father wanted her report on his desk ASAP. Then he’d see her.

So she’d written it up, and now she was back to square one.

She’d been so sure that last night would have made a difference. And if she’d caught the thief, it would have. But all she’d done was prove her father’s theory that Gabe Wilder wasn’t behind the robberies. But he was still at the center of it. She was sure of that.

And someone in this office might be involved.

Through the glass wall of her own office, she watched Mary stretch one arm gracefully to retrieve her report from the printer then place it neatly in her out-box.

Mary Thomas certainly fit within the parameters of Gabe’s description of the female thief he’d wrestled with, but her father’s administrative assistant gave no indication she was recovering from a bullet wound.

She figured the tall attractive brunette had to be in her late forties or early fifties, but she could easily pass for five or six years younger. And she’d been her father’s trusted administrative assistant for almost fifteen years. In the three months since Nicola had joined the Denver office, she’d learned that Mary had a meticulously organized mind and ran a very tight ship. She also did yoga and tended to dress like a fashion plate.

Not that she had seriously suspected Mary Thomas of being the woman she’d shot last night. But the woman could be an accomplice—she knew everything that was going on in the Denver office’s white-collar crime division. So could Mark Adams. Her gaze drifted back to the man whose office was directly across from hers. And Debra Bancroft, Gabe’s trusted assistant, could also be added to the list of possible suspects. If the robberies were a group effort, as Gabe was certain they must be, there could be more than one woman involved. After all, art theft and forgery were equal opportunity professions.

She glared at her father’s closed door. So was the FBI. Supposedly.

Biting back a sigh of frustration, Nicola rose and paced to the window of her office. The sun was bright in the sky, and the snow had already begun to melt.

The instant she’d seen the headlines in the paper, she’d called Father Mike and left a message. Making the call had given her something to do. So had writing up the report for her father. And focusing on the case was the only way that she’d been able to get her mind off Gabe Wilder, however briefly.

She simply couldn’t forget the kiss they’d shared just before they’d left the church and boarded the helicopter. In a way, that kiss had been more worrisome than making love to him. A onetime fling brought on by adrenaline and lust was almost understandable.

But the kiss had been different. There’d been a moment, however brief, when she’d felt as if she were coming home.

Talking about it had been impossible in the helicopter even if she’d wanted to. And Gabe had arranged for two cars to meet them at the landing pad. He’d said that he intended to stop by a hospital and get the cut on his head attended to.

She could hardly argue with that. But she’d wanted to. When the driver of one of the cars had driven her home and escorted her to her door, she couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe had seen her to their door, would they have shared another kiss? Would they have gone inside and made love again?

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about doing just that?

Seriously annoyed, Nicola strode to the counter behind her desk, opened a small refrigerator, and pulled out a caffeine-laden soft drink. Making love again with Gabe Wilder should be the last thing she wanted.