“All right, let’s see who has the most self-control.” Ian grabbed the towel she’d wrapped around her and tugged it off her body. “Come on,” he said as he dried himself with her towel. “Let’s just go to bed and see who falls asleep first.”
Marisol knew he was just teasing, but she decided to go along with the game. If he was determined to prove a point, then she’d do her best to disprove it. It wouldn’t take more that a simple caress to shake his resolve.
She snatched the towel from his hands and dried her wet hair, then crawled into his bed. He lay down beside her, tugging the sheet up around his waist.
“See, no problem.”
“You’re not asleep yet,” she said.
Marisol rolled over on her side and watched him, but Ian refused to look at her. “I see you’re very determined.” She held her hand over his chest, hovering just above his skin. “I won’t touch you then.” She ran her hand down, holding it over his crotch. Then, Marisol began to move her palm back and forth, as if she were stroking him.
It took no time at all for him to react, his growing erection pressing against the sheets. She smiled in satisfaction. “Oh, my. What could that be?”
With a low growl, Ian reached out and grabbed her, pulling her on top of him. “You are a bad, bad girl,” he said.
“Just remember, you touched me first,” she countered. “So I guess I win.”
“Can I give you your prize now?” Ian asked.
Marisol giggled. This was what she loved about Ian, these moments when she could be completely herself, when the world fell away and it was just them. She was falling in love with him, and every day, the feelings simply grew stronger and stronger.
Bonnett Harbor was supposed to be a fresh start for her, a place to escape a relationship gone bad. But instead, it had been a destination, a place for her to find something special, something real. And maybe something lasting.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND what to do if you feel your life is in danger, Miss Arantes?”
Ian watched from behind the one-way glass, his gaze fixed on Marisol’s face. She was scared and he had serious doubts she’d heard anything the two FBI agents had said to her since they’d sat down in the small interview room earlier that afternoon. Her fingers kept fluttering to her throat, as she kept her eyes on the microphone set in front of her.
“David Barnett is a desperate man,” the female agent explained. “We don’t know how far he’s willing to go to get what he wants. We believe the buyer waiting for this particular painting is a highly placed member of the Japanese mob. If Barnett doesn’t deliver, then he’d be in serious danger.”
“I-I don’t think he would hurt me,” Marisol said, looking up at Agent Phillips.
“But if he does try, what do you say?” Agent DiMarco asked.
She turned to the male agent. “I say, ‘My father is a good man.’ And then I wait for you to come in. When you do, I duck for cover as fast as possible.”
“Good girl,” Ian murmured to himself. But would she remember once she was alone with Barnett? Did she have the courage to pull this plan off? And did he have the fortitude to sit back and watch as she did it?
It had taken every ounce of his resolve to walk away from her, to leave her in the care of the two FBI agents. But he and Marisol had agreed on the story they would tell. It was the truth, they could both swear to it, although it wasn’t the whole truth.
He’d convinced her of the strategy late last night, lying in bed with her wrapped in his arms. After she’d agreed, they’d carefully mapped out how they were going to make it work. Everything depended on Marisol reacting exactly as she should have the day she opened the painting.
Ian had left for the station early that morning, and an hour later, Sascha had arrived with her car. She and Marisol had loaded the painting and driven it to the Bonnett Harbor police station, where Ian had been waiting.
Like clockwork, Sally had called him from his office, announcing that Marisol Arantes was waiting in the lobby with a rather large crate. And from there, Ian did everything a good police chief would do. He interviewed Marisol, asked pointed questions about the painting and her father, checked out her facts and wrote his report. And then, right on schedule, he had called in the FBI.
Ian had expected to wait at least a day or two for a response, but to his surprise, the mention of David Barnett’s name brought instant interest. Within three hours, two agents had arrived from the New York office, anxious to interview Marisol.
She’d been with them for almost two hours now and Ian could see exhaustion in every expression, in every movement. Agent DiMarco pushed back from the table and walked out of the room. A few seconds later, the door to the observation room opened. “We’re going to go on this tonight,” he said.
Ian gasped. “Tonight? Come on, you can see she’s exhausted. Give her a chance to calm down and get some sleep. You can do it tomorrow.”
Agent DiMarco shook his head. “The longer we wait, the more Barnett is going to suspect it’s a setup. Her nervousness can work to our advantage. Agent Phillips is going to get her wired up and then we’re going to have her call Barnett and ask him to meet her at the gallery.”
“He’s in town,” Ian said.
Agent DiMarco frowned. “And you know this because?”
“When she mentioned his name in our interview, I figured I better find out where he was and what he was doing. So I put out an APB on his car. He’s staying across the bay in Newport. I’ve got an unmarked car watching his room. If he leaves, we’ll know about it.”
“Good,” Agent DiMarco said, smiling appreciatively. “I wish all local law enforcement was as thorough as you’ve been.”
Ian felt a prickle of guilt at accepting the compliment. If the FBI had any idea what Ian really knew, he’d be in that interview room and the questions would not be friendly. In any other situation, Ian would question his ethics. But the fact was, Marisol hadn’t been guilty of anything more than loving her father and wanting to protect him. And Ian hadn’t been guilty of anything more than feeling the same toward Marisol. Going in, he knew the potential consequences if they were found out, but he was willing to risk his career for Marisol.
“I ordered something for her to eat,” Ian said. “Can I take it to her?”
“Sure,” DiMarco said. “We’ll have her call Barnett and set up the meeting for 9:00 p.m. at her gallery. We’ll take her back there and get her set up after she’s eaten.”
Ian grabbed the paper bag Sally had delivered from the diner and walked out of the observation room. He nodded at Agent Phillips as he passed her in the hallway, then heard Sally call him from the door of his office.
“There you are,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that Delaney and Wilson answered a call last night at the Sandpiper about a supposed car theft. Turns out Eden Ross was staying there.”
Ian frowned. “Eden Ross?”
“Yes,” Sally said. “Remember you told me to tell you if any of us heard anything about her? Well, she was-”
“Did Delaney and Wilson write up a report?”
Sally nodded. “It turns out that the car that was the object of the theft belonged to Trevor Ross and the suspected thieves were really tabloid photographers. We tracked the call through the motel switchboard and we’re sure it came from her room.”
“I don’t have time for this now,” Ian said. “Call Dec's cell phone an give him the info. He’s the one who’s looking for her.”
Ian entered the interview room and sat down across the table from Marisol, his back to the mirrored window. Tears swam in Marisol’s eyes as she gazed at him.
“They’re probably watching us,” he whispered. “And listening.” Ian pulled a can of soda pop from the bag, opened it and placed it in front of her. “How are you doing?”
“They knew all about David Barnett,” she said. “They’ve been building a case against him. And they knew my father was involved. And they thought I was involved, too, because of my relationship with David.” She took a quick sip of the soda. “If I help them, they promised not to prosecute my father.”
Ian smiled, clutching his hands in front of him. “See, I told you everything would be all right.” It took every ounce of his determination not to reach out and touch her. Her fingers trembled and he fought the urge to gather her hands in his and press them against his body. “You’ll do fine. These agents know what they’re doing. You’ll be safe.”
“Are you going to be there?”
“I don’t know,” Ian said. “I hope so.”
“After I do this, it will be over, won’t it?”
He nodded and smiled. “And then you can get on with your life.”
“My life,” she repeated. “What if they change their minds? What if David tells them my father-”
“It’s all right. I heard them make the offer. Once you do this, there will be papers to sign. You won’t have to worry, your father will be safe.”
“The FBI thinks David’s been running this scam for years, selling bogus art. He started out with small stuff, then gradually moved on to the more valuable pieces. My father will have to testify about the art he copied, but that should be the end of it. I’m not going to let them know where he is until everything is official,” she said. “They can’t make me.”
A single tear trickled down her cheek and she brushed it away. Ian needed to take her into his arms, to soothe and protect her. He was the one who had talked her into this and now he was watching her crumble before his eyes.
“You’d tell me if they were trying to trick me, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded, then shoved his chair back from the table. “You look like you could use some air, Miss Arantes,” Ian said. “Would you like to step outside for a few minutes?” She shook her head, but Ian persisted. “Really. You look pale, Miss Arantes.”
“I-I guess I could use some air,” she finally said, meeting Ian’s gaze. She stood up and Ian followed her out.
They passed Agent DiMarco in the hallway and Ian pulled him aside. “She’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. I’m just going to take her out back for some fresh air. She’ll be fine.”
“I’ll take her,” DiMarco said.
Marisol held up her hand. “No, I’ll be all right with Chief Quinn. I just need a moment to myself. I’m not going to run away.”
Agent DiMarco considered her request for a long moment, then nodded. “Just for a few minutes. Then we need to go over a few more things and get you wired up.”
Ian rested his hand on the small of Marisol’s back as he steered her toward the back entrance of the police station. The rear parking area was fenced and completely hidden from the street. The moment the door closed behind them, he took her hand and pulled her over into the shadows. “Are you all right?” he murmured, cupping her face in his palms.
Marisol nodded. “I’m a little nervous. What if I can’t do this? I’ve never been very good at lying.”
Ian bent close, then kissed her, his fingers furrowing through her hair. It was the only way he knew to reassure her, and himself. She leaned into his body as his tongue delved into her mouth, so sweet and warm.
“It’ll be all right,” he whispered against her lips. “After it’s over, it’ll just be us again.”
Those words seemed to calm her nerves and she surrendered herself to his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Ian’s hands skimmed over her back and then circled her waist, lifting her up off her feet until her whole body was pressed against his.
“Take me away from here,” Marisol pleaded. “I don’t want to do this.”
Ian drew back and looked down into her face, just barely illuminated by the lights from the nearby parking lot. “I will,” he said. “If you really want me to, I will.”
She blinked in surprise at his response. “But you’d get in trouble. Wouldn’t you lose your job?”
“Maybe. I’d probably be arrested, too. But you’re more important to me than my job.”
“Don’t say that,” she murmured, shaking her head. Marisol took a deep breath, then straightened. “I can do this. I’ll be all right. You don’t have to worry.”
“And why can’t I worry?” he asked, aware of the sudden distance between them. Why was she suddenly pushing him away?
“This is my problem and I’m the one responsible. I don’t want you to bear any of the consequences.”
“Damn it, Marisol, we’re in this together now. The moment you told me the truth, it became our problem.”
“And this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you,” she shouted, yanking out of his grasp. “I didn’t want it to be your problem.”
Ian cursed softly, leaning back against the brick wall of the station. “So what? Then I’m not allowed to care about you? This is what a relationship is about, Marisol. We help each other, we support each other. What’s wrong with that?”
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