“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?”
“Nothing,” she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze.
He reached out and tipped her face up to his. “You’re allowed to care about me,” he said. “It’s all right. This stopped being all about sex a long time ago. I think you know that but you’re afraid to admit it.”
“I-I should go back in,” she said.
“Yes,” Ian said. “You probably should.”
She turned and hurried to the door. Ian faced the wall, bracing his hands over his head and drawing a deep breath of the warm night air. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to care the way he did about Marisol, but he sure as hell couldn’t stop himself.
He strode to the door, then paused before he opened it. When this was all over, he planned to let Marisol know exactly how he felt about her. And if she still refused to see him as anything more than a lover, then he’d have to find a way to change her mind.
MARISOL’S HEART slammed in her chest as she reached for the lock on the gallery door, fighting back a surge of nerves. She resisted the temptation to glance back at the rear of the gallery where Agent DiMarco had hidden himself in the storage room. Outside, Ian and Agent Phillips were parked a half block away in an unmarked car, recording everything her microphone picked up.
She felt completely alone and vulnerable. In truth, she’d wanted Ian inside the gallery, but the FBI agents had said no. She reached for the door again, then drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. She’d only have one chance at this, once chance to make it all right, one chance at a future with Ian Quinn.
Gathering her courage, she swung open the door. David waited on the other side. “Hello, Marisol.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but she avoided his touch, stepping aside to let him enter. “I’m glad you called. I knew you couldn’t stay angry at me forever.”
“This isn’t a social call,” she said. “You’re here on business.”
“What are you talking about?” David asked.
“I have what you were looking for,” she replied. “It arrived by messenger last week.”
David chuckled, but there was little humor in the sound. “So you were lying to me when I was here last?”
“I didn’t know what I had until I unwrapped it. The minute I did, I realized that it was the Emory Colter from the Templetons’ house. So, is it an original?”
“That depends,” he said. “On whether you decided to switch it with the painting in Newport. You see, that’s what I was counting on. I suspected your father had sent you the painting. He never had the stomach for my little intrigues. And I knew, once you received it, you’d figure out what you had. And I hoped you’d exchange it for the one in the Templetons’ library.”