The knot had moved from her stomach up to her throat. “Oh.”
“Wait by the door.”
She whispered, “Fine.”
She wanted to tap her foot on the floor, but she couldn’t do that either. Gavin wasn’t just looking at the walls, he was tapping softly on the paneling, pulling back drapes, and searching under tables.
“Tables?” she whispered.
“I hid a stolen Van Gogh very successfully under the kitchen table in a house for several years,” he said, walking back to her and reaching for her hand. “At one point, the owner joined me for dinner and we ate coq au vin on top of it.”
Chloe let him lead her into the next room. It was a bedroom, and it was massive. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Gavin offered her a rare smile. “Immensely.”
The search continued in the bedroom. Something about it, maybe the quality of the air or the slightly misaligned furniture, told her it was a bedroom in use. “Who lives here?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I have a feeling from the security”—he swung the door shut and pointed to the numerous and complicated locking mechanisms on the back of the door—“that these are guest quarters of some kind. This could be a safe house the O’Briens maintain to offer shelter to visiting immortals.”
“Why all the locks?”
“Most vampires are not like Tenzin. We’re vulnerable when we sleep.” Gavin got on the floor and scooted under the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room. “So our rooms are designed to be impenetrable when we lock them from the inside.”
“So I guess vampires don’t have slumber parties,” Chloe said, idly paging through a coffee table book on a high table by the door.
“That depends on what you call a slumber party.” Gavin rolled out from under the bed and locked his eyes on Chloe. “Are you offering?”
“What?” Her face went hot again. “No.”
“Let me know if you’re curious.” He came to his feet. “And if you want a job.”
“Why do you want to hire me?”
“Because you’re smart and beautiful. And I think…” He stopped in the middle of the room, cocking his head toward the doorway.
Chloe opened her mouth again, but Gavin was in front of her before she could speak. He whipped them around, pulling Chloe against his body and hiding them behind a tapestry hanging on one wall. She heard the sound of footsteps just as Gavin’s mouth landed on hers.
Oh hell. She heard the slight whimper that escaped her throat as he kissed her.
Gavin didn’t need amnis to make her head swim. Not one little bit.
She didn’t want it to be good, but it was. His lips were firm and full, meeting her own in soft, hungry bites. The kiss might have been a sham, but it didn’t feel like one. One hand pressed to the small of her back and the other softly gripped her neck, angling her mouth for Gavin’s taking.
He was delicious. Sweet and smoky with a hint of tobacco on his tongue. Her head fell back when his mouth landed on her neck.
He wasn’t going to…
Was he?
Did she want him to?
It was just for show.
What would it feel like?
The sounds of passion in the hallway filled her mind, but she realized it was her own gasp of pleasure others heard when the tapestry flipped back and Gavin lifted his head from her neck.
“Gentlemen.” His voice was low and imperious. “Is there a problem?”
“I apologize for interrupting, Mr. Wallace, but you are not allowed in these rooms.”
“They are for guests, are they not? Am I not a guest?”
Chloe blinked but didn’t turn around. She didn’t want any of the cold voices she was hearing to see her face. She stood frozen in Gavin’s arms, the rumble of his brogue vibrating against her breasts. She blinked, trying to understand what it was she was seeing in the dim light of the candlelit bedroom.
“This chamber has been reserved for a specific guest, sir.”
Gavin waved a hand. “Tell him I’ll—”
“It’s for the Lady, sir. She is quite particular about her chambers and will be unhappy if she finds you here.”
“The lady?”
Chloe ignored the quiet debate behind her. Gavin was acting the offended guest and the guards were trying to cover their asses, clearly knowing they’d messed up that Gavin was even in their wing of the house. But Chloe’s eyes were locked on the signature she saw just under the edge of the tapestry.
She wasn’t an expert, but from the edges of the frame she could see and the size of the tapestry covering it, the painting on the wall was a very large canvas.
A canvas signed in a careful hand by one Emil Samson.
Chloe’s heart raced—she wanted to shout—but there was no way of telling Gavin without giving themselves away.
“Sir, we’ll escort you—”
“I’ll walk behind you,” he said, irritation coloring every word. “My companion has no desire to show her face to hired security. Walk ahead of me and we will follow. Do you understand?”
Chloe could tell by the pause that followed that the guards were pissed off.
“Do you understand?” Gavin asked. “Or do I need to contact Mr. O’Brien myself?”
“Very well,” a guard said. “But we’ll have to report—”
“Report whatever you like,” Gavin cut him off. “She’s just a human. You doona need her name.”
The “just a human” stung that time. Gavin pressed Chloe’s face into his jacket and kept his arm around her waist. She walked with him, glancing one last time at the painting behind the tapestry.
Emil Samson.
A gap-toothed imp crouched over the artist’s signature, its frog-like face laughing at her as she slipped away.
Ben saw Gavin and Chloe emerge from the hallway, followed by two of Cormac’s men. Chloe’s face was tucked into Gavin’s neck, and he was speaking softly to her. She clutched his jacket and kept an arm around his waist. To anyone looking, they appeared to have just returned from one very passionate liaison. Gavin wore a self-satisfied smirk, and Chloe’s cheeks were flushed, her mouth bitten red.
That’s it. Gavin was going to die.
“Ben?” Emilie was at his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Gavin scanned the ballroom, searching for him. When their eyes met, he gave Ben a subtle nod, but he was distracted by Chloe, who lifted her head and said something quietly in his ear.
The look on Gavin’s face stopped Ben in his murderous tracks.
Well, hell. Maybe Gavin wasn’t dying after all.
The look his old friend was giving the top of Chloe’s head was almost tender. The hand at her waist didn’t grip, but it was firm. He nodded and brushed his lips across Chloe’s wiry curls in an unconscious gesture of affection, a smile lingering at the corner of his mouth.
Ben hadn’t see Gavin treat a woman that way since…
Hell.
“Ben, why do you look like you want to murder Gavin?” Emilie said.
“I don’t.” He looked down. “I don’t. Just feeling protective is all.”
She smiled and her dimple peeked out. “You know, I have to say he’s a little brusque, but he does seem sincere. I liked him.”
“It’s too soon for her,” he said. “She just left a relationship that wasn’t the greatest. Hence my Neanderthal attitude with her.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I promise that’s all. She’s an old friend. I’m worried.”
Emilie shrugged. “If it’s not the right time for her, he’ll wait until it is. If he’s not willing to wait, then he is not the right man for her.”
Ben smiled. “You’re so smart.”
“I know. Now dance with me,” Emilie said. “This night is nowhere near over.”
Ben took Emilie’s hand, moving toward the dance floor where he saw Gavin and Chloe headed. The song was a quiet jazz tune led by a sleepy clarinet, the perfect piece to wind down
a party.
As Ben led Emilie toward Gavin, he saw Tenzin at the edge of the crowd, listening in on Cormac’s conversation with one of the guards who had walked out of the hallway with Gavin. Tenzin’s eyes met his for a brief second before they moved back to Cormac.
Gavin and Chloe danced nearer. Ben dipped Emilie and lifted her as she laughed.
Chloe caught his eye, and most of his concern fled.
Same Chloe. She looked slightly flustered at Gavin’s proximity, but her eyes flashed when he said something she didn’t like. No hint of amnis or confusion.
“Chloe found something,” Gavin said as they passed.
The steps led them away, but both Ben and Emilie were listening when they came back.
“… know what I saw. I don’t know why you—”
“So you’re an expert on authenticating signatures, are you?”
Neither Ben nor Emilie could get a word in before the other couple danced away again. Emilie looked up at Ben, her lips pinched together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“If it was a forgery,” Chloe hissed as they came within earshot again, “why hide it behind a tapestry?”
“Watch your volume,” Gavin said. “If it was the original, why was it in a guest’s room?”
Ben said, “I take it you found something?”
Ben had led them to an isolated corner with more humans than vampires, hoping to gain a little privacy. Gavin and Chloe circled them; both couples were still dancing slowly.
Gavin said, “She saw something while I was talking our way out of… a certain compromising position.”
“Don’t put it that way,” Chloe said. “You’re purposefully phrasing it that way to make it sound like we were…”
“We were snogging, dove.” Gavin sounded far too smug about that. “Don’t you remember? Do I need to remind you?”
“No!” Chloe said. “And it was for show, and I saw a painting, Ben.” She looked at Emilie. “The same size as the others in the museum. Same color palette from what I could tell.”
Emilie gasped.
Ben asked, “You didn’t see the whole thing?”
“Well, Gavin was hiding us behind this tapestry so the guards could find us and think we were… you know. And I didn’t see the whole thing, but I saw the signature. Emil Samson. Clear as day.”
Ben looked at Gavin. “You didn’t see it?”
“I was talking to the guards,” he muttered. “Back to the wall. I dinna see it.”
Ben fell silent. He didn’t want to say more—not at the gala—but he could feel Emilie’s excitement. She was almost vibrating with it.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Ben said quietly. “I want to talk this over with Tenzin.”
Gavin said, “Done. Chloe should leave with me.”
“What?” she whispered. “Why?”
“Because we were caught snogging in a back bedroom. If I let you leave with Ben, it would spoil the illusion.”
“He’s right,” Ben said. “Cormac is still watching you two.”
The music died down, and the crowd clapped politely as the band announced a break.
“Let’s head to the loft,” Ben said. “We’ll get Tenzin and meet you there.”
Chloe glared at Ben, but she left holding Gavin’s hand. Ben looped his fingers around Emilie’s and headed toward the door.
Emilie was right. The night was far from over.
18
Chloe looked at a picture of Dawn Labyrinth blown up to life-size and projected on the wall, examining the signature in the bottom right corner. It was grainy, but the signature was visible.
“That’s it,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
Tenzin stood beside her. “How sure?”
“The way he loops his L on Emil, it’s distinctive. I’ve studied his other paintings and his signature didn’t vary much. The S is a little different too. It’s the same signature or a very good fake.”
They both turned when the distinctive sound of a champagne bottle popped behind them.
Ben was grinning. “We did it.”
Gavin wasn’t smiling. “We’re not positive.”
“This painting”—he walked to the wall, champagne in hand—“was missing. For over seventy years, it’s been a mystery. And we found it.”
Chloe couldn’t help the smile. “I mean, I can’t be positive, but I’m fairly sure.”
Emilie leapt to her feet and ran over to hug Chloe. “This is amazing!”
Gavin still wasn’t smiling. Tenzin wasn’t either.
Emilie looked around. “Why all the grim faces? Ben’s right. You did it! You found Midnight Labyrinth.”
“We may have found it, Miss Mandel,” Gavin said, “but we haven’t retrieved it yet.”
“All in good time.” Ben walked to the table where Gavin had laid out the plans he’d retrieved from Rothman House. “You said these had been altered?”
“Yes.” Gavin was sketching over the plans in pencil. “This hallway here is intact, but many of the interior rooms have been expanded or combined. And this whole passageway…”
Gavin continued noting differences in the layout to Ben and Tenzin. Emilie hung on Ben’s shoulder, avidly taking in every detail while Chloe watched from the couch. She was fairly sure that she wouldn’t have any part of the actual theft of the painting, for which she was exceedingly grateful. This whole “job” made her nervous as hell.
Was it theft?
She knew the painting had been stolen from Emilie’s family to begin with. She knew whoever owned it had likely obtained it by sketchy methods, whether it was on the black market or the grey market or the vampire market or whatever.
But…
Chloe was the type of person who’d felt guilty parking in a delivery zone when she lived in LA. She still looked twice if she jaywalked, and she’d nearly cried the one time she’d walked out of a store with a dress over her arm that set off an alarm. She’d forgotten she’d been holding it when her phone rang. The store manager had been the one comforting her while Chloe imagined her mother at the police station, bailing her out for shoplifting.
She got straight As and belonged to the honor society. She volunteered at the Boys & Girls Club in LA, teaching dance to little kids.
She did not go on covert intelligence-gathering missions at parties.
She did not make out with vampires she barely knew.
And she did not conspire to steal valuable pieces of art.
But you’re not really stealing it, dove.
And why did she suddenly have Gavin Wallace’s voice in her brain?
Chloe watched him in profile, wishing she could forget how it had felt when he held her. He was thrilling in a way that should scare her. He just… didn’t. He didn’t scare her, which made Chloe feel naive. She knew there was a lot about this strange and alluring creature she wasn’t seeing. She saw the shadows in Ben’s eyes. She knew that living in the world he occupied was dangerous in ways she didn’t even realize.
But…
Gavin’s eyes cut to her as if he could read her thoughts. He didn’t smile. He didn’t make a joke. He caught her gaze and held it. In the space of seconds, the vampire stripped her bare. He wanted her. She wanted him.
What are you going to do about that, Chloe?
She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore. She closed her eyes, cutting herself off from their world. Her anxiety, which had been gradually lessening in the weeks since leaving Tom, spiked. She had a vision of herself as a bird, flitting through life in her plain brown feathers while birds of prey circled overhead.
Gavin, Ben, Tenzin and Emilie continued plotting, making plans as if the rules meant nothing.
Because they don’t. Not to them.
Chloe rose and walked to the control console near the kitchen. She scrolled through the music choices on the screen and picked a methodical piano piece by Debussy. It was the kind of measured melody that let her mind fall into a rhythm, the same way she warmed up her body
by routine. Minute by minute, she relaxed. She didn’t notice that the voices on the other end of the room went quiet. She didn’t hear Gavin approach her but could feel his presence at her back when he did.
Gavin slipped an arm around her waist, and Chloe froze.
“Change the music. Give us something we can dance to.”
“I can dance to this.”
Gavin pulled her back against his chest. Chloe’s pulse spiked again. The hitch in his breath told her that Gavin heard it.
“I want to see you dance,” he said.
“I’m doing a show in a few months. I’ll let you know when tickets are available.”
He leaned down and whispered, “Is that all I can have?” Gavin took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
What could he sense that she couldn’t? His senses were stronger, more perceptive. It intrigued Chloe and annoyed her at the same time.
“I don’t know.”
The music had switched from classical to jazz, a second bottle of champagne had been popped open, and Ben was dancing with Emilie. She was incandescent with happiness. Her mood was infectious.
“I can’t wait to tell my grandmother,” she said. “Can you imagine? She’s going to be so happy.”
“Wait,” he said, trying to rein in his own euphoria. “Just wait for now. Gavin may be a cranky ass, but he’s right. This job will be complicated. Let us work out who’s holding it and how we’re going to retrieve it before you say anything.”
She nodded. “I’m still excited.”
Ben bent and nipped at her ear. “Me too. You have no idea.”
He spun her around, dancing through the loft, all the tables and chairs pushed to the side. She was so damn cute. Like a kid on Christmas morning, and he was the one who’d handed her all the presents. Ben felt a million feet tall. He wondered if Emilie would stay the night. Wondered if he should kick everyone out of the loft or steal her away somewhere more private. He wanted time with her. Time to explore who she was beyond the mystery of the painting and the story.
Gavin was dancing with Chloe and poking at Tenzin, chuckling when Ben opened a third bottle of champagne. The loft was filled with the sound of laughter, Billie Holliday, and shuffling feet. Even Tenzin started smiling.