Strictly Confidential. Terri Reed

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      Alessandro Donato had a vow to fulfill. A vow to rid the world of drug dealers. Such people had cost him his family.

      From his vantage point on the opposite side of trendy Fourth Street, he surveyed the bustling crowd making their way toward the door of the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum for the opening of the Monet, Manet and Renoir collection.

      He tugged on the stiff bow tie at his neck, wishing he’d thought to bring his own tux from his home in Italy.

      But he’d had no way of knowing he’d still be here on this crisp May night. He’d thought that with the death of Baltasar Escalante, known drug lord, his time in Colorado Springs would have ended long ago and he’d have moved on to another assignment.

      But against all logic, Escalante hadn’t died when his plane went down and now had resurfaced back in this thriving community.

      Only, Alessandro couldn’t ID him.

      His sources were confident that Escalante had had plastic surgery, so the drug lord could be any one of the men in this town. He could even be here tonight.

      At the door to the museum Alessandro showed his invitation and was admitted with a cursory nod from the burly doorman.

      Once inside, Alessandro took stock of the situation, noting the exits, the windows and the corridor leading to the offices where the staff of the museum worked. He’d only lived this long because he never took anything for granted.

      To his right, a young, fresh-faced girl took coats and wraps from the glittering partygoers. He moved forward into the heart of the museum. Gleaming blond hardwood floors shone with a high gloss, picking up the effervescence of the crystal chandeliers.

      Several benches were arranged in strategic positions, giving patrons places to sit while they contemplated the works of art on the walls. Classical pieces that attracted a huge crowd. Alessandro had to give the curator credit for securing such masterpieces.

      A waiter laden with trays of savory appetizers paused and offered his fare to Alessandro.

      “No, grazie ,” he murmured as his gaze snagged on the museum’s curator, Dahlia Sainsbury.

      She moved with lethal grace, like a feline on the prowl. Her tall, elegant frame was draped in a signature Chanel dress of soft pink, which emphasized her pale, almost translucent skin.

      As usual her dark-as-night hair was sleekly pulled back into a fancy twist at the base of her neck. Her ruby-red lips spread into a slight smile that didn’t reach her sultry eyes.

      Her beauty left him cold, and it had nothing to do with his vow never again to be romantically involved with a woman. No, he suspected Dahlia’s beauty covered a heart of deceit.

      Alessandro made his way through the crowd toward Dahlia. His instincts had been on full alert for some time now, warning him that she had something to do with Escalante. Alessandro had found a strong tie, one he hoped would lead him to the man responsible for the escalating drug trade in Colorado. The man most likely behind the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance.

      Derisive anger shot through Alessandro. Some people thought that he had had something to do with his uncle’s shooting. Ridiculous.

      “Nice show tonight, Miss Sainsbury. Your gala is a fine success,” Alessandro said as he halted and forced himself not to choke on the cloyingly sweet perfume permeating the air around the evening’s hostess.

      “So glad you approve, Mr. Donato,” she responded in a clipped British accent that eerily mirrored that of another of Escalante’s cohorts.

      Alistair Barclay: the British hotel tycoon and Diablo crime syndicate kingpin who’d made a deal with the drug cartel run by Escalante. Together they’d used Barclay’s luxury hotel business as a cover for their dirty dealings.

      But through the dedicated efforts of various law-enforcement individuals and private citizens, the crime organization had been dismantled. Barclay had gone to prison and Escalante disappeared.

      Recently Barclay had turned up dead in his prison cell. Alessandro was sure that Escalante was behind the assassination.

      “I’d be interested in how you acquired such remarkable pieces for the exhibition,” Alessandro said, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

      She arched a dark, winged brow. “Ah, so that is why you called me earlier this week. I apologize that I was unavailable. I also understand you were here yesterday while we were setting up. Do accountants for…what is it you do again?”

      One side of his mouth lifted. Not for a second did he believe she’d forgotten. “I’m an accountant with the European Union.”

      “Ah, yes. The European Union. What would an accountant do with such knowledge?”

      “You’d be surprised at the connections I have.”

      A sly look entered her eyes. “Connections that I might find useful?”

      He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, dropping the bait. “Connections you might find profitable.”

      She inclined her head. “I like the sound of that. Punch?” she asked, stopping a waiter as he passed with a tray of crystal glasses filled with a colorful concoction.

      Without waiting for his answer she handed him a glass. “To your health and to a future business relationship.”

      Over the rim of the punch-filled glass he met Dahlia’s dark gaze. He suppressed the shudder that ran through him.

      Somehow he felt that he’d just sold a piece of his soul. Or at least put it in hock.

      Colleen felt bare in the little black tank-style dress that Holly had declared she must wear since she couldn’t wear it herself. Colleen clutched the sheer blue wrap that her mother had given her tighter around her shoulders as she trailed behind her brothers, Jake and Adam, and their wives into the museum.

      “Easy, now,” Jake cooed to his pregnant wife, as they made their way inside.

      “Honestly, you’d think I was about to give birth this instant the way you’re hovering, Jake,” Holly gently chided, even as she leaned on his arm.

      Colleen stifled a smile, noting that Adam was just as solicitous to Kate, as well.

      She was happy for both her brothers. Each had found the love of their hearts. Their soul mates. Colleen didn’t have time for soul mates or any type of mate. Her life was about getting the next story and that was the only reason she’d agreed to come to this spectacle tonight.

      Her editor wanted his people on the lookout for the next scoop. Well, she could only hope there’d be something to snag her interest here; all the town’s most prominent citizens were attending. But she wasn’t into society pieces. She much preferred gritty hard news.

      “Ladies,” her older brother Adam said, indicating the coat check.

      Colleen frowned. “I’ll just hang on to this, thanks.”

      Holly bumped up next to her and whispered none too softly, “Chicken.”

      Colleen СКАЧАТЬ