Heart of a Thief. Gail Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ invading her space. Then he gripped her chin and tugged it up, forcing her eyes to his. “I wouldn’t suggest lying to me, querida.”

      “I’m not lying,” she gritted out. Her cheeks were flushed. Her nostrils flared. Outrage sparked in her eyes.

      His gaze held hers. She didn’t waver, didn’t blink.

      Five years ago he would have believed her. Then again, five years ago he would have crawled through fire for this woman.

      He was a lot smarter now.

      He admired her acting ability, though. She had that fervent indignation, that innocent sincerity part down pat.

      Wondering how far she’d take this game, he stroked his thumb down her throat, tracing the path his mouth once took. Her eyes turned narrow and dark; her pulse quivered beneath his hand. He lowered his gaze to her lips—moist, lush, tempting—and heard that ragged hitch in her breath.

      His own heart kicked in response.

      He hissed out his breath and stepped back. This woman was trouble. Dangerous. A distraction he couldn’t afford.

      Scowling, he strode back to the safe. He dragged in a breath and exhaled, forcing his pulse to calm, his heart to slow, driving the carnal need from his blood.

      “What are you going to do?” she asked.

      “Crack the safe.” He glanced back. “Unless you want to share that combination after all?”

      Her forehead wrinkled. “But I told you, Antonio—”

      “Right.” Fed up with her deception, he turned back to the safe. He flexed his hands, loosened his shoulders, waited until his hands were steady, his breathing calm. Then he reached for the dial.

      His attention focused completely on the lock, he turned the dial, closing his eyes to feel the movement of the drive cam. He concentrated, slowly moved the dial, working to align the lever to the groove in the wheel. Sensing, feeling, listening.

      Acting like the thief he used to be.

      The thief too many believed he still was.

      The first wheel clicked into place.

      “Por aquí. In here,” a man said outside the library door.

      Luke’s heart stopped. He opened his eyes and sliced his gaze to Sofia. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip.

      Suspicion rolled through him. Were those her partners? Had she been heading here all along? “Expecting someone?”

      “What? Of course not.” Fear edged out the indignation in her eyes. “But…that gunman. You don’t think there are more…?”

      He straightened. They couldn’t wait here to find out. And he couldn’t leave Sofia alone in case she tipped them off.

      He swung the painting back into place. “Come on,” he whispered and grabbed her arm.

      “Where?” she whispered back.

      He glanced at the door to the adjoining room. Too far; they’d never make it. And the sofa wouldn’t provide any cover with those tall, clawed feet.

      He looked at the high arched windows blackened by the night, their long, velvet drapes tied back with braided cords. It might be an obvious place to hide, but they didn’t have much choice.

      “Over here.” He pulled her to the nearest window, then turned and unhitched the tie-back cords. The thick, heavy drapes closed around them, plunging them into darkness, cocooning them in dust and heat.

      Unwilling to trust her, he tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. He clamped his other hand over her mouth.

      “Don’t move,” he warned and felt her nod.

      The library door squeaked open and they both stilled. “It’s by the fireplace,” the voice said again, and Luke’s heart went numb. Antonio, his partner. The man he’d thought he could trust.

      Betrayed again.

      “You’d better hurry,” another man said and this time, Sofia jerked. So it was someone she recognized. No surprises there. He’d figured that she was involved.

      “Claro.” Antonio again.

      Footsteps tapped across the marble floor. The heat built behind the musty drapes, and sweat trickled down Luke’s jaw. Sofia stirred slightly, adjusting her position, and he inhaled the familiar spice of her hair, felt her hot breath fanning his palm, her satin-clad bottom caressing his groin.

      Dumb move, Moreno. He winced, shifted to ease the sudden arousal he knew she could feel, and peered through the slit in the drapes. His partner, Antonio, was opening the safe with latex gloves while a hulking, balding man waited beside him. Luke frowned, trying to place the man, and then it clicked. Paco, don Fernando’s bodyguard. He’d seen him at don Fernando’s estate.

      But what was the bodyguard doing here with Antonio? And suddenly, realization slammed through him, a sick, dizzy feeling reeling through his head. No wonder he’d gotten this job. It had nothing to do with his reputation, nothing to do with his skill or his hard work paying off. What a fool he had been. He’d been hired because Antonio had connections to don Fernando, a politically powerful man.

      And now he was being set up—by Antonio, this bodyguard, don Fernando, probably even Sofia. They were all in on this plan.

      And he was the perfect target—a Gypsy with a criminal background. No one would doubt his guilt.

      “Ya,” Antonio said as he opened the safe. He pulled out a black velvet pouch containing ancient necklace, opened it and grinned. Even from a distance, Luke could see the triumph on his face.

      But then the bodyguard stepped behind Antonio, drew his gun and pressed it against his head.

      Luke’s heart stopped. Sofia turned rigid in his arms.

      Across the room, Antonio’s smile froze, faded. His eyes bulged, his mouth slackened, like a fish splayed at the local mercado.

      No one moved. The air settled, condensed, suddenly too thick, too hot to breathe. Silence swelled like a primal shriek.

      The sharp pop exploded in the stillness. Sofia gasped, and Luke tightened his hand on her mouth—too late. The killer swiveled toward the curtains and raised his gun.

      Luke stared down the barrel of the SIG, and the hairs on the nape of his neck rose. Only his heart went berserk, thundering, lunging, careening in his chest, slamming the blood through his skull.

      Damn. He’d known this woman was trouble.

      And now, because of her, he was going to die.

      Chapter 2

      Sofia’s nerves quaked. Her blood pounded through her skull with a terrified rush. She stared into the killer’s eyes—black, cold, СКАЧАТЬ