“What book?” Gabriel asked as he folded up the handkerchief and stuck it back in his pocket.
“The Robert Burns. Crap, crap, crap.” It wasn’t anywhere on the bed where I’d fallen asleep reading it. I pulled the bedspread completely off the bed and shook it. Nothing. I knelt down and searched the floor. Nothing.
“Let me help you,” he said, and knelt down next to me. “What does it look like?”
“It’s red. It’s… it’s…” He was so close, I could smell him. Clean, citrusy. Sexy. Whew.
Disgusted with myself, I concentrated on looking for the book, running my hands along the floor, around the nightstand. The bed was perched on a solid platform, so nothing could’ve slid underneath.
The book was gone.
But how? The intruder was in my room for maybe five seconds, and that was at a dead run.
“It’s not here,” I said finally, accepting the inevitable. “I’m so screwed.”
“Sorry, babe.”
I stood up and looked him in the eyes. “How could he have stolen it? I saw him race right through the room. He never stopped.”
“Beats me, babe.”
I stared at him as a police siren shrieked in the still night.
“The cops should be here soon,” he said. “Maybe they can help you find it. I’ve got to get going.”
“Probably a good idea,” I said, blocking his way as I held out my hand. “But first, give me the book.”
He smiled in sympathy. “Ah, now, see? You’re all distraught.”
“Give me the book, Gabriel.”
“Honey, I would love nothing better.” He pointed toward the open window, where the sound of the police siren grew more shrill. “But that’s my cue to get moving.”
“Gabriel, I know you have it,” I said, slowly moving closer to him. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you’ve got it.”
“Calm down, babe,” he said, holding up both hands.
“Give it to me and I won’t sic the cops on you.”
He checked his wristwatch. “Look at the time. I should be going.”
“Did you sneak in here earlier and take it?” I asked. “Then maybe a while later, as you were about to drive away, you happened to see the other guy up here?”
His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. “Yeah, and I saved your life.”
“I appreciate that,” I said through clenched teeth. “I feel truly blessed that you came along when you did, but I don’t think it was a coincidence, now, was it?”
I was so angry, I pushed him.
He chuckled as he grabbed my wrists. “Babe, you’re getting kind of violent, and I’m a peaceful man.”
“See, I’m usually totally peaceful, too,” I said, managing to push him again despite his hold on me. His chest was like a steel wall. “But you’re making me so mad, I can’t seem to help myself.”
The blaring sirens came closer.
I held out my hand. “I want it now, damn it.”
Gabriel sighed, unzipped his bomber jacket, pulled out the book and tossed it on the bed.
My eyes were wide as I stared at the book, then back at him. “Oh, my God, you really had it.”
I punched him in the stomach.
“Ouch,” he said.
“Oh, give me a break. You barely felt that.”
“I felt it.” Without any warning, he grabbed my elbows, tugged me close and kissed me. I was so shocked I let him. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. And I let him. He was really good at it. His lips were warm and soft, and when he finally lifted his head and stepped back, I almost sank to the floor.
But I didn’t.
“Gotta go,” he said, zipping up his jacket.
“Thanks for the book,” I said, gazing right back at him.
“I’ll see you soon, Brooklyn.”
“In your dreams.”
He laughed. “You got that right, babe.” He winked at me, walked over to the window and was gone.
The police jammed into my room minutes later, but after all was said and done, they were no closer to finding the killer than they were before. All I could tell them about the man who ran through my room was that he was male. It could’ve been anyone.
With a broken window and fingerprint dust on every surface of my room, I packed a few things and went to spend the rest of the night in Robin’s room.
I woke up four hours later feeling prickly again. I couldn’t sleep another minute. Someone besides Gabriel had gotten into my room last night, and it was just a guess, but I was pretty sure their motive had been to either kill me or steal another weapon. Either way, that someone wanted me dead or rotting in jail, which was unsettlingly close to the same thing.
But who? And why?
I glanced at the other side of the king-size bed. Robin was still snoring softly. I got up and went to wash my face, brush my teeth and dress for the day. Staring at the mirror, I told myself it was time to shape up, regroup, make a new list of suspects and try to save my own damn life. Starting now.
At Robin’s desk, I pulled out a hotel notepad and once again wrote down any and all possible suspects. The list wasn’t very long. My best suspect was dead. I was running out of possibilities and I had to face facts. Rather than the two dead men, I was the one who seemed to be the common denominator. So everyone I knew went on the list, including Royce, Martin, even Winnie Paine, the elderly IAAB president, along with Helen, Serena and Minka.
I decided not to add Gabriel, since he’d had the perfect opportunity to kill me last night and hadn’t done so-not that I’d ever suspected he was capable of it. I also didn’t list Derek or my parents or Robin. But I did write down the names of my friends Peter and Benny and four other booksellers I was friendly with. I knew it hadn’t been a woman running through my room during the night, but I was leaving no stone unturned. Maybe one of them had a male accomplice.
There was a knock on the door. Robin muttered into her pillow.
I shook her leg and said, “Get up, girlfriend. We have company.”
She grunted as I answered the door. It was MacLeod and Derek, and I was glad I’d changed out of my luscious plaid jammies.
“Come on in,” I said, leading the way inside, where I flung the curtains open and pulled the desk chair out. “Have a seat. Robin, company’s here.”
Robin burbled some profanity, then rolled over, opened her eyes and shrieked like a girl. She jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.
Derek bit back a grin, but MacLeod’s eyes goggled as though he’d seen a vision. Robin did not sleep in plaid jammies, to say the least.
“What’s up?” I asked Derek, as MacLeod seemed incapable of speech.
“You had an interesting night,” Derek said, leaning one hip against the desk.
“That’s one way to put it,” I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“So much excitement, yet you didn’t call.”
Uh-oh.
I could tell he was offended. Crap, I hated that. But what to say? I couldn’t mention Gabriel.
“I called the police,” I said, which was totally true. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought I’d lost the book and I was searching around for it, and by the time I found it, the police were knocking on the door. Then Robin came down to help me pack…”
I was an idiot.
He probably thought the same thing as he listened to me blather.
Angus’s phone rang and he excused himself to talk in the hall.
“I’m sorry, Derek,” I said, almost ready to cry. And I really was sorry. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t called him, but to say I’d had a crazy night was putting it mildly.
“I should’ve called,” I said, shaking my head. “I was completely distracted and stupid.”
He stood and walked over, pulled me into his arms and held me. “I don’t quite have your trust, do I, love?”
I buried my face in his divinely warm wool jacket. God, he smelled like heaven. “I’m getting there.”
He rubbed my back, then gave me a squeeze. “We’ll work on it.”
I pulled back and searched his face for some deeper meaning to his words. How would we work on it? Did we have anything to work on? We lived on opposite sides of the planet. Would I ever see him again after this week?