Heart of a Thief

Her skin felt chilled. Her heart still hammered in her chest. And her head seemed light, off-kilter, as if not quite connected to her neck.

Luke strode over to Antonio and dropped to one knee. His wide shoulders strained beneath his tuxedo. His black hair gleamed in the dim light.

He rolled the man over, loosened his tie, and held his fingers to his throat. He waited a beat, then ripped open Antonio’s shirt and bent his head.

Sofia inched closer as he looked up. His grim, cognac-colored eyes met hers. “He’s dead.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but the stench of blood made her stomach roil. She managed a nod, wrapped her arms around her waist, avoided looking at Antonio’s head. Instead, she glanced lower, to the black crescent-shaped tattoo exposed on his chest.

A weird thing to notice at a time like this. And so insignificant when the man was dead. Dead.

As if that ancient curse had come true.

She pressed her trembling hand to her lips, shuddered hard, willed that crazy thought away. The entire night had been a shock. The horrific murders, the theft. She swayed again, hugging herself harder to quell the hysteria rising inside. That beautiful, magical necklace was gone.

And seeing Luke after all this time. Luke—the man she’d once loved beyond reason. The man who’d enthralled her with his safe-cracking talent, mesmerized her with his brilliant mind.

The man who now scowled at her with rage and bitterness in his whiskey-hued eyes.

She eyed the implacable lines of his face, his unyielding jaw, that feral maleness that even now—even after all that pain—made everything primitive inside her go wild.

He rose to his feet in a powerful movement and stalked across the library to the door. Her stomach balled at the anger pounding his steps. Surely he didn’t blame her for Antonio’s death?

He pressed his ear to the door, waited, then edged it open and peeked out. “It’s clear. Come on.” His words were curt, clipped.

She forced aside the stab of hurt. His opinion of her didn’t matter right now, and neither did their past. They needed to get out of here, get to safety. Warn don Fernando about Paco. Report the murder and theft. Because if that killer came back…

She shivered, then hurried across the library to the door. Even with her high heels on, she had to look up to meet Luke’s eyes. “Which way should we go?”

He eased the door shut again. His mouth was grim, the hard, shadowed planes of his face taut. “They’ll have the exits blocked. We’ll have to leave through the medieval bolt-hole.”

She blinked. “What? We can’t leave the palace. We have to find the police.”

He shot her a look of disbelief. “And let them arrest us?”

“Arrest us?” Shock rippled through her. “But why would they do that? We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You think they’ll believe that?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t they?”

His dark brows rose. “Because you made the replica. Because I’m in charge of security. Because my prints are now on that safe—and that’s my partner lying there dead. Of course they’re going to suspect us.”

“But we didn’t do anything wrong. Antonio arranged it all. And I made the decoy to fool potential thieves, not to steal the necklace.”

“Right.” He jerked his head toward the safe. “You think he’ll testify on your behalf?”

She glanced back at Antonio’s body, his head lying in a puddle of blood, and her gut made a sickening roll. He was right. “But other people know. Don Fernando—”

“Don Fernando?” He made a sound of disgust. “You can’t be that naive. Who do you think set this up?”

“That’s ridiculous. Don Fernando would never—”

“Never what?” He leaned toward her, his jaw rigid, anger sparking his eyes. “Never lie? Never fake a theft? Never frame some Gypsy scum for a crime he didn’t commit?”

She lifted her palms, eased out her breath. “Look, I know you don’t like him—”

“Like him?” His laugh was bitter, raw. He moved closer and fury radiated from him in waves. “That man ruined everything I’d ever worked for. My reputation, my career. Hell, if he hadn’t graciously dropped the charges, I’d be in prison right now for something I didn’t do.”

And she’d sided with don Fernando. She heard the anger whipping his voice, the blame. He thought she should have supported him.

Her stomach twisted. She’d wanted to believe him. Dear God, how she’d wanted to believe him. She’d loved him desperately, insanely. He’d been her world, the most amazing man she knew.

His effect on her had been instant, shocking. Even now, just one glance from those electric eyes brought back that rush of delirious wanting, those shivers of primal desire.

But she couldn’t ignore the proof. Even that blinding haze of love, that frantic need to believe him hadn’t been enough to erase the facts. He’d used her to steal those gems.

But as she stood before him now, feeling his resentment, his rage, doubt slithered through her, and a sick, queasy sensation wormed into her gut. Then why the outrage? If he’d been guilty, then why was he so angry at her, especially after all these years?

Could she have been wrong? Dread spiraled through her, and she forced the thought from her mind. She couldn’t bear to think of that now.

“Look,” he said. His deep voice vibrated with disgust.

“I’m leaving. You can hang around here if you want. Wait for the bodyguard to come back and kill you. Or wait for the police, so you can explain about the corpse.”

Her stomach dipped. “They won’t blame us for that?”

“I don’t know what they’ll do.” His eyes stayed hard, accusing. “I don’t even know who’s involved here.”

Meaning he still didn’t fully trust her.

Sofia tamped back a sharp jab of hurt. She understood his suspicions. She felt just as confused. But she had nothing to do with that theft. She’d never endanger that necklace.

And neither would don Fernando. That man was too kind, too generous to hurt anyone, and he cared far too deeply about antiquities to ever arrange a theft.

But Luke was right about one thing. Other than Paco, they didn’t know who was involved in this, which meant that they had to be careful.

She tugged in her breath, then exhaled. “Okay, you’re right. We’d better hide.” At least until the killer was caught.

“Keep quiet,” he cautioned and opened the door. “And stay close.”

As if he needed to warn her. That killer was out there. Her gaze flicked around the deserted hallway, and uneasiness crept through her chest. He could be lurking in a side room, just waiting for them to pass….

Luke took off, and she scurried behind him, cursing the tight gown and flimsy shoes that hindered her movements, the way her high heels clicked on the marble floor, the stark tat-tat-tat echoing down the corridor like a nervous drum.

They passed through unused rooms, detoured down endless halls, and with every step, her anxiety built. Her breathing turned shallow and fast. That awful pounding returned to her head. She hugged Luke’s steps, seeking the safety of those wide shoulders, wanting to disappear into his skin.

Then, without warning, he stopped. He held out his muscled arm, and she bumped against him, barely staying upright.