Heart of a Thief

Chapter 3

Luke wanted to plow his fist through the wall.

Twice now Sofia had blitzed into his life, and each time she’d wreaked total disaster. She’d demolished everything he’d ever worked for—his reputation, his honor, his pride.

He glowered at her, his face hot, the muscles of his neck stiff. Hell. This time she’d done far worse than ruin his reputation. She’d put the police on his tail—and not just for the theft of a legendary antiquity but for murder. And now she’d led them to where he hid.

“Just what were you thinking back there?” he demanded.

Her eyes looked hurt in the faint light, and she tugged on a loose strand of hair. “I thought it was don Fernando. I wanted to warn him about Paco.”

“I told you not to trust him.”

“But he could be in danger. And I owe him so much. What do you expect me to do? Just…abandon him?”

The words crashed through him, kicking the breath from his lungs. “Right.” Of course she couldn’t abandon her patron.

But five years ago, she’d had no trouble abandoning him.

He jerked his gaze away, inhaled. And he struggled to hold on to his anger, to cling to the safety of rage. But that dead, hollowed-out feeling still surged through him, that emptiness that mauled him inside. As if she’d gutted him and bled him dry.

Shut it down. Shut it down. He didn’t care. He refused to care.

He sucked in more air and hitched it back out. And gradually, thankfully, he felt the bitterness creep back. He embraced it, letting it edge out the ache, letting his gaze turn hard and caress her eyes, her sultry mouth, that body he’d once revered. Letting the anger swell until the muscles along his cheeks ticked and his voice deepened like a quarry stripped bare. “You’ll have to forgive me, querida, if I can’t see you as the loyal type.”

She flinched back against the wall as if he’d struck her. Her lips parted, then closed. Her eyes looked wounded, flayed. “I’m telling the truth.” She turned away and crossed her arms, making the penlight bounce crazily over the stones.

And damned if he didn’t feel guilty.

How could she still get to him like this?

“Forget it.” He shoved his hand through his hair, rubbed the knotted cords on the back of his neck. There was no point dredging up the past, reliving the pain. It was history; it didn’t matter. He’d been over her for years.

And they needed to get out of here fast. “Just get moving,” he said.

She chewed her lip, her eyes uncertain in the wobbling light, then glanced behind her at the darkened tunnel. “Through here?”

“There’s only one way to go.” And the way this night was turning out, it probably led straight to hell.

She turned around and hobbled off. He trailed her, still ducking to keep from knocking his head, his shoulders grazing the jagged walls. He sucked the fetid air through his teeth and exhaled, while the misery of the long night piled up in his mind.

What a fiasco, a total debacle—Antonio’s deception, his death. He blinked away that gruesome image. No one, no matter how treacherous, deserved to die that way.

And his own stupidity appalled him. How could he have let his partner fool him? He’d never had a clue that he was being set up.

And then there was Sofia. He clamped his gaze on those satin hips, the seductive sweep of her back. A tumult of emotions swirled through him—bitterness, resentment. Lust.

He hissed out his breath. He’d never met a woman who both infuriated and aroused him.

Especially one he couldn’t trust.

And now he was stuck with her, at least until that killer was caught.

Suddenly aware that she was listing oddly, he narrowed his gaze on her legs. She held the penlight in her right hand, clutched the hem of her gown and her shoes in the left.

“What happened to your shoes?” he asked.

“I took them off.” She sounded winded, but she didn’t stop.

“I didn’t want to make any noise until I knew for sure who was in the hall.”

He grunted. So maybe she hadn’t been trying to betray him back there. At least that was something.

But even walking barefoot on the uneven stones wouldn’t cause that limp. He studied the awkward way she moved, listened to her breath wheeze. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Her tight tone contradicted her words.

His frown deepened. What could have happened to her? Then the light swung down, and a shadow gleamed on her calf. His heart thumped. “Wait a minute.”

She stopped and braced her hand against the wall. “What?”

“Hand me the light.” He grabbed it from her and squatted on his heels. “Turn around and hold up your dress. There’s something on your leg.”

“Luke, it doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” He aimed the penlight at her leg and his pulse plunged. A raw gash marred her calf and oozed with blood.

He hissed. That had to hurt. “What happened?”

“I got shot.”

“Shot?” He yanked his gaze up to hers. “Why didn’t you say something?”

She lifted her shoulder in a defeated motion and looked away. He dropped his gaze to the wound again, then angled the light to the dark splotches staining the stones.

He muttered a curse. She was losing too much blood. He had to get her to a doctor, fast. But where could he find one that wouldn’t report them to the cops?

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, we need to bandage this and stop the bleeding.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Bad enough.” As raw as that gash looked, he was surprised she could even walk. “And we’ve got a few minutes. It’ll take the guards that long to find the latch.”

“You think they know where the door is?”

“They’d have to be blind not to see it.” He raised his brows.

“You’re leaving a nice trail of blood for them to follow, querida.”