Dancing with Deception (5 page)

“Now, there’s where we disagree.” He sighed theatrically and shifted on the bed. The movement brought his knee within inches of hers. Rebecca’s eyes lowered to his powerful chest as it strained against his shirt. “You see,” he continued, “I seem to have a pretty big stake in this now. And at the moment, I hold all the keys.”

Warily, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“They’ve got my boat.” He let that sink in. “And they want you for an exchange.”

Even with all the blood draining from her face, she squared her shoulders. “Then why didn’t you just knock me over the head while I was sleeping and make the trade?”

“Maybe it was all those redeeming qualities you were shouting at me on the way up the stairs.” His brow lifted when she flushed and stared down at her hands. “Or maybe I like to have the whole story before I act.”

“I can’t give you details.”

“Yes, Rebecca, you can. You can and you will.”

She shivered at the steel in his tone. “What are they going to do to your boat if you don’t make the exchange?”

“Destroy her.”

Her heart broke a little. She knew sailors cherished their boats. It was even there in his speech, the way he called it
her
. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I can buy you a new boat, Mr. Avery. In fact, I’ll buy you a bigger boat if that’s what you want.”

His jaw clenched and he stood abruptly. “Save it. And stop running around the subject and give me the story.”

She wanted to tell him, and that shocked her. She had never trusted anyone and couldn’t see why she wanted to trust a stranger. It may have been because he was just so capable. He’d already saved her twice with quick thinking and unrelenting courage. Maybe if she gave him just enough, he would decide against handing her over and just let her go.

“The truth is, I don’t know who they are or why they even want the painting. But my father brought it to me and asked me to hold on to it for him. And that’s what I’m doing.”

Gideon took a moment to digest her words, then shook his head. “So instead of handing over the damned painting, you’re getting shot at, knocked around, and chased all over Ohio?”

“I also had my head slammed into a car before getting shoved into a trunk. What’s your point?”

A muscle worked in his already taut jaw. “You’re either lying, which is my first guess, or stupid, which wouldn’t surprise me.”

She huffed. “Well, I’m neither, so you can guess again.”

“Why, Rebecca? Why are you risking your life for a painting?”

He would never understand. Besides, she’d never explained herself to anyone in her life and she wasn’t about to start now. She met his stare without flinching. “Because I made a promise.”

“A promise worth your life?”

She felt the same old pain envelop her again; the emptiness and longing. “It doesn’t matter. I’m keeping my word.”

He was quiet again for a few minutes before saying, “I’m going to help you. Damned if I know why, but I am. I want to know more about your father and why he thought you’d be the best place to stash the painting. But before you tell me the rest, I need to go pay for the rest of the night.”

Confusion robbed her of speaking for a moment. “You paid by the hour before?”

“Yeah, I did.” His mouth twitched. “I’ll be back in five minutes and then we’ll figure everything out, all right?”

Five minutes would be plenty of time to hightail it out of there. She could run a block or two if she didn’t see a cab right off, then she’d go to her car and retrieve the painting. She’d hide it at her house, or maybe even take it with her to ballet. She’d find a hotel—a much nicer hotel—to stay in for now. Everything would work out.

She’d be extra careful until her father returned from wherever he was. As long as she stayed one step ahead of the goons, she’d be fine.

She pasted on a smile. “All right.”

Chapter Four

Makeup went a long way to conceal the ugly bruises on her face and neck. Rebecca added the last pin to the tidy bun on the top of her head and lightly sprayed her hair with holding spray.

She stuffed her bulky pink tutu into her duffle bag and pulled grey sweatpants on over her tights. The light pink leotard was an old favorite. It was worn and comfortable and always lifted her spirits when they needed lifting. This was one of those times. Between the leotard and her old, reliable ballet shoes, her night seemed to be improving. She put the shoes in her duffle as well and slipped on tennis shoes.

She felt normal grabbing the keys to her car, normal walking out her front door—giving a wide berth to a spider she saw crawling in the driveway—and sliding into the driver’s seat. She’d started off her day by getting snatched outside the gym, being shot at, and jumping into a speeding boat. Now she was heading to Friday night dance class, she mused, pulling out onto the street. No wonder her head ached.

The drive to the studio was short and uneventful. Rebecca took an alternative route just in case someone was waiting somewhere along the road for her. She’d had the painting for two months now, and each Friday during that time, she had gone to the same dance class, on the same night, at the same time, and driving the same route. If someone had been watching her, they’d know exactly how to get her.

In all probability, the goons were still looking for her in Lakewood. They wouldn’t think she would go about her normal schedule with the painting still in her possession—and if they did show up, she wouldn’t be caught by surprise again. It may have been smarter for her to have skipped town, but the upcoming recital was too important to her.

After sneaking out of the flea-ridden hotel, Rebecca had grabbed a cab and gone straight to her car. To her amazement, it was there, untouched, with the painting still wrapped in the sheet and hidden beneath the false bottom for her spare tire in her trunk. So she had left the painting there.

Whoever wanted the painting had searched her bedroom. They hadn’t made a mess, but her tidy and organized bedroom had definitely been investigated. The clothes in her closet were pushed aside; some had fallen off their hangers. Shoe boxes were scattered. Whoever had looked under her bed hadn’t let the bed skirt fall back down or smoothed her sheets like she knew Mary had done that morning before Rebecca had dismissed her for the week.

Seeing all her things intact lifted her spirits. She half-expected to come home to broken windows and ruined possessions. Maybe things were finally looking up.

She parked in front of the studio and saw her friend Brittany standing on the front steps talking on her cell phone. Rebecca’s mood instantly lightened. She and Brittany weren’t close, but they shared a passion for dancing and Thai food. Brittany’s fair hair was short and curly, the opposite of Rebecca’s long, dark fall of hair. She was taller than Rebecca and carried curves that Rebecca envied.

Brittany closed her phone and glanced her way, giving her a friendly smile.

“Hey, girl. I missed you at lunch today. I thought you always hit up Sloan’s on Friday.” For the most part, that was true. Rebecca ate every Friday at Sloan’s Thai restaurant after her mid-morning workout. Only this particular day, she’d been grabbed by brutes and lugged all over Ohio.

Rebecca pasted on a bright smile, ignoring the throbbing in her head. “I was busy today.”

“Oh, I saved you a seat. I thought about calling you but Ricky came in and we got talking.” Brittany’s face lit up as she thought of her long-term crush. “You remember me telling you about Ricky, don’t you?”

“Is he the singer?”

“Drummer.”

“Ah, yes. The drummer.” Rebecca opened the door to the studio. “Did you get his number yet?”

“I did.” Brittany winked. “He is so handsome, Becca. You’ve got to see. His eyes are like...” When she couldn’t think of a proper comparison, she sighed.

Rebecca thought of Gideon. She knew several ways to describe his eyes. Smoke. Fog. They were a deep, opaque grey when he was being sympathetic. They turned nearly black when he was angry.

Emptiness left her gloomy throughout class. Her pirouettes were mechanical and without the fire she usually felt when she danced. When she gripped the barre, she dug her fingers into the wood, trying to fight the guilt of having run out on him.

He was a complete stranger to her, yet he had tried to help her. She realized he had done more than anyone in her life would have done for her. The guilt she felt was justified, but she needed to get over it and keep her mind sharp if she was going to survive this fiasco.

When class was over, Rebecca remained behind with a few of the other girls. She’d missed her morning workout and planned on making it up with extra dance time. She executed triple runs until her calves were screaming.

“Want to go get a drink?”

Rebecca glanced over at Brittany as she stretched her abused muscles. “I don’t think so. I’ve had a busy day.”

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

Brittany picked up her gym bag. “I’m going to step out for a smoke. I’ll walk you to your car when you’re done.”

Rebecca nodded and watched her friend leave.

She guzzled an entire bottle of water and slipped the pins from her hair. Her scalp wept as she rubbed out the tension. She brushed her ebony hair out, leaving it down, and was about to grab her sweatpants from her bag when the door to the studio opened.

It was dark outside the studio, but Rebecca didn’t need light to recognize the man standing in the doorway. Brittany giggled up at him as she led him into the building, her smile wide.

She stopped upon seeing Rebecca. “Becca, there you are. Your—ah—friend here has been looking for you.” Her eyes wide and bright, Brittany covered the side of her mouth with her hand and mouthed
oh, my God
to Rebecca.

Rebecca ignored her and turned blindly to grab her bag. “Thanks, Brit.”

Well, hell.

The pounding in her chest hurt. Rebecca avoided Gideon’s eyes as she let him lead her outside. He grabbed her arm, not gently, and pulled her along. He released her once they stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Which one’s your car?”

She didn’t speak. She turned to the right and walked down to her Pontiac.

“Where’s the painting?”

Rebecca didn’t trust that calm, quiet tone of his. It shook her more than the chill in the air. Waiting for his outburst was worse than receiving it…she hoped. “The trunk.”

“Get in.” He opened the passenger door for her, then shut it smartly.

Rebecca watched him as he walked around the front of the car. He reminded Rebecca of a dangerous animal. A panther, she decided when his eyes met hers in front of the hood. They weren’t smoke now. They were black, dark and fierce.

He opened the door and slid his long legs under the steering wheel. He had to make major adjustments to the seat, but once that was done, he took the keys Rebecca held in her nerveless hand and started the engine.

While he navigated her little car along the road, a nerve-racking silence surrounded them. With every minute, Rebecca’s heart rate increased. He wasn’t threatening her, he wasn’t shouting. He was just driving. She wanted to fiddle with the radio, but that would mean her hand would have to be closer to him. She had the image of a caged panther lashing out at anyone who got too close. She twisted her fingers in her lap instead.

Gideon slowed her car to a stop. Jerked out of her stupor, she saw the long dock over the water through her window. Icy panic gripped her once again when she saw a boat at the dock with its lights on and motor running. Was he turning her over after all? She had a very bad feeling she’d made a big mistake running from him.

She swallowed and prayed her voice was stronger than she felt. “Listen, Gideon. I’ll match their offer if you let me go. In fact, I’ll double it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Whatever they offered you to turn me in,” she said, almost hysterical. “I’ll give you twice that. R-right now. I’ll write you a check.” She fumbled in her bag, searching for her checkbook. She jumped like a rabbit when she felt the warmth of his hands on her icy flesh. “What?”

“That’s my other boat,” he said, and got out of the car.

Rebecca closed her eyes and waited for her heart to return to its normal rhythm. When her breathing was under control, she opened her eyes and exited the car. She turned toward the lake to study the boat.

The similarities to Gideon’s
Avery
were amazing. This one—same in color and style—was smaller, and didn’t lack in beauty. Rebecca couldn’t imagine it lacking in power either. The dark waves slapped the side of the crisp white boat. The word
June
was painted in black cursive lettering on the side.

While Gideon retrieved the painting from the trunk, Rebecca watched a man emerge from the cabin. He stood on the deck of the boat, arms folded across his massive chest, powerful legs spread apart while he watched them. The little hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

“Gideon,” she squeaked.

He must have looked up and followed her gaze. From behind her she heard him say, “My brother, Colin.”

Rebecca returned her attention to the man.