Identity Crisis (19 page)

“Something weird is going on,” Rachel said. “I just had an FBI agent here asking all sorts of questions. It had nothing to do with me being held at gunpoint yesterday. He wanted a list of our sales for the past few years. Picassos specifically.”

Why was the FBI snooping around their gallery? She slid her gaze over to Ethan, who was watching her with a curious expression. He stopped hammering and headed toward her.

“He said some Picasso forgeries surfaced in L.A. I gave him our list of sales. He didn’t say if any of them were the same paintings as the forgeries. I think he’d have said so, wouldn’t he?”

“I’m sure he would have. Let me know if this guy contacts you again.”

Olivia disconnected. Apprehension twisted her stomach as her gaze locked with Ethan’s, and for the first time he showed a hint of fear. He knew what she was about to say.

“Any idea why the Feds are snooping around my gallery asking for a list of sales over the past few years? Picassos in particular?”

“Shit,” Ethan muttered, rolling his eyes, dropping his head back. “I told Mike not to pursue it.”

She felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from her body and her lungs were collapsing. “How did he know there was anything to pursue in the first place?”

“I asked him to do some checking on your father. To research his finances, see if anything looked suspicious. To be discreet. Then those Picasso forgeries surfaced.”

Thank God she hadn’t told him Bella was the forger.

“Just a few hours ago your priority was keeping me safe. You didn’t care if my dad was still a forger. Right from the beginning you guaranteed me you’d keep my gallery’s name out of this. Hell, you didn’t believe my dad would have used my gallery as a front.”

“I tried to keep you and your gallery out of this.” He moved toward her and she stepped back.

“Yeah, well you obviously didn’t try hard enough.”

“I told Mike to be discreet, that I didn’t believe your gallery was involved, but he didn’t agree. He thought my judgment was clouded because I have feelings for you. If this turned out to be something, and I held back information … ” He raked a frustrated hand through his hair. “I couldn’t not pursue a hunch. If your father was still a criminal, WITSEC had put him back on the streets with a clean slate. I needed to prove or disprove that this bomber was your dad’s partner. My job and reputation are at stake.”

“What about my reputation? If anyone catches wind that the Feds are snooping around my gallery, clients are going to be questioning past purchases and not making future ones. I can’t believe you did this, especially without telling me.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I was just doing my job.”

“And is almost sleeping with me doing your job? Keeping me close enough to protect? Or was that just an added perk? How about Gwen? Did you sleep with her also? Do you prey on vulnerable women who have nobody else to trust?”

Ethan’s jaw clenched and his gaze sharpened. “As if you trust me.” He flexed his fingers like he wanted to punch a fist through the dome of the Taj Mahal. “If it helps, I don’t think your dad continued his life of crime.”

“I don’t care what you think,” she lied.

Hurt replaced his angry expression. She turned and marched toward the house. Ethan followed.

She spun around. “Just leave me alone.”

He reluctantly backed off and she bolted inside.

She went in the dining room and scooped out some Gummy Bears, tossing a few in her mouth. Candy wasn’t going to cut it. She needed to release some anger. To scream her head off. She marched through the kitchen and out the back door. She kept right on going, into the thicket of pine trees. Even if Ethan had been doing his job, he could have been honest with her rather than pretending he didn’t care about her father’s activities. She came to an abrupt halt. Wait a sec. Mike had said Ethan’s judgment was clouded because he had feelings for her. Did he? He hadn’t denied it. Her stomach fluttered despite the fact Ethan just admitted having betrayed her. She glanced toward the golf course, suddenly realizing it wasn’t visible, and neither was the house. She started heading back.

“Hello again, Olivia.” The man’s low gravelly voice brought her to a halt.

She slowly turned, her gaze locking on a pair of mirrored sunglasses. The guy had on a Packers cap and a Harborview Bar T-shirt. Your typical tourist, except for the gun he had pointed at her.

He stepped between two large pine trees. “Thought I’d save you from having to haul the paintings and provenances back to San Francisco.”

“What paintings and provenances?” If she offered them to him on a silver platter, he’d know something was up.

His grip tightened around the gun. “Don’t screw with me, Olivia.”

She swallowed hard. “The provenances are in a safe deposit box.” She glanced at her watch. “So I can’t get them until the bank opens tomorrow. And I hid the paintings where I can’t get to them until morning, either.” Unbelievable how smoothly the lies flowed from her mouth when her entire body was trembling. “Why did you kill my dad? I’m sure he’d have given you the paintings.”

“He gave me no choice. It wasn’t about these paintings. We had a sweet operation going when he decided he wanted out. He refused to paint anymore, when we had dozens of sales pending. I knew he wouldn’t destroy the paintings from years ago. They were his insurance policy.”

Her stomach lurched and she thought she was going to be sick. The sliver of doubt over her dad resuming his life of crime was more than a nagging feeling now. It was true.

“I don’t believe you,” she said, trying hard to keep the doubt out of her voice.

“Oh yeah, I just pulled all that out of my ass. Like I could make shit like this up. I figured he’d kept the paintings close by, didn’t figure they’d be back here. Bring the provenances and paintings to the cemetery tomorrow morning at nine. At your mother’s grave.”

Not how she wanted to see her mom’s grave for the first time. And she wasn’t about to have him shoot her and dump her in a ready-made hole. He’d killed her dad. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her family if she didn’t give him what he wanted.

“You want to meet, it’s in a public place, surrounded by people,” she said, glancing at his T-shirt. “Meet me in the parking lot of Harborview Bar.”

After debating this a few moments he said, “Don’t bring your marshal friend. Don’t need him complicating matters. If you do, I’m sure he’d be interested in hearing about the operation you and your father had going out of your gallery.”

Her gaze narrowed in disbelief. “We weren’t running anything out of my gallery.”

“I have proof showing otherwise.”

Her eyes widened. “You fabricated evidence?”

“He’s never gonna know that.”

So even if her dad had continued selling forgeries, it hadn’t been through her gallery. It made her feel a bit better to know he hadn’t put her career in jeopardy.

What fabricated proof did this guy have against her and her dad? Had he planted the forged Piccassos that materialized in L.A. as coming from her gallery? Would Ethan believe this concrete evidence over her word? She hadn’t exactly been up front with him. Besides possibly destroying her career and going to prison, she was worried what all this would do to Bella.

“Nine o’clock. Don’t make me come back here and pay your grandparents a visit. I won’t hurt anyone as long as I get the paintings. And don’t even think about contacting the Feds to flag the paintings once I have them, or they’ll be getting a packet about your gallery.”

He turned and disappeared into the woods. She let out a whoosh of air. Heart thumping wildly in her chest, she bolted toward the house. She flew inside and straight to the bathroom to splash water on her face.

Would Ethan believe her when she claimed she and her dad weren’t involved in a forgery scam, if the proof showed otherwise? What had this guy done to frame them? After everything she’d kept from Ethan, did she blame him if he didn’t take a chance on her?

A knock sounded at the door. “Olivia, you in there?” The tender concern in Ethan’s voice wrapped around her. She wanted to fall into his arms and tell him everything. Have him assure her things would be okay. But she couldn’t.

He knocked again.

“I’m here,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan’s voice was nearly a whisper. “I was just doing my job. Please let me in.”

She didn’t want to face him right now, but she also didn’t want anyone hearing their conversation. She unlocked the door and slowly opened it. He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Yeah, well you should have told me you were doing it,” she said.

“That wouldn’t have been doing my job. I wasn’t sure if it came down to it, you wouldn’t cover for your father if you discovered he’d continued his life of crime. Besides you not wanting his memory destroyed, it was a matter of self-preservation. His crimes could destroy your life.”

She laughed at the irony to keep herself from crying. “You have the nerve to be ticked that I don’t trust you when you didn’t trust me to not cover up for my dad.” Did she trust herself not to cover for her dad? “I’m going to go finish painting.”

She moved toward the door and he stepped in front of her. She stared at his chest, avoiding his gaze, trying to ignore the scent of his sandalwood cologne infiltrating her body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Tears instantly flirted with her eyes and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Then please move,” she whispered. “I can’t talk right now.”

He stepped aside and she brushed past him and out of the bathroom.

• • •

Just after one
A.M.
, Olivia stood by her bedroom dresser, brushing a hand over her dad’s polished marble urn. She needed to talk to someone, since she and Ethan had barely spoken since their argument.

“Who’s this guy, Dad?” she whispered. “How does he know about the paintings and provenances? I don’t want to believe what he said about you two being recent partners.” She glanced at the wall, the living room and Ethan on the other side, then back at the urn. “What should I do? What would you do?”

She knew he wouldn’t trust Ethan.

But what if she gave this guy what he wanted, and he killed her regardless? After all, she knew what he looked like. Knew he’d killed her dad. He couldn’t afford to let her live. She wanted her dad’s murderer caught, her family safe. She could trust Ethan to do both. But could she trust him to have faith in her, and believe she was innocent if this guy tried to frame her and her dad?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement by the doorway. Her gaze darted over to find Ethan standing there, watching her.

“Heard you talking,” he said.

“My dad.”

“So have you decided if you’re going to bury him next to your mother’s grave?”

She nodded. “It’s what Kate and Roger will want. What a way to introduce myself, inviting my family to their son’s burial.”

Ethan walked toward her. “It’s hard losing someone you care about.” He stopped just in front of her.

“I’m sure your mom’s death was devastating.”

He nodded. “So was Roy’s. He was like a brother to me.”

“You couldn’t have done anything to save either of their lives. You’d have been killed yourself. You can’t feel guilty that you survived and they didn’t.”

“I always wanted my mother to run away. To take us somewhere where nobody knew us, where the bastard couldn’t find us, so we could start a new life. She worried he’d find us and that she didn’t have the money or job skills to support us. I promised her that when I was old enough to get a job, I’d take her away. Unfortunately I couldn’t save her, and more than half the people I save aren’t worth saving. But the ones who are make it worthwhile. They’d be dead without me.”

She swallowed hard. “Like me.”

He gazed deep into her eyes, tracing a finger down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know what I’d do if you died.” He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss against her lips, slipping his arms around to the small of her back, drawing her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her again, slipping his tongue in her mouth.

She felt safe in his arms. If she wasn’t honest with Ethan, he’d continue shutting off his emotions. She had to trust that Ethan would believe their innocence and pursue the truth. A lot had changed between them since he’d asked Mike to look into her dad’s possible involvement in a forgery ring. She couldn’t have made it through the past few days without him. She needed him by her side tomorrow.

She drew back, staring down at her mom’s wedding ring resting against her chest, avoiding Ethan’s gaze. “I ran into the bomber this afternoon.”

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes. A mix of anger and disbelief hardened his features. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

While she explained the entire story, Ethan’s expression went from hurt to royally ticked off. He stepped back.

“This guy framed us. I was afraid you’d believe his evidence. After all the secrets I kept, I didn’t know if you’d believe my gallery and I weren’t involved.”

He walked over to the window, shaking his head. “Except for in the very beginning, I never believed
you
were involved. I would never believe that. Not only do you have little faith in how I feel about you, but my ability to do my job. Regardless of how well this guy tried to frame you, I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d proven your innocence and hunted down his ass.”

Olivia walked toward him. “How am I supposed to know how you feel about me when you push me away every time we get close?”

He turned to her. “You should know it’s not because I want to, it’s because I have a job to do, which I can’t do when you keep putting you and your family’s lives in danger. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

She nibbled at her lower lip, debating telling him about Bella being the forger. The fact didn’t jeopardize their safety; however, she needed to tell him. Yet, all he kept saying was how important keeping his job was, and needing to do his job, and everything was about his job. Would he put Bella’s welfare before his job? Did she want to put him in the position that he had to make the choice?