Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,87

his collection would ever be questioned, since he already claimed them to be no more than excellent copies.

It was his own delightful joke to show off his paintings all while discounting people’s praise with the comment, “Oh, I never buy the real thing. Too much money for too little return. I like art, but it isn’t my kind of investment.”

His friends would nod and smile and move on, never knowing they’d just seen millions of dollars of real art, casually hanging on his walls.

Chapter Fourteen

“Where’s Dav?” Gates questioned, scanning the seething crowd below. “Ana?”

She was looking as well, but saw no sign of Dav. “I don’t know. We need to get down there.”

Moving to the left to find another gilded, but blocked door, Gates ignored the sign directing him to go another way and pushed through to a smaller anteroom. They crossed it at a near run and hit the door to the stairs as one.

With the elegant dress streaming behind her, Ana managed the stairs easily. She prayed that the lace wouldn’t snag on anything because if Dav was down, or hurt, she would rip the dress if she had to, to get where they needed to be.

At the bottom, Gates stopped. “Hang on,” he said. He yanked up the back of his coat and turned his back to her. “Hook me back up. The wire’s come undone from the battery.”

She plugged the wire back into its socket, and he was immediately online. “Thompson, report,” he snapped, opening the door and moving into the crowd, Ana at his back.

He gave her a terse, but very quiet rundown as he got the live feed. “Dav’s still in the auction room. The newcomers are members of the Opera, in costume. Evidently Dav’s still with Carrie—they’re avoiding the crowds out front.”

“Thank God,” she sighed, wanting to sag with relief. Since no chairs were in sight, she sucked it up and kept moving in Gates’s wake. They were both feeling guilty about sneaking off for a moment to themselves.

“Dav’s at twelve o’clock,” Gates murmured, bringing her along. “It’s stupid, I know, but I’d like to get over there. Make sure.”

She understood, and let him get ahead of her just a bit so he could see what he needed to see. The rush of adrenaline was fading, and she was feeling the pang of regret. What if Dav had been in danger while she and Gates were fooling around? Neither she nor Gates would ever forgive themselves if something happened to Dav while they were supposed to be on watch.

“Not on duty,” she reminded herself, but it didn’t really matter. They’d been there. Duty was implied, for both of them.

She nearly bumped into Gates’s broad back as he stopped abruptly. With a hopefully inaudible “Oof,” she sidestepped, merely grazing his arm instead of plowing through him.

Recovering her aplomb as quickly as she could, and ignoring the looks of disapproval tossed her way by matrons and youngsters alike, she searched for Dav.

There. Safe. He and Carrie were standing to one side, his arm at her back. They were obviously engaged in a lively conversation.

“Make way!” a loud voice called from behind Dav and Carrie’s position. “Make way for the players!”

Pushing through the throng came a number of vividly dressed performers. They were laughing and shaking hands with people, bussing cheeks, and making their way through the crowd.

“Hang on,” Gates said, moving into the open space the caller had created, slipping them both closer to Dav.

Ana saw him activate his mic. Before she caught up with him, a lovely woman stopped him. “Gates, so good to see you.”

“Miriam.” Gates bent and kissed her cheek. “How lovely to see you.”

“And you,” the woman replied. “Are you here alone?” She looked around, spotted Dav. Then said something Ana couldn’t hear.

Gates laughed and pointed her way. The woman looked at Ana, did a double take, then looked back at Gates. “Okay. Wow.”

Puzzled, Ana hoped Gates was going to explain the comment, but before she could give it any more thought, Drake Yountz appeared at her side.

“You seem to have been abandoned, Ms. Burton,” he drawled, again slipping his hand around her waist. “Can I get you a…drink?” His insinuation was obvious, as was the groping rise of his fingers.

“If you don’t remove your hand in one second,” Ana said, as pleasantly as she could, “I will break all your fingers.”

“What?” Drake recoiled, his hand dropping away.

“That’s better.” Ana smiled but not with amusement. “Don’t touch me again, Mr. Yountz.