PaintedPassion

by Tamara Hunter

  Carlos allowed his gaze to sweep the room. “Everybody know their areas?”

  “We’re ready,” Donovan answered.

  Jose glanced at his watch. “ICE is making their move against the properties in two hours.”

  Francois stood in the middle of the gallery. He clapped to gain everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present the artist, Estrella Arnold.”

  On cue Trella made her way to his side.

  He slid an arm around her waist. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for purchasing some pieces. Eat, drink and enjoy the entertainment.”

  With a flourish Francois removed the covering from the painting. A collective gasp rose. Carlos’ eyes widened at the sight of himself—nude except for a white towel strategically draped around his waist.

  Jose popped a hors d’oeuvre into his mouth. “What were the two of you doing in her house again?”

  “I didn’t pose for it,” Carlos ground out.

  Miguel chuckled. “If you didn’t, you sure stood in front of her for a hell of a long time.”

  Trella eyed the pièce de résistance, the painting of Carlos executed from her sketch. Unlike the sketch she’d added a white towel slung low around his hips. An expression of supreme maleness emanated from him as it had that morning. Her thighs tightened. She couldn’t wait to hang the painting in her bedroom.

  She sipped champagne as she moved along the fringe of a group of women transfixed by the painting of Carlos sitting on the bed.

  “Look at his body,” one woman gushed.

  “He’s here tonight,” another said.

  “I doubt it,” a third offered.

  “I don’t see him now but I did earlier,” said a fourth.

  Trella kept moving through the crowd, gauging the reaction to her work. She deemed the event a success. The catering firm lived up to its reputation. Food disappeared as soon as the waiters brought it out.

  “Trella!”

  She turned, searching for the source of her name.

  Dressed in a black bandage dress with a gigantic grape-colored carryall hanging from her shoulder, Candy tottered toward her on five-inch heels, which made the statuesque woman stand head and shoulders above the majority of the people in attendance.

  “I can’t wait for you to work on my painting. Who’s the model?”

  She shrugged. “A friend.”

  “I hope he knows you’re spoken for. Hector wouldn’t be pleased to have competition.”

  Selina and Melissa joined them as Candy finished talking.

  “Competition? Girl, you have another man besides Carlos?” Melissa asked, winking at Selina.

  Candy frowned. “Who’s Carlos?”

  “The model,” Trella quickly answered before her friends could blurt out more information. “I’m grateful to him because I doubt Hector could have squeezed a sitting for me into his busy schedule.”

  “Oh.” Candy laughed. “I thought you meant you were involved with this Carlos.” She leaned closer to whisper, “He’s hot though. Is he seeing anyone?”

  Trella beat back an instant rush of annoyance. “Don’t forget you’re married.”

  Candy fanned herself. “Honey, he would make me forget my own name. Yours too.”

  Trella indicated Selina and Melissa. “These are my friends, Selina Muñiz and Melissa Garrett. Ladies, this is Candy Rodgers, one of my discerning customers.”

  Candy shook their hands. “Trella’s working on a painting for me and my husband.” She glanced around the room. “He’s here somewhere.” She returned her attention to the women. “Have either of you two met Councilman Rodriguez? He’s crazy about your friend.”

  For once in their lives Selina and Melissa stayed silent though confusion showed on their faces.

  “I’m sure your husband is looking for you. I know he can’t bear to be away from you long.” Trella infused the words with a note of cheeriness. “Excuse us, Candy. I need to show the ladies around.”

  Taking a firm hold of Selina and Melissa’s arms, she hustled the two of them to Francois’ office.

  Selina stopped their fast-forward motion by clinging to the doorjamb. “Slow down. Heels, hello?”

  Trella motioned for them to hurry inside. She closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh.

  “What’s going on, Trella?” Melissa asked. “Where did you meet the councilman?”

  Selina smoothed her hands down her fuchsia sheath. “What about Carlos?”

  Trella held up her hands to stop the barrage of questions. “I think Hector was involved with Louis’ shooting.”

  Both her friends gaped at her in silence.

  Melissa sank onto the nearest chair. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I’m not dating Hector. He’s interested but I believe it’s to find out whether or not I know anything about Louis’ suspicions of him and his immigrant work program. Carlos and Miguel have been protecting me.”

  Selina wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’m frightened. I’ve heard rumors about Hector.” She shook her head. “Nothing good.”

  Trella pursed her lips. “I’ll be fine. Carlos and the guys have a plan and hopefully Hector will be in jail by the day’s end.”

  Selina’s eyes moistened. “Are you sure?”

  Melissa rose to her feet then paced the office. “Why aren’t the police involved?”

  “They are. Trust me. Everything’s on a tight schedule in case Hector’s receiving inside help.” Trella slung an arm around each of their shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze. “What I need you two to do is go out there and rave about my work.”

  Selina hugged Trella tightly. “As long as you promise to be careful.”

  Melissa kissed Trella’s cheek.

  “Eveything’ll be fine.” Trella assured them both.

  Her friends left the room and Trella breathed a sigh of relief. As happy as she was about this showing, the uncertainty of not knowing when Hector’s smuggling ring would be brought down produced a layer of tension she struggled to conceal.

  “Hiding out?”

  She glanced at the doorway where Carlos stood, a tender smile on his face.

  “No. Had to clue Selina and Melissa in since Candy had them thinking Hector was dating me.” She approached him, stopping when she stood toe-to-toe with him. “I told them the basics.”

  He closed the door. “You’re a trooper.”

  “I’ll be happy when we’re at home at a private celebration.”

  He laughed and hugged her close to him. “Me too. That dress is working every man’s nerves out there. Mine especially because I know what’s underneath.”

  He cradled her face between his hands as his firm lips met hers. She couldn’t stop the helpless moan from escaping. Something about this man made her willing to take whatever risks were necessary.

  He ended the kiss, stroking her skin with his warm fingers. “Rodriguez has arrived. Stay alert. I’ll remain in here for a bit after you leave.”

  She planted a quick kiss on his lips.

  He groaned. “Tonight can’t come quick enough.”

  Trella left the office. She spotted Selina and Melissa standing before the show’s centerpiece and made her way over to them. “How long are you two planning to monopolize this prime real estate?”

  Melissa laughed. “Don’t think we aren’t planning to grill you later about how you talked him into posing for this one.”

  “Yeah.” Selina agreed.

  “Enjoy yourselves, ladies. I have the real thing.” Leaving their side, Trella maneuvered to the front of the gallery where Francois stood surrounded by several young people whom, she surmised, were his budding artists.

  A hand gripped her upper arm, stalling her movement. “You didn’t mention Diaz was your subject.”

  She turned to see Hector dressed in a navy suit. “I’m indebted to him for his willingness to help me out.”

  A hard glint appeared in his eyes. “I’m certain he didn’t require much persuasio
n to allow you to paint him nude.”

  His hold didn’t loosen. She glanced around and discovered several people watching them. “Hector, honey, there’s a towel around the man’s waist.” She pointed out the obvious.

  Hector let her go.

  Francois strode up with a big smile. “Councilman Rodriguez, glad you could make it.”

  Hector shook his hand. “Thank you. I would not have missed this for the world. I was questioning Trella about her subject.”

  Francois clapped excitedly. “Oh yes, I’m happy she took my advice. Passion leaps off the page does it not?” He kissed her cheeks before leaving them alone.

  “It does.” The coldness of Hector’s words matched his eyes.

  Trella inwardly cringed. “Excuse me. I see someone I need to speak to.”

  Hector regained his grip on her arm. “Don’t play games.”

  “I’m not playing you,” she hissed, trying not to draw attention to them.

  His fingers squeezed her flesh tighter. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” She looked for Carlos or one of the other guys but due to the sheer number of people standing near her, neither man was in her direct line of sight.

  Francois reappeared at her side. “This is a fantastic turnout. Trella’s done a wonderful job.”

  Hector’s hand fell away. “I’m happy the show is a success.”

  “I’ll check the back for more champagne.” Trella volunteered, jumping at the opportunity to escape Hector’s side.

  “I’ll send a waiter in to carry what you find.”

  “I’ll be back, Hector. Mingle and view the rest of the pieces.”

  On her way to the storeroom several folks slowed her progress, effusive in their praise. She thanked them as quickly as possible and kept moving.

  When she reached the storage room, she opened the door then flipped on the light switch. She breathed deeply, struggling to slow her racing heart. Surely the guys knew Hector was here. She would feel better if she heard Carlos’ voice but her phone was in her purse locked in Francois’ desk.

  She peered at the stacks of boxes on the floor, reading the labels to find what she needed.

  The door opened behind her.

  She straightened. “We have four cases of champagne left,” she said without turning around. “If you want, you can carry two now and come back for the rest later.”

  Something heavy slammed against her head. As she fell, her last thought was of Carlos.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Carlos stood on the sidewalk outside the gallery. Jackson hurried to his side. “It’s on. ICE is raiding the drop houses on the list. Some of the locations were already being watched for suspected illegal activity.”

  “I’ll let Trella know and Miguel can stay with her.”

  Carlos entered the gallery. Shouldering his way through the throng of people, he scanned the crowd but didn’t find her. He checked to see if Donovan or Jose had seen her. Neither of the men responded in the affirmative.

  He waylaid Francois. “Where’s Trella?”

  The bespectacled man frowned. “Haven’t seen her since she headed to the storeroom for more champagne.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Ten minutes, I think.”

  Carlos rushed to the storeroom. A waiter holding two boxes stood just inside the doorway.

  “Have you seen the artist, Trella Arnold?”

  The young man shook his head.

  “Was anyone in here when you came in?”

  “Nope. Door was wide open.” The young man left, carrying the boxes from the room.

  A rush of panic hit Carlos. Something was wrong. He felt it in the chill of the air wafting over him.

  He found Francois. “I need you to unlock your desk.”

  The older man frowned. “I was on my way to—”

  “Now, Francois,” Carlos said.

  The older man hurried to do his bidding with Carlos behind him.

  As soon as the key was free of the lock, Carlos yanked open the drawer he’d watched Trella leave her purse inside.

  Heart pounding, he picked up her handbag, rifling through the contents, praying wherever she was, she had her phone with her.

  Carlos’ hand gripped her cell. He dashed from the room on autopilot, his training coming to the fore. He motioned to the guys to meet him outside.

  In seconds Jackson, Jose, Donovan and Miguel joined him. Carlos wiped a hand down his face. “Trella’s missing. Anyone see her leave?”

  No one had.

  “Rodriguez’s limo left about five minutes ago,” Jackson sajd.

  Carlos stared. “How the hell did Hector snatch Trella from a packed gallery and disappear without anyone seeing anything?”

  “If he has her, he has help,” Donovan stated. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried around the side of the building.

  “We’ll find her,” Jose said.

  Carlos pushed back a sudden rush of fear. Louis had trusted him to protect Trella and now she was gone.

  Jose punched numbers on his cell. “I’ll contact the station. If Rodriguez has snitches working for him, they’ll give him up when they realize the Feds are involved.”

  Carlos looked at Miguel. “Stay here and keep Francois calm.”

  Jose stepped closer to Carlos. “You’re not coming with us.”

  Carlos resisted flattening his friend. “Bullshit. We’re wasting time.”

  Jose gripped Carlos’ shoulder. “You have too much to lose. We want Rodriguez alive. Let us do this, man. Take his gun, Jackson.”

  Carlos didn’t move a muscle. “He. Has. Her.”

  “We do this by the book. You want Rodriguez to walk? Do you?” Jackson asked.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair, hating to admit they were right. If this was anyone else, he’d have realized it sooner. But it was Trella. His Trella.

  “Give it to me,” Jackson said.

  Carlos handed over his gun.

  Donovan rushed toward them. “Rodriguez’s limo was accompanied by a pick-up.”

  Carlos’ heart pounded. “Check the warehouse first.”

  “Why?” Miguel asked. “She could be at any one of the locations on the property list or on her way out of town.”

  “Rodriguez would see the irony of taking Trella to the same place where Louis lost his life.”

  “I’ll stay with Carlos and Miguel,” Donovan volunteered. “Jose, you and Jackson go after Rodriguez.”

  * * * * *

  Trella came to. She opened her eyes, but something dark covered her face. The stench of stale fried foods flavored with exhaust smoke filled her nostrils. She tried moving but her hands and feet were tightly bound. Whatever she rode in had a noisy engine.

  She wriggled, trying to work the cover off her face. A second later it was snatched off.

  Hector sat in the passenger’s seat. “Won’t help you any to fight.”

  Wedged behind worn gray seats of an old pick-up she discerned the driver was taller than Hector and had long, coal-black hair bound in a ponytail.

  “I’m disappointed you didn’t understand the potential we possess as a couple.” He sighed. “Despite your rebellious behavior I have a present for you.” He winked. “Pretty sure you’ll enjoy his one too.”

  The vehicle stopped. Hector climbed out. The driver—a young man who appeared to be in his twenties—put his hands beneath her armpits and slid her out of the truck. She looked up at him. His face bore a resigned expression. She glanced around. They’d parked behind a warehouse. He tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. With each jarring step she squirmed but the bindings held.

  Inside the building smelled musty. The man carried her into a room. He placed her on the concrete floor with her back against the wall.

  Hector laughed. “Look around. This is your gift.”

  At Hector’s nod the man cut away the cloth over her mouth with a pocket knife.

  “This,” Hector said, waving a hand around the ro
om, “is where your dear departed husband lost his life.”

  His words sank in, etching themselves on her soul. She trembled with rage, longed to hurt him in some manner—to do something to make him feel a measure of the pain she’d suffered through.

  Hector grabbed her head. He removed the pins from her hair with no pretense of gentleness then he wrapped her hair around his fist and yanked. Her head fell back, hitting the wall.

  “People are animals. We all die the same way.”

  The death grip he had on her hair brought tears to her eyes. Her scalp hurt like hell but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “You won’t get away with preying on people’s dreams.”

  He loosened his fist, releasing her hair. “Ah, so you do know about my venture.” He leaned closer. “See I figured that detective husband of yours had clued you in on what he’d discovered.”

  She had to keep him talking in order to allow Carlos time to find her. “The police are on to you.”

  “Your dearly departed husband tried that angle too.” He stroked her cheek. “Guess what? He was lying. Just like you. Nobody messes with my money.” He laughed, the sound sharp and ugly in the quietness of the room. “The suspect,” he said, indicating the silent man who’d carried her over his shoulder, “lured your husband here.”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks as she stared at the tall, lanky man. “You killed my husband?”

  The man said nothing as he stared at her. She thought she saw regret and pity reflected in his eyes but he lowered his lids.

  “Follow the plan,” Hector told the man. “Leave us.” He rose and stood at the doorway as the man left them alone.

  She returned her attention to Hector. “Why?”

  “Your husband had the audacity to visit me. Told me he suspected some wrongdoings associated with my work program. He suggested I initiate an investigation into the program. If questionable activities occurred then my name wouldn’t be sullied in the public.”

  Hector paced the floor. “He had the nerve to question an elected official. But,” he said, glancing at her, “the man who just left was too scared to do the job. Too worried about his wife and children.”

  A cold chill of evil wrapped around her. “You…you’re saying…”

  Minutes ticked by in silence. When he opened his mouth she tensed.