Too Hot to Touch and Exposed

by LETO, JULIE

  The man held out his free hand, palm up. “Yeah? Well, I don’t sell my loot on no open markets. I’m going to get top dollar for that piece. Hand it over.”

  Alex started to remove the ring, but Lucy grabbed his arm. “No, Alex, don’t.”

  “Shut up, bitch,” the gunman shouted. “Let the man do the noble thing.”

  God, what had Danny gotten them into?

  “You expect us to believe that if he hands over the ring you’ll take it and just turn around and leave?” she challenged. “Who sent you?”

  “Lucienne, ¡cállate!” Alex whispered.

  She ignored him. “Did you hit the auction house, too? Is this what you were after? Who wants the ring? And why?”

  The man chuckled. “Like I’d tell you. Look, I’m not interested in shooting the shit with some two-bit fence and her latest fuck buddy. I just want what I came for. Hand over the swag and no one’ll get hurt.”

  Again, Alex prepared to take off the ring, and though Lucy couldn’t fight the instinct to grab his arm and hold on tight, she didn’t make a second attempt to stop him. The ring meant a lot to him—and now, to her—but not more than his life.

  The trouble was, the guy ripping them off hadn’t bothered to wear a mask. She might not remember his exact name, but she and Alex could both provide a detailed description of his shock of brown hair, close-set hazel eyes and acne pockmarks that heavily scarred his cheeks and throat. Was he counting on her to keep Alex from calling the police or was he going to shoot them both to cover up his crime?

  Alex held the ring toward the gunman.

  “Good, now toss it on the ground!”

  “No!” she shouted, staying Alex’s hand. “Those opals are delicate. If they hit this tile floor, they’ll crack and the emerald might shatter. Didn’t whoever sent you tell you what this ring is worth?”

  The man hesitated, his expression losing some of its menace to uncertainty. This gave Alex and Lucy a split second to exchange glances.

  Lucy’s blood froze. In Alex’s fathomless black eyes, she’d expected to see fear, anger or confusion.

  Instead, she saw determination.

  Confidence.

  And if she wasn’t mistaken, a plan.

  “Fine,” the gunman said. “Give her the ring. She can bring it to me.”

  Lucy reached for the ring, but Alex did not move.

  “She’s not going anywhere near you,” he said, turning to face the thief, straight-spined and regal. Even Lucy couldn’t resist taking a half step back.

  “Then we have a problem,” the man said, raising his weapon higher.

  Alex pierced the gunman with a determined stare. “If you’d come here to kill us, you would have by now. Theft is one thing, but murder is quite another. I’ll give you the ring, but you’ll leave Lucienne out of this dirty business.”

  The man’s laughter was a bark of derision. “Don’t you know who she is? She’s been in this dirty business longer than me.”

  If the gunman had meant the revelation to chip at Alex’s cool self-assurance, he had miscalculated.

  Alex quirked a smile and took a step forward, his arms outstretched in seeming surrender. “You let me worry about who she is and you worry about getting what you came for and then getting the hell out of here.”

  The man stretched out his hand to accept the ring and his gun hand lowered infinitesimally. Alex stole the advantage and grabbed the man’s hand and twisted until the crack of bones popped loud enough to be heard over the droning drill. The gunman fell, howling over his broken fingers. Alex kicked the weapon across the floor, where it slid underneath the bed.

  They dashed into the living room, only to be blocked by another man holding the locksmith’s drill. The workman lay unconscious on the floor.

  “Going somewhere?”

  This guy, Lucy recognized. On the streets, he was called Jimmy the Rim because he specialized in jacking expensive cars and selling the parts for exorbitant prices on the black market, specifically to high-end collectors.

  She and Danny had catered to this crowd. They were wealthy. They were ruthless.

  And unfortunately, they were legion.

  Lucy chanced a glance over her shoulder. The thief Alex had attacked had slid across the floor, cradling his hand as he tried to jam his large body beneath her bed to retrieve his weapon.

  When she turned back to Alex, he’d retrieved the rickety old hat stand that had come with the apartment and used it to yank the drill’s cord from the outlet. Swinging the pole around, he knocked Jimmy hard under the chin. The hat stand split and shattered. The guy fell, flailing like an overturned turtle, his considerable girth blocking their only path to freedom.

  Alex turned, prepared to fight off the gunman with the piece of the hat stand still in his hand.

  “Lucienne, get out of here!” he commanded.

  “Not without you,” she said.

  They weren’t going to die over a stupid piece of jewelry. Lucy ran to the coffee table and grabbed a heavy glass orb she’d bought to give the place a little bit of color. When Jimmy finally made it onto his hands and knees, she bashed him on the back of the head until he fell, unconscious, to the ground.

  She dashed to the locksmith. He was coming to. Before she could speak to him, tell him to get out before he was hurt worse, Alex dragged the man by his shoulders until they were out in the hall.

  Alex grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall. They took the stairs, Alex still wielding the hat stand in front of him like a knight with a lance.

  Or a bandit with a sword.

  At the second floor, they spilled out into the hall.

  “We can’t go to the lobby,” she said, breathless. “They…might…have…”

  “Accomplices,” he finished. “I agree. Do you know anyone on this floor?”

  She shook her head. Even in her own apartment building across town, she’d never taken the time to get to know the neighbors.

  Alex tossed the splintered hat stand into a corner, straightened his clothes and shoved the ring onto his finger.

  “Then let’s hope the ring helps elevate my charm. We’re going to need it.”

  14

  WHEN THE WOMAN WHO answered the door turned out to be an attractive blonde wearing nothing but a sports bra and tight running shorts, Alex became a complete believer in the power of the ring. With only a few flirtatious words from him, she let them inside. Lucienne remained near the door, listening to see if anyone had followed.

  “You sure you’re not the bad guys?” the woman asked, clutching her cell phone to her buxom chest.

  “Do we look like bad guys?” Lucienne snapped.

  The neighbor mirrored Lucienne’s incredulous stare. “Actually, honey, you look like hell. You can hole up here for a few minutes, but I’m calling the cops.”

  “No,” Alex said.

  His denial surprised even him, but the look of fear on Lucienne’s face at the mention of the police convinced him that he needed to keep her away from law enforcement—at least until he sorted through all he’d heard in her apartment. He’d suspected Lucienne was a woman with secrets, but he’d never expected they involved consorting with lowlife scum like men with guns.

  “My brother is an FBI agent,” he explained to the woman as he dug into his wallet to retrieve one of Michael’s cards. “Please, call him. It’s the safest course of action…for all of us.”

  The woman took the number and immediately dialed while Lucienne clutched the doorknob even tighter.

  “Alejandro,” she started, but he shook his head.

  “Not here,” he chided, casting a glance at their unwitting hostess. “My only concern right now is keeping you safe.”

  She turned away from him, but not before he caught the sparkle of moisture in her eyes. His chest constricted as he tried to imagine what circumstances might have caused her to lie to him. But the possible scenarios were too wild for him to contemplate.

  For the moment, he followed his inst
inct to protect her. And the ring. His legacy from his father was a family matter. He would not discuss the situation in front of a stranger.

  By the time Michael arrived, the men who’d attacked them were gone. The unconscious locksmith had come around. Between his description of the assailants, visible blood and car tracks, the police had a trail to follow. Michael called the local cops, then shuttled Alex and Lucienne into his vehicle.

  He arranged for Ruby to collect descriptions of the assailants and then pulled strings so that the victims of the assault—Alex and Lucienne—went into his protective custody.

  Ruby waited beside the car, her hand on the bulge in her jacket.

  “Local LEOs put out a BOLO on your perps,” Ruby said, her shoulders tense. “With both of them injured, we might get lucky.”

  Michael nodded, but didn’t say a word. None of them did.

  What was there to say? Now that they were safe, Alex felt numb. Lucienne had lied to him, that much he knew. The extent of her lies was yet to be determined. But he wasn’t a stupid man. He’d begun to care for her, and once she finally confessed her ugly truth, he would be destroyed.

  And yet, he couldn’t help but suspect that the truth might be just as devastating for her. In the backseat, he watched her fold into herself, leaning so close to the door, he feared she might fall out—or run. Michael seemed to sense the same risk because he clicked the locks shut. In the rearview mirror, he met Alex’s questioning stare with an expression utterly devoid of any emotion except anger. His brother, it seemed, had quite the temper, but was able to keep it under control.

  Another thing they had in common—the ability to shut down when needed.

  But he wanted to know the truth—and he wanted to know it now. Demands died on his lips. Lucienne had shut down. Turned off. He had to take another tack.

  He slid across the seat and attempted to clasp her hand.

  “Don’t,” she begged, her voice barely audible.

  The broken sound tore through him, ripping straight into his chest. “What secrets are you keeping, Lucienne?”

  Glossed with tears, her eyes, deep and rich and brown, had an unnatural rim around the irises. She was wearing colored contacts.

  She shook her head. “Too many secrets, Alejandro. Too many to count.”

  He moved away from her, buckling his seatbelt with a loud snap. Lucienne Bonet was indeed someone he did not truly know. She consorted with criminals. She’d lied about her identity, even to the man she’d shared her body with, if not glimpses of her soul.

  When Michael stopped the SUV, Alex was surprised that he’d brought them to the auction house rather than the hotel. Ruby took up a protective position beside the vehicle while Michael went inside and scoped out the building before waving him and Lucienne inside.

  Alex walked directly to his office, but Lucienne stopped at her desk in the gallery. Michael remained near the door.

  When Lucienne spoke, her eyes darted to Michael.

  “Are you going to tell him or shall I?”

  Michael’s stare bored into her, but she raised her chin an inch and held her ground.

  “Tell him your real name,” Michael ordered.

  Lucienne narrowed her gaze and then complied. When she looked at Alex, her stare was so sharp, it sliced straight through his heart.

  “Lucy,” she said, her voice no longer melodious and cultured, but flat with a twang that was decidedly American. “My name is Lucy Burnett. Lucienne Bonet is a fake identity I’ve assumed off and on for years.”

  Years?

  “I checked your references,” Alex insisted.

  Honestly, this was the least of his concerns, but it was the first thing that popped into his mind. He’d expected her to have secrets, but only now did he realize that her lies had been meant specifically for him.

  “My references were real. I’m a fence. I move the stolen art and jewels that other people steal. When a job went bad or heat from the cops got too out of control here in San Francisco, I used the Lucienne Bonet name to find work in museums, auction houses or for private collectors. I am an art expert. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “But you lied about everything else?” he demanded.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor.

  “She’s not the only one,” Michael said.

  He strode across the gallery, taking a position near one of the tables that had held the jewelry collection. The three of them created a strange and confusing triangle of connections that Alex did not understand. Lucienne had told him next to nothing about herself. He’d hoped that the more time they spent together, the more she would open up. The more she would trust.

  Now he learned that the little she had told him had been a lie. Yet, how could he still feel that he knew her as well as he knew himself?

  “Don’t tell me that whole story about Joaquin Murrieta was some ruse to catch me up in the history and romance of the thing,” Alex said to his brother.

  “No, that’s all true, every word. Mine is more of a lie of omission. And I think you should sit down.”

  The last thing Alex wanted to do was relax into news so disturbing that his brother had waited months to tell him. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I never told you what happened after both you and Ramon were cleared of that art theft. What became of the DNA sample taken from the blood on the frame.”

  Alex blinked. He’d been hit with so much information during Michael’s revelations just the day before, he had not thought the circumstances all the way through. Until now. If the blood had not belonged to Michael or Ramon or him…

  He nearly gave in to Michael’s initial request that he sit. But instead, he locked his knees and stared directly into his brother’s guilty gaze. “What are you trying to tell me, Miguel?”

  “His name is Daniel,” Michael answered. “Daniel Burnett. And he’s our brother.”

  Lucienne snickered. “He shares your genes, but he’s not your brother. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  A curse exploded from Michael and bounced off the suddenly hollow walls of the auction house. Somewhere in the distance, his voice and Lucienne’s rose in a heated argument over the innocence or guilt of someone named Daniel Burnett—someone connected to Lucienne in a way Alex could not currently comprehend. His stomach lurched with the suspicion that he might have made love to a woman who was related to him by blood, but a blast of angry words broke through the white noise filling his ears when Michael shouted, “Your family adopted him. No wonder he turned out to be a crook.”

  “Daniel made the best of what life gave him,” Lucienne argued back. “Gave both of us. Maybe if your father hadn’t abandoned him, he wouldn’t have needed my father to teach him how to survive. Maybe then he would have turned out more like you. But he didn’t have Ramon, did he? He didn’t have anyone, except for me.”

  “Our father didn’t even know about him!” Michael shot back.

  “So he said,” Lucienne replied, her voice dripping with disdain. “Danny’s mother was a meth addict who died when he was four. He went to ten different foster homes in seven years before he landed in my house. And even after all that misery, he was the first kid who ever came into our place who could make me laugh. We’ve been inseparable since—like real siblings.”

  “And both criminals,” Michael spat.

  “Maybe,” Lucienne said. “But that doesn’t mean he deserves the death sentence if the security guard dies. He didn’t shoot him, Michael. You know his M.O. You know he’s never once, in all his cons, used a weapon. He was set up.”

  “That’s for the court to decide,” Michael muttered, but he was losing his steam.

  “Right,” she said. “And if the case ever goes to trial, maybe he’ll luck out and be acquitted. But in the meantime, he’s under another kind of death warrant—one I had to try and help him escape. Even if it meant lying to you.”

  She turned her desperate face toward Ale
x. Up until this point, he’d felt entirely disconnected from the situation, the sounds of their heated exchange bouncing around the inside of his brain like jai alai pelota. But when her eyes met his, the defiance that she’d shown to Michael melted off her face. A face he knew. A face that had captured him. Enraptured him.

  A face that belonged to a woman he did not know at all.

  “I came here, Alex,” she explained, “because Danny is in serious trouble. I don’t know all the details—he said it was better if I didn’t. All he told me was that he needed the ring. Someone wanted it and if they didn’t get it, they’d kill him before his case ever went to trial.”

  Alex glanced down at his hand. He should have suspected the thing was cursed. It was one thing to have thieves threaten his body with bullets—it was something even more painful to have a beautiful woman toy with his heart.

  He took an unguarded step toward her. “Michael had the ring. Why didn’t…Danny ask him for help?”

  Lucienne sneered. “Michael’s known about Danny for years. The only time he contacts him is to gloat when Danny’s in custody.”

  “That’s not—” Michael objected, but Lucienne cut him to silence with a single glare.

  Alex chanced moving another few inches closer to her. He couldn’t help himself, despite her devastating secrets and lies. “Then why didn’t he just ask me for help? Why did you lie and scheme?”

  At this, the fake colored eyes on her equally counterfeit face glossed with moisture again. Neither armed robbery, gunfire or the threat of death had elicited a single tear from her, and yet her cheeks were suddenly streaked over questions that amounted to nothing less than common sense.

  “Danny didn’t want you to know anything about him. He spent his whole life as a phantom, a ghost who slipped in through cracks in the walls, took what he needed and left without a trace. That was his specialty, in business and in life.”

  “That’s not business,” Alex insisted. “That’s thievery.”

  She nodded, but he didn’t think the agreement was for him. “And that’s why he didn’t want you to know about him. He knew you’d think he was only getting what he deserved.”