by Jaye Wells
“Are you sure you’re Logan’s mother?”
Kira laughed. “Last time I checked. That boy took fifteen hours of pushing to deliver.”
“It’s just you’re so . . . young,” Syd said.
“I did have him relatively early in life, and I was blessed with good genes,” Kira replied with a shrug. Syd wasn’t sure how to respond. After all, the woman almost looked younger than her.
She barely resisted the urge to reach up and restore order to her bed head. In addition to her youthful appearance, Kira was gorgeous. Syd suddenly felt like the ugly stepsister. Then it dawned on her—Kira Murdoch had the resources to hire an entire team of plastic surgeons to keep her looking young.
“I assume the research is going well?” Kira asked, changing the subject.
Syd realized her eyes were narrowed as she looked for telltale signs of a cosmetic surgery on Kira’s face. She halted her inspection to respond.
“Your family has an interesting past, but I am afraid I have yet to find the proof we need. I was hoping you and I could sit down soon and discuss what you know about the history of the painting.”
“That sounds fine. In the meantime, I will go through some additional files at my home to see if I can help. I am sure something will turn up soon.
“On another note, how are you and Logan getting on?” she asked.
Syd opened her mouth but was unsure how to respond. Syd didn’t know Kira enough to know if she was asking in a matchmaking capacity or was just making polite conversation.
“Logan has been very helpful,” Syd responded evasively.
“Oh, come now, you can be honest.” Kira leaned forward conspiratorially. “He’s handsome isn’t he?”
“I don’t really think—”
“Don’t be shy. Mothers know these things. I think you two would make a splendid couple.”
“But you don’t even know me,” Syd protested. Were they really having this conversation?
“Call it intuition if you like, but I think you would be very good for my son. He spends too much time with test tubes and not enough time living.”
“He seems pretty lively to me,” Syd said before she could stop herself.
Kira smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, my dear. I know you probably didn’t mean to say that out loud. It will stay between us. But please know if you ever need to talk, I am a good listener. Now I suppose you probably have other things to do than talk with an old woman.”
Syd shook her head. First, the old woman comment was so ironic she had to bite back a laugh. Second, she knew she should be shocked by the woman’s candor, but she felt strangely comfortable with Kira.
“Actually I do need to get to the museum to catch up on some work. It was nice to meet you. I hope we can talk again soon.”
“Oh, I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Kira said mysteriously and then waved before going through Logan’s door.
Logan chuckled to himself in his room. Sydney would never make a career out of being a cat burglar. At least if her targets were vampire households. Perhaps a mortal man wouldn’t have heard her moving around, but Logan’s enhanced hearing had picked up her movements from the moment she woke.
He stretched and got out of bed. Thankfully, it was the weekend, so he would have two days without Sydney around to distract him from his work. Not that she was all that bad as far as distractions went. But he was so close to finalizing the formula for Lifeblood, and it was crucial nothing divert his attention right now.
He whistled a tune as he retrieved a bag of blood from the small refrigerator in his closet. Back in his room, he heard voices below and craned his neck to see where they came from. He almost spewed blood all over the glass when he saw Sydney and his mother talking like old friends in front of his house.
This couldn’t be good. His mother had that calculating look on her face. He could only imagine her joy at finding Sydney sneaking out of his house this early. Great, now he’d have to have another talk with her about her matchmaking.
He watched as the two women parted ways. He counted the seconds until he heard his mother’s knock on this bedroom door. He opened it, and she immediately held up her hand to forestall his lecture.
“Don’t say anything. I know nothing happened. I can read her mind, remember? But darling, I have to say this: If you can’t see that woman is your soul mate, then you’re crazy.”
“Stop it.”
“But, Logan, she’s intelligent, beautiful, and is totally hot for you.”
“Mother that’s enou—she’s hot for me? Wait, no, I am not having this conversation with my mother.”
“Darling, you’re such a prude. You think I don’t know about sex after all this time? How do you think you and your brother got here?”
“Enough, you’re going to make me gag on my blood.”
Kira laughed. “I am just saying that I think it’s time you got over Brenna and started living your life.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. What is or is not between Syd and me is our business.”
“You’re right, darling. I just want you to be happy.”
Logan nodded to acknowledge her concern.
“Did you find anything in Asheville?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.
She smiled. “Sorry, darling. Looks like you’re going to have to work with Sydney for a while longer.”
Once in her car, Syd breathed sigh of relief. She would have expired on site if Logan had discovered her sneaking around. Not to mention the mortification she would have felt if he had overheard her conversation with his mother. Luckily, she had two days to compose herself before seeing him again.
She glanced down as her cell phone chirped from inside her briefcase. Immediately she worried it might be Logan calling. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally wrestled the phone out and saw the museum number on the caller ID.
“Miss Worth, where the hell are you? I have been calling all morning!” Stiggler demanded after she answered.
“Sorry, Mr. Stiggler. I left my cell phone in the other room when I went to bed,” she said, proud of herself for telling the truth.
“You need to get over to the museum right now. I have called an emergency meeting.”
“But sir, I—”she began.
“I don’t want to hear excuses,” he interrupted. “Just get here. Now.”
He hung up on her. Syd looked at her phone for a moment. That was abrupt even for Stiggler.
Syd turned her car in the direction of the museum. She had hoped to be able to go home and change before going to catch up on work. What could be so urgent that Stiggler called an emergency meeting?
She looked in the rearview mirror. Great, now she had to face Stiggler with Medusa hair, morning breath, and a sheet crease on her cheek. Today was going to suck.
When she arrived twenty minutes later, police tape and somber-looking uniformed policemen greeted her. Only after flashing her museum identification was she allowed access to the building. Unfortunately, no one would answer her questions about their presence.
She hurried through the galleries on her way to the conference room near Stiggler’s office. She burst into the room to find Jorge, The Enforcer, Lenny, and other members of the curatorial staff looking worried as they gathered around the massive oval table. At the other end of the room, Stiggler paced as he railed.
“Incompetent . . . inconceivable . . . thieves . . . ” were the only words she could make out.
She stepped further into the room, gaining the director’s attention.
“Ah, Miss Worth, so glad you could join us! Hope we didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep,” Stiggler said and sneered. She tried to look poised as he took in her appearance.
“What’s going on?” she asked, ignoring his sarcasm as she took a seat next to Jorge.
“We’ve been robbed!” Stiggler said as he slammed his hand on the table. “And I want an explanation!”
Syd looked around the room only to r
ealize everyone was looking at her.
“Um, why do you want an explanation from me? I didn’t even know about this until thirty seconds ago. What was stolen?”
Stiggler just continued to stare at her intently. Finally Jorge leaned over and whispered, “The Hot Scot.”
Sydney jumped out of her seat in shock. “What? You’re kidding! When was it taken?”
“Last night,” said Lenny. “I was working late and must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, it was gone.”
“You slept through the theft?” Syd asked in disbelief.
Lenny raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “I must have. One minute I was working and heard a noise. The next thing I knew it was a couple of hours later. That’s when I noticed the painting was gone,” Lenny replied. He sounded as confused as Sydney felt. How could he have slept through something like that? She felt a twinge of guilt when she saw how distraught he seemed.
“Dr. Kunst, we can discuss your ill-timed nap later. First we must figure out who took it,” said Stiggler as he sat in his chair at the head of the table. “Obviously our main suspect is Mr. Murdoch.”
“What?” Sydney said. The shocks just kept coming.
“He obviously has the motive. Perhaps he became impatient with the snail’s pace you call research.”
“First of all, I resent your implication I am dragging my feet on this project. I assumed you wanted it handled correctly, and that means I have countless boxes of archives to sift through by myself,” Syd said, automatically going on the defensive. “Second, Logan would never stoop so low as to steal from this museum.”
“Logan, huh? Getting friendly with the man, Miss Worth?”
“Mr. Stiggler, please don’t be crass. I am working in his home, and he has been a gracious host. I think he deserves better than to be accused of something this nefarious.”
Maybe she was being a little too vehement in her defense of Logan, but she knew he was innocent of the theft. She just had to get Stiggler to forget this line of thought without revealing where she had spent the night.
“Regardless, the man does have the motive. And then there is the message,” Stiggler said enigmatically.
“Message?” Syd asked, looking around the table.
Jorge gave her a shrug and an apologetic smile. “Syd, there was a message left by the thief.”
“And?” she said as she circled her hand, indicating he should continue.
“It said, rinunci la ricerca,” explained Lenny.
“Huh?” Syd said, more confused than ever.
Lenny looked at her and translated the Italian. “Stop the research.”
Syd’s eyes widened. That did sound bad for Logan, but why the Italian? Wait!
“No, no, no. Logan is a scientist. He is currently working on some major research for his family’s company. Perhaps whoever stole the painting is connected to that. Maybe they’re Italian . . . or something,” she said.
“That’s a stretch,” said Stiggler. Obviously he had tried and convicted Logan already.
“Since the police are involved, I suggest we leave the evidence gathering to them,” Syd said. She decided debating Logan’s guilt would get them nowhere. “In the meantime, I need to call Logan.”
“Why?” demanded Stiggler. “The painting hasn’t been proven to belong to him. Or has it?”
“While I have not found conclusive evidence the painting belongs to his family, I have every reason to believe that is the case. He deserves to know about this.”
“I suppose he should be informed. After all, I am sure the detective in charge will have some questions for him.”
Syd decided to wait to panic about the veiled threat until she could get a better handle on the situation. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed.
Half an hour later, Sydney met Logan at the entrance to the museum.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your research, but I thought you’d want to know about this,” she explained.
She looked so distraught that Logan felt an urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Instead, he waved off her apology.
“You were right to call me. Where is the detective?”
A short time later, Logan had handled the detective’s questions with ease. Even though he was innocent, he couldn’t reveal Sydney was his alibi since it would mean admitting she had slept at his home. So he had been forced to give the detective a slight mental nudge. That done, he went to find Syd.
He found her pacing nervously in front of the museum gift shop.
“How’d it go?” she asked in a low tone.
“Fine. No problems.”
“You didn’t . . . uh . . . tell him that I slept—”
He raised a hand to interrupt. “Syd, it’s fine. There was no need to even bring it up to him.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank God. Oh, I mean I appreciate you helping me last night, but I was afraid someone might misinterpret things.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to relieve her anxiety. “Understood. But really, no one has to know.”
“Your mother does,” she blurted.
Logan laughed. “Yes, she mentioned she ran into you when you were leaving this morning.”
“Yes, she was very nice. I can’t believe she’s old enough to be your mother though.”
“I hear that all the time. But I assure you she is definitely older than she appears.”
“Look, thanks for letting me crash last night. I can’t believe I fell asleep. It’s so unprofessional.”
“Please don’t worry about it. It was bound to catch up with you sooner or later. Besides, we’re friends, remember? No need to be professional all the time,” he joked.
He was relieved when a slight smile lit up her face. He hated that she felt so uncomfortable around him.
“The detective agreed to let me examine the crime scene. Care to join me?”
“I can’t believe in all the confusion I haven’t seen it yet,” she said.
They headed down to conservation. Police taped cordoned off the scene, and uniformed officers stood guard outside the doors. They waved the pair through.
The room seemed undisturbed except for the easel where the painting had been. They walked carefully to the spot.
A fresh canvas with Italian words written in angry strokes stood on the easel that once held his portrait. One sniff and Logan knew the neat lettering was not paint as the museum staff assumed, but blood.
Raven.
This time she had gone too far. Taking the shipment of blood was bad enough, but stealing the painting was personal. Now she had the only link remaining to his father. He had yet to tell his mother what had happened, but knew she would be enraged by the younger vampire’s gall. This had to stop. Now.
“It says, ‘Stop the research.’ It's Italian,” Sydney explained. He smiled at her to show his appreciation even though the translation wasn’t needed. He spoke five languages fluently.
“I think I know who did this,” he said softly to Sydney.
“Really?” she whispered back. “Why are we whispering? No one else is in here. Besides, shouldn’t you tell the detective?”
“The group who did this has caused trouble for us before, but they are very good at leaving no evidence so the police could not help. I think my best bet is to track it down on my own.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked.
“They are more of a nuisance than anything. They should be more worried about my mother’s wrath when she finds out the painting was stolen again.”
“I want to help,” Syd said, placing her hand on his arm. Her light touch sent pure sensation up his arm and straight to his groin.
“Absolutely not,” he said, his tone harsher than intended. The last thing he needed was to get Sydney involved in the middle of this mess. It would be difficult enough to track down Raven without a mortal asking questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.
Syd straightened to her full height, which barely reached his chin, and lo
oked him in the eye. “Look, mister, that painting still technically belongs to the museum. You either let me help you find it, or I will go to Stiggler and let the police know you are withholding information.”
Logan resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. She was adorable when she talked tough. Unfortunately, she also held some cards that could complicate things even further. If she went to her boss, the police would be all over the place, and it would be harder for him and his family to track down Raven.
So he’d let her help, but he would have to give her tasks that kept her out of his way. He could not let her find out the truth of the situation, and he absolutely would not put her in harm’s way.
“Okay.”
Syd blinked at him. “Okay? That’s it?”
“Sure, you have every right to help with the search.”
She looked suspicious but pleased. He knew he’d have to play the next couple of days very carefully to keep this savvy woman from discovering the truth.
“I am going to go call my mother and Callum. I am sure you have things you need to take care of here. Why don’t we all meet at my house tonight to formulate our plan?”
Syd nodded. “That sounds good.”
“I’ll see you later then,” he said. Then he walked away before he kissed the spunky woman who was becoming more important to him every day.
“Oh, Logan,” she said from behind him. “About last night. I didn’t . . . um . . . say anything in my sleep, did I?”
He watched the blush spread quickly on her beautiful face before letting her off the hook.
“Don’t worry. You didn’t say anything to be embarrassed about.” He watched her shoulders droop with relief before going in for the kill. As he turned again to leave, he said over his shoulder, “After all, I think you’re pretty yummy too.”
Chapter Seven
Logan smiled as he remembered the look on Sydney’s face after his parting shot at the museum. As much as he tried to behave himself around that woman, he just couldn’t help teasing her.
Of course, his comment wasn’t entirely teasing in nature. He did find her sexy as hell. While her smart mouth and intelligence challenged him, he found the glimpses of vulnerability irresistible. His instincts wanted to gather her close and let her know she didn’t have to be strong all the time—to ask her to let him be strong for her. He shook his head. Now he sounded like a bad romance novel.