The band of disbelief binding Amy’s chest broke, and she filled her lungs with air. With hope. “Michael had no part in what happened? Even if he doesn’t remember?”
“None at all. I trust him with my life. I trust him with you. Stay with him and be happy.”
“Then you don’t… Gilles, it’s been two years. Part of me will always love you, but I’m over — us. It wouldn’t work now.” How could she be breaking up with Gilles over the phone? While staring at the man she now loved?
Michael's gaze hadn't left her face. Did he hear her meaning?
Gilles’ chuckle trailed into a sigh. “I know, chérie. It’s the same for me. Keep close to Michael. If he gives you any trouble, kiss him. With feeling.”
The connection ended. Amy looked at the phone, then at Michael. Beautifully sensitive but clueless about women. Wounded, not murderous or unbalanced, not-gay Michael. Endorsed by her miraculously-alive former fiancé. “I didn’t ask him what happened. How he—” Heat rose in her chest. “Why he let me suffer all this time.”
Michael’s lips twisted. “He had no choice. You know he’d never abandon you voluntarily. This is bigger than all of us. We can’t say a word about Gilles to anyone. Even Aunt Bay, and especially not Emilie. Not until this is over.”
He gestured at the destruction around them. “I phoned Neal, and the brunch plans are off. You being seen in the company of someone heading for the airport is a bad idea.”
Michael raised his hand as if to ward off Amy’s protest, but she had nothing left. He nodded, and continued. “Neal will come here. You and I will stand at the door when he leaves, so anyone watching will know you’re not hiding in his car. Amy… it’ll be all right. Somehow.”
Heat crowded Amy’s face. “I’m sorry for suspecting you. Emilie… my own fears… things that didn’t add up. But there’s no excuse for what I thought.”
His smile lit his eyes. “You said you’d stay and help me, when you thought the worst. Please, let me take you out somewhere. Soon. I have so much to say, but not here. Not in this — ugliness.”
“I’m sorry about this, too. I can’t begin to imagine how much it hurts.” How could she have forgotten? “And, yes. Let’s talk. Gilles gave me a tip on how to manage you.” Amy grinned. Would she dare use it?
Chapter 31
Amy was first to reach the kitchen in the morning. She started coffee on auto-pilot and stared into the fridge. Neal was coming here, but was that for brunch or simply for a goodbye visit? Either way, she’d make a batch of muffins.
Thoughts of last night still jostled in her mind. The destruction. The death threat. Gilles… alive. In the midst of it all, hope. Michael was innocent of all her fears. She’d seen a deeper warmth in his face.
A floorboard creaked overhead. Someone else was on the prowl. Michael? She’d love a few quiet moments alone with him, even if there wasn’t time to explore what might lie between them. Excitement zinged through her.
Aunt Bay appeared as Amy was chopping an apple for the batter. Amy’s heart rate settled down. She shouldn’t be surprised. Michael’s aunt had the most sleep last night, or had at least been in bed the longest. Amy rubbed her forehead. Had any of them really slept?
The older woman stopped in the doorway. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Not well.”
One thin eyebrow raised. “You don’t sound unhappy about it. I was afraid you’d have nightmares from that painting.”
She would have, in other circumstances. “Michael and I had an… interesting conversation. I know he’s not doing any of those controlling things I was afraid of.”
“That should clear the air a little around here. Anything else?” Was that a twinkle in Aunt Bay’s eye?
Amy focused on chopping the rest of the apple, ignoring the heat in her face. “No.” Not yet. “Is Neal eating with us when he comes?”
“I believe not. I may be gone before he arrives, so give him my best.”
“You’ll be able to stay awake at your prayer group?”
“Child, with the threats and the vandalism, I need to be there. The others would pray if I phoned, but I need to hear it.” She filled the kettle for tea. “There’s definitely a nap on my schedule this afternoon.”
“Will God keep us safe?”
“I don’t know. But He’ll be with us. Del says this group is almost perfect at covering its tracks. He’d hoped to have the evidence he needed by now.”
Amy stirred apple pieces into the batter and began spooning it into the muffin pan. “It makes me angry that the authorities know who they are, but can’t arrest them.”
“That’s the price of a free country.”
“I’d feel better about that if our safety wasn’t part of the cost.” Amy finished filling the pan and slid it into the oven.
She’d just set the timer when the front door opened. The security alert sounded, followed by the sequence of touch pad beeps to reset it. Michael called a quick “Hello” before jogging up the stairs.
Aunt Bay glanced at Amy. “Did you know he’d gone out?”
“I thought he was still sleeping.”
“Or brooding.”
They heard him on the stairs again. This time, he joined them in the kitchen. The smile he flashed at Amy seemed to hold a secret.
She couldn’t help grinning back. “Where have you been?”
“Couldn’t sleep, so I went to watch the sunrise.”
Aunt Bay shook her head. “Was it wise to be out alone? That attack was personal.”
“I told the guard where I’d be and how long I’d be gone. Actually, I gave him an hour more than I needed, in case I zoned out or something.” Michael’s face went solemn. “Nathin said these people are using Luc’s dealership, and my paintings, to launder money. The vandalism was clear intimidation. There should be no danger if I cooperate.”
“Which you will do.” Aunt Bay’s tone left no room to argue. “Del may be able to gather more evidence through you.”
Amy gripped the counter behind her. “Cooperate how?”
A corner of his mouth turned down. “I’m sure I’ll be informed.” He poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “What’s cooking?”
Amy nodded. “Apple muffins.” Her mind picked up on his earlier words. “We have a guard?”
“A gift from Del. They’ll intercept anyone they don’t recognize. Last night I showed the guy pictures of you and Troy, and described Troy’s car, so he wouldn’t stop you.”
“Have you told Troy?”
“No.” The single syllable brimmed with dark emotion.
Amy sighed, and turned to check her baking. “Troy said to tell you he won’t be at your meeting tonight.”
“Good.”
Surprisingly, Aunt Bay didn’t call Michael on his attitude. Maybe she felt he’d taken enough grief in the past twenty-four hours.
Aunt Bay left around nine. “I’ll tell the guard we’re expecting Neal.” She sifted through the key fobs on the hooks. “The alarm remote is in someone’s coat pocket again. You’ll hear me beeping when I come in.” She pressed the quick exit code and ducked out.
Amy turned to Michael, heart fluttering and her mouth suddenly dry.
He smiled. “So.”
“What time is Neal coming?”
“Too soon for what I want to say, and the insurance adjuster’s coming, too. Del’s forensics team swept the place last night.”
The air between them sizzled. Amy traced a circle on the floor with her toe. “It’ll be good to start the clean-up.” She looked into his eyes, bracing against the pull. “Michael, what’s this doing to you? You pour so much into your paintings, and to have them butchered—”
“I’ll be okay. When I can forgive him, it’ll be easier. I’m not there yet.”
“You know who did this?”
“Ross Zarin. At his father’s direction, I’m sure.”
Amy gasped. “No, it has to be someone else. Whoever did this is brutal. Ross and his father
are so… cultured.”
Michael’s face hardened. “It’s an Islamic extremist culture, Amy. Radical violence. Nothing like what Safia and her family believe. The Zarins are recruiting — and funding — terrorists. That’s why the evidence trail has to be solid. This is high-stakes.”
“So Del isn’t a detective. He’s CSIS.” Canadian Security Intelligence Service.
“Gilles approached them in Ottawa before he brought you back. He planned to collect evidence, but the Zarins must have suspected something. That medical tag you wondered about alerted CSIS, and they set Gilles up in witness protection. He’s given a recorded testimony, but if the Zarins’ group finds him, it’ll weaken the prosecution.”
Amy swallowed hard. By find he meant kill. “It would be my fault.”
“You didn’t know. But that’s why he didn’t want to reveal himself to you.”
Her stomach twisted. “What have I done?”
An engine sounded outside. Michael hurried to the door and pressed his eye to the peephole. “That must be the adjuster. Unless you want to hear what she has to say, you could wait here for your father.”
“Maybe I will.”
He interrupted the security system and opened the door. The insurance adjuster was almost as petite as Amy, but the plain-clothes guard flanking her looked like he could stop a bear in its tracks.
The woman held out her card. “Mr. Stratton? I’m Chrissie Cordero. If I could have a look around, I’ll get this claim processed as quickly as I can.”
“Thank you.” Michael nodded at the guard, who withdrew. “This is Amy Silver, my assistant. Everyone was out last night when the break-in occurred.”
Chrissie stepped into the entrance and shook Amy’s hand. “Damage was confined to the one room?”
Michael closed the door behind her. “Yes. The upstairs windows aren’t alarmed, and the intruder smashed the glass to get in. I have more paintings on this floor, in my gallery, but it’s equipped with motion sensors.”
“Your alarm was set?”
“Yes. We’ve had threats recently.”
Michael led the adjuster upstairs, and Amy retreated to the living room to wait for Neal. Her father wouldn’t want to leave her here, but after the painted warning — and Gilles’ exoneration of Michael — how could she leave?
She must have drifted off in her chair. A firm knock at the front door woke her, and she scrambled to her feet. Pain speared her hip at the fast movement.
Michael’s voice rumbled from the upper floor. Amy called back, “I’ll get it!” She hobble-hurried from the room, remembering to bypass the alarm before opening the door.
Neal’s concerned gaze swept her, then he stepped across the threshold and wrapped her in a massive hug. “They have to stop these guys.”
Behind him, the guard spoke. “That’s the plan, sir.” He closed the door.
When Neal released Amy, he looked down into her eyes. “Thank God you were out when this happened.”
“Michael thinks they wanted the house empty.” Amy shivered. Could it really have been Ross? Not quietly controlled and elegant, but venting fury and hate? Her knees wobbled.
Neal’s hand shot out to steady her. “Let’s sit. Living room?”
“Sure.” Amy leaned on him until she could collapse in a chair. “I’m sorry. We didn’t sleep much last night.”
“I’ll bet. Where’s Michael?”
“Upstairs with the insurance adjuster. Aunt Bay’s out for her meeting. She asked me to say goodbye.”
“A formidable lady.” Neal leaned forward in his chair and kept his voice low. “How did your date go?”
Amy blinked. She’d almost forgotten the evening out. “Michael was upset. I feel bad, with everything else that’s happened.”
“Destroying his art must be quite a blow.”
“You should see it.” She remembered the death-threat portrait. “Or maybe you shouldn’t.”
Neal’s jaw set. “He told me about your painting.”
Footsteps rapped on the stairs. Amy beckoned Neal nearer and whispered, “But I know now that Michael’s not acting out some weird obsession over me. He’s fully sane, and he wants us to spend some time together.”
Neal grinned. “Go for it.”
Michael’s voice grew fainter. They must be checking the gallery. Did the adjuster need to see some finished products? It made sense that a half-completed painting wouldn’t be valued as high as one ready to sell.
Amy stared at her hands. “We’re about to hit his peak sales season. We have what’s in the gallery, because it closes for the winter, but Michael wanted to release a few new paintings.”
“But no one was hurt.”
She nodded. “That’s what we have to keep remembering.” No one was hurt yet. Had Michael told Neal this was connected with the previous threats? “Let’s talk about something else. How did your meetings go?”
“Well enough. It was great to finally see this part of the country — not to mention finding my daughter.”
“I’m glad you came.”
They chatted until the insurance lady left and Michael joined them.
Neal rose. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
Michael nodded. “Thank you.”
“You can’t repair any of the paintings?”
Michael kneaded the back of his neck. “No, but it doesn’t matter.”
Amy looked up at him. “Why not?”
His eyes held a fierce glint. He tapped his temple. “I still have the images. In here. Plus my photos. The next paintings won’t be the same, but if this was a practice run, they may be better.” Michael rocked back on his heels, lips curved in a bring-it-on smile.
Amy stared at him. “You’re amazing.”
His expression softened, and he dropped onto the couch. “It’s not me. I had a lot of time to think, and pray, overnight. I’m still angry, but a bit of perspective seeped in.”
Neal settled back into his chair. “I know Amy’s portrait was to be for her fiancé, but if you decide to paint her again, I’d be interested.”
Amy repositioned her leg on the footrest. Gilles might want a photo of her now, to remember their time together, but he’d hardly want a full-sized portrait. Especially if there was a new woman in his life.
It was a disturbing thought, but Amy couldn’t expect him to stay single and mope over her. They’d shared a love-in-a-million, at least on her side. Her feelings now for Michael were less of a whirlwind, but no less strong.
Gilles had let her go. She had to do the same for him, now that she knew he had a future. She let her hands fall open in her lap, and looked up to find both men watching her. “Sorry, did I miss something?”
“Everything okay?” Michael offered a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine. Or I will be, when certain people are behind bars.”
Neal stood. “Until then, stay safe. I have to go, but I’ll be checking in.” Did his tone take an extra significance as he glanced at Michael? He reached for Amy’s hand to help her up. “Think about coming for Christmas?”
“I will… Dad.”
He froze, then pulled her into a hug. “My girl.”
Amy and Michael waved goodbye from the front step. Once Neal’s car vanished down the road, Amy walked out onto the driveway and back toward the house, stopping to inspect the flower beds. “There. I’m clearly visible as still here.”
Michael held the door for her, then locked it behind them. The light in his eyes warmed her. “Walk with me down to the water?”
The phone rang, and he grimaced. “I’ll get it.” He strode into the kitchen. “Hello?”
Amy didn’t bother going upstairs for her cane. Holding onto Michael on uneven ground would be a bonus.
As she entered the kitchen, Michael kept talking. “It was personal, Safia. They clearly targeted Amy and me. Your family isn’t at risk. I’m sure if you phone the police, they’ll confirm that.”
He listened some more. “I appreciate that, and I�
�ll let Amy and Aunt Bay know. We have a guard on-site in case our vandal comes back, but tell your pint-sized warrior to stay away from any strangers he sees — and to keep his eyes open.” He laughed. “Okay. Thanks for calling.”
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Michael frowned. “Safia said she asked Aunt Bay to babysit on such short notice last night because they had an urgent call from another Muslim family in the city who had a crisis. She said the family was pretty upset, but seemed calmer when they left, and when she phoned them today everything’s okay.”
“You think Ross or his father applied some pressure, once they knew Aunt Bay was the only one still at home?”
“I’ll phone that in to Del. And I need to get something from upstairs. It’ll just take a minute, and we can go for our walk.” He pulled his cell from his pocket as he left the room.
Amy stared out the kitchen window at the green lawn. How could one guard keep tabs on the whole house, front and back? Movement to the right resolved into the man walking from the side of the house. He stopped to scan the trees, then circled around the back and headed around the other side.
Michael’s soft footfalls pulled her attention away from the view. He held out a pink rosebud. “I hope this is a safe place to start.”
She took it by the stem, avoiding the thorns, and brushed the tightly-furled pink petals against her lips. The faint fragrance teased her nostrils. “I—” Her pounding pulse said it was time to take a risk. Amy cleared her throat and forced herself to keep eye contact. “I’d accept a double dozen red roses from you, Michael… if I knew you meant it. Last time… I didn’t know what kind of message you wanted to send. Or from whom.”
His eyes widened. When he didn’t answer right away, she blurted, “But there are better things to spend your money on. I didn’t mean — if you ever did want to say—” She looked down. The rosebud trembled in her hand, tickling her chin.
“Amy…” Michael stepped nearer.
She looked up, afraid of what she’d see on his face. How could she dump her feelings out like that, over a tentative peace offering?
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