Christiansen himself seemed to be holding court with a roundtable of lovely women, all of whom had arrived with a date, but seemed drawn to him. Lukas speculated they had dreams of becoming immortalized on canvas by the artist. Shallow women by his standards. He preferred the feisty, independent type that could give less than a damn about fame. With that thought in mind, he looked toward the front doors for the umpteenth time in the last hour. His date wasn’t late, but he was looking forward to seeing her and kept hoping she’d come early. The fact that she hadn’t made him smile. Elsa Kriess was not a woman to fall all over a man. She was the woman men trampled over themselves trying to impress her. At exactly half eight she walked through the door.
“Scheisse!” Lukas’s harshly whispered expletive escaped his lips as Elsa stood a few steps inside the gallery casually removing her Trench coat and revealing the sexy, red dress beneath. As her eyes swept the room for a familiar face, Lukas watched standing amid the wet dreams paintings and fantasizing a few of his own. His gaze traveled over her from head to toe taking in the fall of her red hair over white, smooth shoulders, to the clingy red dress that emphasized her breasts and tiny waist, to the end of the hemline over long, slender, yet athletic legs balanced on black heels with an adorable little girl quality to them. She was anything but. He began walking toward her before he even realized he was moving.
“You came.” He reached out just as her eyes found him, gently grasping her upper arms as his lips found her cheek laying a warm kiss upon it.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” She tried for cheeky, but her voice came out breathy as heat lingered where his lips had briefly touched her skin.
Lukas smiled still holding her arms and keeping her close. His gaze skittered down over her face to the hint of cleavage above the scooped neck of her off-the-shoulder dress. He could see a sprinkling of light freckles right above the cloth, and his thoughts went to warm places where he pondered placing hot kisses on each freckle he found below that line.
“I knew you would.” He looked into her eyes conveying that cocky confidence she was so drawn to. “You look very beautiful, officer.” His low tone was intimate, and Elsa felt her body warm under the regard of this man.
“You look very handsome, yourself, Trommler.” She took in his black suit and pin-striped black shirt beneath worn without a tie. He left open a few buttons at the neck revealing just a hint of light chest hair. He smelled of sandalwood and soap, warm and clean.
“Lukas. Please...call me Lukas.” He wanted to hear his name on her lovely lips. They were shaped in a Cupid’s bow with the lower lip full and pouty.
“Lukas...” Watching her lips form his name caused a very strong reaction in his gut. He knew he needed to break this sensual spell between them that happened each time they were in close proximity or he’d be conducting an exhibit with a massive hard-on. He stepped back and offered her his arm.
“Let’s get you a drink, and then maybe we can grab Mr. Popular over there and give you a tour.” He indicated the other side of the gallery where Paul Christiansen stood head and shoulders above most men surrounded by four scantily clad women. Their dates stood a couple steps behind them looking quite put out. Elsa smiled. Same old Paul.
“Looks like a full house. Lots of art lovers here, I see.” Lukas led them to the bar in the corner where wait staff hired for the evening came and went filling trays with drink orders and delivering empties.
“And what would you like, Elsa?” He indicated the fully stocked wall behind the smiling bartender who waited patiently for her order.
“Scotch on the rocks.” She waited as the man behind the bar pulled down a Chivas, but Lukas held up his hand.
“Not that one. The Johnny Walker Black Label.” He looked down at Elsa. “You seem like a Black Label woman.”
“I actually am. How did you know?” She raised one eyebrow, surprised at his intuitiveness.
“No nonsense, warm and spicy. That’s you. That’s a Johnny Walker.” He put his arm around her shoulders as she received the drink from the bartender. Together, they headed toward Paul who’d already sighted her. He disentangled himself from the bevy of hangers-on with a practiced skill.
“Kreiss! You made it.” Paul pulled Elsa in for a hug, then stepped back holding her at arm’s length. “Let’s have a look at you.” He spun her around with her free hand taking it all in. “Red suits you. It always has.”
She gave him a look that said, ‘Careful what you say!’ Lukas raised an eyebrow looking at Paul. He didn’t like that Christiansen knew so much about his date. A hint of jealousy gripped him, and he stepped back in to claim his lady. “Yes, it does suit her. I was just telling her how amazing she looks tonight.” Again, he let his voice drop and directed the compliment to her.
Elsa felt the heatwave he sent her way and tried to hide the smile threatening to spread across her face as she recognized Lukas’s possessiveness in response to Paul’s attention to her. She’d seen the same thing happen to Sarah when Anthony and Paul were in the same room with her American friend. The difference, of course, was that Paul did indeed want to steal Sarah from Anthony. She knew he had no such designs on her, nor she on him. Still, it was flattering, and she thought Paul was more than aware that he was needling Lukas. She didn’t mind helping him in his effort just to keep her cocky date on his toes.
“Well, you do have many memories to pull from, Paul, dear.” She placed her hand on his arm, which he automatically offered without thought. Taking it, she stood at his side looking up at him leaving Lukas standing on his own for a moment as the two reminisced. After several comments of by-gone times, Paul began to feel a little sorry for his host.
“But now you have a whole new career, and a very nice young man to treat you like a queen, Elsa.” Paul handed her off to Lukas lifting his drink in salute to his very patient, probably seething, gallery host. “I’m so glad you’re here, though. I was dying over there caught in the clutches of those fame-seeking gold-diggers. How boring they are. All they want to do is flatter in hopes I’ll choose them for my next painting.”
“Since when did you become so picky? I remember a time when you were all for fame-seeking, grasping women.”
“Since Sarah.” Paul’s expression relaxed, and a smile tugged at the corners of his full lips. “If they could all be like her, I’d still be fucking my way through the continent. Hell, even if they were as interesting as you, Kreiss, I’d be happy.” He tipped his drink in a mock-salute at her.
“Gee, thanks. I think,” Elsa laughed.
“Who is Sarah?” Lukas, who’d been trying to follow the conversation, finally asked.
“She’s my friend from America. If you remember, she’s the woman mentioned in the news that was with Paul all those years back. She helped bring my little brother back to me.” Her tone became serious as memories of the second darkest time in her life flooded back.
“Ah, I see. But wasn’t she with another man?” Lukas hit a raw nerve for Paul who took a long swig from his drink.
“She was. But not anymore. It didn’t work out.” His eyes grew stormy.
“Then why do you look so angry? If she’s available, and you obviously care for her—”
“Because she doesn’t feel the same way. Her head was so full of Anthony there wasn’t room for anyone else. Now, I’m stuck in the dreaded friend zone.”
Lukas knew not to push it. When a man suffered pangs of the heart, he was like a lion with a thorn in his paw, best left alone.
“She texted me tonight, you know. Congratulated me on the exhibit. I told her you’d be here. She asked me to tell you to call her tomorrow.” Paul rattled off the message to Elsa, perturbed that Sarah hadn’t wanted him to call, too.
“Well, I was going to do just that. In fact, Anno insisted we should before I came here tonight.” Elsa could sense Paul’s pain. He really did carry a torch for her friend. She sought to change the subject. “What are all these red tags?” She reached out to touch one attache
d to a vertical canvas featuring a black figure poking a blue-eyed boy in the back with a lion’s head cane.
Paul immediately brightened. “Those indicate that the paintings have sold. Looks like not many are left untagged.”
“There are numbers on them. What do they mean?”
“They mean that I purchased them. Number twelve is my number.”
A tall gentleman with silver hair and pale blue eyes spoke from behind them. Elsa turned and looked at the man whose sharp features and long nose sat on an angular face. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes emanated both power and cold detachment. His light gray suit had a patina to it, and the only color off-setting the gray palette was a light blue shirt. Even his tie was silvery gray.
Lukas reached out his hand in the age-old gesture of greeting. “Herr Ivchencko. Are you enjoying the evening so far?”
The Russian man refused the handshake and clapped Lukas on the arm, breaking their contact quickly. He was clearly uncomfortable with courtesies. “Yes, Trommler. I am.” He eyed the canvas and then turned to Paul. “Truly amazing work, Christiansen. Would that all artists were so blessed with such talent.” Again, his gaze returned to the painting completely unaware of the trace of offense that skittered through Paul’s eyes. His ‘talent’ as the man referred to it was really a culmination, and exorcism of very bad experiences that no child should ever have to endure.
Ivchencko backed up from the painting, and his glance caught Elsa. He turned to look at her directly. “And what do you think, my dear? Is not this imagery disturbing? Does it impress upon you the deepest horror of a young boy forever lost inside a nightmare?” He waited; his cold blue eyes boring into her.
Elsa didn’t understand art, but she understood people, and this man barely hid what she knew was a love of pain. “I think it’s sad. While I’m very happy for Paul and his success, to know people are drawn to this kind of thing shows that there is a festering disease of sick minds out there. These paintings weren’t meant to be appreciated, they were meant as a means to dispel demons.” She knew she’d let her mouth fly off without her brain, but something about this Russian struck her all wrong.
Lukas coughed, then interjected quickly. “As you see, the art has struck quite a chord with our Elsa, a true sign of Christiansen’s genius with a brush.”
“Indeed.” Ivchencko’s eyes remained on Elsa longer than she was comfortable with, and she was glad when he turned back to Lukas. “I’ll expect delivery to my home by tomorrow afternoon.” He turned to Paul. “A pleasure, sir.” He nodded his head, then turned to walk away.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I didn’t mean to belittle your art.” Elsa was contrite.
Paul began to laugh. “Not at all, Kreiss. I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He reached out and tugged a lock of her hair in a brotherly manner. “That one there...” he looked at Ivchencko’s retreating back as he walked out the front door, “is a very familiar monster.” His laughter ceased, and shadows darkened Paul’s eyes.
“Who is he, Lukas?” Elsa asked as her date said a prayer that the sales would still go through.
“He’s only one of the wealthiest businessmen out of Moscow. Yuri Ivchencko of Ivchencko Enterprises. He has multiple interests that include banks, mining, and shipping. He keeps a home here in Berlin, and another in Brussels. As you noted, he’s also a patron of the arts. He’s supported several exhibits here over the years, and often donates to galleries treasures he acquires from around the world.” Lukas recited the litany like a star-struck teenager. He obviously had a healthy respect for the man. Elsa just couldn’t fathom why with the bad feeling she got in just a few moments in the man’s presence.
She was saved from answering when her partner walked up. Beimer was actually wearing a suit! It was dark brown and made him look like a giant chocolate bar, but he beamed because at his side was Sigrid.
“Well, well, Hugo! Look at you.” She patted his shoulder, and then turned to give Sigrid a hug. “And don’t you look lovely, Sigrid!” Sigrid, with her blonde hair and blue eyes looked like she and Hugo could be brother and sister. A sure sign they should marry and have lots of babies, she thought, since it always appeared that couples who stayed married for a long time looked alike.
“Danke, Elsa. You look gorgeous.” Sigrid eyed Elsa’s dress, a style her plump curves and fair coloring could not pull off, but she still looked beautiful in her lavender dress with chiffon skirt.
Beimer shook Paul’s hand with enthusiasm. “Thank you, again, for inviting us, Herr Christiansen. This is my beautiful date, Sigrid Wiedner.” He introduced her to Paul who proceeded to charm the socks off her. Tomorrow, the station house would be all abuzz with the retelling of Sigrid’s encounter with a famous, handsome artist. Elsa smirked and rolled her eyes at Lukas.
Beimer looked at her date and gave only the most cursory of nods. “Trommler.”
Lukas’s eyes narrowed. He was not amused, and he really didn’t like her partner. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure all is set for deliveries tomorrow. I’ll be right back.” He kissed Elsa’s temple and left her there among her friends. She watched him walk to the other side of the gallery where he stopped to confer with a tall, black woman. She was stunning. Her ebony skin shone like polished mahogany, and her short haircut was combed in curling wisps around her lovely face. She was as graceful and regal as a runway model in her pale gold silk dress. The woman placed her hand on Lukas’s arm as he spoke and smiled, her white teeth like the richest of pearls set in her perfect mouth. She leaned in and laughed. Lukas continued to point out various pieces of art on the walls, and she nodded, standing at his side with her shoulder too close to his in Elsa’s view. Her eyebrow shot up over an emerald-green eye. And what is this?
IMANI BISHOP WATCHED Lukas Trommler speak as he pointed to a wall of canvases. She stared at his sensuous lips. They’d been working together for the past six months, and he hadn’t asked her out despite the inviting signals she’d put out there. She wasn’t used to men ignoring her once she set her sights on them. Lukas seemed to have at least noticed she was a woman, but so far, he had not taken the bait. This wasn’t to be borne in her world. And tonight, he’d invited a date to the exhibit. She threw a sly look at the redhead who appeared chummy with the artist and was stealing Lukas’s attention away. She would have to redouble her efforts.
“Take that block of four over there, and the two from the wet dreams collection on the south wall and get them prepared for delivery to Herr Ivchencko tomorrow by no later than three.” Lukas gave the instructions as he looked around the room. He knew Imani would handle it. She always did, and with professional care. He had every confidence all would go smoothly. He mentally checked his ‘to-do’ list, eager to tie things up and get back to Elsa. He couldn’t think of anything else imminent. He turned and looked at Imani. “Do you think we’ve had a success here tonight or what?” He knew she would share in his joy over the outcome of the exhibit. Happy artist. Happy collectors. Happy gallery employees earning fantastic commissions.
She wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned in, smiling. “Of course I am. You’ve done it again, Lukas. Perfect, as usual.” She laid it on thick, throwing the ‘I’m available, take me’ vibe out in his direction.
Lukas patted her hand and disengaged. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you. Can you handle locking up on your own?” He stepped away but waited on her reply.
Her face lost just a little of its joy. “Yes. Will you be leaving before it all ends?” She dug for information, feeling a pang in her gut.
“If luck is on my side, yes. I have a date,” he said, looking over at Elsa, “and she’s really something, Imani.”
The look in his eyes as he watched the redhead brought forth the monster of jealousy within. She seethed. Still, she maintained an air of nonchalance. “Well, you have fun, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You, too.” He didn’t even look at her again before walking with purpose back to the redhead
. Rage simmered under the surface of Imani’s burnished skin. On the outside, she smiled, but underneath, she promised herself that Lukas Trommler would be in her bed before the end of the week, redheaded bitch or not. She’d waited long enough. All she needed was the opportunity. Once she had him, he would see what he’d been missing.
Chapter Seven
PAUL WAS READY TO DITCH the exhibit, what was left of it, anyway. Most of the guests had come and gone already after either hob-knobbing or purchasing their pieces. With only drinks available for those in attendance, gastronomical needs began to arise in the form of grumbling stomachs. “I’m ready for a steak. Lukas. I’m sure you’ve made arrangements. Where are we heading? I’m a starving artist, after all.”
Lukas chuckled. He hadn’t made any kind of dinner arrangement figuring Christiansen would take care of himself, but he had contacts. “Hold on.” He pulled out his mobile and dialed. As it rang, he walked away from the group.
“What say you, Kreiss? Are you ready to dive into a juicy filet with me?” Paul put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. He was just this side of tipsy after many drinks, and no food to absorb them.
“I’m more of a chicken and vegetables girl, Paul, but yeah. I could eat.” She watched Lukas gesture as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of that call.
“Well, no wonder you’re so tiny. You need some red meat, Liebling. Now Sarah would eat a steak with me!” He looked Elsa in the eye. She noted his gaze was slightly unfocused. “She’s from Texas, you know. They eat steaks in Texas. That’s where cowboys live, and they have ranches just full of cows waiting to become juicy steaks.”
The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series Box Set Page 28