Concrete Evidence (34 page)

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She heard him get up, then heard a soft click, and the red inside her eyelids turned black.

She dared to open her eyes. “Thanks,” she muttered in the dark room. His arms slipped around her, and she pressed her face against his warm chest. “What are you doing at the computer? What time is it?”

“Four. I couldn’t sleep and decided to work on JT’s database. I’m behind.”

“I knew you were a geek. Only a computer nerd turns to programming when he can’t sleep.” He smelled like Lee: a warm, rich, masculine scent that was both sexy and comforting.

His chest shook with laughter. “That’s my Erica. Even half-asleep, she insults me. Is it any wonder I’m in love with her?”

She shook her head and pulled away from him. “This is just lust. But I’m too tired to argue. You coming back to bed?”

“No, but you should sleep. I’ll wake you at five thirty so we can work out together.” He kissed the top of her head, and she left, smiling at the thought of sparring with him.

She was drifting back to sleep when she sat bolt upright. An image from the computer monitor had seared into her brain, but it had been too brief a flash for her to register what she’d seen while she stood groggily in the hall.

Lee had been viewing a photograph of the Bassetki statue base of Naram-Sin of Akkad, which had been looted from the Iraq museum in 2003. The name of the piece of art was burned into her mind as indelibly as the image on the computer screen. She’d researched the artifact after finding a picture of it in Jake’s cabin. The same picture Lee had been looking at a moment ago—the picture she had found inside the envelope she’d taken from Jake’s cabin.

The envelope she’d sent to a DNA lab on Wednesday.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
E
IGHT

L
EE HEARD THE BEDROOM
door slam against the wall. Alarm raced through him. Was Erica okay? He bolted to the hall and caught her as she flung herself from the bedroom and into his arms.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

Her eyes were wide with fear. “What are you working on?”

A wave of cold dread ran through him. Had she seen the computer screen when she surprised him before? He’d hacked the cell phone that sent the message about SARAC, and had recovered deleted photo files—year-old snapshots of Middle Eastern artifacts. Had she recognized a photo? Could she be in on the smuggling? “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, and seemed to recover herself. Some of the fear left her eyes. “I want to know what you’re working on for JT.” She took a breath. “I saw the photo on the screen of the statue base, and I’m wondering what Mesopotamian artifacts have to do with JT’s database.”

Relief swept through him. She was telling the truth. For once. Too bad he couldn’t do the same. “I was taking a break. I’d been thinking about the deck of cards you said Janice showed you—the ones about looting in Iraq—so I did some Google searches on the Iraq museum.”

She didn’t believe him; he could see it in her eyes. What he’d been dreading had finally happened: she was suspicious of him. She pushed him aside and entered the den. “Show me.”

“Sure.” He leaned over the keyboard and typed in a few keywords, quickly finding the web page he’d viewed
after
recovering the cell phone photo. The screen showed the official museum photograph of the Bassetki statue base and an article about items looted from the museum. The statue was listed as still missing.

“This is what you were looking at?” She looked confused, like she didn’t believe him yet wanted to.

“Yes. Why?”

“I thought I saw something else.”

Dammit. She was still holding out on him. Had she helped Novak with this deal? Was she the photographer? Was the disposable cell phone hers? It had been used Tuesday afternoon in Alexandria, Virginia—while she was clothes shopping, alone. Once the phone was activated, he’d locked on and snatched all the data he could download from the memory card before it was shut off again. He was sorting through the data now, in hopes of identifying the owner.

He stood and wrapped his arms around her. He was stiff as anger coursed through him. She didn’t trust him, which was maddening enough. But worse, he couldn’t trust her.

What do you do when you both know the other is lying?
Keep up the pretense.

He forced himself to drop the stiffness and tightened his arms around her, reaching for her breast. His actions lacked sexual heat, so he compensated, drawing on anger to provide the missing spark. He massaged and murmured, “You were half-asleep. The light was bright. I’m surprised you saw anything at all.”

Slowly, very, very, slowly, she relaxed against him. But she didn’t respond to his touch with desire of her own. This was a first. And a sign distrust went both ways.

“You should sleep,” he said.

She nodded and padded away on silent feet. He closed the den door and locked it. He had a hell of a lot to do and didn’t have time for more interruptions, more questions, more lies.

Christ, he may have fallen for a thief.

T
HEY RODE THE
M
ETRO
to work, both silent. Erica was in turmoil, wondering who Lee was and if he worked for Jake.

Talon & Drake had a team of people working in Iraq, and those employees could have smuggled artifacts out of the country and passed them to Sam Riversong, who contacted Jake and traded Iraqi artifacts he couldn’t use for Aztec ones he could.

It was possible JT was involved. Soon, Jake would be working with Talon & Drake. Jake could have warned JT about the need to neutralize her. Was Lee JT’s method for dealing with her? Was his sham of an internship merely their attempt to control her?

Was their entire relationship a con?

She felt sick, realizing her apartment could have been trashed to force her to move in with Lee, to make his seduction that much easier.

She studied his square jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and sculpted muscles. He was…gorgeous. A handsome, enticing man. Had JT spent a fortune hiring this male model to play intern and seducer? At least she’d gotten JT’s money’s worth. The man was an amazing lover. And she’d been falling for him.

He smiled and dropped a hand to her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze. At least, it would be comforting if she didn’t believe he was in league with the scumbag who’d destroyed her life.

She grabbed at the rush of anger and held it, massaged it, used it to squelch the river of pain that ran through her, threatening to sweep her overboard, beat her against the rocks, then spit out her lifeless body.

She didn’t think she could survive another betrayal.

They arrived in Bethesda and in silence walked down Wisconsin Avenue to their high-rise office building, going straight to the lobby-level workout room, which was empty as usual at six thirty in the morning.

“Do you want to spar?” he asked.

She’d opened her body and mind to him and had been falling for him from the first moment she saw him in this very room. Her heart cracked a bit, and she said, “Yes.”

She wanted to kick his ass.

With her first kick, she let him know this was no friendly sparring match. He barely blocked her follow-up punch in time. But then his eyes took on a steely glint that told her he knew exactly what she was doing.

In her haze of anger, she recognized he held back; he blocked and defended but never attacked. If he did fight back, she’d remain standing maybe ten seconds—if she were lucky.

Instead, he let her have her one-sided brawl, but finally, when she was winded, he took her down and pinned her to the mat. “What the fuck are you doing?” His face was red, furious.

“Did Jake hire you to screw me?” She hated the hurt in her voice.

His eyes narrowed. “Honey, I’m screwing you for free. Hell, I should pay
you
.”

She punched him in the jaw and cursed the glove that softened the blow. It was the first hit to make it past his razor-sharp reflexes, and she had a feeling he’d allowed the punch, even goaded her into it.

“Care to tell me
why
you think I’m working for Novak?”

“You were looking at a picture I found in Jake’s cabin on his boat. That photo is the reason I quit working for him.”

Relief entered his eyes; then his whole demeanor changed. He sat up, pulling her upright along with him. “You’re sure the photo is Jake’s? I’ve been trying to figure out who took it. Why did that picture make you quit?”

She wanted to ask him a dozen questions, but knew she’d get more information if she answered his first. “He didn’t take the photo; he received it—in hard copy. I found it in Jake’s cabin and realized he was a high-end dealer in black market antiquities, so I fled his boat in the middle of the night.”

He smiled a blinding, dazzling smile that had the power to alter the rotation of the earth. Her piece of it, anyway. “Shortcake, I wish you’d told me that before.” He kissed her with an urgency, a passion that would have flattened her if she didn’t have so many questions of her own.

Dammit, his kiss felt real. His fervor felt real. His intensity couldn’t be feigned.

Could it?

Her lock on her emotions shattered and she kissed him back. She needed him to be real. If another person took a chunk from her soul without giving anything back, she’d cease to exist.

She ended the kiss. “Your turn. Why do you have a copy of Jake’s photo?”

“He wants to team with Talon & Drake but could be bad for the company. I hacked into his cell phone to see if I could find something to show JT that would convince him to stop Drake from teaming with Novak. But his phone was empty. So I hacked into the phone he’s received several text messages from.”

She gasped. He’d been protecting her? She felt a painful ache in her chest. “I’m not surprised his phone was blank. Jake’s very careful with technology. We weren’t allowed Internet or smartphones on his boat.” She studied him. “How did you hack his phone?” Her mind began to race. This could be a very good lie to win back her trust. “Prove it. Show me.”

“No.”

The hope that had been building deflated. “Why not?”

“When I hacked into his phone, I was committing a crime. I won’t have you party to that, and I won’t do it here, using Talon & Drake’s network.”

She was about to argue the first point, but his second stopped her cold. The only thing she knew for certain about Lee was he had strong ties to JT and the senator; he wasn’t likely to risk a lawsuit against the company.
But he could help me prove Riversong bought the artifacts.
The photos were probably taken by Riversong. “You did it from JT’s condo.”

His mouth hardened. “No.”

“If you won’t show me, how can I believe you?”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“I ran out of trust a long time ago.”

“I refuse to be held accountable for mistakes you made in the past.” He paused. “Dammit, Erica. I love you. I want you to give me the benefit of the doubt.” He turned and walked away from her, slamming the door to the men’s locker room.