We Will Always Have the Closet (9 page)

Surprise took over Sam’s handsome features. “What do you mean, you used to live there?”

“I thought you knew,” she said, a bit surprised herself. “What kind of private eye are you? Jonas is my ex-husband,” she revealed with a knot in her throat. Damn! Why was it still so hard to talk about it?

Sam looked stunned. Obviously, he had never suspected anything like that. “I thought that maybe you were a disgruntled girlfriend looking for some kind of token or maybe even revenge. But ex-wife? Shit, if my employers find out I’ve been hanging out with the ex-wife of the target of my investigation, I may very well lose this job.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You do realize I am investigating your husband, right?” he said, as an afterthought.

“No, of course I didn’t,” she protested, jumping up from her seat. “How could I ever guess that? Jonas is a jerk, but a criminal? I don’t think so.”

“Well, we have reasons to believe that he is mixed up in some very illegal transactions involving art work,” Sam shared, choosing to trust her in spite of his training. “This is one of his yachts. You didn’t know that?”

Sitting back down, she stared at him open-mouthed. “What? No, it was dark outside…” She hesitated. “Besides, I’m not much of a boat person, as you may have guessed by the puking…I never really shared his love for open water.”

“Well, this is his,” he said, waving his arm around him, “and we are stuck here until they reach their destination. Even if we got out of this hull, by now they are in the middle of the Strait, and I, for one, have no wish to go swimming in this frigid water.”

She shivered a little thinking of the movement of the waters below deck. “How long?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

Smiling at her obvious discomfort, Sam replied, “Most of the night, I would guess. They’ll come back before morning since they don’t want to be seen during daylight, but we have a long trip ahead of us.” Petra shivered again and seemed to shrink inside her own clothes at the thought. Sam jumped to his feet and began looking around for something. He came back a few minutes later with a wad of fabric in his hands. “Not quite a blanket,” he said. “But better than nothing. Come here.”

Sam guided her to the opposite corner of where the slop bucket was and spread the cloth on the metal floor, creating a makeshift bed. He sat on it with his back to the wall and long legs stretched in front of him. “Come,” he said, patting the spot next to him invitingly. “We might as well get comfortable.”

Petra followed him into the fabric cover, kneeling beside him. With a smile, he opened up his arms, inviting her to use him as a pillow. Petra hesitated for a moment, but feeling the cold taking hold of her, heartily accepted the invitation. Settling herself against Sam’s chest, his arms around her and his chin resting gently on the top of her head, Petra felt strangely at home. It felt right; it felt like their bodies belonged there, half-molded into each other, cherishing each other’s warmth. Sleep surreptitiously took her away into dreamland, and Sam, relishing their proximity, soon followed her there.

The sound of ship’s horns woke them up. At first disoriented, Sam looked at the sleeping figure of Petra lying across his lap. His unbidden hand went to her hair in a gentle caress. “Beautiful Petra,” he whispered as his fingers stroked her face in sudden wonder. “My sweet Sleeping Beauty.” Her body suddenly moved and her eyes blinked. “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Sam said, catching her eye.

Petra was suddenly aware of two things—one, the nauseating movement of the boat, and two, Sam’s body underneath her head. The first one made her want to be sick again, the second one created a wave of heat from her toes to the top of her head. She sat up as if propelled by a spring. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she apologized, feeling herself turn scarlet as her hand unintentionally came to rest on his thigh.

Sam checked his watch and realized they were probably on their way back to Port Townsend. “We should be making land very soon, I think,” he said, smiling at her. His hand reached out and came to rest on her left cheek. Instinctively, Petra leaned against it, loving its heat and softness. Obeying some silent command, their heads drew close and their lips met in a gentle, lazy kiss. Petra whimpered with pleasure and yearning, feeling her body melt against him as his generous hands wrapped themselves around her arms and back. “God you taste good for someone who just puked,” he said once their heads moved apart slightly. They giggled. He had a gift for saying the most offensive things and making her feel as they were compliments.

Petra allowed herself to slide against him again and settle against his chest, comfortably cradled by his arms. “So, what do we do once we make port?” she asked softly against one of his arms. “Make a run for it?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “We wait until they are all off the boat. They won’t stay long. They will want to clear off before the harbor people notice their nightly movements. Then, we just walk out.”

“Just like that?” she said, turning her head to him. “Then what?”

He propped her chin with a finger and kissed her, a long well-savored kiss that left both weak in the knees and wanting more. “Then I take you home,” he said in a whisper over her mouth. “And I get to satisfy all your undisclosed desires.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she giggled. “Did you just quote Muse to me?”

Sam laughed softly. “Did you like it?” he asked, his mouth dangerously close to hers again. Her moan was all the answer he really needed and their lips melded together.

The rest of the trip seemed to fly and last forever at the same time for Petra, in the arms of that maddening man she could not get enough of. She was certain they waited a lot longer than they needed to escape from the yacht once the crew had left, but neither she nor Sam were in any hurry to break the strange bond between them. When they finally left the boat, hand in hand, inebriated with desire, the sun was starting to spread its golden arms across the horizon and signs of life were popping all around them. “Did I really mess up your investigation?” Petra asked Sam, stopping him before they went too far. “What can I do to help?”

Sam turned to her and caressed her face with a smile. “Other opportunities will present themselves,” he assured her. “And I don’t want you mixed up in this dangerous game. You already got yourself in too deep without even realizing it.”

“But I want to help you,” she protested in a sleepy voice. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until just now. Barely stifling a yawn, she continued, “I’m his ex-wife. I have a unique insight into his world. I can really help you. Besides, there is the small business of retrieving something that belongs to me.”

Sam hailed a taxi as they walked along the path heading out of the marina. “What exactly are you trying to get from him?” he asked curious. “A piece of art? A piece of furniture? Maybe your engagement ring?”

Quickly turning around to face him, Petra stood by the stopped taxi, stretching on her tiptoes and offering her lips to him. “It’s none of your business,” she replied as he bent down to accept her offer. “Why don’t we continue this conversation inside the taxi?” she asked suggestively.

“I would like that very much,” he agreed with a big grin. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Four

ACCIDENTS, ART, AND GODS

Petra

Her job as an art docent took her to many different museums and places around the area. On the rare occasion, she would even travel to other cities where she had the privilege of seeing something she had always wanted to see in person. The best thing that ever happened to her was a time when she was sent by a rich patron to Washington, D.C. to research a special exhibition of Norman Rockwell’s works. It felt like heaven on Earth to immerse herself into the art of one of her favorite illustrators without the guilt of taking her work time for pleasure. She often dreamed of traveling to France or Venice and spending hours browsing through their many museums and monuments, big and small. In spite of his wealth, Jonas had never thought of taking his wife on a trip of that kind. They had traveled to the Bahamas and other exotic places, but the places her heart craved the most were never in his plans, and she never had the nerve to ask. If she had done so, at least she would have got something positive out of such a negative relationship.

Too late for regrets now
. She walked slowly through the galleria. She was back in the Linden Galleria, in spite of the many admonishments from Sam not to do it. How could she help it? She knew Jonas was still gone on a romantic getaway with his last conquest, and knowing what she knew now, her curiosity burned hot. She had to look at all of those paintings and sculptures with her own eyes and make sure they were the real deal. Sam had never been too clear about what illegal things he suspected Jonas of, but she needed to make sure all that beautiful art was legit and not horrible illegal forgeries. In her heart of hearts, she knew that was not the case. She had seen the documentation for each of those pieces. They had all been acquired legally and authenticated by the correct authorities. It wouldn’t hurt to double check, though. Maybe she could sneak into his office again and go through all the papers. His safe had the easiest, most predictable combination anyone could imagine. Didn’t that prove Jonas was indeed too dumb to be a criminal?

Earlier in the day she had called Alina. Maybe if she talked it through with somebody, she would be clearer about doing this. The conversation skirted the real issue for most of the time, with Petra trying to veer it into Linden’s art dealings without actually doing it. Alina wouldn’t know anything about it, of course, but she may have an opinion, an outside impartial view of his character. Her old friend had also been a lover of great art, even though maybe in a more commercial way. She had worked as an art dealer for quite a few years after college. In fact, Petra was pretty sure she had had deals with Jonas in the past, selling or buying from him.

“Have you been to Linden’s Galleria yet?” Petra asked her friend on the phone. “It is full of amazing art.”

“I think I was there once,” Alina said. “I had sold a painting to Linden and I wanted to make sure it was getting the treatment it warranted. If I remember correctly, yes, it was a beautiful art galleria. He even had a Gauguin, correct?”

“Yes, he still does,” Petra replied, biting a nail. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

Petra heard her friend’s laughter on the other end of the line. “Weird is my specialty, you know that.”

“Do you think Jonas is capable of committing a crime?” There. It was out, for better or worse. She could not take it back.

“Crime?” Alina’s voice was surprised. “What do you mean? Stealing, murdering…?”

It was Petra’s turn to laugh, albeit nervously. “No, no. I mean like art fraud.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Well, you know I don’t care much for your ex-husband,” she finally said, “but he seems so…in love with art, I don’t think he would be capable of fraud. It would be almost like betraying someone he loved.”

Petra’s heart contracted a bit. Yes, he had no trouble betraying her because he really never did love her. “That’s what I think as well,” she managed to say.

“Sorry, Petra,” her friend said. “That came out wrong. He was such an asshole to you, someone he also loved.” Her voice betrayed her. Petra could tell she didn’t think Jonas had loved her for a second. “What I mean is that he just loves art better than he loves anyone or anything in life. He wouldn’t betray it by committing fraud, I don’t think.” There was a pause. “Why do you ask?”

Petra didn’t want to tell her about Sam’s investigation. “Oh, someone mentioned it once in conversation,” she lied. “I agree with you and I told them as much, but they seemed to be really suspicious, so I wanted a second opinion.”

“You were lucky to get rid of him, that’s for sure,” her friend said, as if that made up for the betrayal and the searing pain that came from the knowledge of being unloved and unwanted. “He is an idiot that can’t keep it in his pants. You are so much better off without him.”

They talked for a few more minutes and then Petra looked at her watch. “Crap!” she exclaimed. “I have to go, Alina.”

“Where are you going?” the other woman asked.

Petra told her she was going to Linden’s Galleria, omitting the fact that she would be snooping around his documents and art pieces. As far as her friend knew, she was only going to bask in the out-of-this-world art work that was displayed there—which was not entirely a lie. She said her goodbyes and hung up. Feeling a little more certain of herself, and assured in the fact that she was not the only one who couldn’t believe Jonas capable of such a devious act, she grabbed her purse and left.

Surrounded by paintings and elegant sculptures, Petra soon lost her bearings and totally forgot the reason for her visit. Like a butterfly collecting nectar, she fluttered from one work to another, lovingly studying them—she could always find new details in well-viewed works of art—dreaming of one day being able to create something as exquisite. Around in circles she went, breathing in art and exhaling pure joy. In her endless roving, she came to stand by the staircase. It stood there, spiraling into the second floor—a tempting invitation, beckoning her, teasing her.

Petra took a quick glance around her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Alina at the top of the stairs. She looked again; no one was near and no guards were up there either. Her mind was playing tricks on her now. Shaking her head a little, Petra looked up the staircase again. This could be a very easy, very quick inquiry—in and out, nobody would notice. Not allowing herself time to rethink it, Petra took to the stairs, and skipping steps, climbed all the way up before anyone could see her. The second floor was surprisingly empty, even though it was the middle of the work week. Jonas must have taken a few of his staff on this “retreat” of his, or maybe they were just all at lunch since the boss was away. Whatever the reason, she found herself all alone on the second floor, an opportunity she just couldn’t pass up.

The door to Jonas’ office was ajar, so she squeezed herself through the gap. No soul haunted that space, much to her delight. Being very familiar with the layout, Petra didn’t waste any time. She went straight to the safe, a massive thing hidden inside the closet. Once inside, Petra felt herself drift away into daydreaming, thinking of the night when she had been hidden in that closet with Sam. The feeling of his hands on her back when they danced that night was still as vivid as if they were still entangled in the waltz. She shook a pleasant frisson down her neck and tried to focus on the job at hand. With nimble fingers, she pressed the numbers on the lock pad, and pretty much as she had expected, the door clicked open for her. Inside there was all the documentation Jonas had on the works of art now housed in the galleria and also the ones he had in his own home. Petra skimmed through all of them as quickly as she could and found no fault. As she had thought, those papers were all legal and the works authenticated properly. There was no wrongdoing here. Jonas Linden was the biggest two-timing idiot in the world, at least in her opinion, but he was committing no art crimes. In spite of herself, she was relieved. It was hard enough to have been married to an adulterer, but she did not want to add the title of felon to his résumé.

Closing the safe, Petra left the closet and the office in the direction of the stairs. Luckily, there was still no one around and she started down the steps. About halfway down, her left heel slipped off the edge of the step, and without any warning, sent her tumbling down the staircase in a clumsy mass of legs, arms, and clothes. By the time she landed noisily on the ground floor, several visitors were running to her rescue. As darkness descended upon her, she heard voices yell, “Call 9-1-1” and “Oh my God, she’s bleeding.” She felt herself fade away, as if life itself was leaving her body through her pores. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling. There was a measure of satisfaction in the feeling of losing control of her senses, a certain sense of peace as her muscles weakened and relaxed into unconsciousness.

***

Sam

Sam had been calling her cell phone to no avail. Was she avoiding him? He knew they had bonded somehow, that they had connected in ways he had never experienced with anyone before, and he knew the feeling was mutual. So why wasn’t she answering the phone? Not ready to give up yet, he dialed the number again, crossing his fingers out of habit. A voice answered on the other side of the call, but it wasn’t Petra’s. “Who is this?” he asked, now worried. “Where’s Petra?”

“Are you family?” the female voice at the other end asked. There was noise in the background—people talking and maybe an intercom.

Sam felt a sense of panic rising in his chest. “Yes, I am her…husband,” he lied smoothly. “What happened to Petra?”

“She was in an accident, sir,” the woman explained. “You should come to Mercy Hospital right away.”

His heart jumped to his throat.
An accident? What kind of accident?
“Is she okay?” he asked, afraid of hearing the answer. “I’ll be right there. Which floor?”

The woman on the phone told him where to go and Sam was running toward his car even before the phone call was over. He couldn’t lose her now. Even though they hadn’t known each other for very long, and, if truth be told, knew very little about each other, he felt an unexplainable pull toward her, a feeling he very much wanted to explore further.

The drive to the hospital was longer than he would have liked as he navigated through rush hour traffic in the city. The hospital parking lot was full and he had to drive around in circles a few times before finding a spot to park his car. His long legs took flight down the hallways and corridors of the facility, avoiding the crowded, slow moving elevators and taking the back stairs instead. The nurse who had talked to him on the phone was waiting for him at the nurses’ station on the third floor.

“Mr. Linden?” she asked. Damn, they must think he was Jonas. Petra had kept her married name after the divorce even though she rarely used it, preferring her maiden name instead. He nodded assent, figuring that if he didn’t actually say anything, it was not technically lying.

“Come this way, sir,” the nurse said, guiding him down the corridor toward the ward. “She is sedated, but she’ll be all right. She broke her arm—just a hairline fracture—and has a concussion from hitting her head on the marble floor. Also, she had an ugly cut in her head that required quite a few stitches.” Sam was trying to process all that information while following the nurse at a fast pace. “Here’s her room. Call us if you need anything.” The nurse left Sam standing at the door of a private room. Through the open door he could see the prostrate form of Petra’s small body on the bed. She looked so fragile and small.

From the doorway, he contemplated maybe leaving and never returning, but even the thought was painful. There was no denying it; he was intrinsically connected to this woman. So, he walked inside and sat on a chair beside her bed, close enough to touch her if he wanted, and God knew he so wanted to. His hand slid over the white bedding as he reached out for her tiny hand. It was cold and limp, so he held it tight in his until he felt some warmth come back to her skin. Without letting it go, Sam relaxed into the chair, swept his other hand over his face and sighed. “You are the most aggravating creature I have ever met,” he said in a gentle voice. “My life was so much simpler before you got into that closet with me and yet…” His voice dragged for a few seconds. “Yet I am having too much fun putting up with your antics.”

Emerald eyes intent on her sleeping face, Sam pulled the chair closer to the bed so his elbows were now resting on the edge of it and he was able to caress the cool skin of her arm in a gentle massage. “I know so very little about you,” he continued. “You seem to be on some kind of mission, and to be totally honest, I’m not sure I want to know what it is, but I pity the man who is the target of your quest.” He chuckled under his breath, imagining the damage she was possibly causing her ex-husband. “And then, there is this chemistry between us.” His stomach tensed at the thought of her body against his. “Damn, woman, I am not a young man anymore, and I have met a lot of women, but,” he paused, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it, “you and I together are like fire and gasoline and probably just as dangerous for both of us.”

Something stirred beneath his fingers. Petra was waking up. Sam stood up, and leaning over the bed, kissed her on the lips. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered over her mouth. She fluttered her eyes slowly open and stared at him with amazing chestnut eyes framed by thick dark lashes. “And here you are, princess,” he exclaimed with a smile.