“Now, that we’re here, yes. Luke, what was that back there?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said. Something about the entire thing was off. Why shoot your own man? That just didn’t add up. “Right now, why don’t you put my massive tub to use? It hasn’t even been properly broken in. I’m sure Lauren has about anything you might need and I can promise you we’re locked down like Fort Knox here. You’re safe. Go try and relax and I’ll try and get us answers.

She hesitated. “My feet are disgusting,” she said. “I’ll have to shower before I can even take a bath.”

He smiled. ”Your feet? After all you just went through that’s what’s on your mind?” That’s what’s upsetting you?”

“Now that I’m here and alive, yes. Do have any idea how disgusting those streets are?”

She was tough, tougher than she gave herself credit for. And he was afraid she might need to be a whole lot tougher before this was over.

***

Luke sat on a barstool at Blake’s island kitchen bar, watching his brother pace as he talked on the phone. He ended the call and set his phone on the counter.

“No body found,” he said. “No blood. No signs of struggle.”

Luke gave a slow nod. “So whoever didn’t want the guy to talk didn’t want him identified either.”

“Yeah,” Blake said. “No doubt the dude’s going to end up at the bottom of a river somewhere with concrete blocks on his feet. I imagine that was what would have happened to the two of you. You’d have gone missing. Forever.”

“No body, no murder,” Luke said. “Am I the only one that thinks Moore wouldn’t risk the connection of his soon-to-be ex’s death, and that of his divorce attorney?”

“I’m right there with you, thinking the same thing,” Blake said, sauntering to the fridge to pull out a jug of chocolate milk. He downed a gulp before bringing it with him to sit across from Luke. “So either you were the target, which still is awfully closely linked to Julie, or-”

“Judge Moore wasn’t behind this.”

“Arel might try to kill off Julie if he thinks she knows something she shouldn’t,” Blake suggested. “It makes sense he’d kill off Elizabeth and Julie.”

“Would he want Judge Moore under investigation if Moore is instrumental in the art used for the money laundering? And I keep going back to shooting your own guy and then getting rid of the body. That’s big.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I don’t know but we have a judge involved. We could have law enforcement involved. Someone doesn’t like me and/or Julie in this thing. And who knows just how involved we are?”

“I asked Murphy and Hendrix to keep things on the down low, so maybe five people on the task force make that list, and then Elizabeth’s sister, and anyone else she or Julie told that Julie has the journal.”

“Julie’s too smart to run her mouth,” Luke said. “We should get Diana into a safe house somewhere in case someone decides she has it or she knows too much.”

“We don’t know she’s innocent herself,” Blake said.

“But this way we have her under our watch anyway.”

“Good point. I’ll put someone on it, and I’ll have them pick her brain for anything we can use to protect you and Julie. And you need to consider locking Julie down, too, man. She’s too close to this. Don’t fuck up like I did with my woman and lose her.”

Right. Lock Julie down. Piece of cake. Luke had a feeling he was about to see a war unlike any he’d ever known.

***

Gina stood in front of her full-length mirror and smiled. Dressed in a white lace bra and panty set with matching garter and hose, she looked like the perfect angel she wanted her stranger to believe her to be . At least, when she opened her door.

Soft waves of silky auburn brown hair fell over her shoulders, pink lipstick defined a seductive pout, and she was already getting wet just thinking about showing her sexy French man how bad a good girl could be.

She didn’t make dinner. They could order out when they came up for air. A wicked smile played on her lips.

If they came up for air.

The jangle of the telephone forced her to put her thoughts on hold. With an irritated huff she picked up the receiver from her nightstand.

“Hello,” she said abruptly.

“Such hostility, Gina, dear, and to think I once thought you were sweet.”

Gina frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Who is this?”

“You can call me Judge or Master, or whatever you prefer, since we’ll soon be very close friends.”

The voice suddenly rang a bell. “Judge Moore. How did you get this number?”

“That’s not what’s important,” he said. “What’s important is what a blast in the past you were, my dear. Silk sheets and naughty toys do it for you, right honey? Or is it backseats, and dingy motels? H....Yes. That’s it, isn’t it? You never made it to high society call girl.”

Gina’s hand trembled. “What do you want?”

“Come to the El Toronto hotel tomorrow at noon. I’ll show you my cards, if you, shall we say, show me yours. Room 311 will give you a trip to paradise, sugar.”

The line went dead.

Gina grabbed the phone and flung it across the room, tearing it with a force that tore the plug from the wall. This was crap! She had covered her tracks! No way could this be happening.

She paced, she muttered, she cursed. Finally, she calmed. She sat back down on the bed. Somehow, someway, she would turn this around in her favor. Judge Moore was going to regret messing with her. If he thought sex was intimidation, he could go to hell. Sex to her was entertainment, plain and simple.

The doorbell rang as if on cue. Sex with a sexy Frenchman. She needed it. She deserved it. Tomorrow Judge Moore would learn not to cross her. Tonight her Frenchman would get a taste of paradise of his own.

She drew a breath and calmed herself. A slow smile slid to her lips and she made her way to the door, her pink high-heeled shoes clicking on the floor as she moved. She wore nothing but her lingerie and saw no reason to bother with more.

Opening the door she took in Marco’s jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, his chin-length brown hair a bit wild, like she hoped the man would be. His gaze raked hungrily over her body, lingering at her breasts, and then on the barely there lace between her legs. “Well now, cherie, you certainly know how to greet a man.”

She curled her finger at him. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.”

Marco sauntered forward, his eyes dark, the set of his mouth arrogant. He stopped beside her, again looking her up and down with penetrating eyes, lazy and slow, in his perusal.

“Shut the door, cherie,” he ordered in a soft, authoritative voice that was both deep and seductive. “What is between us is not for de neighbors eyes.” He ran his finger slowly down the middle of her cleavage. “ Tres belle,” he said before stepping forward, and leaving her at the door.

Gina shut the door and turned to watch him as he casually inspecting her living room. There was an air of danger to Marco that turned her on, made her hot and wet and wanting. He was sex personified with a truly stellar ass, and thighs like steel.

She wet her lips in anticipation, but didn’t pursue, not until she got a read on him. He turned to face her, leaning lazily against her fireplace, one elbow on the mantel. The look on his face told her he wanted her to come to him. She knew the look. He wanted the power, the ultimate control. She’d played the submissive role too many times to count. For this man, she would happily play it again.

She tilted her head, studying him, wondering how he brought out the searing desire to please in her. Never before had she reacted quite so completely to a man.

Dangerous. 

The word danced in her head, provoking her desire and her fears, all at once.

She took pleasure in the heat of his smoldering gaze as he watched her approach. Stopping in front of him, she let her robe drop to the floor.