He shot her a scathing look. “But stripping for middle-aged drunks is a new low, even for you.”
Hurt razored through her. She struggled not to let Rafe see it, her jaw aching from the effort it took to hold her smile in place. But she couldn’t miss the irony—since the last time she’d made love was with him.
“He’s not so bad,” she gritted out.
“Right. He looks like a real ball of fire in bed.”
Her smile frozen, she angled up her chin. “That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t. You made it my business when you waltzed in on my case.”
“Your case?” She managed to scoff. “I’ve got more right to be here than you do. At least I was invited in.”
His onyx eyes turned deadly. He shifted closer, his wide shoulders caging her in. She moved back and bumped the nightstand, her heart tripping through her chest.
“Cut the crap, Gabrielle. Why are you really here?”
She tried again to inch backward. Her breath dammed up in her lungs. Rafe was too big, too close. Too threatening. Warnings skittered inside her, igniting the urgent need to flee.
But he didn’t budge. He towered over her, his broad chest filling her vision, sharp intelligence blazing in his eyes.
She frantically shuffled through options, desperate to make him back off. She couldn’t tell him the truth, but he’d see through any lies. Maybe the partial truth would satisfy his curiosity, enough to persuade him to leave.
“Fine. If you must know, I’m looking for information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Business. Something that affects FerrCom, my corporation. It has nothing to do with you.”
At least not directly. She’d recently intercepted a message using her company’s secret backdoor access to the billing software they ran. The message revealed that the American diplomat would deliver some highly sensitive intelligence to the king at the G-6 summit, exposing the identity of a traitor in the king’s inner circle.
The trouble was, the police chief—the man she believed to be the traitor—had access to the communications, too. And she knew he would never allow that intelligence to reach the king. She had to confiscate it before he did and deliver it to the prime minister, head of an ultrasecret spy group dedicated to protecting the king.
Resolve settled inside her. She’d waited three long years for this opportunity to destroy the police chief—the man who’d murdered her beloved father and assaulted her.
And this time she wouldn’t fail.
“You’re stealing from your competitors?” Rafe’s voice rang with outrage, drawing her attention back to him. “After claiming my criminal background would hurt your career?”
She tried not to wince. She’d only said that to drive him away. “I might as well. I learned to steal from the best.”
His eyes turned glacial. And guilt caught her square in the gut. She didn’t want to hurt him. She’d already caused him enough pain.
And she knew he’d gone straight—at least, until now. Shortly after they’d met he’d severed his ties to his tight-knit family, making himself an outcast, sacrificing everything he cared about to uphold the law.
But she had to throw him off her trail. She couldn’t risk that he’d discover the truth about the past—or get too close to her now.
“So why are you really here?” she asked again.
“I’m looking for jewelry.”
“In the castle? During the summit?” Even an adrenaline junkie like Rafe wouldn’t have the gall.
“You know me—always aiming out of my league.”
She flinched, the haughty words she’d used to reject him flaying her now. But she bit down hard on her lip to keep from blurting out a defense. It was safer for them both if he believed the worst.
No matter how badly his derision stung.
She studied his furious eyes, still unable to believe he’d resumed a life of crime. But what else could he be up to? He couldn’t possibly know about the intelligence she sought.
She shook her head. She’d have to puzzle that out later. She needed to get what she came for and leave—before the diplomat came to.
“Great,” she said, trying to sound offhand. “Then we won’t be in each other’s way. You can hunt for jewelry, and I’ll look for that information I need.”
Her composure rattled, she swiveled back to the bed. Trying hard to ignore Rafe still looming beside her, she got to work—punching the pillows and tangling the sheets, tugging off the diplomat’s pants. She couldn’t hide her presence in the diplomat’s bedroom. Dozens of guests had seen them leave the reception together, and the surveillance cameras had recorded them walking through the halls to his room. Her only chance to avoid suspicion when he discovered the missing intelligence was to give the appearance that they’d had sex.
She grabbed the diplomat’s glass from the nightstand and turned toward the bathroom—but Rafe still barred her way. He stood with his feet planted wide, his muscled arms folded over his chest, his cynical eyes tracking her moves.
Her stomach churning, she pushed past him. She didn’t care what he thought. She’d come here for justice, not forgiveness—especially from him.
She marched into the adjacent bathroom, her high heels clicking on the medieval stones, then glanced in the bathroom mirror. Behind her, Rafe finally began prowling around the bedroom, and she let out a pent-up breath. Lord, she didn’t need this. Returning to País Vell was dangerous enough. Hopefully he’d give up on finding valuables and leave before this night got worse.
Still keenly aware of Rafe’s movements, she rinsed out the diplomat’s wine glass, erasing traces of the drug she’d used, then returned it to the nightstand by the bed. To be safe, she swirled in some untainted wine.
Hesitating, she studied the nearly nude diplomat, his gray-haired chest rising with every ragged snore. Deciding to add another touch, she ripped a page from the notepad by the telephone, jotted down that she’d enjoyed the night, and left it on the pillow beside his head.
That done, she set to work. Following in Rafe’s footsteps, she searched the room—rifling through the drawer in the bedside table, checking the diplomat’s suitcase, examining the pockets and seams of his clothes. She assumed he’d put the information she needed on a computer flash drive or something equally as easy to transport.
But where had he squirreled it away?
She rummaged through the antique armoire as Rafe looked under the bed. Still nothing. Frustrated, she re-entered the bathroom and checked his toiletry case.
A soft click from the bedroom reached her ears. Whirling back, she spotted Rafe
