sensation wormed into her gut. Then why the outrage? If he’d been guilty, then why was he so angry at her, especially after all these years?
Could she have been wrong? Dread spiraled through her, and she forced the thought from her mind. She couldn’t bear to think of that now.
“Look,” he said. His deep voice vibrated with disgust.
“I’m leaving. You can hang around here if you want. Wait for the bodyguard to come back and kill you. Or wait for the police, so you can explain about the corpse.”
Her stomach dipped. “They won’t blame us for that?”
“I don’t know what they’ll do.” His eyes stayed hard, accusing. “I don’t even know who’s involved here.”
Meaning he still didn’t fully trust her.
Sofia tamped back a sharp jab of hurt. She understood his suspicions. She felt just as confused. But she had nothing to do with that theft. She’d never endanger that necklace.
And neither would don Fernando. That man was too kind, too generous to hurt anyone, and he cared far too deeply about antiquities to ever arrange a theft.
But Luke was right about one thing. Other than Paco, they didn’t know who was involved in this, which meant that they had to be careful.
She tugged in her breath, then exhaled. “Okay, you’re right. We’d better hide.” At least until the killer was caught.
“Keep quiet,” he cautioned and opened the door. “And stay close.”
As if he needed to warn her. That killer was out there. Her gaze flicked around the deserted hallway, and uneasiness crept through her chest. He could be lurking in a side room, just waiting for them to pass….
Luke took off, and she scurried behind him, cursing the tight gown and flimsy shoes that hindered her movements, the way her high heels clicked on the marble floor, the stark tat-tat-tat echoing down the corridor like a nervous drum.
They passed through unused rooms, detoured down endless halls, and with every step, her anxiety built. Her breathing turned shallow and fast. That awful pounding returned to her head. She hugged Luke’s steps, seeking the safety of those wide shoulders, wanting to disappear into his skin.
Then, without warning, he stopped. He held out his muscled arm, and she bumped against him, barely staying upright.
“What?” she whispered. Her pulse notched up. Her heart shifted into her throat.
“Shh,” he hissed, and she heard a voice in the hallway ahead.
A familiar voice. Her breath rushed out. She sagged and pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s don Fernando.” Thank goodness she’d found him. Now she could tell him what Paco had done.
But Luke grabbed her arm. “This way. Hurry up.”
“Wait.” She pulled her arm free, and he stopped. “I need to talk to him.”
His eyes filled with disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“No, listen.” She stretched out her hand, but a flush climbed up his dark cheeks. And then he moved farther away.
“Luke, please,” she said, but he took another step back. Her stomach plunged. He didn’t understand. He probably thought she was going to betray him. And she didn’t have time to explain.
She glanced up the hall, and a sick flutter formed in her throat. She needed to leave with Luke. She understood that.
But she couldn’t abandon don Fernando. She owed her patron everything, more than Luke could know—her education, her career. He’d given her the opportunity to follow her dream, acceptance into the antiquities world, the only home she’d ever known.
“I just need a second,” she said. “I just have to tell him…”
But Luke only turned and stalked off.
She watched him disappear into a side room, torn by the overwhelming urge to race after him, to shelter herself in his strength. To beg him to listen, to trust her, to let her explain.
But she couldn’t turn her back on the man who’d helped her, the man who’d been like a father to her. She forced her gaze back to the hall where she’d heard her patron. She only needed to warn him, just whisper a word and then go.
She swallowed, slipped off her shoes to lessen the noise, then inched forward and peeked around the corner. A policeman, a guardia civil in a khaki green uniform stood several yards away, talking to another man. Don Fernando? She couldn’t tell from this angle; the guardia blocked her view. But hadn’t she just heard her patron’s voice?
She hesitated, even more uncertain now. After what Luke said, she didn’t dare involve the police. But she still had to warn don Fernando.
But then the guardia wheeled around and pulled out his gun. “Pare. No se mueva,” he commanded.
Don’t move? Her heart faltered, and she froze. What was he doing? Why did he have his weapon trained on her?
Feeling surreal, as if her world had just spun loose, she gaped at the guardia civil. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested. “No hice nada.”
But then Paco sauntered forward, and her throat closed. Her heart nearly popped from her chest.
The killer. Oh, God. He was here.
And where was don Fernando?
Paco stopped beside the policeman, and his black eyes settled on hers. Her palms turned moist. Fear coursed through her, flooding her cells, blanking her mind.
For an eternity, his eyes stayed on hers—brittle, cold, deadly. Then recognition flared.
He knew.
Her stomach pitched. The walls pushed down. A dull ringing clanged in her skull.
He drew his gun. The gun he’d used to kill Antonio. Her mind flashed to Antonio’s terrified eyes, the blood oozing from his flesh.
The bodyguard raised his gun, squinted one eye. And she knew he was going to shoot.
Her nerves zapped; adrenaline blazed through her blood. She whirled, raced around the corner toward the room where Luke had gone. “Alto!” the guardia shouted, and her panic surged.
A gun went off. Fierce fire scorched through her calf. She gasped, staggered, nearly fell. She’d been shot!
Her leg buckled and burned. She cried out at the vicious pain. But footsteps hammered behind her, and she forced herself to rush on.
Mercifully, the door Luke had gone through hung open, and she dashed inside. She glanced around frantically, but he wasn’t there. A wild sob formed in her throat. “Luke! Luke!” Where on earth had he gone?
Panicking, she raced through the room to the opposite door, then tore down another long hall. Her lungs seared. Her heart went wild. The agony in her leg blurred her sight. And she knew she
