She shivered, then hurried across the library to the door. Even with her high heels on, she had to look up to meet Luke’s eyes. “Which way should we go?”
He eased the door shut again. His mouth was grim, the hard, shadowed planes of his face taut. “They’ll have the exits blocked. We’ll have to leave through the medieval bolt-hole.”
She blinked. “What? We can’t leave the palace. We have to find the police.”
He shot her a look of disbelief. “And let them arrest us?”
“Arrest us?” Shock rippled through her. “But why would they do that? We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You think they’ll believe that?”
“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t they?”
His dark brows rose. “Because you made the replica. Because I’m in charge of security. Because my prints are now on that safe—and that’s my partner lying there dead. Of course they’re going to suspect us.”
“But we didn’t do anything wrong. Antonio arranged it all. And I made the decoy to fool potential thieves, not to steal the necklace.”
“Right.” He jerked his head toward the safe. “You think he’ll testify on your behalf?”
She glanced back at Antonio’s body, his head lying in a puddle of blood, and her gut made a sickening roll. He was right. “But other people know. Don Fernando—”
“Don Fernando?” He made a sound of disgust. “You can’t be that naive. Who do you think set this up?”
“That’s ridiculous. Don Fernando would never—”
“Never what?” He leaned toward her, his jaw rigid, anger sparking his eyes. “Never lie? Never fake a theft? Never frame some Gypsy scum for a crime he didn’t commit?”
She lifted her palms, eased out her breath. “Look, I know you don’t like him—”
“Like him?” His laugh was bitter, raw. He moved closer and fury radiated from him in waves. “That man ruined everything I’d ever worked for. My reputation, my career. Hell, if he hadn’t graciously dropped the charges, I’d be in prison right now for something I didn’t do.”
And she’d sided with don Fernando. She heard the anger whipping his voice, the blame. He thought she should have supported him.
Her stomach twisted. She’d wanted to believe him. Dear God, how she’d wanted to believe him. She’d loved him desperately, insanely. He’d been her world, the most amazing man she knew.
His effect on her had been instant, shocking. Even now, just one glance from those electric eyes brought back that rush of delirious wanting, those shivers of primal desire.
But she couldn’t ignore the proof. Even that blinding haze of love, that frantic need to believe him hadn’t been enough to erase the facts. He’d used her to steal those gems.
But as she stood before him now, feeling his resentment, his rage, doubt slithered through her, and a sick, queasy 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