Page 97 of The Pretender

Damon leaned in as if he were sharing a secret. “Remember that he could have kept walking when he got word you were in trouble. He’s the one who’s been watching you from a distance to make sure the police never arrested you. He, someone who shouldn’t give a shit about you, risked his freedom and came back to save you.”

No, no, no. “He saved himself.”

“I have the letter he wrote right after he found Tabitha’s body.” Damon pulled a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his long-sleeved shirt. “It sets out the things that need to be done if you’re arrested. You see, he intended to trade his life for yours. Even admit to a crime he didn’t commit if that’s what it took to keep you free.”

Pain jammed up inside her. “He doesn’t get a medal for that.”

“That’s the point, Gabby. He never expected one.”

Chapter 26

Three fucking weeks.

That was how long it had been since Harris had seen or heard from Gabby. He didn’t call her because he didn’t have the right. He followed her movements in the news and sometimes begged Wren for details.

Ted’s case and all the allegations against him played for a solid three days until a new and equally horrific crime occurred and knocked it out of the headlines. Stephen actually made a public apology to Gabby on television. The two of them engaged in the most awkward hug Harris had ever seen, but at least they were moving forward. Wren kept tabs on everyone and promised to step in if they needed help.

All Harris had to do was survive today.

He’d been called in to provide the findings in his assessment of the Wright-family art collection. Specifically, of the authentication of the Beckmann piece. More than a year ago he’d intended to steal it and return it to the heirs of the original owners. Now he’d been called in on an actual assignment. Stephen Wright wanted to know if it really belonged to someone else. If Harris could trace it, Stephen would return it, no money exchanged and no documents required.

The insurance company he worked for didn’t give him a choice on this job. The Wright family was a lucrative prize. They possessed a lot of important pieces and bought more all the time, which meant a lot of potential work. He agreed to do just this one painting. He was fucking out after this.

He’d seen the painting in question in the main house on the island. Studied it in person. Reviewed all the documents pertaining to the provenance, the chain showing ownership, and knew where the holes were.

He’d completed most of the groundwork in person. Today he provided the report. The estate insisted it be done in person and subject to questioning due to the value of the work in question.

That meant he had to think about Gabby. Not that doing so was anything new. Her image danced in his head all the time. He could hear her voice when he sat alone in the darkness. Her laugh, that face... the way she talked about her sister. He loved all of it. He ached from missing her.

He hadn’t been sure of the L word before, but he was now. The amount of time they’d spent together didn’t correlate with the intensity of his feelings. He wasn’t convinced the amount of hours spent together mattered. The kicking in his gut, the lack of an appetite, the inability to sleep more than an hour at a time—he had every sickening symptom.

He traced the change in his priorities back to her. It was as if he’d grown a conscience after being with her. Things he didn’t care about and acts he justified previously now haunted him. He no longer just saw Tabitha’s face in those times when he couldn’t block the race of images passing through his mind. He saw Gabby—full of life and smiling until he’d ruined that, too.

A woman peeked out of the double doors of the boardroom. He was in a typical suite of an expensive office building in downtown Washington, DC. The kind of place where the partners or the owners flashed around cash in the form of renting an overpriced space and throwing up expensive but boring art on the walls. He’d been in and out of places like this almost daily since he switched to his legitimate job.

The smiling face on the twenty-year-old was all he could see in front of him. “They’re ready for you now.”

She stepped back and opened the door wide. He took that as the sign he should step in first. He walked in and came to a bone-jarring halt. Men in dark suits sat around the table. Three of them, each looking more bored than the one next to him. Stephen Wright sat at one end. Gabby sat across from him.

She didn’t look up when he came into the room. She didn’t have to. He would have recognized the curve of her neck and bounce of her hair anywhere.

Watching her even for a second paralyzed him. She flipped the pages of his report, scanning each one. The pen between her fingers tapped against the table.

“Mr. Tate.” Stephen announced his name then gestured around the table. “These are the family and estate lawyers.”

That sounded like overkill to him. “Okay.”

She looked up then. Her gaze locked on his and he lost the ability to say anything. His inclination was to walk back out of the room. He’d barely kept his head in the game since he last saw her. Writing the report, documenting it and making sure it was accurate had taken all of his energy.

“Mr. Tate?” Stephen repeated.

“Call me Harris,” he mumbled as he tried to pull his attention away from her and put it back on the room at large.

Something dropped on the table. The loud thudding sound had Harris turning to face Stephen.

He nodded. “You may proceed.”

That sounded good but Harris couldn’t do it. There was no way he could stand in a room with her and not beg her to understand. Being near her had his brain racing for the right way to phrase the explanation. He had a past he couldn’t fix. With Wren’s help, he’d cleaned it up, but that would never be good enough for her. She deserved more.

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