Page 13 of Howl Me to the Moon
I stepped closer to her, my gaze still glued to hers. My wolf pushed close to the surface, urging me to claim our mate.
“So let’s help each other out,” I suggested. I raised a hand and traced my fingers along her jawline. Her lips parted and her eyelids lowered.
“Yesss,” she replied, her voice a raspy purr.
Tension between us grew thick. My heart pounded louder than the blow of the ship’s horn.
“Piper.” Her name came out of my mouth with a low growl. Her lips captivated me, drawing me closer. I bent down in slow motion, achingly anticipating the taste of them.
She let out a breathy sigh, enchanting me to continue.
The door flew open, and we jumped apart. I bumped into the corner of a photo frame and resisted crying out at the sharp pain. Two security guards entered with Marcel.
“It was last seen in here,” he told the guards. Then he narrowed his gaze on us and barked, “Any luck?”
CHAPTER 9
PIPER
The next day, worry tangled the edge of every nerve. While Sloane presented during his portion of the art talk, I stood off to the side in the gallery. I’d just finished my presentation, hyping guests up about art, collections, and our upcoming auctions, and countless thoughts tumbled through my mind.
Where was the painting? I glanced around the room at a couple of dozen others displayed on easels. Although a part of me hoped it must have just been accidentally moved during my talk yesterday when it went missing, that hope diminished with each hour. And with it, my anxiety sharpened.
The authorities on board had questioned everyone who had access to the painting, including me. Their video footage hadn’t turned up any suspects, especially since some of it had been tampered with. If we didn’t find the painting, I was screwed, no matter what. Even if they didn’t think I was involved in its disappearance, I’d been the one to find the painting and arrange the purchase, which was at a sizable cost. No doubt they’d need someone to blame, and I’d be the one to take the hit. That would mean I’d need to find a new job and a place to live. Start over again.
Just like Rex had said he’d had to do.
Rex. He occupied the other portion of my mind that wasn’t consumed by the painting, as well as being the primary focus for the rest of my body.
Sigh. Just thinking about last night sent delicious heat coursing beneath my skin. His muscular frame, long dark hair, and the way he’d looked at me with those soulful brown eyes. He’d been so considerate to help me, and the way he’d appeared so vulnerable when he’d told me about his past and starting over tugged at me. Although I told myself I didn’t want to get involved with anyone on this ship, a part of me now wondered—would it be so wrong?
With the way my body reacted to him, that didn’t seem to be the case. And since my days on this ship might be numbered…
Once the presentation was done, Sloane and I worked with the support staff to return the paintings to the storage room. Now I eyed everyone with speculation. Could they have been involved?
“What do you think happened to the painting?” I asked Sloane as we slid a rolling cart back into the storage space.
“No idea.” He shook his head. “Kind of crazy for it to just disappear, isn’t it?”
I groaned. “Yup. And to have them question us.” I placed my hand on my chest. “As if we’d have something to do with it.”
“Just protocol,” Sloane assured me. “Don’t worry, nobody would suspect you. You were in the gallery giving a talk, as was I. I saw you there, as did countless others.”
I exhaled with frustration. “If someone took it, what would they do with it? There’s no way they could take it off board without being noticed.”
“True.” He nodded in agreement. “It’s too big to conceal.”
“So what would they want with it?”
Sloane shrugged. He stared at me for several seconds without blinking, which was somewhat unnerving. Maybe he was more anxious about the missing painting than he was letting on to keep us both from freaking out.
I rubbed between my eyes, trying ever so hard to figure out what was going on. “I could be blamed—they need someone to punish as their scapegoat. After all, I was the last person to see the painting. If anyone is going to take a hit, it’s me.”
“Hell no,” Sloane declared with adamance. “That would be ridiculous. I won’t let that happen.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “We don’t have any say.”
* * *
