Page 73 of Sweet Revenge
Evie glanced at Finn. “He played the whole thing off like the guy was mistaken. They were talking in Arabic, so it’s not like I could understand them anyway. Ahmet walked me back to my hotel and dropped me off. I didn’t really have much time to think about it because the final shipment was scheduled to arrive two days later. So I spent the next thirty-six hours going over my plans and my escape route.”
She snorted. “I’m such an idiot. The whole thing was a setup from start to fucking finish. He was probably sending that shit into the museum from a private collection. Everything about it was a parade of red flags that I ignored. Even the police response was suspicious.”
“Suspicious how?”
“It was too fast.” She shoved her hands through her hair. “Moroccan cops do not respond to anything quickly, but they were there within minutes, sirens blaring.”
“Like someone called in a tip?”
Evie nodded at Declan. “Exactly like that. But I looked like any other tourist lugging a suitcase into an airport taxi, and they didn’t even give me a second glance.”
“If he wanted you dead,” Brogan said, “why not just kill you? Why go to all the trouble of setting you up?”
“Because I don’t think he wanted me dead. At least not then. I think he wanted to toy with me.”
“Or to get a feel for how you worked. Watch you in action, maybe?”
“Maybe. So what now? How does that help us?”
Brogan rose from his seat at the kitchen table. “The name of this waiter is another thread to pull we haven’t tried before. Do you remember the name of the restaurant?”
“Salama. Which is ironic.”
“Why?” Cait asked, setting dishes into the sink.
“Because it means peace.”
Declan let Cait fuss over Evie for a few minutes more before pulling her away. He could see the exhaustion in Evie’s eyes. Seeing Peter had shaken her tonight, and he wanted nothing more than to tuck her into bed and hold her while she slept.
Alone in his bedroom, he helped her out of her dress, tossing it over a nearby chair while she stepped into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He hadn’t commented on the fact that she’d gradually moved some of her things into his bathroom over the last few weeks, her bottles of lotions and creams lined up on the other side of the sink that had always been meant for her. The maids had even started hanging her clothes up in his closet, though she still had a few things in her room.
He was already in bed when she flicked off the light in the bathroom and crossed to the bed. She slid under the covers with a sigh, and he reached over to turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Turning onto his side, he pulled her back against him, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
He lay awake, his arm cradling her head and breathing in the scent of her until he felt her slip into sleep, her body fully relaxing. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself.
ChapterThirty-Three
He found Evie on the balcony the following evening, tucked into the corner of the sofa, one leg stretched out and one propped up, a glass of wine dangling from her hand. Her eyes were closed, but she smiled.
“Hi.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and the look she gave him arrowed straight to his heart. “Hi.”
She wore a sweater against the chill, and when he sat down next to her, she laid her legs across his lap.
“Anything?”
“Nothing yet.”
She sighed, taking a sip of her wine before offering him the glass. “I don’t think I should go to the wedding tomorrow.”
He nodded. He’d been waiting all day for her to bring this up. He wanted to tell her she was being ridiculous, that nothing was going to happen, but he knew her concern wasn’t for herself. It was for Maura and her wedding day.
“I’ll stay home with you.”
She looked at him, surprised. “You can’t do that.”
He raised a brow as he took a sip. “Why not?”
