Page 33 of A Real Good Bad Thing

All I could do was hope Jake had some more intel after this cloak-and-dagger routine.

17

IMPROPER KISSING

Jake

I slowed as Ruby and her tour guide traversed the hall, passing three paintings that matched the style I’d seen in Willow’s gallery yesterday. It was difficult, though, to concentrate when Ruby’s dress was clinging to her body in all the right places, stirring up not-so-distant memories of how she’d felt in my hands.

The way she’d rubbed against me last night. The way her breath had caught when I’d roamed my hands over her.

Occupational hazard of having an off-limits partner, but I’d have to handle this desire. Namely, by boxing it up and ignoring the fuck out of it.

I focused on the art until Ruby rounded the bend in the hallway, out of sight. The paintings didn’t seem very good, but I knew more about recovering art than critiquing it. What could they be hiding?

Most people were creatures of habit. Con men could devise tricky schemes and clever cover-ups, but the subconscious could trip up even the best of them. A thief’s likes and dislikes were often guideposts on the path to cracking a case. Passwords, combinations, and locations were rarely truly cryptic. They usually meant something to the con man. Did the art mean something too? Eli liked art, so I needed to study the paintings and see what story they might tell.

Strolling down the hall, I ran my hand lightly along the first frame, looking for any clues. I didn’t expect Eli to have hidden a safe right there in plain sight, but something about this piece caught my attention. The heavy frame seemed to overbalance such an airy, contemporary piece. Didn’t modern art have lighter, simpler frames, or none at all? But this was a sturdy bastard.

Before I could investigate further, a crowd came by, and I had to tuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans and look nonchalant. Just a guy wandering down the hall. No big deal. Seconds later, Ruby and Clarissa emerged from a VIP room, heading away from me but close enough for me to hear.

“And there’s Eli’s office,” Clarissa said, pointing to a door at the end of the hall. “Now, let’s get you out to the dance floor. Amelia Stone is about to start.”

Once they were out of sight, I wandered past Eli’s office. I considered going in and sniffing around, but then someone opened the door from the inside. I glimpsed more artwork on the office wall before a large man filled the doorway, crunching on some kind of snack. Behind him, I spotted another of those distinctive Lynx artworks on the wall.

I adopted my besthow did I wind up down this hallwaylook.

The big man swallowed his snack and raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something?”

“Just finding my way back to the dance floor. Looks like I need to backtrack.”

The man smiled. There were nuts in his teeth. Cashews, maybe. When he popped another handful into his mouth, I noted the snake tattoo curving down his arm. It flexed as the man turned to the office door and locked it.

Looked like I wouldn’t be scoping out the office that night.

* * *

I could have left the club then since Ruby’s tour was over and I’d poked around as much as I could. The plan was to compare notes the next morning, since she’d told me Eli would be away so there was no point stopping by his place. But the music was lively, the crowd was wild, and the sight of Ruby was magnetic. I was drawn to her and I couldn’t look away.

She danced near the small stage, her arms over her head, her hips swaying back and forth. The music shifted from pop to some sort of island tune, and with the floor-to-ceiling glass windows on this side of the club, she looked like she was in her element. Palm tree branches swayed beyond the glass, the ocean lapped the shore farther away, and Ruby seemed to embody the island beat, the lightness, the party of it all. Her blonde, wavy hair spilled down her back, and she danced like I imagined she might move underwater. Graceful, effortless, natural.

Huh. That was interesting.

Just last night when I bumped into her a few blocks away, she’d told me she couldn’t dance. Or was it that she didn’t dance? I wasn’t sure what she’d said exactly, only that it wasn’t true. She was hypnotic when she moved. It was impossible to look away, and I wasn’t the only one mesmerized.

I stood at the edge of the dance floor, eclipsed by the darkness of the purple lights overhead. I alternated between watching Ruby and keeping an eye on a trio of young guys, moving through the club in a predatory pack. They looked like college boys from the States. I didn’t like how they eyed the women on the dance floor, and I especially didn’t like the way they watched Ruby.

The blond one made his move, sauntering over to her and saying something way too close to her ear.

Oh, hell no.

I hadn’t planned to approach her in the club, but I found myself muscling through the packed dance floor to her and these visitors—Chad or Brad or whatever his name was. Because that shit was not going to fly.

When I reached her side, I not-so-casually dropped a hand onto her hip. She flinched at first and then seemed relieved when she saw it was me. Then she tensed again, probably wondering what had brought me to her side when we’d agreed to keep a distance—a distance that would be our cover. The less we were seen together, the better. But a few minutes by the darker edge of the stage, amid the huge crowd, was safe enough.

“Oh, hi,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the guy who’d been making a move before looking back to me. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

She sounded confused. Understandable. She searched my face for a sign something was amiss.

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