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“That doesn’t really give me any more peace of mind, Agent Keller. The last time we spoke, you suspected Chef Chevalier was the damn art thief!”
It took a long second before the chief of staff’s words sunk in. But when they did, a cold wave washed over Marin’s body. Her breath burned as it sawed through her lungs.
“Wait a minute. You...” Marin had to pause a moment to stop her lips from quivering. “You thought I was...a thief?”
“Not me.” The chief of staff pointed an accusing finger at Griffin. “Him.”
Griffin’s face was impassive and his eyes dark when he finally turned to face Marin. Suddenly it all made sense to her. She’d been right all along. Guys like Griffin Keller only paid attention to women like Marin out of duty. Their romantic dinner on the Truman Balcony and his arousing kisses later in her penthouse had all been part of the ruse. Her only consolation was that he was not a good enough actor to carry out their lovemaking to its conclusion.
If that was actually a consolation.
It was all too much. Marin jerked to her feet on unsteady legs. She would not humiliate herself by crying in front of this jerk. Vomiting on his shoes was a distinct possibility, however.
“Marin,” he murmured.
“Don’t!” Unfortunately, it came out of her mouth as more of a sob. She dashed across the hall, through the Map Room, to the women’s lavatory. Locking the door behind her, she lost her battle with her nausea.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat on the floor of the restroom, a damp hand towel covering her tear-swollen eyes. But she was sure of one thing. Marin Chevalier was not a victim. And she would not waste another tear over Griffin Keller. Not when Diego was still missing and a murdering art thief was on the loose. One who wanted her dead.
There was a knock at the door and a shudder wracked her body.
“Marin, it’s Agent Morgan.” The FBI agent’s voice came from the other side of the paneling. “I thought you might like some cold water.”
A cool drink sounded heavenly, but Marin wasn’t sure she was ready to face anyone just yet. She reached up and unlocked the door, opening it wide enough to allow her fingers to slip through.
Agent Morgan put the bottle of water in Marin’s hand. “I have some animal crackers, too, if you think you’re up to it.”
Marin grabbed the bag and slid the door shut. She heard Agent Morgan sit down on the floor on the other side.
“I know this is all a bit overwhelming and frightening,” Agent Morgan said through the door. “But believe me when I say we’ll do everything in our power to find this guy. It’s what we do. And I, for one, am very good at my job. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Given how the past few days had been going, Marin had to take the agent’s word for it. She wasn’t sure Agent Morgan was expecting a response, so she chewed on an animal cracker instead.
“Agent Keller won’t let anything happen to you, either,” Agent Morgan added.
At the mention of Griffin’s name, the animal cracker turned to dust in Marin’s mouth. She washed it down with a swig of water before she choked.
“Go easy on Griff,” the agent continued.
Griff.
Marin nearly gagged again. It would figure that the model-worthy FBI agent would have an intimate nickname for Griffin. He likely had one for the agent, too. The beautiful people had a tendency to stick together. She slammed her eyes shut against the images of how ‘Griff’ and the sexy redheadstucktogether. Not that Marin cared about Not-So-Special-Agent Keller any longer. She was done lusting over him. Even if he did ride to her rescue as often in real life as he did in her dreams.
“When we found the original paintings at a crime scene last week, they were wrapped in a dish towel from the White House kitchen. It was only natural that we begin our investigation with the kitchen staff,” Agent Morgan explained.
A kitchen dish towel?
“That’s stupid,” Marin said before she realized she was speaking out loud. “Anyone working in the House could pass through the kitchen and pick one of those up.”
“Mmm,” Agent Morgan agreed. She sounded as though she were chewing on something.
Marin pulled the door open. “That’s a ridiculous way to go about investigating art theft.”
Agent Morgan pulled an animal cracker out of her own bag and contemplated it before she spoke. “We have to begin somewhere. Most times, we start with much less than a dish towel.” She popped the cookie into her mouth.
“Wow, that’s encouraging.”
“You mentioned that your sous chef, Diego, came in early that morning.” Agent Morgan was suddenly scrutinizing Marin just as she had her cookie minutes before.
