Shelley Cooper - Laura And The Lawman

Maybe it was because it had been months since he’d been with a woman, and his hormones were in overdrive.

Or maybe—and this seemed most logical to him—it was because he’d been looking forward to this job too much. A lot was riding on its outcome. Joseph Merrill was a suspected drug kingpin who controlled a large portion of the drug traffic in the tristate area encompassing western Pennsylvania. Many lives would be lost if he wasn’t stopped. Working as an auctioneer for the man would be one of the most dangerous and demanding jobs Antonio had ever undertaken.

But it was more than that. He had a personal stake in the outcome of this case. He was counting on it to revitalize his interest in police work.

Family duty and a sense of adventure were the driving forces that had led Antonio to become a cop. Three generations of his family had proudly worn a uniform and badge. His father was a highly decorated officer. Two of his brothers were also cops. Police work was in his blood.

Given his propensity for danger and excitement, it was only natural that he’d gravitated into undercover work. Antonio was a good undercover cop. He did his job well and always got his man. He’d lived on the edge for years now, receiving commendations and advancing in rank. Until recently he’d loved every minute of it.

A few months ago shortly after his thirty-first birthday, a vague, indecipherable restlessness had filled him, and he began feeling less satisfaction in his work. He found himself consumed by a yearning for something more, although what that something more could be remained tantalizingly out of reach.

It was the repetition, he had decided one sleepless night, while he’d tossed and turned in his bed. For two years he’d been doing the same kind of undercover work. He needed something new. Something daring. Something exciting to spice things up.

When the opportunity to pose as head auctioneer for Joseph Merrill’s auction gallery arose, Antonio had felt a wave of excitement wash over him. This was the change he’d been waiting for. The bonus was, he would be working full-time in a world he loved, a world he had—for too short a time as a youngster—shared with his mother, who had died of cancer when he was eleven.

The sound of the crowd penetrated his thoughts, and Antonio drew a quick, impatient breath. Now was not the time for a trip down memory lane. If he didn’t stay focused on the job at hand, he wouldn’t live long enough to bang the opening gavel, let alone nab Joseph Merrill and his cohorts. He might crave danger, but long ago he had decided there was no job worth getting killed over, and no suspect worth dying for.

His name was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself. He had a brand-new social security card, a driver’s license and several credit cards in his wallet to attest to that fact. For the next several weeks, a month or two at most, Antonio Garibaldi would cease to exist. For his safety, and for the good of the job, he had to submerge himself in the role he was playing and forget about anything else.

A last glance at the crowd had his stomach fluttering once more. Then he saw her, and the butterflies in his middle stilled.

She was beautiful. There was no other way to describe her. The pink silk suit she wore flattered her trim figure without being overly revealing. It also exposed a generous length of long, slender leg to his appreciative gaze. Her shoulder-length brown hair gleamed in the artificial lighting, framing a face that, in repose, looked like a Madonna: small, heart-shaped, ivory-complected and utterly feminine.

He felt a stab of regret that he couldn’t see her eyes because she was half-bent over one of the seated patrons. Then, as if drawn by his regard, she slowly straightened and looked directly at him.

For one endless, unguarded moment, they simply stared at each other. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green. In their depths, Antonio saw intelligence, vulnerability and a loneliness that pierced his heart. That muscle began thudding unevenly when a new emotion was added. Awareness. Awareness of him as a man. He saw her throat work.

A second later it was as if someone had thrown a switch. Her eyes went blank, and she looked away. Reaching into a jacket pocket, she pulled out a compact and checked her hair and makeup. Snapping the compact shut, she sent him a dazzling smile that held none of the honesty he’d glimpsed a minute earlier. Antonio blinked. What had just happened?

He didn’t care, he told himself, returning her smile with one of his own. For the first time that morning, he relaxed fully. Here, at least, might be the answer to his sexual frustration. If she was agreeable, that was, which he fervently hoped was the case. She was precisely the kind of distraction he needed to help him loosen up, and he made a mental note to meet up with her on his first break.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Joseph Merrill asked softly from behind him.

Antonio nearly jumped out of his skin at the unexpected arrival of his new boss. He didn’t question how the older man knew exactly who had captured his attention. Joseph Merrill ran a tight ship. He made it a point to keep his eyes and ears open, and to know what his crew was doing at all times. He would have had to be half-blind to have missed how fixedly Antonio had been staring at the woman.

“Exquisite,” he replied, turning his attention to the man at his side. “Who is she?”

“Her name is Ruby O’Toole.” Joseph paused briefly before adding, “She’s my woman.”

The possessive note in Joseph’s voice was unmistakable, as was the warning glance he shot Antonio.

“Ruby is a gifted appraiser of artwork. Part of her job involves helping out on auction day. Today she’ll be one of your bid spotters.”

Antonio had heard of Ruby O’Toole, and her beauty, from his fellow employees. He’d also read about her in the dossier on Joseph Merrill that he’d studied before going undercover. He felt a flicker of disappointment that his planned interlude with her would not come to pass. Getting involved with Joseph Merrill’s lover on anything but a platonic basis would be most unwise. It could also prove fatal. Antonio hadn’t stayed alive this long by being stupid. He wasn’t about to start now.

Philosophically he shrugged his disappointment away. There would be someone else. There always was.

While an intimate relationship with Ruby O’Toole was definitely out, it didn’t mean he couldn’t befriend her, however. There was more than one way for Antonio to get the information he needed. He could get it from Joseph Merrill himself by earning the older man’s trust. Or, if that didn’t work, perhaps he could coax what he needed to learn from the woman with whom his boss shared nightly pillow talk. And if, at the end of the job, he found himself slapping handcuffs on her slender wrists, he would do so without a qualm.

“It’s almost time to start,” Joseph said, surveying the room with a proprietary air. “Nervous?”

Not for the reason you think. “A little.”

“What’s to worry about?” Joseph gave him a broad smile and clapped him on the back. “So it’s your first day on the job. Big deal. It’s not like you haven’t done this a thousand times before. And it’s not like this is the big time. I’m awfully proud of this place, and I do quite well financially. But face it. Sotheby’s it ain’t.”

The rapidly filling room was a hive of activity. Folding chairs, arranged in neat rows, covered the center of the polished hardwood floor. About three-quarters of the chairs had already been claimed, the occupants chatting quietly to one another and fanning themselves with their assigned bid numbers.

No, it wasn’t Sotheby’s. But a good deal of money would exchange hands that day, and it was up to Antonio—correction, Michael—to see that it moved smoothly.