Carter shook her head, wondering if the kiss had deprived Allen of essential oxygen. “You want to try speaking English?”

“She’s not a lesbian, Wayne. She’s Lorenzo Brassi’s lover.”

Carter laughed. “Wherever you’re getting your information, it’s wrong.” She wasn’t about to tell them about the near tryst she’d had with Rica that morning, because she didn’t intend to tell Agent Allen anything that she didn’t have to. And for some reason, the time she’d spent with Rica had felt personal. It wasn’t about business.

Allen leaned between the seats and dropped a file folder into Carter’s lap. She shone her Maglite on it. “Open it.”

“Christ,” Carter muttered, shaking her head. She flipped the folder open and blinked as the glare of the intense light reflected off the shiny surface of the photograph. Lorenzo Brassi stood with his arms around Rica, one hand nearly cradling her breast. His mouth was against her neck. The bastard looked like he was one step away from fucking her standing up. Carter recognized the gallery in the background.

“That was last night,” Allen said with a hint of triumph in her voice. “I’d say they look rather friendly, wouldn’t you.” She flipped the photograph aside with one neatly trimmed fingernail to reveal another underneath.

This time Rica’s hands were on Lorenzo’s chest and their hips were almost fused together. Carter couldn’t see Rica’s face because her hair had fallen forward to cover most of it, but Brassi had a look of arrogant pleasure on his. Carter wanted to kill him. She closed the folder.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“We followed them while they took a lovers’ stroll through town and out onto the pier. They were very cozy the entire time.”

Carter looked at Toome. “You take the photographs?”

Toome nodded.

“You agree with her?”

Again, the agent nodded. “It’s been rumored that Brassi and Ricarda might marry. The old man is in favor of it.”

Carter felt another swell of nausea, and it had nothing to do with the blow to her groin. She hadn’t been wrong in what she’d seen in Rica’s eyes, or in what she’d felt when they’d kissed. If marriage was in the works, she couldn’t believe it was anything other than family business. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It makes it less likely that you’re going to get anything substantial from her,” Allen replied. “You’ve already got a strong contact with Rizzo, and there’s no point in risking that. You’re to back off on the daughter. We’ve got surveillance on Brassi. That will be enough.”

“I don’t take orders from the FBI.” Carter opened the door and stepped out. “I’m not changing anything until I talk to my team.”

Allen powered down her window. “Talk all you want. It’s already been decided.” She smiled at Carter. “Have a nice night. And take care of that…headache.”

Carter watched them drive away. She wasn’t thinking about her sore ribs or her throbbing groin. She was thinking about the image of Lorenzo Brassi with his hands all over Rica Grechi. It was just as well she hadn’t been the one to see it, because even now she wanted to wipe that smug look off his face with her fist.

Chapter Fifteen

Carter slid into a booth in a roadside diner in Eastham, thirty miles up the Cape from Provincetown. Her partner, State Investigator Kevin Shaughnessy, sat across from her with a plate of eggs, sausage, and pancakes and a look of unbridled lust on his florid Irish face. “You’re early.”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Carter said sarcastically, “because I’ve only been trying to reach you for three days.” She managed a smile for the young waitress, who magically appeared at her side, and turned her coffee cup right side up. “Just coffee, thanks.”

“You sure?” The blond waitress wore a short black skirt and a white blouse that was so tight it gaped open between her breasts, displaying a lovely expanse of creamy cleavage. She cocked her hips and gave Carter a special smile. “We’ve got a great menu here.”

“I believe it,” Carter replied, grinning despite her irritation at being made to cool her heels for three days before getting some decent information about what was happening with Rica and the investigation. “But nothing for me right now.”

“Well, if you change your mind”…the waitress slowly ran her fingers over her chest and tapped the plastic badge that said Kylie…“you be sure to ask for me.”

As Kylie sashayed away, Kevin swallowed noisily and said, “Jesus. That never happens to me.”

“Maybe that’s got something to do with your wedding ring.” Carter sipped her coffee. “Eat before your eggs get cold.”

“I can eat and talk.” To prove it, Kevin swiped his toast through the egg yolk on his plate and took a huge bite. “So what bug is biting your ass?”

“It’s not a bug, it’s more like a piranha. By the name of Allen.”

Kevin made a face. “Her. What exactly did you do to her, anyway?”

“Me? Nothing…” Carter couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Allen going native during that kiss, even though her crotch was still sore from the backlash. She bet Allen was still thinking about it too, unless Allen’s powers of denial were even better than Carter imagined. “…much.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, but I was tied up meeting with the brass and the state’s attorney the last couple of days.”

“Not your fault,” Carter said with a sigh. “Look, Allen says they’re pulling me in. At least from this part. What do you know about that?”

“You know the feds never tell us everything, and what they share with the higher-ups doesn’t trickle down to us.” He held up a hand when Carter growled. “But, I do know that attention has shifted from the daughter to the nephew.”

“Why?”

“Since the daughter has been in Provincetown, there’s been more activity in the Manhattan gallery…especially after hours. And the interesting thing is, they’re not all Pareto people.”

“You sure?”

“Positive IDs.” Kevin shoveled in another forkful of breakfast and washed it down with coffee. “At least two customers have been Pareto competitors.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“It makes even less sense when they show up on the same day that Lorenzo Brassi pays a visit.”

“Brassi again,” Carter said with disgust, immediately remembering the photograph of him with his arms around Rica and his fingers splayed beneath her breast. “What’s your read on that? You think he’s branching out on his own?”

“Maybe, but if he is, he’s dumber than he looks. There’s already a rumor that some highly positioned people want him to succeed Pareto, and not Ricarda. He’d be crazy to risk that.”

“Some men don’t like to wait for power.”

Kevin laughed. “You got that right. Still, he’s got a sweet deal for a guy who’s not a blood relative.”

“What do you mea…oh, right. He’s a nephew by Pareto’s second wife. He and Rica aren’t blood cousins.” Which makes a marriage even more feasible, Carter thought sourly. “He’s been out here sniffing around Rica. If there’s interest in him, why pull me off?”

“Who knows, maybe they think you’ll get in the way of something he’s got going with her.” Kevin smirked and made a suggestive hand gesture. “Business or otherwise.”

Carter put her hands flat on the table and leaned forward, her eyes flashing. “I’m telling you, she’s not in it that way. Allen’s got nothing.”

“Whoa,” Kevin said, sitting back. “Take it easy. I’m just saying maybe she and Brassi are…”

“And I’m saying, they’re not.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes, all trace of frivolity gone. He hunched closer, his big body casting a shadow across the table. “What’s going on? Did you get up close and personal with her already?”

“No,” Carter said sharply.

“But there’s something.”

Carter stared stonily past Kevin out the window.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Kevin made a sound like a load of gravel hitting the pavement. “All the women you’ve blown off after a night or two, and this one is the one that gets to you?”

“Leave it alone, Kevin.”

“You’re the one that has to leave it alone. Leave her alone.” Kevin shook his head. “It’s a damn good thing Allen wants you to back off before you get your ass in a boatload of trouble. Stay away from her, Carter.”

“It looks like I don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll have that crated and shipped to you by the end of the week,” Rica said, handing a receipt to the woman who had just purchased one of the most expensive paintings in the gallery. When the chime over the front door jingled, she glanced up automatically. It had been a busy morning, and after finalizing this last sale, she had planned to close for several hours and catch up on the attendant paperwork. She needed an assistant, but she enjoyed filling her time with work. She paused with the receipt extended when she saw Carter. Then she looked quickly back to her customer. “Thank you and I hope you stop by again.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will. I love your selections.”

As the woman swept out, Rica followed in her wake and flipped the small sign on the front door to Closed. She snapped the lock and turned to face Carter. She hadn’t expected to see her again. It had been three days with no contact, and even though she’d risen early each morning to scan the path along the beach, Carter had not returned to jog along the beach trail.

Rica understood the signals perfectly well. Any woman who was interested would have contacted her by now, especially after the blatant invitation she’d made the last time they were together. In retrospect, she was glad she hadn’t reached Carter by phone that night. She would have been humiliated by a polite refusal from Carter after her own none too subtle actions that morning. She’d been motivated more by lust than by reason, and that embarrassed her.