Paxton rubbed his chest where three bullet wounds had healed and scarred over as he looked at his computer in the FBI’s office. Six months ago, he was working deep undercover in Atlanta as second-in-command of the Violent Gang Task Force and now he was stuck sitting behind a desk in a freaking suit looking at art crimes. He’d taken three bullets on the job in Atlanta, but instead of moving up to head the task force when his boss retired, Paxton had been shipped off to Charleston where he was dealing with several complaints about forged paintings. On top of the lack of excitement, so far none of the galleries had actually purchased or sold said forgeries so there was no evidence for him to examine. Just gut feelings of several art gallery owners.
“Kendry, are you working on anything right now?” his boss, Peter Castle, asked from the door to Paxton’s small office.
“Nothing important. What have you got?” Paxton said a prayer that a new gang had moved into town or something equally threatening to get him out of the office and back on the streets.
Peter stepped into the office and took a seat at the one chair across from Paxton. He held out a file and Paxton took it. He flipped the file open and began scanning the documents. “Home burglary really isn’t our thing, but sure, why not? I’ll take it.”
“It’s not your run-of-the-mill burglary. There have been three break-ins in very upscale neighborhoods where only jewelry and artwork have been taken. And,” Peter said dramatically, “not all artwork. Only very specific, high-value, artwork.”
Okay, that got Paxton’s attention. “Interesting. Any suspects?”
Peter shook his head. “Local police couldn’t find any common denominators. They all use different service providers, from house cleaners to yard maintenance. They are all in different neighborhoods, have different jobs, and donate to different charities, as far as we can tell. Nothing is the same except they have very expensive taste in art. Hence, local police have asked for our help.”
Paxton finished reviewing the file. “Well, jewelry can be melted down, but artwork is different. Was it insured?”
“Yes. They were all insured.”
“Have they been ransomed? Lots of art thieves ransom the artwork back to the insurance companies so they end up paying out less than the claim. It’s a quick turnaround for the thieves, and the insurance companies usually agree to it because it’s cheaper than paying out the claim.”
“Nope. Not a single ransom or a hint of any contact whatsoever,” Peter told him.
Paxton looked at pictures of the artwork taken and groaned. “I know my art but I don’t know it well enough to know if there’s some hidden connection to the artwork.”
“Good thing we have an FBI consultant when need be.” Peter smirked and Paxton wanted to groan. “How can you not like Tinsley Faulkner? She’s literally one of the sweetest people I know.”
Oh, it wasn’t a matter of not liking her. It was a matter of liking her a little too much. Over the years, he’d been told that all good things come in small packages. Well, Tinsley was a perfect example of that. She only came up to his chest and had curves that he dreamed about. She was sweet as the apple pie she’d brought to welcome him to Charleston. Only Paxton didn’t do sweet and this attraction bugged the hell out of him. He was used to controlling everything and everyone around him. You didn’t get as far as he did in Violent Gangs without pushing people around.
He’d tried to push Tinsley around when she’d helped on a case. Tried to shunt her off to the side and retain control of the case and his feelings. Then the worst thing happened. Tinsley hadn’t backed down. She’d poked him in the chest and told him if he wanted to solve the case, he either needed to listen to her or go back to school to learn about art. It was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen. He’d wanted to pick her up, have her wrap her legs around his waist, and . . .
“I never said I didn’t like her,” Paxton pointed out.
“I can take these to her when I go home tonight if you don’t want to. Maybe you’re a big elephant afraid of the little Tinsley mouse,” Peter said, interrupting Paxton’s thoughts.
“No, I’ve got it. I know how much you enjoy your time with Karri. How is she doing? Tell her I really loved the meal she sent me last week.”
“She’s doing great. Her partnership with Harper Reigns is taking off. Their specialty paired meal and drink menu is even attracting people from Charleston to drive out to Shadows Landing,” Peter said proudly. Paxton had met Peter’s girlfriend on the first day in the Charleston office when Peter had taken him out to dinner at Karri’s restaurant in Shadows Landing. The two of them were totally in sync and completely in love.
“I’ll have a flyer sent to the galleries so they’ll be on the lookout for the stolen paintings before I talk to Tinsley,” Paxton said, turning to his computer.
Peter left his office as Paxton’s fingers flew over the keyboard. He’d send his notes to his assistant and have him mail out the graphic to all the galleries in a hundred-mile radius after he uploaded the artwork into the stolen art database.
Paxton was working even though his mind was on Tinsley. He didn’t mean to always get into debates with her, but she was just so damned sexy when she parked her hands on her hips and told him what’s what. Her intellect was sexier than those curves she had, and that was saying something. If Tinsley loved with the same passion she debated with, she would rock Paxton’s world. That is, if Tinsley ever let him into her bed. However, Tinsley struck him as a long-term relationship kind of woman, and one thing Paxton wasn’t was a long-term kind of guy. He never knew when he’d be transferred, and he fully intended to get back to the Violent Gangs Task Force in Atlanta as soon as possible. That meant instead of wrapping those legs around his waist and pushing her up against the wall, debating Tinsley would have to do.
Tinsley stepped back to look at her canvas and frowned. How did that man get there? Why was he kissing that woman? Why did the man look suspiciously like Paxton Kendry and the woman look shockingly similar to her?
Tinsley let her head fall back on a groan before she moved to turn off the music in the back room of her gallery. She had been free painting and apparently her subconscious was tired of being shut out of her thoughts.
She’d overheard two tourists trashing all the art in her studio and needed to refresh her creative soul which had been crushed at the unnecessarily cruel criticism. She knew it was part of life, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she heard them laughing and saying nasty things about her work. So, Tinsley had turned off the lights, lit a roomful of candles, and turned on her favorite music. Then she’d gotten lost in the world of color, music, and unconscious movement. Her mind told her that Paxton was a pain in the ass, but her subconscious was connected to her heart and painted a different picture. This painting showed how strong and protective Paxton was. His storm-gray eyes were closed in the painting as he clutched her to him. Her back was curved into the shape of a C as Paxton bent her back and kissed her.
Tinsley had been annoyed because Paxton liked to dominate every conversation they had, even when they weren’t arguing. And while she was petite, she wasn’t a pushover. However, her annoyance had shifted recently when she realized his whole body came alive when they were together. The storm clouds cleared from his eyes. His body language wasn’t intimidating, but proud. He leaned toward her when they talked, he smiled at her, teased her, and that’s when her annoyance turned into anticipation.