“What an invitation.” Derek leaned forward to kiss her again.
“But not quite yet.” Sloane put a restraining hand on the front of his shirt.
“Let me guess. Before we start our private weekend, you want to hear all about what Rich said.”
“You got it. So tell me.”
Derek filled her in on everything except the discussion of her father’s friends.
“Wow. So Xiao Long is dealing in valuable paintings now,” Sloane murmured. “And getting paid by a triad bigwig who has both knowledge and appreciation of fine art. That would explain a lot. It might even tie back to the Rothberg and Cai Wen’s murder, depending on how long Xiao’s been in the art-theft business.”
“Exactly. So I’m waiting for answers. We should have them soon. Rich expects to hear back from his contacts in a matter of days. Hopefully, they’ll have a lot to tell us.”
Sloane fell silent for a moment, her lashes lowering as she wrestled with a question she needed to ask but didn’t want the answer to. Finally, she looked up and went for it. “Did you find any leads on who helped the Red Dragons break into my parents’ apartment?”
“Not yet.” Clearly, Derek had been expecting her question.
“Meaning you’re still investigating my father’s partners.”
“Meaning I’m still open to any and all leads that could tell me the identity of the accomplice who got those punks through the front door of your parents’ place, and straight to the Rothberg file.”
“And in searching for those leads, everyone’s fair game.”
“Yes.” Derek met her gaze directly. “Sloane, there are some avenues you’re going to have to let me explore alone, at least for now. You’ve made it clear you’re not ready to go there yet, and I respect that. If there’s anything I dig up that you should know, I’ll tell you right away. And if it comes down to my having to involve you or even ask you questions that are painful, I’ll do that, too. But right now, I have nothing. So it’s premature to jump to conclusions. Okay?”
Sloane understood exactly what Derek was saying, and what he wasn’t. “This sucks.”
“I know.” He cupped the nape of her neck, stroking her skin with his thumb. “Trust me,” he urged quietly. “I won’t go after anyone you care about—not unless they’ve done something that deserves going after. Fair enough?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
Reluctantly, she nodded. “I’m not happy. I realize you’re more than a little suspicious of Leo, Phil, Wallace, and Ben, and that you’re investigating the hell out of them. On the other hand, I know it has to be done. But not by me. I know I’m way too close to be objective. And I do trust you. So I’ll let you take the lead on this one—as long as you keep me in the loop.” A wry smile. “After all, you are the lead case agent. And I’m a good team player.”
Derek framed her face between his palms. “I love you.”
“I know,” Sloane murmured, understanding the depth of what he was saying. No matter what happened or who was guilty of what, the two of them couldn’t let it affect what they had. Not this time.
She wrapped her fingers around his. “I love you, too.”
It was late Sunday night, and Sloane was draped across Derek, sound asleep, when Derek’s cell phone vibrated on the nightstand.
He reached over with his free arm, moving gingerly so as not to disturb Sloane, and flipped open the phone. “You have something for me?” A pause. “No surprise. He’s definitely got that kind of cash. Now find out who he sold them to. I want the answer tomorrow.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Derek arrived at his desk at seven a.m. As a rule, he took Monday mornings in stride, but on this particular Monday, he did not want to be there—not after the weekend he’d just spent with Sloane. But life and reality had a way of intruding.
Five minutes later, his phone rang. “Parker,” he answered.
“Good. You’re in.” Rich knew that most of C-6 started later, since their surveillance took place during the wee hours of the morning, when the drug dealing, gambling houses, and brothels were in full swing. But Derek’s days as an Army Ranger still woke him up at five-thirty a.m., like clockwork. As a former marine, Rich knew the drill. “I thought I saw you pass by.”
“It’s just me and my coffee. What’s up?”
“I just hung up with the Hong Kong police. I’ve got some interesting info to discuss with you on the Rothberg provenance.”
“And I’ve got part of what you need. I’m on my way.”
Derek grabbed his cup and headed down to the other end of the floor, striding into Rich’s cubicle. “You work fast.”