His effect on her had been instant, shocking.
Even now, just one glance from those electric eyes brought back that rush of delirious wanting, those shivers of primal desire. But Sofia couldn’t ignore the proof. Even that blinding haze of love, that frantic need to believe Luke, hadn’t been enough to erase the facts. He’d used her to steal those gems.
But as she stood before him now, feeling his resentment, his rage, doubt slithered through her, and a sick, queasy sensation wormed into her gut. Why the outrage? If he’d been guilty, then why was he so angry at her, especially after all these years?
Could she have been wrong?
Dear Reader,
I’ve always wanted to set a book in Spain, a land steeped in contrasts—poetry and passion, flamenco music and bagpipes, Roman bridges and Celtic ruins. And when I discovered Luke Moreno prowling through a medieval palace, I knew I’d found the perfect hero for my book. Luke’s as complex as the land he lives in, an honorable man with a shady past, a man who has spent his life fighting stereotypes and injustice—only to find himself framed for a theft.
Luke’s emotions burn hot, and so do the sparks between him and his ex-lover Sofia Mikhelson, the woman he believes is setting him up. I had a great time following their breakneck trek through Spain as they hunted down the missing necklace and uncovered a tangled web of danger far more sinister than they’d dreamed.
I hope you enjoy Luke’s journey, book one of THE CRUSADERS miniseries.
Happy reading!
Gail Barrett
Heart of a Thief
Gail Barrett
GAIL BARRETT
always dreamed of becoming a writer. After living everywhere from Spain to the Bahamas, raising two children, and teaching high school Spanish for years, she finally fulfilled that lifelong goal. Her writing has won numerous awards, including Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart. Gail currently lives in western Maryland with her two sons, a quirky Chinook dog and her own former Montana rancher/retired Coast Guard officer hero. Write to her at P.O. Box 65, Funkstown, Maryland 21734-0065, or visit her Web site, www.gailbarrett.com.
To my husband, John, for listening.
Contents
Acknowledgment
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
ACKNOWLEDGMENT:
I’d like to thank the following people for their help: my critique partner, Judith Sandbrook, for her wonderful insights; my sister, Mary Jo Archer, for reading and critiquing my work; Marjorie Thelen for brainstorming and commiserating with me, especially during the low times; S.A. Stone for his safecracking tips; and Rosa and Yoshi Takebe for answering my endless questions and driving me around Galicia. Miles de gracias. Thank you!
When the full moon bleeds and the lonely dog cries
And the stars trail dust in the night
A leader will rise from the scattered hordes
And the People will regain their might.
—Indian poem, circa 1000 A.D.
Chapter 1
The blonde sauntered into view on the security monitor, looking like every erotic dream he’d ever had—sultry, seductive, sin-on-heels sensuous. Luke Moreno’s pulse hitched, and a wild laugh rose in his throat. Oh, yeah. This woman was his fantasy, all right. His Delilah. His Mata Hari. His Eve in the Garden of Eden.
Too bad she was just as corrupt.
He watched, riveted, as she approached the glass display case cordoned off with velvet ropes. She played the elegant guest role to perfection, bending close to admire the primeval amber, the meticulously hammered gold. As if she’d never seen the ancient necklace before. As if she hadn’t come here to steal it. As if she weren’t setting him up to take the blame—again.
Damn her conniving soul.
“Who let her in here?” he demanded, still not pulling his eyes from the screen.
“Who?” Luke’s partner in his security business, Antonio Flores, leaned across the crowded console toward the monitor.
“La americana. Sofia Mikhelson.”
His partner raised one stocky arm, reached for the laptop nearby and tapped the keyboard to scroll down the names. “Mikhelson. Sofia. She’s on the list. Part of the antiquities crowd.”
“She wasn’t on the list last night.”
“We added a new batch this morning.” Antonio leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands, palms out. “You know how it’s been. We’ve had experts calling from all over the world. It’s been a nightmare trying to vet them all.”
Luke grunted. He couldn’t argue that. It wasn’t often a thousand-year-old necklace surfaced in a Spanish bank vault—especially this necklace. The Gypsy’s Revenge, coveted for centuries, shrouded in legends, haunted by an ancient curse—a curse that condemned any non-Gypsy who touched it to die. An artifact so elusive, so priceless, so powerful that few experts even believed it existed until now.
But the necklace was real, all right, and sitting in that case—a dazzling gold collar inscribed with ancient symbols, inlaid with multi-hued amber, adorned with miniature bells. And its discovery had ignited a firestorm of controversy—former Nazi war loot, Swiss banking connections—an international scandal ready to explode. Now every antiquities expert on the planet had converged on the palace outside of Madrid demanding a close-up look.
But this woman hadn’t come here to admire the necklace. His gaze hardened on the lush curves sheathed in the black satin gown, the gleam of her naked back, that slow, smoldering smile that still incinerated his nerves like lightning scorching parched earth.
No, she hadn’t come here to view the necklace. Sofia Mikhelson was as deceptive as the forgeries she made. Exquisite, enthralling, alluring—but fake.
Anger whipped through his gut.
“The ceremony’s about to start,” he told Antonio, the raw heat making his voice clipped. “I’m going to check out the crowd. Keep your eye on that necklace.”
A tense buzz rising in his ears at the thought of Sofia, he stalked from the brightly lit office and headed down the carpeted hallway past dark, massive portraits of centuries’ worth of Spanish nobility as cameras winked from silk-lined walls.
It had taken him five years to salvage his reputation. Five years battling