Strictly Confidential. Terri Reed

Alessandro. Some people thought that he had had something to do with his uncle’s shooting. Ridiculous.

      “Nice show tonight, Miss Sainsbury. Your gala is a fine success,” Alessandro said as he halted and forced himself not to choke on the cloyingly sweet perfume permeating the air around the evening’s hostess.

      “So glad you approve, Mr. Donato,” she responded in a clipped British accent that eerily mirrored that of another of Escalante’s cohorts.

      Alistair Barclay: the British hotel tycoon and Diablo crime syndicate kingpin who’d made a deal with the drug cartel run by Escalante. Together they’d used Barclay’s luxury hotel business as a cover for their dirty dealings.

      But through the dedicated efforts of various law-enforcement individuals and private citizens, the crime organization had been dismantled. Barclay had gone to prison and Escalante disappeared.

      Recently Barclay had turned up dead in his prison cell. Alessandro was sure that Escalante was behind the assassination.

      “I’d be interested in how you acquired such remarkable pieces for the exhibition,” Alessandro said, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

      She arched a dark, winged brow. “Ah, so that is why you called me earlier this week. I apologize that I was unavailable. I also understand you were here yesterday while we were setting up. Do accountants for…what is it you do again?”

      One side of his mouth lifted. Not for a second did he believe she’d forgotten. “I’m an accountant with the European Union.”

      “Ah, yes. The European Union. What would an accountant do with such knowledge?”

      “You’d be surprised at the connections I have.”

      A sly look entered her eyes. “Connections that I might find useful?”

      He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, dropping the bait. “Connections you might find profitable.”

      She inclined her head. “I like the sound of that. Punch?” she asked, stopping a waiter as he passed with a tray of crystal glasses filled with a colorful concoction.

      Without waiting for his answer she handed him a glass. “To your health and to a future business relationship.”

      Over the rim of the punch-filled glass he met Dahlia’s dark gaze. He suppressed the shudder that ran through him.

      Somehow he felt that he’d just sold a piece of his soul. Or at least put it in hock.

      Colleen felt bare in the little black tank-style dress that Holly had declared she must wear since she couldn’t wear it herself. Colleen clutched the sheer blue wrap that her mother had given her tighter around her shoulders as she trailed behind her brothers, Jake and Adam, and their wives into the museum.

      “Easy, now,” Jake cooed to his pregnant wife, as they made their way inside.

      “Honestly, you’d think I was about to give birth this instant the way you’re hovering, Jake,” Holly gently chided, even as she leaned on his arm.

      Colleen stifled a smile, noting that Adam was just as solicitous to Kate, as well.

      She was happy for both her brothers. Each had found the love of their hearts. Their soul mates. Colleen didn’t have time for soul mates or any type of mate. Her life was about getting the next story and that was the only reason she’d agreed to come to this spectacle tonight.

      Her editor wanted his people on the lookout for the next scoop. Well, she could only hope there’d be something to snag her interest here; all the town’s most prominent citizens were attending. But she wasn’t into society pieces. She much preferred gritty hard news.

      “Ladies,” her older brother Adam said, indicating the coat check.

      Colleen frowned. “I’ll just hang on to this, thanks.”

      Holly bumped up next to her and whispered none too softly, “Chicken.”

      Colleen gritted her teeth at the dual grins her brothers flashed her way.

      Being the baby sister of the Montgomery brothers hadn’t made for an easy childhood. Colleen had tagged along, wanting to be a part of that special world that only boys could roam. She’d long ago realized that the only way she’d get the appreciation and approval she craved was to be the best at whatever she did and not let being female hold her back.

      That was why wearing a clingy shift that revealed her shoulders and showed off her calves left her feeling awkward and self-conscious. But she wasn’t a chicken.

      She slipped the wrap from her shoulders and handed it to Adam. He whistled between his teeth. “Maybe you better leave it on.”

      “Be nice,” admonished his wife, Kate. “She looks lovely.”

      Colleen caught the dubious glance her brothers exchanged and bit her lip, wishing now she’d stuck to her pantsuit.

      “ Lovely is not quite the right word,” said Jake. He reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind Colleen’s ear. “I’d say beautiful is the right one.”

      Colleen blinked as sudden tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t remember her brother ever saying something so…flattering.

      Adam hugged her. “I think our baby sister’s grown into a woman. Finally.”

      His words warmed her like the first rays of sun on a cold winter’s morn even as she punched him in the arm for his teasing.

      “Okay, boys. Leave your sister alone,” Kate said in her no-nonsense nurse voice. Then she hooked her arm through Adam’s. “Shall we go in and see these paintings we’ve heard so much about?”

      Jake slipped his arm around Holly’s expanding waist and guided her in. Adam and Kate followed. Colleen waited a moment and took a few deep breaths.

      She smiled and nodded hello to several people as they filed in. She waved to Reverend Gabriel Dawson from Good Shepherd Christian Church and his wife, Susan, who ran the shelter in town, as they entered.

      As she started forward she heard her name called. She turned to find Sam and Jessica Vance walking toward her.

      “Hey, Sam. Jessica.” Sam’s wavy dark-brown hair was subdued with a bit of gel, and his tall, muscular frame filled out his tuxedo nicely. Beside him, Jessica, his wife of a year, fairly glowed in her silver floor-length dress and upswept hair.

      “You’ve got a story idea for me?” Colleen eyed Sam with hope.

      Several times Sam had brought ideas for stories to her attention. Stories that needed the sort of investigating the police didn’t have the manpower for.

      “We’re still working on the arsonist cases. Haven’t had any breaks. You turn up anything?”

      She shook her head. “I know Chief O’Brien had something to do with the hospital fire but I haven’t nailed down what yet.”

      Sam nodded in agreement. “So far we’ve got nothing to hold him on.”

      “You know, I keep thinking that somehow the fires at Travis’s and Quinn’s businesses are connected to the hospital fire. I’m working on putting the pieces together.”

      Interest sparked in Sam’s eyes. “Keep me posted on anything you come up with.”

      “I will. Enjoy the exhibition,” Colleen replied and then excused herself.

      She walked into the main area of the museum and looked around in awe at all the glittering ladies and well-dressed gentlemen. She felt like a fake, all dressed up as though she was one of these people.

      This wasn’t her. She liked khakis and loafers, not these black torture devices squeezing her feet.

      “Hello, Colleen. Enjoying yourself?”

      She turned toward the older woman who had stepped up beside