Gift of Gold

yelled back, “that you just lost your chance at the Most Wicked Woman of the Year award. Talk about innocence!”

 
    Chapter Twenty
     
    Verity saw the cops parked in the driveway of the gray house as soon as she and Jonas rounded the last bend of the cliff-edge highway. She sat forward nervously, hoping she wasn’t too late.
    “Hurry, Jonas.”
    “Calm down. This is a crazy idea to begin with, but there’s no point in working yourself up into a frenzy over it.”
    “You don’t understand. Tavi was right to be so worried about the sale of
Bloodlust.
Nobody knows what will happen to Caitlin if she auctions it off.”
    “If you want my opinion, Caitlin Evanger is a survivor,” Jonas grumbled. “She won’t commit suicide just because
Bloodlust
is out of her life.”
    “She might not kill herself,” Verity agreed slowly, “but I have a feeling she’ll commit professional suicide. Tavi thinks she’ll never paint again.”
    “No loss.”
    “That’s not true! The woman is a brilliant artist.”
    Verity was charged with anxious energy. She threw open the car door before Jonas had switched off the ignition. Without waiting for him she broke into a run, heading toward the front door of the house. She rang the bell, and when there was no immediate answer she pounded on the door.
    “They’re probably all on the third floor in the room where the painting was stored,” Jonas said, coming up behind her. He reached around Verity and turned the doorknob. The gray door swung inward, revealing a silent hall. “Go to it, heroine.”
    Verity needed no urging. She dashed down the hall toward the stainless steel staircase. The house was far too quiet, she realized as she pounded up the stairs. Jonas loped behind her, keeping up with her without appearing to exert himself. He had a knack for doing everything in a nonchalant fashion, Verity decided resentfully. Even running. The perfect Renaissance courtier. She was already wet under her arms.
    Then she remembered that Jonas did not make love to her nonchalantly. The realization made her feel better.
    Breathing heavily, she reached the top floor and raced down the hall to the studio. The door stood open and as Verity came to a skittering halt she saw that she had guessed right.
    Five very serious people—three men and two women, ranging in age from thirty to seventy—were standing in front of
Bloodlust.
Their gazes were riveted to the painting. Caitlin stood beside it, leaning most of her weight on her ebony cane. Her striking face looked drawn and grim.
    It was Tavi who turned first to see who stood in the doorway, and her eyes flickered with faint hope. The five bidders paid little attention to the newcomer, and Caitlin merely glanced at Verity and shook her head.
    “You shouldn’t have come back,” Caitlin said. “We’re almost finished here.”
    “I had to come back.” Verity drew in a deep breath and walked into the room. “I’m your friend, remember? One of the only two friends you’ve got.”
    Tavi closed her eyes and a tear trickled down her cheek. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “It was always too late.”
    A portly man in a gray suit spoke up. “I believe the last bid was mine. Are there any more bids?”
    “Not so fast,” Jonas advised laconically from the doorway. He surveyed the room full of collectors. “I know that what happened here last night makes
Bloodlust
more interesting than ever, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to contain your enthusiasm for a while. Verity is in charge right now.”
    The portly man scowled. “What do you mean, she’s in charge?”
    Jonas smiled lopsidedly. “You’re about to suffer at the whim of a tyrant. It’s an interesting experience.”
    “What the devil is going on here?” one of the women bidders demanded. “I’m here to conduct business. I am prepared to top Rossander’s bid.”
    Verity glanced at her. “Save your money. The painting is not for sale.” There were shocked gasps on all sides. She ignored them and kept walking toward Caitlin. En route she passed the worktable that held Caitlin’s tools. She snatched up a small blade used for cutting canvas. Then she went-straight toward
Bloodlust.
    “Hey, wait one goddamned minute,” someone shouted, apparently realizing belatedly what was about to happen.
    “Jonas,” Verity said quietly, not looking back at him.
    “Sorry, folks,” Jonas said mildly. “But I work for her. Anyone moves, he’s going to have to move