Sea Haven 02 - Spirit Bound

marry her. To have her as his wife, and not as Thomas Vincent. They could live with that name, but he wanted to know she was his, a part of him. How could he show her he meant every word he said to her? Every touch? Every caress? He couldn’t imagine going through the rest of his life without her. Without her laughter and her light. Without her kisses or the flash of her dark eyes.
    He knew one thing. He wasn’t going to give up. He loved Judith Henderson with every fiber of his being. He might make a million mistakes, but the bottom line was he loved her and he knew he could make her happy. With Jean-Claude in the vicinity, Judith was in danger. The man was a ruthless criminal. So if he couldn’t fix his relationship with Judith, then he needed to do what he did best. His job. That was the one way he could keep her safe. He might not be good with women, but he was damned good at his job.
    The microchip had to come into play somewhere. Stefan had carefully followed the trail the killers had left and the chip had ended up in Jean-Claude’s greedy hands. He’d been arrested before Stefan could get to him and retrieve the chip. There was no way he had time to hand the stolen microchip off and he clearly hadn’t done so from his prison cell. Stefan would have heard it was for sale if that had been the case. It had to here. A painting? Was that the reason the art gallery had been vandalized?
    Was it a message to Judith? No, Judith would have told him had she known about the microchip. She’d been so hurt and angry, she would have flung the information in his face. So she didn’t know. Could La Roux have hidden the microchip in a particular painting? Over the last five years, Judith’s paintings had been sold in galleries all over the world. She’d earned a certain reputation and particularly in Japan, her name was growing.
    La Roux could easily have slipped the microchip in between the stretcher bar and canvas of a painting. But why would Judith take a painting with her when she left him if she hadn’t known about the microchip? And if she had known, wouldn’t it have been easier to just take the chip? No, she hadn’t known about the chip. So if it was behind a canvas, what painting had it been and why had La Roux been so certain she’d keep it?
    A ribbon of unease slipped into his mind and he glanced at the security system. The green light was off. Damn it all. The woman really hated that system. He should have known if she went down to her studio she’d open the doors—but she wasn’t painting. She was stretching the canvases over the bars and she sure as hell could keep the door closed. He actually took a couple of steps toward the hall leading to the stairs but stopped himself.
    This was Judith’s house and her pain. She had the right to deal with it in any way she saw fit. Uneasiness was growing in leaps and bounds, tying his belly into knots but she had him so damned messed up he couldn’t think straight. Was his radar going off because Judith was making up her mind to reject him for good? Or was Jean-Claude prowling around?
    They needed dogs. That was all there was to it. He went to the door and stepped outside, intending to circle the house, just do a slow search to assure himself the Frenchman hadn’t found his way to her home. He looked up at the night sky. The stars and moon were completely obliterated by the gray veil drawn so thick around them. The trees were vague outlines and all sound was muffled by the dense mist.
    He was reluctant to leave, even for a moment. His left palm itched. Pulsed. He felt love brush across it—a soft caress he couldn’t mistake.
     
     
    JEAN-CLAUDE turned the key in the lock and pulled the door open. Judith held her breath as savage power rushed out, pulsing through the hallway in search of a target. The energy was so strong when it hit the Frenchman, he felt the impact like a physical blow, although she could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea what happened. He pressed his hand to his heart and stepped back, waving her inside.
    “This room is dangerous, Jean-Claude,” she warned again, knowing he wouldn’t listen, but feeling as though she needed to at least give him that much.
    He pushed her inside and stepped in after her. The inside of the studio was nearly pitch black, making it impossible to see anything. The light in the hallway was too dim to illuminate the interior of the room.
    “Where’s the light switch?” he demanded,