It Takes an Archeologist Read online

  "Brooks might not come to the gallery," Gideon said. "He might stake it out, then follow Cole home, figuring he'd stand a better chance at getting Cole to talk when there weren't other people around."

  "You have a point, Gideon. I'll put someone on Cole when he's not at the gallery."

  "Why?" Cole asked. "There's no reason Gideon can't do that."

  "I'm supposed to be clerking at the gallery, not spending my off hours with…" Hell, he is not going that route. He better not even be thinking along those lines.

  Cole smirked. "Keith knows I'm gay. He wouldn't be all that surprised to find out I'd hooked up with my newest clerk. He'd probably think that's why you're working there. It would explain why I hired you when things aren't all that busy."

  Gideon clenched his hands. "It wouldn't work. Among other things, why am I staying here"—he gestured to take in the suite—"if I'm working for you and supposedly in a personal relationship with you as well? Okay…scratch that. Obviously I need to find a new place to stay—and fast." He realized as he said that, he was going to do what was needed to pull off the sting, even if it meant pretending to be Cole's boyfriend. He repressed a sigh of dismay.

  "That might not be a problem." Quint took out his phone then made a call. "Rory, do you know if the place you were living in before you moved in with Lou has been rented?" he asked. "Okay. You're sure it's vacant?" There was a brief pause, then Quint said, "Call the manager first thing in the morning and tell him someone will be by to rent it and he's to hold it until that happens. Let him know it's police business." He thanked Rory and hung up. "One problem solved."

  "Where is the apartment?" Gideon asked.

  "On South Broadway. It's in an older building, if I remember correctly, but not bad. Three rooms, bath, and a small kitchen, from what Rory said. He drove by a couple of days ago and saw a For Rent sign in the window."

  "That should work for what I'm supposed to be," Gideon said, stressing supposed. He didn't want Cole to get any ideas. But then, he's sure I'm straight and I'm not about to change his opinion, am I?

  "Good. That's one problem solved," Quint said. Taking out his notebook, he wrote down the address then handed it to Gideon. "I believe it's furnished, though I won't swear to it."

  "I hope so. I'm not about to go furniture hunting along with everything else," Gideon muttered, earning him smiles from Quint and Cole.

  "As soon as you have it and have moved your things over from here," Cole said, "come by the gallery and I'll officially"—he made finger quotes—"hire you. I'll also explain to James what's going on so he doesn't freak."

  "He was fine the last time, so it shouldn't be a problem," Gideon replied.

  "Yeah, but that was before they showed up, armed to the teeth. Now…" Cole shrugged. "It's better that he's prepared."

  "I seriously doubt Brooks will be armed," Gideon said. "Or more, that he won't be if he comes by the gallery. If he follows us back to your place, all bets are off. I think he must be pretty desperate at this point."

  "Something to look forward to." Cole rolled his eyes.

  "It'll be fine," Quint said, as he stood. "Despite Gideon's being with you when you go home, I'll have at least one of my men watching the place, since this is a police operation. With that said, I'm heading out. I'll call my reporter friend first thing in the morning to set up his writing the story. With luck, it will hit the Post on Thursday and Brooks will see it and react accordingly." He picked up his jacket and left the suite.

  There was a long moment of silence before Cole said, "I should go, too. It's late and we both need sleep before we start putting things into motion. I'll see you, when? Late tomorrow morning?"

  "Yes. Right after I move into the apartment," Gideon replied. He wasn't certain if he was relieved or dismayed at Cole's abrupt departure. He watched as Cole put on his jacket. "Be careful. We may not think Brooks is interested in you—yet. But…just watch it. Okay?"

  "Will do." Cole smiled, but Gideon saw fine lines of stress on his face and wondered if he should offer to follow him home, to help him feel more secure. No. He'll be fine. He's tired, nothing more.

  Gideon accompanied Cole to the door, then kept an eye on him as he walked down to the elevator. For a second he was tempted to tell Cole to wait while he got his coat, so he could tail him back to his place. He knew why he wanted to do that, and it had nothing to do with keeping Cole safe and everything to do with the man himself. With a hard shake of his head, he stepped back into the suite, closing and locking the door behind him.

  No matter how we're playing this, I have to remember it's just that—playing it. When it's over, I'll go back to where I belong and move on with my life—what life I have. I've resisted temptation before. I can do it again. I will not put myself in the position where I can hurt someone I care about. Not now. Not ever again. Gideon frowned. "I don't care about him. Not that way. I barely know him, so it's not possible. Is it?"

  *****

  Cole glanced back, catching the look on Gideon's face as the man shook his head and walked back into the room. That wasn't what I think it is, was it? No. I'm imagining it. Or it's wishful thinking. Or both. But damn, this isn't going to be easy—this whole setup we've got planned. I have to remember it's not real, as much as I wish it was. He punched the elevator button for the ground floor of the hotel, glad he was the only passenger. It gave him time to get his emotions under control, both those involving the idea Brooks might be at his house when he got home—as unlikely as he knew that was—and his feelings when it came to Gideon. By the time he stepped out of the elevator, the only thing he wanted to do was hit his bed and get some sleep so he could face the morning with a working brain. "What brain I have," he muttered with a trace of amusement as he left the hotel then headed home.

  Chapter Seven

  Not exactly high class, but it suits my presumed persona. Gideon put away the last of his clothes in the small closet in the bedroom. The furnishings were…adequate. According to the building manager, they had been left behind when the previous tenant had been evicted, although the mattress on the bed was new. Gideon suspected new was a generic term for "it came from a decent near-new shop". But then, he'd slept on worse in his day.

  He dressed in slacks and a good shirt, made certain he had his keys and wallet, then took off for the gallery. Unsurprisingly, it was already open when he arrived, since it was just after eleven.

  "My new comrade-in-arms," James said in greeting when he saw Gideon.

  Gideon chuckled. "I thought I was clerking, not going to battle."

  "Never worked in a gallery before, I take it. It can be a battle, explaining to people who don't know what they're looking at why, say…that Tularosa cooking pot from circa 1150 is worth more than that modern Acoma one." He pointed to both items.

  "I'm sure. Why don't you show me the ins and outs of what I'm supposed to do, presuming I do manage to make a sale?"

  They were in the midst of that when Cole came out of his office. Gideon wasn't certain how he felt when Cole's expression lit up momentarily when he saw him—before he tamped it down to a casual smile as he came over to join them.

  "Getting a fast lesson on how we do things?" Cole asked.

  "Enough to fake it for the next week, if it takes that long," Gideon replied. If asked—and thank God no one would—he was as glad to see Cole as Cole initially seemed to have been to see him. Like Cole did now, however, he kept his emotions to himself. There's no reason not to. No matter how I think I feel about him, nothing will come of it.

  For the remainder of the day, Gideon dealt with customers when they needed help and otherwise kept an eye on them to make certain no one decided they wanted to take home a rather expensive souvenir without paying for it. That would be hard to accomplish, since it took a key to get into any of the cases, but he knew from experience that thieves often worked in pairs. One person would ask to see an item, then the other would distract the salesperson while the first one pocketed whatever they were looking a
t—something that would be easy enough to do with arrowheads, small bowls, or a potsherd.

  By late afternoon, Gideon was ready for a break. So when Cole suggested he'd take over, so Gideon could take time to get something to eat, Gideon readily agreed.

  As he ate at a nearby restaurant, Gideon called Quint. "Did your reporter friend agree to do the article?" he asked.

  "Yep. It will be in tomorrow's paper. He liked the idea about a story on the illegal trade in stolen artifacts. He was quite willing to work in the fact that I think one of the men involved in catching the looters might know where the missing artifacts are."

  "Good. He must be a quick study, though, to be able to write it that fast," Gideon said.

  "He said he'd done some research on the subject after the news broke that we arrested Alvarez and Davis, especially since Cole had talked about the problem when the reporters interviewed him."

  "That was lucky."

  "No kidding. What he comes up with will sound authentic. Hopefully, enough so that when, or if, Brooks sees it, he won't think it's a plant to catch him."

  "Let's hope he doesn't," Gideon said, "or our plan goes out the window."

  "No kidding."

  They hung up. Gideon finished his meal, then returned to the gallery. His gaze immediately went to Cole, who was with a customer and thus unaware of Gideon's arrival. What is it about him that I can't seem to get him out of my thoughts? He's not what I'd call handsome, so it's not that. Yes, he's intelligent. He can carry on a conversation and sound as if he knows what he's talking about, which is more than some men I've had a passing interest in can do. Passing interest being the delineator there. Since Robin… As always, he did his best to push Robin out of his thoughts. It never worked. What had happened to Robin would always color Gideon's personal life. Or lack of it, he knew. Could that change with Cole? He wasn't certain he had it in him to find out.

  "You're back," Cole said when he finally noticed Gideon. The smile on his face was too warm, too heartfelt to be just that of a boss being relieved his employee was there to take over again. Not that Gideon was actually an employee but that's how it was supposed to look. A boyfriend Cole had hired… That's it. That's why the overblown reaction. He's playing the part and I should too.

  "I am," Gideon replied, going over to give Cole a quick hug. "Well fed and ready to do whatever you need." He winked at Cole then crossed to a man who was studying some of the bowls in one of the cases.

  *****

  Cole was momentarily shocked by Gideon's actions, until he remembered the presumed explanation for why Gideon was working at the gallery. I wouldn't mind in the least if it was real. His shoulders slumped as he went back to his office. But it's not and it never will be. Romance novels to the contrary, there's rarely if ever such a thing as "gay for you". And it definitely won't happen with a married man.

  Cole was deep into what he doing—writing up then printing tags for a new consignment of artifacts that would be put into one of the cases in the showroom—when there was a knock on the office door.

  "It's open," he called out, smiling when Gideon came into the room.

  "I forgot to tell you," Gideon said. "Quint's reporter contact at the Post loved the idea of doing a story about stolen artifacts. It'll be in the paper tomorrow."

  "Then we pray Keith sees it and reacts the way we want him to."

  "Yep." Gideon crossed to the printer, looking at the sheet of tags, and grinned. "You're sure these are legal?"

  "The tags?" Cole asked.

  "No. The items they belong to."

  Cole frowned. "Of course they are, or I wouldn't be selling them."

  "I was teasing," Gideon said, momentarily squeezing Cole's shoulder. "You tensed up the minute you mentioned Brooks' name."

  "I did? Yeah, I suppose so. I'll be damned glad when he shows his face and we can end this."

  "So you can get back to your real life?"

  "As much as I have one," Cole replied sourly.

  "What?" Gideon rested one hip on the desk, looking down at Cole. "Between the gallery and the digs, it seems to me you have quite an active one."

  "Work-wise, yeah. I guess I shouldn't complain. It keeps me busy. Not like your life, though. I don't have someone to come home to at the end of the day—or the week, if I'm at a dig."

  A flash of—Cole wasn't certain what—darkened Gideon's expression before the man smiled. "I'm sure you could find someone to fill the bill, if you put your mind to it."

  Cole chuckled. "If I had some free time to go looking. That hasn't been an option recently, like in the last umpteen years. And I shouldn't be laying this on you."

  "No problem. I've been told I have a good ear when someone needs to talk about things."

  "I think a good ear has to do with music, not listening to people's problems," Cole replied with a grin.

  "I was going to say a shoulder to cry on, but I'm not sure that has to do with listening to someone's problems."

  "Semantics," Cole retorted.

  "True. And I should get back to work and earn my pay."

  "I'm paying you?"

  Gideon laughed. "Supposedly. At least as far as the customers are concerned," he replied as he pushed off the desk then left.

  There goes one of the nicest men I've ever known—and the most unavailable. With a sigh, Cole got back to what he'd been doing.

  *****

  "All finished and ready to go?" Gideon asked just after nine thirty that night.

  "I am. We have to stop at the night depository." Cole held up the bank bag. "Then you can follow me home to make sure I don't have an unexpected visitor." He unlocked the door, waited until Gideon was out, then set the alarm, locking up again before joining him. "Where did you park?"

  "Right down there." Gideon pointed to a lot at the end of the block.

  "Good. Me too."

  Gideon chuckled. "I know. I saw your car. Do you want to stop for dinner? If I remember right, the last time we did, you said its part of your normal routine."

  "It is, but if you want to get back to your apartment, I can pick something up to take home with me."

  "Make it enough for two, and we can eat at your place. It will reinforce the idea we're supposed to be a couple."

  "All right."

  After the stop at the bank, Cole led the way to the Hornet, parking a block away on a side street. Gideon pulled up behind him, then they walked to the restaurant.

  "The food's good, if you like burgers," Cole said before telling the hostess they were doing takeout. She handed them menus, they both ordered, then they moved to the bar area to wait.

  "Not exactly quiet," Gideon said with a laugh, leaning close so Cole could hear him over the noise from people and the TVs.

  "Never is," Cole replied. 'When I eat here, I always ask for a booth back there"—he pointed—"so I can hear myself think."

  "Smart move, I suspect."

  Cole repressed a shiver of desire when Gideon's breath tickled his ear. He moved a step away, earning a lifted eyebrow and a knowing smile from Gideon. Thankfully, Gideon left it at that, without comment.

  They remained quiet, people-watching, until a waitress brought their bagged-up dinners. The drive to Cole's house took ten minutes. Once they were inside, Cole set out plates and silverware on the table. Gideon opened the bags, distributing their food, then they began eating.

  "You were right. The burgers are great. At least, mine is," Gideon commented.

  "They always are." Cole resisted the temptation to reach over with his napkin to wipe away the ketchup decorating Gideon's upper lip. When Gideon's tongue flicked out to take care of the problem, Cole's pulse sped up. It was such a sensual motion, even though he knew Gideon hadn't meant it to be.

  When they finished eating, Gideon helped Cole clean up, then said, "I should head back to the apartment. With any luck at all, the news story will bring Brooks out of the woodwork and he'll show his face, one way or another. I need to be ready when that happens."

&nb
sp; "Armed and dangerous," Cole replied with a hesitant smile.

  "Not sure how dangerous…but armed? Yeah. Try to get some sleep. Okay?"

  "I will."

  "If he doesn't show up at the gallery, I'll be keeping you company tomorrow night." After a second's pause, Gideon rephrased his words. "I'll be here, probably on the sofa."

  "I knew what you meant," Cole told him, wishing they were playing the scenario out to its fullest extent. But their being a couple was just an act. Damn it.

  They walked onto the front porch together, then, much to Cole's shock, Gideon hugged him. It was quick, and Cole knew, only for show, but it was a hug. So he hugged Gideon back, saying, "I wish you didn't have to leave so early."

  "Tomorrow night…" Gideon grinned before walking down the sidewalk to his car.

  Cole watched him drive off, knowing there wouldn't be a tomorrow night if Keith Brooks did come by the gallery sometime tomorrow. He almost hoped he wouldn't. With a sigh, he went back inside, locking the door then setting the alarm before heading upstairs to bed.

  Chapter Eight

  "Did you see this?" James said, moments after coming into the gallery Thursday morning. He handed Cole the Post, folded to the page with the article about stolen Native American artifacts. "It doesn't mention you by name, but—"

  "It better not have," Cole replied dryly, after scanning the story. Since James already knew the basic idea behind it, Cole didn't have to elaborate. He gave the paper to Gideon to look at.

  "Perfect," Gideon said. "Now, we wait and see if it worked."

  As far as Cole was concerned, from that moment, the day seemed to drag on forever. By the time it was dark outside, he figured if Keith Brooks had put two and two together, he'd probably decided to, at best, follow Cole home, then… Do whatever he has in mind to make me tell him where the artifacts are. At worst, Brooks would see it for what it was—a trap to catch him—and disappear.

  It was seven when James left—his usual time when he started at ten. Gideon was playing his part, waiting on a couple who were interested in a large black and white Mesa Verde Kiva jar. Cole, feeling jumpy and at loose ends, went to get the tags he'd printed out the previous day and the artifacts they belonged with. When he returned to the main room, he saw it was vacant, except for Gideon, who was straightening a display at the rear of the smaller, side gallery. Cole had unlocked the case, and was rearranging the stock to make room for the new acquisitions, when the front door opened.