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  When Holbrooke reached for the phone, Jared dived for his gun hand, barely twisting it away from his body as it fired. Plaster showered them from the ceiling. Holbrooke was surprisingly strong, but Jared held on desperately to the gun. They tumbled across the room, their bodies linked in furious combat. Broken glass on the carpet pierced Jared’s skin. He kicked his opponent and felt an answering kick in his upper thigh, dangerously close to his groin. The gun went off again, shattering a nearby floor vase that Jared was sure had cost over twenty thousand dollars. He hit Holbrooke’s gun hand into the leg of an antique chair and heard the gun thump to the carpet.

  With his newly freed hands, he slammed his right fist into Holbrooke’s face once, twice, and then a third time in rapid succession. Holbrooke punched back, but the blow grazed off Jared’s chin. Jared pulled back his right fist again and let it fly, holding Holbrooke’s face into position with the left. The man moaned and fell back, unmoving.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Jared heard Cassi scream.

  He turned his head to see Laranda going for the fallen gun, but Cassi picked up another floor vase and threw it at her. Laranda dodged, and the vase crashed to the carpet next to Jared, shattering and mixing in with the broken glass.

  Cassi lunged for the gun and whirled it on Laranda. “Stop right there!”

  Jared rose to his feet, keeping one eye on the dazed Holbrooke, waiting to see what Laranda would do next.

  “You don’t have the guts to shoot, girl.” Laranda took a step toward the door and freedom.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Jared said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “After all, you threw her down a bottomless pit, remember?”

  “No, Laranda’s right. Shooting’s too good for her.” In a swift movement, Cassi switched the gun to her left hand, balled up her fist, and punched Laranda in the stomach. “Don’t,” Cassi said, “you ever mess with us again.” Laranda curled over, gasping for breath.

  Jared grinned at Cassi. “Man, I wanted to be the one to do that.”

  “Well, I wanted to be the one to get him,” Cassi pointed at Holbrooke, “so we’re even.”

  Scurrying footsteps alerted them to the presence of someone else in the house. Jared tensed for another fight.

  Two men sprang through the open drawing room doors, their guns drawn.

  * * *

  “FBI!” FRED SHOUTED.

  “Put down your weapons!” Justin added.

  Cassi lowered her gun with a laugh. “You’re just a little late—again.”

  Fred relaxed. “Have you ever thought about joining the FBI?”

  “No way,” Jared and Cassi said together.

  Jared gripped Quentin Holbrooke’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Holbrooke’s face looked more battered, but both men were bloodied and beaten.

  At Fred’s glance, Holbrooke straightened. “You’re all forgetting something,” he said. Everyone looked at him.

  “I’ve known every move you’ve made. All of you. Yes, from the minute you learned things I knew them. I was always a step ahead. And do you know why?”

  “A plant,” Cassi said, her face paling.

  Jared shook Holbrooke a little. “Keep talking.”

  Fred’s worst nightmare was coming true. Holbrooke’s unsubtle innuendos could mean only one thing. Without hesitation, Fred brought his gun around to point at Justin. He felt no surprise to see Justin’s gun pointing directly at him.

  “How long’s it been?” Fred grated. “I can’t believe you’d betray the motto. Remember? Fidelity, bravery, integrity? How dare you.” Fred willed his gun hand not to shake. One of them would die tonight. Under other circumstances, Fred would have willingly given his life for Justin, but not to benefit Big Tommy’s gang.

  “Don’t try to put this off on me,” Justin replied, his voice equally hard. “I couldn’t believe it when I realized someone was leaking information. You were so casual about it. Now I know why. How could you? I looked up to you. I would have given my life for you. Why did you do it? Was it the pay?”

  Justin’s words sank in about the time Holbrooke started laughing. Justin obviously wasn’t the leak! The relief Fred felt was overshadowed by fear. Slowly, he turned to the hall and saw Darla there with a gun. Two goons were at her side.

  Fred glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye and saw him smile wistfully. For the past week, they’d both been so intent on trying not to believe the other was guilty that they had overlooked their secretary, Darla, the other most likely person. She had access to all their information.

  “Darla!” Fred said.

  She smiled. “I guess we won’t be going out after all, huh, Freddy boy? That’s a shame, too. I was looking forward to it. I mean, if Quentin can play with her,” she nodded toward Laranda, “then why can’t I go out with you?” She sighed. “Oh, well. When I heard from that teeny tiny little bug I put in your office about how you were going to get my man, I figured I’d pop on over here with a couple of his loyal boys. Now, put down those guns or . . . or else.” She giggled. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  Fred noticed the change in Justin’s stance. They had worked together long enough for him to know that Justin wasn’t going to give up. Neither would Fred. It was a shame they hadn’t talked about their suspicions before this. Maybe then they would have seen behind Darla’s pretty face.

  As one, they turned and fired into the thugs. Fred threw himself to the side as his gun exploded. He felt a bullet rip into his arm, but with satisfaction he saw both thugs fall. He switched the gun from his useless right hand to his left, knowing he was a poorer shot with it, but hoping it would be enough.

  Another shot fired, this time from Darla’s gun. Fred lunged toward her, knocking it out of her hands before turning to see who she had shot. Was it Justin? Had Fred’s lapse in judgment cost him his friend’s life? Or Cassi? Or Jared? Both of whom he’d worked so long and hard to save?

  But it was Laranda who was crumpled to the floor in a lifeless heap. Justin reached Fred’s side, clamping a hand on Darla so she couldn’t flee. Darla smirked at Holbrooke. “I told you I wouldn’t stand for it, darling. Now I got you both.”

  Quentin Holbrooke stared at her, his face a mask of anger. “I would have killed her myself, you shrew!”

  Fred looked at Justin, who was uninjured. “Seeing us now, one might ask why I’m the supervisor.”

  “Naaaa.” Justin clapped him on the back. “I’m just better at ducking.”

  Fred clamped handcuffs on Holbrooke before checking on Laranda. Everyone waited as he did. “She’s dead,” he announced. Though no one uttered a sound, the tension in the room cranked down several notches. “Guess we’d better call for backup.”

  Justin pulled out his cell phone. “And an ambulance, too, by the looks of your arm.”

  Even as he spoke, uniformed police officers swarmed into the house and surrounded everyone. “It looks like help has arrived,” Fred said.

  A man in a wheelchair glided toward them. “I thought you might need some backup.” Carl looked pointedly at the blood dripping from Fred’s arm. “Seems I’m right.”

  Fred didn’t want to admit how right. “So, Carl, have you ever thought about working for the FBI?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CASSI WAS RELIEVED WHEN IT was all over. Some of the agents had found Sampson, and Fred let him go to the police station with his father until a relative could come to take care of him. Father and son had hugged each other with genuine emotion, and Cassi knew that Quentin hadn’t lied when he claimed to love the child. She hoped Sampson would be all right—eventually.

  She walked out to the car with Jared and Carl, where they found someone untying their driver. Darla’s work, Cassi thought.

  “Why don’t I give you two a ride?” Carl said, motioning to his specially equipped van. “And let this fellow go home.”

  Cassi nodded. “If you don’t mind taking us to the hospital. We want to see Linden.”

  Jared climbed in the b
ack, holding his stomach as though it pained him. “The hospital might be the right place for me. I’m feeling a little queasy.”

  “Well, no wonder. You’re bleeding.” Cassi pointed to his arm, where blood had already soaked through the long sleeve of his shirt. “You must have cut yourself when you went through the window.” She found a small package of tissue in her purse and climbed in the van beside him, taking all of the tissue out of the cellophane and pressing it over the large gash.

  Jared put his other arm around Cassi and looked earnestly at her. “If I ever want to do anything stupid like fly through a glass window again, just smack me, okay? Just haul out and smack me hard. I don’t think I can handle the excitement.”

  “Neither can I,” Cassi said with a grimace. “But you came barely in time. Thank you.”

  At her words, Jared looked embarrassed, and Cassi knew it was because it all could have so easily turned out some other way. Regardless, Jared had saved them, and she knew he would risk his life again in a minute if she was in danger.

  She slid closer to him on the seat, and he tightened his arm around her shoulders. “You know,” he said, “what we need now is a long vacation.”

  “Or you could work for the FBI,” Carl said gruffly over his shoulder. “What is it about that Fred, anyway? You’d think he gets a recruitment fee.”

  Cassi laughed. “He just admires good work when he sees it. Or maybe he really just wants you for a part time contact.” She sobered. “Like Linden.”

  No one said anything for a long moment and then Carl broke the silence. “Is she really dead?”

  No one had to ask who he meant. “Oh, yeah,” Jared said grimly. “I checked myself after Fred. She’s dead, all right. I have to admit that I’m glad. She would have come after us again. I know it.”

  Cassi shivered. She knew it, too. Now with Laranda gone, they would be free to live their lives without interruption. If only Linden could be so lucky.

  At the hospital, they were allowed into Linden’s room despite the late hour. Their fame had preceded them to the hospital, and the agents in the corridor greeted them with respect.

  Cassi sat by Linden’s bed, holding his hand. “I’m here,” she told him, putting her cheek next to his. “I’m safe, thanks to your hidden tunnel.” She had thought there were no more left, but she was wrong. “I’m so sorry, Linden, for everything that happened. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I love you. You’ve been such a good friend. I wish I could have been as good a one to you.”

  Linden’s hand squeezed hers. He heard me!

  Cassi kept talking. She told Linden every detail of their adventure, with Jared and Carl filling in their parts of the story. They stayed far into the night. Fred Schulte eventually joined them, and he recalled old times of his work with Linden. There was a sense of peace in the air.

  Yet Linden never regained consciousness before he died early Thursday morning, surrounded by his closest friends and Carl, who wasn’t really a friend, but who would have liked to be. Cassi cried, but she was grateful she’d been able to say goodbye.

  Over the next few days, Jared helped Cassi take care of the arrangements for the funeral that would take place that Saturday. Linden was highly regarded in the art community, and there were many who would want to pay their respects.

  “I guess we’re not getting married tomorrow after all,” Cassi said wistfully.

  “How about next week?” Jared asked. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “I feel guilty thinking about that when Linden’s dead.”

  Jared held her, wiping the tears from her face. “He would have wanted it. He always wanted you to be happy.” Now his voice took on a tinge of bitterness. “He was so opposite Laranda.”

  “Let me think about it, okay?”

  That afternoon at the gallery in Linden’s office, she was surprised by a visit from Linden’s attorney. She laid aside the papers she was working on and stood to shake his hand. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you. You’re coming to tell me who owns the gallery now, aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  “Please have a seat.” She already suspected what was in the will. Linden had no relatives other than a distant step-cousin, and he’d often talked about leaving his small fortune to charity. Cassi was glad that she and Jared had plans to start their own gallery, but her heart ached at leaving Linden’s dream behind. It was all she had left of him.

  “It seems you are a very wealthy woman,” the attorney said.

  “What?” Cassi sank into her chair, stunned beyond the ability to think clearly.

  “With the exception of a few substantial charity bequests and a gift to a man named Fred Schulte, you are the beneficiary of all of his assets.”

  “But . . . how long ago did he make the will?” she managed to ask.

  “Last year. But I did talk with him about it last month. He told me you were getting married.”

  “I am. Or was. With the funeral and all, I—” Cassi broke off.

  “There are two requests in conjunction with the will,” the attorney continued, not appearing to notice her hesitancy. “First, Linden would like you to keep his name on the gallery.”

  “I would never change that.”

  “He didn’t think so.”

  “And the other?”

  “That you are to go on with your dream and make the gallery yours, changing or trying out anything that you see fit.” He smiled and said gently, “For what it’s worth, when Linden told me you were getting married, I asked him if he wanted to change the will, and he said no. He was happy for you. Knowing him as well as I did, I think he would want you to go ahead with your wedding plans.”

  The attorney rose and handed her his card. “If you have any questions, please feel free to call me. As executor, I will see that the funds and titles are all transferred to your name. My fees are deducted directly from the estate before the transfer.”

  “Thank you.” Cassi watched him go. “And thank you, Linden,” she whispered.

  She lifted the phone. “Okay, Jared, I’ll marry you. Just name the date.”

  * * *

  FOUR DAYS LATER, THEY WERE married. Cassi’s hair had been washed clean of the dye and newly cut in a salon. With the veil cascading down her back, she felt like her old self.

  Instead of the elopement she expected, all of their family and close friends were in attendance. Jared had indeed planned the perfect ceremony. When Cassi looked into his eyes, her hand in his, she knew without a doubt that she loved him more than she would ever love anyone. She had faith that their bond, forged by adversity and sealed in marriage, would last forever.

  As promised, the gruff Carl and his pretty wife Maria were at the ceremony.

  Afterward, Carl drove them to the airport, letting them off outside. “I think I’d like to send those boys who saved me in New York a painting by that young Portuguese genius. How can I get hold of him?”

  “He should be in San Diego next week,” Cassi said. “As one of his sponsors, I found him a studio. Here, let me give you the address.”

  Jared pulled out their suitcases from the van. “While you’re doing that, maybe you can tell me where we’re going.”

  She leaned over and kissed her new husband. “Not on your life.”

  Many hours, three planes, and a taxi later, Cassi untied Jared’s blindfold. She had finally let him know to which country they were headed, but had insisted he put the blindfold on in the taxi before they arrived at their destination. “Okay, open your eyes.”

  “A cabin in France? How did you think of it? It’s perfect.” He picked her up and swung her around, knocking over their luggage on the porch.

  “Oh, I have connections.” She fished under a large rock next to the door and found a key that Zack Fields had left there a few hours earlier.

  Jared put his arms loosely around her. “Well, Mrs. Landine, I think it’s high time I carried you over the threshold.”
>
  Cassi grinned. “Maybe I should carry you. After all, you have to cook dinner.”

  He groaned but kissed her tenderly, sending sparks of excitement to her toes. Then he picked her up, fumbled with the key, and opened the door, kicking it shut behind them.

  We hope you have enjoyed Framed for Love by Rachel Ann Nunes. For your enjoyment, we have included two bonuses on the next few pages! First, a sneak peek into Love on the Run, the third book in the trilogy. Then a preview of House Without Lies, a contemporary romance novel by Rachel Ann Nunes under the pen name Rachel Branton that we think you will also enjoy. You can learn more about Rachel Ann Nunes and her books on the About the Author page.

  THE END

  Sneak Peek

  PROLOGUE

  ROGER EDWARD STANTON III CLICKED shut his briefcase, satisfied that all he would need was inside. Not that it took much preparation. His client had been extremely organized and exact in her demands. He had long respected her for her clarity, as well as her sleek beauty. When he had first met her, he had entertained thoughts of pursuing a personal relationship, but he was quickly cured of the idea. She was hard, cold, and calculating—everything he admired in a business associate, but detested in women he dated. And yet some longing inside him remained. Her beauty, brains, and—yes, he would admit it to himself—her amoral attitude had been compelling. She was much like himself.

  His trip to the morgue yesterday had been unnecessary with the newspapers full of the account, but he needed to verify for himself that she was really dead. And she was. With a bullet hole in her chest, right through her heart. Funny that the organ she had used so little in life had been the cause of her demise.

  There were none to mourn her as far as Roger had been able to determine, though if there had been, it would have made no difference in her plans, updated for the last time early on the day of her death. Not that she had planned to die, of course, but there was always the possibility.

  She had always covered every possibility.

  Roger had fleetingly thought of searching out her promised fortune for himself—an idea that left his head as soon as it entered. If he went against his client’s wishes, he had no doubt he would join her in the grave and another contingency plan would go into effect. He smiled. What a woman!