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shot a peek at his profile, dark hair cut short on the sides, bangs long enough to show the slightest tendency to curl. Thick brows and a strong chin that sported the shadow of the beard that would no doubt emerge if he wasn’t impeccably shaved.
    “I overheard you talking on the phone to your mother.”
    Brooke stiffened. “My mom is gone. That was my father’s cousin. My unofficial aunt.”
    “Is your father ill?”
    The question might have been rude if it hadn’t resonated with a certain compassion. Or was it clinical curiosity? She sighed. “Yes, he’s…he’s not well.”
    “And you’re trying to find the painting because you think time is running out for him?”
    She shoved her hands under her thighs. “Isn’t that kind of a personal question after you washed your hands of my case?”
    A ghost of a smile danced on his lips. “You’re right. Poor bedside manner. I apologize.”
    “Why aren’t you a doctor anymore?” she blurted out, aghast at her own forwardness. What had come over her?
    He didn’t look at her, but she saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel. “I needed a break.”
    “So you went from being a doctor to a treasure hunter?”
    He offered a small smile. “Luca’s idea. He’s always been part Indiana Jones.”
    She brightened. “Do you think he would take my case, then?”
    Victor laughed. “We usually stick together on these decisions. Treasure Seekers is really important to all of us.”
    “Indiana Jones would have done it.” They exchanged a look and both of them laughed until Brooke flopped her head back against the seat. “Well, you did save my life, so I guess I can forgive you for turning me down.”
    “I’m glad,” he said.
    “I think I’ve heard your name before somewhere. Are you an art aficionado?”
    “No, but my wife was.” He cleared his throat. “I took up treasure hunting after she was killed.”
    Brooke felt herself flush. “I’m sorry.”
    He nodded, not looking at her. “Me, too.”
    They pulled up at the hotel and Brooke got out quickly, hoping Victor wouldn’t offer to walk her in. He did anyway, in spite of her protests. Something about him made her stomach flutter.
    The hotel carpet was plush, the lobby tasteful with graceful indoor trees and richly upholstered chairs arranged in cozy groups. It all looked so normal, so unbelievably calm compared to the anxiety storming inside her.
    He walked with her to the elevator and they got inside, the silence thickening between them. Brooke could not figure out what to think about the man next to her. She wanted to be angry with him for brushing her off, but those feelings were outweighed by his heroic effort in the lobby and the shadow in his eyes when he spoke of his wife.
    She would have shaken her head to ward off the thoughts if he wasn’t standing so close, close enough for her to catch the faint musky aftershave and see the tiny cut on his cheek, no doubt caused by his dive into the glass.
    A big man wearing dark glasses got into the elevator. She jumped as he dropped the clipboard he was carrying, which fell to the floor with a sharp crack. Victor gave her a reassuring look as the man apologized, and she offered him a shaky smile.
    Victor saw her up to the fifth floor and waited until she slid her key card and opened the door. She turned to thank him again.
    He held up a hand to stop her. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
    He’d turned and walked away before she could answer.
    I hope you do, too.
    Brooke closed the door with a deep sigh and leaned her forehead against the cool panel before she turned around to find a man standing next to the bed.

THREE
    V ictor checked his iPhone.
    Message from his brother.
     
     
Steph told me what happened. Don’t take that case. You’re not getting the whole story.
    Victor could picture his little brother’s determined face. He’d seen Luca’s same ferocious resolve to help after Jen died. It was the reason, he suspected, his brother