“It makes the medicine go down,” he said, with a nod.

Julie shook her head and glanced at Luke. “You have a very strange brother.”

“Yes,” Luke said. “I know.”

“We all know,” Jesse agreed.

“Pride myself on it,” Blake said, “and I still need that word or even a phrase that tells me you’re in trouble. I’ll have limited visual.”

Julie thought a moment about what would be easily used in the mixed company she’d be in. “How about ‘I have a headache’?”

The men all laughed. Julie’s brows furrowed. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Almost every woman given this question comes up with that answer,” Blake supplied. “It’s like all females are born with that excuse in their psyche.”

“That’s your discreet ‘help’ call,” Luke said. “If you feel like the situation merits Kyle and Jesse coming with guns drawn, you say ‘I think I’m getting a migraine.”

Her stomach knotted. He was about to leave. “Okay.”

Luke slapped the cover down on the mic and picked it up, then twined the fingers of his one free hands with hers. “Let’s go get you wired.”

She nodded because suddenly her throat was too tight to form words. A few minutes later they stood in the bedroom by the bed, and Luke used some sort of adhesive to stick the device on the inside of her bra.

His fingers skimmed her neck. “Don’t leave the building and stay in the highly populated areas of the function until I get to you. It’s killing me to leave you.”

“Then don’t,” she said, her hand grasping his wrist. “Please don’t go to the judge’s house. He’ll have moved anything of importance after Elizabeth’s threat.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But we have to try, and tonight when his main collection is on display will make it easier to see what is left behind.”

“Just come to the party with me, Luke, please. I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

“If I didn’t think my experience was critical to doing this, I’d send someone else, but I know how to get us in and out unnoticed. And Blake would die to protect you or I’d never even consider this.”

“I don’t care about me. I care about you. Just don’t do this at all.”

His expression softened. “I care about you and you said you wanted a means to an end. And as much as I want to lock you away someplace safe, I know it’s not realistic. That means I have to find answers and end this. I have to a look in the judge’s house and his safe.”

“It’s my fault you’re even in this.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “And anywhere you are, I want to be, including at the party. So I’m going to go get this over with so I can join you.”

***

Julie spent the first thirty minutes inside the Manhattan Museum of Art checking on every detail to make sure the event was going well. More than anything, she didn’t want to think about what could be happening to Luke. That meant staying busy, which also allowed her to avoid the judge, and, for that matter, anyone who might want to kill her.

When her excuses to avoid mingling ran out, she stood at the edge of the main event space, large enough to host a wedding of at least five hundred. A band played a soft melody opposite from where Julie stood. White linen-covered tables surrounded a dance floor where only one couple had braved center stage thus far. Away from the tables, people in fancy dresses and suits stood in groups, chatting.

Julie headed for the tables, deciding to make the rounds and thank everyone for coming. She’d just finished chatting with the first table of ten when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Julie.”

She swung around to see Gina standing in front of her with her arm linked through that of an Adonis with dark hair and piercing eyes.

“Gina,” Julie said taking in Gina’s white silk dress with appreciation. Her hair was pulled up with tiny ringlets of curls around her face. “You look lovely tonight. Like an angel.”

The man laughed, and Gina elbowed him. “This is Marco, my very rude date. Marco, this is Julie Harrison, my boss.”

He gave a gallant half bow. “Pleased indeed, Ms. Harrison.” There was a strong accent to his voice that Julie couldn’t quite place.

He straightened, and Julie didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her cle**age. He was good-looking but there was something almost predatory about him.

“Marco is an artist,” Gina inserted.

“Really?” Julie said. “What kind of art?”

“My art, like my interests are broad,” he said, and there was no missing the undertone of flirtation. Julie’s gaze slid to Gina’s face with concern, but Gina didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sure this is an interesting night for you two then,” she said. ”I hope you’ll enjoy the event. You deserve it. Thank you for making phone calls and juggling so much to help me this morning.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said, “and I’ll be glad to help with anything you need tonight.”

Was there a condescending tone to her voice? And had it been there before and Julie hadn’t noticed? Or maybe paranoia had just taken over. “It seems like all is well, so I’d say go have a good evening.” Julie motioned toward a corridor to the right of the band. “The judge’s collection is down that hallway and it truly is spectacular.”