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Romeo & Julian 2

A Talent in Your Lies

FBI agent Julian Harris realizes that when it comes to his new
consultant Romeo, being close to someone and knowing them are

two entirely different things.

Two weeks into their new work relationship, Romeo and Julian
have the first real case on their sheet. A stolen painting not only

requires former art thief Romeo's expertise, it also gives Julian the
chance to find out more about the man who shares his bed but

has yet to tell him his real name. As they unravel the solution to
the crime, Julian realizes that Romeo has more secrets than he

thought and might even be using his new status as FBI team
member to pursue his own agenda.

Once again, Julian follows a path full of unexpected twists and
turns on his quest to unveil Romeo's true identity—and what does
it mean that just as he gets close, his own life is in danger?

Note: This book is written in one point of view.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary
Length: 33,112 words

A TALENT IN YOUR LIES

Romeo & Julian 2

Sage Marlowe

EROTIC ROMANCE

MANLOVE

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A TALENT IN YOUR LIES
Copyright © 2013 by Sage Marlowe
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-272-2

First E-book Publication: February 2013

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A TALENT IN YOUR LIES

Romeo & Julian 2

SAGE MARLOWE

Prologue

“Fuck, you have got to stop that!” Julian yelled over the noise of a

coffee mug shattering on the tiled floor.

“Stop what?”
“Sneaking up on me like that! You’re like a fucking cat!”
“I wasn’t sneaking up on you,” the newly arrived pointed out with

an innocent expression. “Just coming in to grab a coffee.”

“Here, take this one.” Julian handed him the second cup that still

sat on the counter. “I was just about to bring it to you anyway.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you. You’re spoiling me.”
“I know. Don’t get used to it,” Julian grumbled and, crouching on

the floor, carefully picked up the pieces of shattered earthenware.
Before he realized it, his companion was at his side, wiping up the
spilled coffee with a cloth.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“It’s okay. At least the others can’t see us now.” Strong fingers

were curled around the nape of Julian’s neck, pulling him in for a
quick but nonetheless pleasurable kiss.

“Oh, fuck.” Julian let out a deep sigh when he was released and

got to his feet again. “We really shouldn’t be doing this.”

A Talent in Your Lies

“Why not?” Romeo grinned mischievously. “Does smooching in

the coffee kitchen mess with your concentration?”

“No.” Julian returned the smile. “Well, a bit maybe, but I’m more

worried about someone walking in on us one of these days.”

“So what? You said yourself that the FBI doesn’t care.”
“It doesn’t. At least not about the sexual orientation of its agents

as such, but affairs among members of staff, especially of those who
work in the same division, are still frowned upon.”

Romeo chuckled. “Oh, Jules. You’re so hot when you quote

federal regulations. It makes me want to rip off your clothes and drop
to my knees to—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Julian warned.
Romeo’s grin widened. “To worship you and the ground you walk

on,” he finished smoothly. “Besides, technically I’m not a member of
staff anyway. I’m just a consultant, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Julian remembered indeed. How could he

forget? After spending the best part of three years chasing after an
excellent art thief, he had finally succeeded in catching him, and then
he had spent a night with him neither of them had been able to forget.

Another year later, they had met again, and the course of events

had brought them even closer together. In a twisted turn of fate,
Romeo had been recruited by the FBI as Julian’s consultant in his
Division for Art-Related Crimes. Ironically, he had formally started
his new job on Christmas Eve—the very day they had met one year
earlier. Now, two weeks into their working relationship, they had yet
to come across a case that required Romeo’s talents while spending
some of the time outside of the office exploring each other’s talents.

They had enjoyed a few pleasurable hours during the holidays

together, both relieved that their status as hunter and quarry was at
last annulled. However, Romeo’s true identity, and his reasons for
working with the FBI all of a sudden, remained a secret to Julian.
Even the name, Romeo, was the nickname Julian himself had
assigned to the felon he had been chasing after. His consultant was

10 Sage

Marlowe

officially going by the name Paris Moore, but Julian knew that it was
just another alias in a long list of fake identities. He didn’t like the
name and didn’t care much for either, in fact, but the nickname,
Romeo, could at least be considered, well, a nickname. The other
name was just an alias. A stranger.

Julian had made himself promise not to address the matter of

Romeo’s real name anymore. Maybe one day he’d learn the truth
about him, but until then, he had to accept that his consultant—and
his lover—was full of secrets. In fact, he felt that, so far, he’d only
just scratched the surface of what Romeo was capable of. As a thief,
Romeo had scored some amazing coups, and he was doubtlessly able
to do more, but he had chosen to specialize in retrieving and returning
items that had been taken from their rightful owners.

As a lover, Romeo was skilled, generous, and passionate, and he’d

already admitted to having fallen in love with Julian, but he kept his
distance, and Julian knew better than to expect a deeply romantic
relationship from him. Romeo came and went as he pleased, much
like a cat, and just like a cat, he was smoochy and affectionate when
he wanted to be, but there was little doubt that he would reveal his
claws readily enough when crowded.

“Is it nice where you are, baby?” Julian was yanked back to the

present by Romeo’s soft, slightly amused voice. Caught off guard,
Julian made a face and shook his head. “Just thinking about
something.”

“Mmm. I hope it has to do with what you’re planning to do to me

tonight.”

“Does that mean you’re going to pop by?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Of course.”
“Want me to pick up dinner on the way?”
“Okay. Chinese?”
“If you want. What—”

A Talent in Your Lies

The appearance of Barnes, one of the junior agents assigned to

Julian’s division, put an end to their careless, homely banter. He
poked his head around the doorframe, wearing a slight frown on his
face. “Sir? Chief Baxter wants to see you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there,” Julian replied and dumped the last

of the shards in the garbage.

Casting a glance at Romeo, Barnes added, “Both of you.”
Julian couldn’t help feeling that Barnes wasn’t too pleased with

the addition of Romeo to the team. He wasn’t sure how much the
young agent or any other member of his division knew about their
new consultant’s identity or what they suspected, but ambitious
Barnes at least was likely to consider him as competition. Regardless
of what they made of his presence, Romeo had thoroughly charmed
all of them within minutes of being introduced on his first working
day. The two female team members were ready to kiss the ground he
walked on, while the four men considered him as one of their best
buddies.

Julian doubted that any of them had suspicions as to the nature of

the relationship between him and Romeo or would assume Romeo to
be gay, and he was certain that Romeo wouldn’t bother to deceive
them on purpose. As long as nobody asked, fine. If anybody should
ask, he would probably tell them in that very pleasant way of his to go
fuck themselves. Romeo could be very uncompromising, just like
Chief Baxter, Julian’s stern but reliable boss. More even than the
question of what his team members knew about Romeo, Julian would
have liked to learn what she knew about him. It was obvious that she
was far better informed of his past than she was letting on, but she’d
made it unmistakably clear that she wasn’t going to discuss his person
with Julian.

As he followed Romeo into Baxter’s office, Julian watched both

of them closely, or as closely as he could watch his consultant and
lover from behind. His body language was difficult to read at times,
especially if he wanted it to be, but at the moment he seemed relaxed

12 Sage

Marlowe

and at ease—very unlike most people who were summoned by the
boss.

“Agent Harris. Mr. Moore,” Baxter greeted. “Take a seat, please.”

Waiting for them to sit down, she observed them curiously.

“Have you settled in well, Mr. Moore?” she inquired in a polite,

almost conversational tone that had Julian perk up. It wasn’t like the
chief to spend time on pleasantries unless she had to.

“Absolutely.” Romeo flashed a smile. “Agent Harris has been

very…accommodating.”

Baxter’s eyebrows promptly went up a notch, and Julian would

have loved to give Romeo’s shin a hearty kick, but he kept his legs
well out of reach.

“I’m…pleased to hear that,” Baxter said. “I hope that means you

will be able to focus on the task ahead. Something’s come up that
requires your full concentration. Your first chance to show us how
much of an…enrichment you are to the team, Mr. Moore.”

She pushed a file across the table. Giving up his precautious

distance to Julian’s feet, Romeo leaned in to look at it alongside
Julian.

“The case is as follows,” Baxter explained. “We have a museum

with decent security—you’ll find the details in the file—but some
cunning little weasel managed to get in anyway and steal the most
valuable item in the entire building, a seventh-century, Chinese
bronze figure. The security cameras were off at the time of the theft
and—”

“It was an inside job,” Romeo said, abandoning his studies of the

case file. “My money’s on the director. He causes a problem with the
cameras so they have to be switched off, goes in, and takes the statue
out of its box. He doesn’t steal it, but hides it somewhere inside the
museum to pick it up later. It’s a classic trick. Everybody is so busy
trying to figure out how the mysterious break-in was done that no one
pays attention to what’s right in front of their eyes.”

A Talent in Your Lies

“But the police were there and searched everything. Don’t you

think they would have noticed something?” Baxter inquired. “If the
bronze figure was hidden inside the museum, wouldn’t they have
found it? And with all that attention, how could he have picked it up
and gotten it out?”

Romeo gave a lazy twitch of his shoulder. “Quite simply—not at

all. It’s still in the museum. The director must have known that it
would be too hot for him to move the piece with the police around.
He’s left it hidden where it was all along and waits until the fuss is
over before he gets it and sells it on.”

“Oh, really? And where do you think he’s hiding a seven-inch tall

bronze figure? Not among the pens on his desk, surely?”

Eyebrows raised, Romeo held Baxter’s assessing stare. “In the

storage area, of course. Every museum has at least one room full of
pieces they don’t have on display. He put it there with a fake label,
and even if someone bothered to go in there and look for the statue,
chances are they wouldn’t recognize it.”

Back straight and keeping her hands folded neatly on the table,

Baxter blinked and dropped her gaze. Julian hid a smile. Oh yes, it
stung when the smug bastard acted as though he knew it all.
Especially when he was very likely to be right.

“What do you think of his theory, Agent Harris?”
“I think he’s worth whatever deal you’ve cut with him.”

14 Sage

Marlowe

Chapter 1

Romeo didn’t seem in the least surprised at finding Julian outside

on the patio. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, wineglass in
hand, shoulder leaning against the doorframe, cool-blue gaze resting
on Julian.

As usual, Julian had failed to even hear him enter, but at least he

no longer jumped out of his skin at Romeo’s sudden appearances in
his house.

“Hi there,” he greeted.
“Hi back,” Romeo said with a tender smile. Raising his other

hand, he held out a plastic bag. “I brought you dinner.”

“Dinner can wait. C’mere.”
Obliging, Romeo crossed the wooden deck to where Julian sat,

moving as gracefully as if he was dancing, just like he always did.
This time it was a slow, sensual number.

“You were good today,” Julian said, watching him. “Baxter’s

bound to be well pleased with you. We interrogated the museum
director, told him point-blank what you suspected, and he confessed.
Told us everything.”

“That’s good then, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. Although the speed at which you solved that case

doesn’t cast the best of lights on my division’s work so far.”

“Ah, Jules. I was just lucky.” Romeo shot him a playful wink and

set his wineglass on the table, along with the bag.

“Lucky my ass,” Julian grumbled, but it was a friendly grumble.

Affectionate. Damn, but Romeo was gorgeous in his suit pants and
shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his lean, muscular forearms,

A Talent in Your Lies

and the top buttons of his shirt undone and the tie discarded. It was a
tempting sight. “I should give you a spanking for humbling me like
that.”

“Ooh, baby,” Romeo cooed and lowered himself to sit on Julian’s

lap, straddling his thighs with his hands resting lightly on Julian’s
shoulders. “I knew you like handcuffs, but I didn’t know you were
that kinky.”

“I’m not.” Julian shrugged and, wrapping his arms around

Romeo’s hips, pulled him closer. “Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it,
though.”

“Hmm. Well, if you really want to punish me, there is one kind of

pounding I wouldn’t mind you giving my ass.”

Julian’s breath got caught on its way out. “You’ve got an awfully

dirty mouth, sweetheart.”

“You can lick it clean if it bothers you,” Romeo whispered

huskily and lowered his head. As always, the first touch of lips was
enough to send sparks through Julian’s body. Although not quite
intent to do what Romeo had suggested, Julian dipped his tongue into
the sweet, welcoming warmth of his lover’s mouth. Romeo’s own
taste had already become so wonderfully familiar, but Julian didn’t
tire of exploring it over and over again, discovering all the faint
flavors the day had left on him. Today a hint of nicotine had sneaked
in to mingle with the usual taste of coffee and mints. Romeo had told
him that he didn’t usually smoke unless he was in the company of
others who did, or if it was in the small hours and he was still awake.
He didn’t sleep much at night anyway, managing well on no more
than four to five hours, whereas Julian barely functioned at all if he
didn’t get at least a full seven.

Pushing the thoughts of Romeo’s nicotine and late-night habits

from his mind, Julian instead concentrated on the feel of the hard,
muscled body in his arms. He still was surprised at times at just how
strong Romeo was. His lean build and graceful moves made it easy to
underestimate him physically.

16 Sage

Marlowe

Snatching a precious second from their kiss, Julian murmured,

“Let’s go inside.”

“Nn-nn,” Romeo objected with a throaty purr. “Here.”
Julian leaned back a few inches. “Huh?”
“Here, outside. Fuck me across the table.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.” Julian groaned, but the idea was

appealing. The patio, though small, was shielded from view, so there
was little risk of giving a curious neighbor an unintended eyeful.

“Nope.” No, Romeo wasn’t kidding. Instead he was getting

undressed, shimmying out of his suit pants while undoing the rest of
his shirt buttons single-handedly.

“Fucking tease.” Although Julian shoved him back against the

table quite roughly, Romeo managed to turn the momentum into an
elegant half-spin, flashing a mischievous grin over his shoulder as he
bent over the table. Julian didn’t waste any more time. He undid his
own fly and pushed his pants down just enough to get them out of the
way, grateful for their newly introduced habit of always carrying
condoms and a few sample sachets of lube around.

He ripped open the first of the small packages and poured its

slippery content on his fingers, and then he parted those firm, round
ass cheeks to reveal that hidden spot. Romeo let out a soft moan when
Julian applied the jelly, rubbing it into his skin and teasing the tightly
sealed entrance with his fingertip. Julian didn’t bother preparing his
lover much. Instead, he tore the second foil wrapper open, rolled the
thin glove of rubber on, and unceremoniously slapped the rest of the
lube on his by now achingly hard dick. He felt the resistance of tense
muscles as he pressed the blunt head of his cock to Romeo’s hole, and
then he slipped inside with that delicious forward jolt that always
surprised him just a little.

Romeo took him with a low grunt. He didn’t need long to get used

to the intrusion, never did. Julian hesitated for only a few moments
before he gave the first thrust. Romeo promptly answered with a
husky growl. The unusually mild evening air added an exotic element

A Talent in Your Lies

to the night, and soon it was filled with their combined gasps and
groans as Julian pounded into Romeo’s willing body with deep, long
strokes. They weren’t exactly making an effort to be quiet, but Julian
was confident that the noise of the traffic in the street would drown
out the sounds of their passionate lovemaking. Romeo possessed the
decency to stifle his yell when he came, and Julian buried his mouth
in the sweaty shoulder underneath him to keep from shouting as he
himself climaxed.

Breathing heavily, Julian rested his head on Romeo’s back to

enjoy the bittersweet exhaustion of postcoital bliss. He could hear
Romeo’s heart drum excitedly in the confinement of its cage, and then
little by little, the sound slowed down to a low, regular thud.

“Been anywhere exciting tonight?” Julian asked into the near-

silence and could have happily bitten off his tongue as soon as the
words were out. Tensing underneath him, Romeo made an
unmistakable attempt at getting up, and Julian hurried to retreat and
give him space to move.

“What makes you ask?” Romeo inquired, swiftly pulling up his

pants and closing his fly.

It was too late to take the words back now, so Julian decided to

have it out. “You’ve been smoking.”

“So what?”
“You don’t usually during the day.”
Romeo let out a sigh that could have a lot of different meanings.

“Julian. Don’t do this to yourself, baby.”

“Don’t do what?” Julian asked, although he had a pretty good idea

of what the answer was going to be.

“Trying to investigate me. I’m on the good side now, remember?”
“Are you?”
“Shit.” His back turned to Julian, Romeo shrugged into his shirt

and did up the buttons. When he turned around again, his expression
was composed but set, a perfectly emotionless mask. “I have to
leave.”

18 Sage

Marlowe

Julian did up his own pants. The cool brush of night air against his

skin felt intrusive all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just
happened to have noticed, okay? I didn’t mean to imply that you were
up to anything crooked.”

“Yes, you did,” Romeo replied with the same quiet earnest. “But

it doesn’t matter. The reason I have to go has nothing to do with that.”

“Can we please talk about it first?”
Shaking his head, Romeo made to leave. “I’m running late as it is.

I’ll see you tomorrow at the office. Good night.” His words sounded
final, and Julian understood that there was no point in arguing any
further.

“Good night,” he answered, knowing it was going to be anything

but.

* * * *

The following morning Romeo turned up late for work. More than

his unpunctuality, his appearance gave Julian cause to be concerned.
Visibly tired and sporting a lot more facial hair than his usual
immaculately trimmed five o’clock shadow, Romeo looked exhausted
for someone who on a regular basis slept only a few hours anyway.

“Are you okay?” Julian asked as Romeo strode past him on the

way to his desk, returning from the kitchen.

“Just fine, thanks. You?”
“I didn’t sleep well,” Julian answered honestly but unnecessarily.

He knew he looked like death warmed over himself. His fair
complexion didn’t take well to lack of sleep and left him pallid and
with shadows under his eyes. Romeo made a grunting sound that
could mean pretty much anything, and he continued on his way.
Overtired and frustrated as he was, Julian was not in the mood for this
kind of treatment. Not from a lover and certainly not from a
subordinate member of his team. And, technically, Romeo was his
subordinate.

A Talent in Your Lies

“Is there anything you wish to say regarding your failure to turn

up on time?” he called acidly after Romeo, who stopped in his tracks
and turned back to face him.

“I apologize for my delay, Agent Harris,” Romeo replied. “It

won’t happen again.”

Struggling to cover up how badly the official address stung, Julian

nodded. “Good. Now if you don’t mind following me to the
conference room, we have a case I wish to discuss that might actually
require your, uh, expertise.”

“Sure.” Romeo trailed after him obediently, far from looking at

fault, and indeed, Julian couldn’t help feeling that he was the one to
blame for the frosty currents floating in between them.

Inside the conference room, they easily resumed the casual but

professional manner they took on when in the presence of others.
Romeo’s conduct was, strictly speaking, not quite that professional, as
he preferred to either remain standing by the window and pace the
room occasionally, or sit back in his chair with his feet propped up on
the nearest available table. This time he went for the latter option and
lounged in a chair at the very back of the room, adding the unnerving
tic of toying with a pen and a paper clip to his repertoire of irritating
features. Julian did his best to ignore him while he waited for the rest
of his team to arrive. When the last agent had taken a seat, he cleared
his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new case. A little-known but

fairly valuable painting by Monet was stolen from the private
collection of Mr. Steve Townsend a few days ago. As some of you are
aware of, it was retrieved successfully yesterday.” Pausing for breath,
he let his gaze flick to Romeo, who was still toying with the pen and
paper clip, and who, to all the world, seemed as though he was barely
able to keep his eyes open, let alone follow what was being said.
Julian forced himself to focus on his presentation again.

“It was discovered in its hiding place in a locker at Central

Station, owing to the alertness of a security guard who grew

20 Sage

Marlowe

suspicious at the sight of someone leaving a flat, square parcel
behind.”

The clatter of a dropped pen interrupted him, and he watched in

silent anger as Romeo bent to pick up his toy from the floor. When
Romeo, rather than apologizing for the disturbance, simply leaned
back in his chair and resumed his occupation again, Julian couldn’t
hold his tongue any longer.

“Mr. Moore, this case is indeed not an unimportant one, and it’s

right in your field of proficiency,” he chided. “You might want to pay
attention because this could be your chance to prove your value to the
team.”

Romeo didn’t bat an eyelid as he replied, “Oh, I am paying

attention. Monet, stolen and retrieved. What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Julian said, forcing his voice to remain calm, “is

that there are two downsides to our success. Firstly, the thief has
gotten away, and secondly, during the examination of the painting, it
was identified as a forgery. An admittedly excellent one, but a forgery
nonetheless.” Julian let the sentence hang in the air for a moment
before he continued. “Any ideas?”

He was asking his team in general, but his gaze lingered on

Romeo, who was apparently still lacking interest and focused on the
task of unbending the paper clip and making it a straight, thin piece of
wire, despite the scolding Julian had just given him. It was Agent
Barnes, the promising and enthusiastic junior agent who never missed
a chance to prove himself to Julian, who answered instead.

“The real painting was quite obviously exchanged at some point

between the theft and the moment it was recovered,” he explained
then thought for a moment, wheels turning perceptibly behind his
eyes. “Maybe that is the reason why it was relatively easy for us to
track it down. We were meant to find it and return it to its owner so
that whoever has the real one can get away with it and sell it.”

“Not a bad theory.” It was, in fact, close to the one Julian himself

had come up with, but he liked Barnes, and it didn’t hurt to encourage

A Talent in Your Lies

an ambitious young agent. “We should try to find evidence that backs
it up, unless, of course, there are other suggestions?” He looked
around into the blank faces of the other team members, who shook
their heads. It was the most convincing theory, really. At last his gaze
came to rest again on Romeo, who, apparently sensing that he had just
become the center of attention, looked up from his mission of trying
to twist the paper clip around the pen’s cap.

“Sounds nice, but I’m not buying that story,” he said

conversationally, much like someone declining a second cup of
coffee.

“Care to explain that a bit further?” Julian asked when Romeo

didn’t seem about to say anything else, and Barnes was beginning to
risk doing serious damage to his eyesight with all the daggers he was
staring.

“It’s not a bad guess. I just don’t believe it’s the solution,” Romeo

replied and flashed an innocent smile in Barnes’s direction.

“Why not?”
“Is there a chance to see the painting that was found in the

locker?” Romeo asked, ignoring the question.

“Of course. We’re keeping it as evidence.”
“Great. Where is it?”
Julian rolled his eyes. So much for working with outsiders. “In

evidence storage.”

“Okay. Do we have to go there, or can we have it brought here?”
Stifling a sigh, Julian turned his head to Agent Palmer and sent

him off with a brief nod. “In the meantime, you could perhaps explain
why you believe Barnes’s theory to be wrong.”

“Mainly because anyone who knows a scrap about art theft would

expect the painting to be examined before it is returned to its owner,
so apart from buying themselves a little more time, they stand to gain
nothing with letting you track down a forgery.”

22 Sage

Marlowe

“Maybe whoever stole this painting doesn’t know quite as much

about art thefts as you do and believed he would get away with it,”
Barnes pointed out sourly.

“Maybe,” Romeo muttered noncommittally and shifted his

attention to the pen in his hand, now trying to remove the paper clip
from the cap and twist it back into its original shape.

To Julian’s immense relief, Palmer returned with the painting

before the atmosphere between Barnes and Romeo could get any
more charged. He put it up on a chair, which Romeo commented on
with a pair of critically raised eyebrows, before he stood up and
leisurely crossed the room to take a closer look.

“Hmm. Can I see the report of the expert who examined it—oh,

thanks.”

Anticipating him, Julian had picked up the thin folder and held it

out to him. Romeo took it and studied it with quiet intensity, once
again ignoring his surroundings, until at last he handed the file back to
Julian with a contented smirk on his face. “He’s absolutely right. You
should hang on to Hanson. He knows what he’s talking about.”

“Thanks,” Julian said, suppressing the urge to slam the report on

the table or possibly bash Romeo around the ears with it. “Happy
now? Anything else you’d like to see, or would you care to share
what’s on your mind now?”

“Huh?” Romeo regarded him with a look of surprise then flashed

a tuned-down version of his beguiling smile. “Oh, of course. Well,
just as Hanson says, this painting is a forgery. A good one, but it’s
still not the real thing. Whoever did this must have taken his time.
You can’t do something like this in a few days. Also, the paint is dry
and starting to crack, so this painting is at least a couple of years old.
That means that even if your theory was right and the two were
swapped after the theft, this copy existed long before the original was
stolen.”

“That doesn’t prove that they weren’t exchanged,” Barnes pointed

out.

A Talent in Your Lies

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t,” Romeo admitted. “But you don’t

find copies of that quality in an interior-decorations store. They’re
about as rare and valuable as the original paintings.”

Ignoring Barnes’s tight-lipped glare, Julian said, “So if we know

who made it, we might be able to find out who bought the copy,
right?”

Romeo smiled approvingly. “Right. By the way, a copy this good

must have been taken straight from the original.”

“Which means that the person who made it had the original

painting at some point. Either because they owned it or because they
were given it by the owner, right?” Julian concluded. Following
Romeo’s train of thought was getting easier.

“Exactly.”
“Any suggestions how we find the forger?”
“There are currently only two people on this continent who are

capable of reproducing a Monet of this quality. I happen to know for
certain that one of them is not accountable for this one, so I think we
should pay the other guy a visit.”

“Sure. If you could give us his name and address,” Julian said,

watching Barnes’s stony face from the corners of his eyes. Romeo
was clearly not making any friends over this episode.

“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Julian balked. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard. Let’s go.”
Leaving Barnes, whose expression had darkened to near-

thunderous, standing in front of the painting, Romeo made to walk to
the door. Julian remained where he was, partly because he had to
finish this the professional way, and partly just to find out how
Romeo would react if Julian didn’t follow his lead. Romeo turned
around at the door, one eyebrow raised. “Are you coming or what?”

Julian gave a mental shrug and decided to let it pass. This wasn’t

the time or place to teach Romeo manners. “Okay. We’ll go there.
You and me, and we’ll talk to him and see what he knows. Barnes,

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Marlowe

you check the files again and see if you find something that backs up
your theory. If you need help, feel free to ask any of the others. The
rest of you, go back to what you did before. Oh, and, Agent Palmer,
return this, please,” he added and pointed at the painting that was still
sitting innocently on its chair. Palmer picked it up with an
unconvinced expression and followed the rest of the team, who
shuffled out of the room, exchanging equally cynical looks.

* * * *

“So who is this mysterious person, and why couldn’t you tell me

in front of the others?” Julian asked once they were inside the elevator
cabin and on their way to the ground floor.

“His name is Jacob Goldstein. He’s running a little gallery

somewhere in Brooklyn. I’m sure you guys will be able to come up
with the exact address, but I’d prefer it if we could leave him out of
this officially.”

“Leave him out of this? Why? If he forged that painting, he’s a

criminal and—”

Romeo interrupted him with the unexpectedly gentle touch of his

hand on Julian’s arm. “Jules. Keep his name out of the official
investigation, okay? At least for the time being.”

“Fine,” Julian grumbled, realizing that he was breaking rule

number one. He was letting his affection for Romeo get in the way of
an investigation. Well, technically, he wasn’t. Romeo was using the
feelings Julian had for him to protect someone. Whether or not that
someone was worthy of his protection remained to be seen.

“Just out of curiosity,” Julian asked after a moment. “You said

there were two people who could forge a Monet this well. Goldstein is
one—who is the other?”

“Oh, that would be me,” Romeo said with a perfectly innocent

face.

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Marlowe

Chapter 2

Goldstein’s gallery was indeed little. It took up no more than one

floor of a tiny building that sat tucked away between two huge former
warehouses. They had been converted into a department store and an
indoor skating rink respectively, and it was easy to miss the narrow
house in between if you didn’t know what you were looking for.
Everything about the place screamed dummy company, but Julian
decided to ignore it. If Goldstein cooperated, he could go on with
whatever he was using his little gallery for. At least for the time
being. If he didn’t, well, it was always good to have an ace up one’s
sleeve.

Julian didn’t really find it in him to care anyway. He was far more

troubled by Romeo’s demeanor toward him. Throughout the car ride,
Romeo had been polite but monosyllabic, and Julian knew that his
trespassing of the night before wasn’t forgiven yet.

“Wait a second.” Right before they entered the art gallery, Julian

stopped Romeo by holding up his hand in front of Romeo’s chest. He
almost flinched at the touch he himself had provoked, but he refused
to acknowledge the tempting body heat he felt through the fabric of
the crisp, white shirt Romeo wore. “We really should talk about how
we are going to handle this.”

Romeo glanced at him briefly, shrugged, and walked right on,

ignoring Julian’s touch. “I’ll ask him who commissioned the painting,
and we’ll take it from there.” He opened the door to the gallery and
stepped inside before Julian had time to object.

The inside of the gallery was different than any art exhibition area

Julian had seen so far. Instead of the wide open spaces and glossy

A Talent in Your Lies

surfaces he connected with modern art galleries, the place was dimly
lit and crammed full with all kinds of clutter, from paintings to
sculptures to a small group of objects of unidentifiable origin. Julian
was fairly certain that he detected at least a handful of fries and a half-
eaten burger, at which point he decided to keep his eyes to himself. Or
rather, away from the dubious objets d’art on display, but apart from
them, the room was empty. Julian muttered a low curse. In all
probability, Goldstein had seen them approach and preferred not to
wait for them to enter and tell him why the FBI was paying him a
visit.

Romeo obviously didn’t share that assumption. Walking straight

to the back of the room, he let out a shout that had Julian jumping in
surprise.

“You don’t seriously believe he’s going to answer to that, do

you?” Julian sneered, but he bit his lip when a barely noticeable door
at the back of the room was opened. Out came a tall, skinny figure
with a shining bald head and an enormous furry moustache.

Romeo beamed a smile at the stranger. “Jacob. Good to see you.

You look great. How are Becky and the girls?”

Obviously recognizing Romeo, Goldstein returned the smile,

revealing a lot of yellowish teeth. “They are fine, thank you. But what
about you, you slick little weasel? I’ve heard the most amazing
rumors about you. People say you’ve changed sides and work with
the—” He swallowed whatever he had been about to say when he
caught sight of Julian. “Oh. So I guess the rumors are true.”

“Never mind that now,” Romeo said. “I need your help with

something.”

Reluctantly dragging his gaze off Julian, Goldstein shifted the

focus of his attention to Romeo, and yet Julian felt as though he was
still under close scrutiny.

“Monet’s Water Lilies,” Romeo said. “Does that ring a bell?”

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Marlowe

Goldstein stared at him skeptically. “There are several water lily

paintings by Monet,” he said warily, but Romeo wasn’t having any of
it.

“One of them was stolen from a private collection a couple of

days ago,” he explained. “It was retrieved soon enough but has turned
out to be a forgery.”

“Oh.” Nothing but the tiny sound came from Goldstein, but his

eyes shone with a peculiar gleam. “Was it examined by an expert?”

Nodding, Romeo pursed his lips in an indulgent smile. “Gregory

Hanson. He wrote a brilliant report on it, and by the way, I had the
pleasure of seeing it myself. It’s excellent. A masterpiece.”

“Thank you.” Goldstein was clearly thrilled. “You’re a shameless

flatterer, but I know it means a lot coming from you. You’re right,
I…” Interrupting himself, he glanced at Julian.

“Jacob,” Romeo said with gentle insistence. “Ignore him. Just tell

me what you know about the painting. The one we found.”

Still watching Julian, Goldstein cleared his throat. “About five

years ago there was a man who had, uh, developed a passion for that
exact painting, and since the real one was, um, where it was, he asked
for a copy of it. He was a man of good taste and class, so he didn’t
want his copy to be a plain printed one.”

“I understand,” Romeo said, and Julian did, too.
“Would you be able to identify this man, Mr. Goldstein?” Julian

asked. Goldstein flicked his gaze between Julian and Romeo a few
times, and then he nodded.

“The man who asked you to copy a Monet for him?” Julian

clarified.

“Yes, sir.” Goldstein glanced at Romeo again, and then he added,

“He only wanted the painting for his living room—at least that’s what
he told me—or I wouldn’t even have considered doing it.”

Julian exchanged a long sideways glance of his own with Romeo,

and then he gave the gallery owner an encouraging smile. “Don’t
worry, Mr. Goldstein. As soon as we have a suspect, I will get a

A Talent in Your Lies

photograph to you for identification. You have nothing to fear if you
help us. There’s nothing wrong with copying a painting for personal
enjoyment. I believe no one would mistake it for the real one, so you
did nothing we will hold you responsible for.”

The man’s shoulders sagged a little in relief. “Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you, Jacob,” Romeo said with a warm tone in his voice.

“Tell your ladies I said hello.”

“I will.”
Outside the building, Julian needed several deep breaths and a

stretch to be his usual self again. It had been crammed in there to the
point of making him feel claustrophobic. “Nice man,” he observed
after a while.

Romeo stopped rearranging his cuffs and tie, the only visible

admittance he made to having felt uncomfortable, too, and looked at
Julian. “Jacob? Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

“A friend of yours?”
“We go back a while.” Romeo turned and walked back to the car,

once more leaving Julian with no option but to follow him.

* * * *

Silence fell between them again on the way back. They had

almost reached the FBI parking garage when Julian couldn’t stand it
any longer. “Can we not be like this anymore, please? I already said
that I’m sorry, and I am. Really, okay? I don’t want us to fight over
this.”

Romeo winced and let out a sigh. “Neither do I, Jules, but

apparently…” He took a breath and continued, “You asked me if
there is anything I can’t do. There is. Apparently I can’t make you
trust me.”

Julian groaned. “That’s not fair. I know who you are. You’re a

felon. You lie and you cheat for a living and—”

“I’ve never lied to you, Jules, and I’d never cheat on you either.”

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Marlowe

“No?”
“No.”
“Well, maybe I’ve just never asked a question that made you want

to.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“Oh, really?” Julian huffed. “Then maybe I should start asking the

questions that are on my mind. How about this—you never told me
how you got out of the archives. How you survived being shot or that
fall. Oh, and then of course there’s still that insignificant matter of
your real name.”

“Fuck. Here you go again.” Romeo turned his head, stared out of

the window, and tapped his fingertips against his thigh. The muscles
in his jaw flexed, and Julian knew that his lover’s blue eyes would be
shooting sparks right now if he could see them.

“Look, Ro—” he started, but once again, the awareness hit him,

and it hurt worse than before. He didn’t know the name of the man he
loved. Knew hardly anything about him other than the fact that he had
an amazing body and a delightfully wicked sense of humor, and he
knew that was not going to change. It didn’t matter that Romeo
claimed not to lie to him. He would find a way to avoid giving an
answer, and right now it seemed that the way he’d chosen was to
simply not talk at all.

“You tell me about trust? Where is your trust in me?” Julian

snapped as he pulled into the FBI’s underground garage. “You don’t
even trust me enough to tell me your real name!”

Romeo stared at him, wordless, eyes ablaze with anger. He still

hadn’t said anything when Julian stopped the car and cut the engine.

“Hell, I don’t even know how to call you when…when we’re in

bed together,” Julian snapped, slamming his hand on the steering
wheel in frustration. “I don’t give a fuck what name you use for
working with us or for doing any of your other jobs, but in those
moments, or in moments like this one just now, in fact, it would be

A Talent in Your Lies

nice if I was able to call you by your name rather than some silly
endearment.”

Romeo sighed. He was still staring at Julian, but the anger in his

eyes was gone, replaced by a far more affectionate expression. “You
know my name.”

“Yeah, right. Romeo. Do you really want me to use that stupid

nickname?”

For a brief moment hurt welled up in Romeo’s eyes, but as usual

when seriously upset, he was quick to hide it behind a mask of
indifference. “It’s the closest to my name you’re going to get, Jules.
You can use either that stupid nickname or some silly endearment.
The choice is all yours. Or call me Paris. That might cause less
confusion among your fellow agents.” Not giving Julian time for an
answer, he unbuckled his belt, opened the door, and left the car.

Following him through the inside of the building, the usual

security check, and onto the elevator, Julian wondered where it had all
started going so wrong. There was an enormous, almost magical
attraction between them, and they could be good together, so why
couldn’t they seem to stop fighting all of a sudden?

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Chapter 3

Julian didn’t have much time to dwell on these thoughts. On the

way to his office, Barnes intercepted him with a downright smug
expression on his face.

“Sir, we’ve got him!” he announced proudly.
“Who?”
“The thief.”
Julian frowned. “What thief?”
“The one who stole the Monet.”
“You caught him? Why the hell has no one informed me?” he

snarled, making poor Barnes cringe away from him.

“He was only just brought in and—”
“He’s here? And you didn’t bother to fucking call me?” Julian bit

off the rest of his comment before he could say anything that could
get him into trouble. The day just kept getting better and better. First
the fight with his lover, and now a junior agent who appeared to
believe he could take matters into his own hands. He didn’t even want
to think about what impression that would leave with Chief Baxter if
she heard of it.

“Who is he?”
“His name is Jordan Keener. You’re going to love this, sir. He’s a

petty criminal who has been arrested for burglary, pocket picking, and
all kinds of minor crimes at least a dozen times so far. Seems he heard
that there was someone who had an interest in the painting, and he
decided to get it for them.”

“What makes you think that?”

A Talent in Your Lies

“It’s what he said when he got arrested. He doesn’t know who the

potential buyer is. He only met the guy who was going to fence it.”

“How did you find him?”
Barnes smirked. “Fingerprints on the locker.” Despite his anger,

Julian was amused, but before he could say anything else, Romeo
entered the conversation.

“Hmm. So if I understand this correctly, you have arrested a

small-time criminal who, so far, hasn’t exactly been the brightest bulb
in the chandelier, seeing as he let himself get caught at least a dozen
times and is too stupid to even wear gloves when hiding stolen goods.
This guy all of a sudden manages to break into a well-secured villa
and steal a painting that’s worth around two million bucks? I’m sure
you’ll forgive me for being not quite convinced.”

“Where is he?” Julian butted in before Barnes had to admit that he

couldn’t give an answer to that. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to
save him the humiliation, it was just that taking Barnes down a peg or
two was his prerogative, and he wanted to keep it that way. Besides,
letting the tension between his agent and his consultant get any worse
wouldn’t help anyone.

“Interrogation room two, sir,” Barnes answered meekly. When

Julian turned in the direction of the interrogation rooms, he added a
shy, “Sir, may I—?”

“Of course you may return to your desk and double-check the

report on how this guy was arrested and everything else we have
against him. I want the case to be as airtight as a cryptogenic storage
container. After that, you can read the chapter on hierarchical
structures within the bureau so you remember to call me next time
something important comes up.”

Yes, Julian was majorly pissed off. Yes, he was mostly pissed off

because of the clash with Romeo, and yes, he was taking it out on
Barnes. Did it make him feel better? Maybe just a little.

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Marlowe

Romeo, for his part, had the grace not to gloat. There was a faint

giveaway gleam of glee in his eyes, but he kept his face averted so
that Barnes at least couldn’t read his expression.

“Are you coming or what?” Julian snapped at him when it

appeared that he wasn’t going to follow.

“Oh, you mean you want me to be present during the

questioning?”

“Yes. And just so we’re clear—present means you get to watch

and listen, but you keep your mouth shut. I’m asking the questions,
got it?”

“Watch, listen, and shut mouth. Yep, got it,” Romeo answered

with a grin that did absolutely nothing to mollify Julian’s temper. At
least he indeed kept his mouth shut after that and followed Julian to
the interrogation rooms.

* * * *

“Mr. Keener.” Julian greeted the man in the plain metal chair with

an outwardly bored, disinterested face, while inside his head, he was
assessing every tiny detail to determine who he was dealing with.

Keener was a pallid forty-year-old with bags under his eyes and

on his hips. Combined with the bowed posture he displayed, even
seated, he was far from what anyone would expect a cat burglar to
look like. For someone who had Romeo sitting a few feet away and
had gotten several chances at exploring every inch of that athletic
body, the idea was close to ridiculous. And yet, there was the
possibility that Keener was faking. Okay, it wasn’t the most realistic
possibility, but it was a possibility, so Julian had to keep it in mind
and observe him closely. They still didn’t know how he had gotten
into the building anyway, so maybe he hadn’t even needed to be
physically fit to pull off this heist.

A Talent in Your Lies

“I’m Special Agent Julian Harris. This is my, uh, consultant, Mr.,

uh, Moore,” he ground out. He hated having to use this damned alias.
Hated it.

“We have a few questions. You’ve been informed about your

rights, I presume?”

Keener nodded mutely.
“Good. Does the absence of a lawyer mean that you don’t wish to

make use of your right to have one, or are we still waiting?”

Keener eyed him up unhappily. “I just want to get this over with.

I’ll answer your questions if you promise to make it fast and let me
go.”

Julian raised his eyebrows and allowed himself a chuckle. “Why

would we let you go? We know you are guilty of burglary and theft,
and you’re going to be held responsible for that.”

“But if I don’t talk to you, you’ll never know what happened,”

Keener pointed out.

“Oh, we already know what happened,” Julian bluffed. “This is

just a formality. If you want to tell us your side of the story, fine.
We’ll hear you out, but we don’t need you to say anything. In fact,
you can remain as mute as a brick for all I care, but you’ll still get
charged and, in all probability, convicted.”

He was pleased to see Keener’s eyes widen in fright. He bought

the bluff, it seemed. The truth was, they didn’t have a clue how he had
done it. There were no usable marks anywhere in or outside the
building, the police report said. It appeared the intruder had just
materialized inside the well-protected villa out of thin air, taken the
painting off the wall, and left without triggering any of the motion
detectors or alerting the watchdogs.

Jaw set in a stubborn line, Keener stared at Julian. “I was hired.

Don’t you guys want to know who’s behind all this?”

Julian gave a careless shrug, although he cringed inwardly. This

was not good. Of course they wanted to know who was behind it, but
he would be damned if he told Keener that. Or let the little crook get

36 Sage

Marlowe

away because he was clever enough to get himself a deal. “You did it.
The painting is back where it belongs. That’s enough. It certainly isn’t
a reason for us to let someone we know is guilty off the hook. And
with your track record, Mr. Keener, you’re going to be in for a while.”

Keener swallowed and dropped his gaze. “Aren’t you worried that

it will happen again? That someone else will be sent to take it?”

Julian tilted his head to the side. “So what? We’re prepared. Even

if someone else should try to snatch it, which in itself is unlikely since
you gave us the opportunity to show that we get our guy, we’ll be
waiting for him with a welcome committee and a pretty piece of
jewelry to fit around his wrists.”

“You still don’t know how I got in,” Keener reminded. “What if

the next one simply waits until you’re tired of waiting and uses the
same way in? It has proven to be effective, after all.” The poor man
must have realized that he was building his defense on lost ground,
and yet, he did have a point. As long as they didn’t know how he had
done it, whatever way he had used to get in was a loophole, and, of
course, the FBI had more important things to do than guard the home
of some wealthy and politically well-connected art enthusiast.

Romeo, who had so far appeared to not show the least interest in

the conversation, something Julian had already decided to give him a
piece of his mind about, stood up. He had been sitting on his chair at
the far end of the steel table, holding the admittedly rather thin case
file in his hands and once again looking like he was about to fall
asleep.

Treating a visibly surprised Keener to his most dazzling smile,

Romeo dropped the file on the table and took a few graceful, slow
steps closer to Keener. More than ever, he reminded Julian of a cat,
just that this time, the cat was stalking his prey and closing in on it.

“Ah, Mr. Keener,” Romeo said in a pleasant voice. “But I do

know how you got in—and out—so if that piece of information is all
you’re basing your deal on, I don’t think you’re going to cut any ice
with the Feds.” He stopped behind Keener at an angle that kept him

A Talent in Your Lies

just out of Keener’s line of vision unless the man was willing to crane
his neck. Julian recognized the maneuver. Making the suspect feel
threatened on a subconscious level was a neat interrogation technique.
Romeo definitely knew what he was doing.

Keener stuck out his chin in a curiously childlike motion. “If you

know, why don’t you tell me?”

Romeo smirked. “There’s no need for me to tell you because you

obviously already know how you got in, don’t you?”

Confused, Keener blinked, and Julian stifled his grin. Another

nice move. Of course, if Keener kept his cool, it wouldn’t work, but if
Romeo managed to be convincing, they might stand a chance yet.

“Yes, but…you guys are the ones who want to know how I did it.”

Hesitating for a moment, he darted his gaze from Romeo to Julian and
back and then added, “Right?”

Eyebrows raised in a convincing I-don’t-even-wanna-be-here

way, Romeo jerked his head in Julian’s direction. “He is the guys who
want to know. As I said, I already know, and as far as I’m concerned,
if the FBI asks me, I’ll be happy for Special Agent Harris to take me
out for a little chat over a cup of coffee and tell him what I think.”

Staring at him, Keener rubbed and kneaded his fingers for a few

long heartbeats. “You don’t know anything,” he sneered at last.

Julian turned away to hide his disappointment. He had seen it

coming. Keener must have realized that they didn’t have a clue, or
maybe he was just clinging on to the hope that they didn’t.

“Here’s a suggestion,” Romeo said and planted his elegant

derrière on the table right next to where Keener was sitting. He leaned
in conspiratorially. “I tell you how you got in, just so you know that
this information is nothing you can use to cut a deal. If you still want
a deal, which I suppose you do, you give Special Agent Harris over
there the name and exact description of the person who hired you. In
return, you’ll be free to go.”

Julian was livid, and he struggled very hard not to show it. Keener

wasn’t quite as stupid as he seemed, and he’d gotten what he wanted.

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Marlowe

There was no way Julian could take back that offer now without
losing face and, what was worse, without admitting that they indeed
didn’t know what had happened. Romeo, for his part, was in for a
serious talk, not a chat over a cup of coffee, that much was clear.

Keener didn’t lose another moment to grasp his chance. “Fine.

How?”

Romeo straightened up. “You used pepper spray to put the dogs

off your scent. It irritates their noses for long enough to allow you to
get past them if you keep the noise down. You got into the building
via the garage. The gate can be opened with the remote control you
must have lifted from one of his cars at some earlier time. My guess is
that you did it at the place where Townsend has them washed, but it
doesn’t really matter.”

Plucking a piece of invisible fluff from his suit pants, he

continued, “Anyway, you’re inside the garage, but you can’t get any
further because the door that leads inside is secured, of course, and
there are motion detectors inside the house, so you have to wait for
Townsend to deactivate them. When he comes home, he leaves the
alarm for the side door unset because he doesn’t expect anybody to
get in that way, or maybe he’s just being lazy. It’s astonishing how
often good security systems are useless just because their owners
can’t be bothered to stick to the rules and operate them correctly, and
so they make a break-in a walk in the park for even the dumbest of
burglars.”

Julian hadn’t missed Keener flinch at the implication. Staring at

Romeo with wide, petrified eyes, the man listened to him spin the
story further. “So while he walks about his house and drinks his
bourbon or whatever it is he does in the evenings, you sneak in and
wait for your chance. This part requires some nerve because if he
suddenly decides to go out again and set the alarm, you’re trapped,
but you’re lucky, and he stays in. The painting itself is secured with a
touch-sensitive sensor. If anyone tries to take it off the wall, the alarm
goes off. You know that you won’t be able to do anything about that.

A Talent in Your Lies

You don’t have the code you’d need to deactivate it, and you’re not
exactly an expert in electronic security systems, so you can’t
manipulate it either. But you know that Townsend can, so you make
him do it for you. When he leaves the room to go to the kitchen and
prepare his dinner, your chance has arrived. You go to the painting
and put something on it—probably just a bit of lint, which doesn’t set
off the alarm and will be easy to remove because you can’t risk
damaging the painting.”

Romeo snipped his fingers as if to drop the piece of fluff he had

picked from his own clothes earlier. Again, Keener flinched, which
Romeo commented on with a good-natured curl of his lips before he
continued in his soft, tuneful voice, “Whatever it is, it’s noticeable.
You go back into hiding and wait for Townsend to discover the dirty
painting. It’s valuable, so he won’t let his cleaner touch it, not even
for dusting it. No, he does that himself. He deactivates the sensor that
is connected to the painting so he can clean it. That is the moment
when you have to come up with a convincing distraction. A fake
phone call would be the easiest. You lure him away from the painting,
and then all that’s left for you to do is act damn fast. You take the
painting off the wall, make your exit via the garage, and run for it. It’s
as simple as that.”

Keener didn’t need to put his answer into words. The sour look on

his face was confirmation enough that Romeo had it right to the letter.
Getting up, Romeo walked a slow half-circle around Keener, leaned
in over his shoulder, and whispered, “Your turn now.”

Keener shifted, trying in vain to escape Romeo’s close physical

presence. His shoulders sagged a little, and he let out a resigned sigh.
“I meet a guy at my local bar. We start talking. I tell him that I happen
to be a bit short of cash at the moment, and he says there’s a lot of
money to be earned for someone who’s willing to take a little risk.”

Gnawing his lip, he looked from Romeo to Julian with an almost

pitiable expression in his eyes. “It’s not the kind of thing I’d usually

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do, but I really need the money, so I tell him I’m his man. He tells me
which painting it is and where to find it, and I go in and get it.”

“Right.” Julian glared at him. If he was to be the bad cop in this

scenario, he was more than happy to live up to the part. “Sweet
though this story of yours is, I need some details to back it up. First of
all, the name of the bar.”

“The Hole in the Wall.”
Julian caught Romeo’s eye. “Do you know it?”
“Uh-huh. Popular meeting place for people seeking to make, um,

certain arrangements.”

Julian glared at him for a moment longer. Romeo’s source of

information was another topic that would eventually have to be
brought up in a long, earnest conversation.

“The guy who hired you—did he give you a name?” Julian

continued interrogating their suspect. “What does he look like? Is
there anything else you can say about him?”

Romeo and Keener exchanged a glance that contained a surprising

amount of sudden collegiality. Of course, Keener would have
recognized Romeo to be more of a peer than an FBI agent by now,
and for a brief moment, the connection showed, but then Romeo’s
expression went blank. Having lost this support, Keener looked more
insecure than before.

“I can tell you what he looks like, but I don’t know his name.”
Romeo squared his shoulders. “Who was the insider?”
“Huh?”
All companionship was gone as Romeo fixed Keener’s eyes with

his cool-blue stare. As was the kindness on his face. He was clearly
well capable of playing both the good and the bad cop himself, and
Julian felt a conversation about interrogation techniques coming up.
Soon.

“The insider.” Romeo’s voice was cold and hard. “You couldn’t

have pulled off a number like that without detailed inside information.
If it’s true that the guy you met was just looking for someone willing

A Talent in Your Lies

to get his hands dirty, he wouldn’t have known about the touch
sensor, for instance. And, forgive my frankness, but the whole plan
doesn’t sound like something you would have come up with on your
own.”

Keener jerked upright. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just saying.” Changing tactics again, Romeo smiled disarmingly.

“This is out of your league, Jordan, don’t you think? You don’t have
the technological knowledge to deal with advanced security systems.
You’ve never had anything to do with art, but above all, you let
yourself get caught almost a dozen times, which is an embarrassingly
poor success rate.”

Keener looked about to give a very colorful answer, but

apparently decided against it and instead let out a sigh that seemed to
expel a lot of his resistance, along with his breath. “Fine,” he said and
hesitantly added, “I don’t know who it was exactly, but it must be
someone who at least has regular access to Townsend’s home. I didn’t
get a chance to speak with him myself. That other guy passed on the
information.”

“Are you sure it was a him?”
Keener blinked. “Well, yes. At least the guy who hired me

referred to him as a he.”

“Fine. One more question. Why did you leave the painting in the

locker? Was it supposed to be picked up from there?”

“Yes. He said he was watching the space and I would get my

money when I put it in there.”

“Okay.” Julian picked up a notepad and a pen and handed Keener

both. “I want you to write down everything you remember about the
man who hired you, as well as every piece of information you were
given from this mysterious insider, and anything else you can think of
that might be of help to us. I’ll be back to pick up this list in a quarter
of an hour, and if you’re still interested in the deal you’ve been
offered, you better make sure it’s concise.”

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Noticeably affected by Julian’s stern tone, Keener looked at

Romeo, who gave a light nod. “I will,” Keener promised, picked up
the pen, and started scribbling.

When Julian and Romeo had reached the door, he called after

them.

“Just out of interest, Mr. Moore.” He sneered as he said the name.

“How many times did you get caught?”

Half-turning his head, Romeo smiled. “Just once.”
Keener raised his eyebrows in a mocking expression. “Oh, so you

have been caught. Is that why you work with the Feds now? You must
have been quite a number if they offered you that kind of deal after
catching you just once.”

Romeo’s eyes flicked to Julian thoughtfully before he answered.

“Sometimes getting caught once is all it takes to turn into a lifetime.”

Keener chuckled. “A lifetime? Hell, buddy, what did you do?”
Romeo pointed at the notepad on the table. “Make sure it’s

legible. You don’t want the FBI to invite you to another chat just
because they can’t decipher your handwriting, do you?”

A Talent in Your Lies

Chapter 4

The moment the door fell shut behind them, Julian grabbed

Romeo by the arm and marched him into the small room adjoining the
interrogation room, where he rounded in on Romeo. “Is that your idea
of keeping your mouth shut and letting me do the interrogation?”

Tilting his head to the side, Romeo peered up at him from

underneath his long, sooty lashes. “You got what you wanted, didn’t
you?”

“Yeah,” Julian snorted. “Just that you’ve got no authorization

whatsoever to offer this guy—or anyone else for that matter—a deal.
Next time I let you sit in on an interrogation, you better remember
that, or I’ll throw you out of the room myself, got that?”

Romeo’s expression was calm but set. Only his eyes revealed that

he wasn’t quite as unaffected by Julian’s words as he pretended. “I’m
fully aware of the fact that I have no authorization to offer anyone a
deal, and since you introduced me to Keener as a consultant, he could
have known that, too, especially since this isn’t the first time he’s
dealing with law enforcement authorities. You didn’t confirm my
offer, so the deal is not binding for the FBI.”

“A good lawyer will use it against us by claiming that we tricked

Keener.”

Romeo shrugged and turned to the small mirror to rearrange his

tie. “Maybe. That doesn’t change the facts, though. I’m aware that it
is a mere technicality, but it can be your loophole if you want it to be,
and seeing as you were so very careful how to phrase your words and
not to say anything which would have validated my offer, I think you

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have figured that out for yourself and intend to draw on it, so stop
giving me short shrift for something you’re not really blaming me
for.”

“I’m not!”
“You are!” Romeo bit his lip and took a breath. “Look, Jules,” he

continued in a much gentler tone, “I know that this whole situation
isn’t easy for you. The agent in you still regards me as the thief you
failed to catch, and it doesn’t require much to imagine that seeing me
on the other side now doesn’t improve anything.”

“That’s not—” Julian started heatedly but interrupted himself.

“Well, maybe it does irk me a bit,” he admitted. “I have been chasing
you for years, after all.”

“And you don’t trust me.”
“What?”
“You don’t trust me,” Romeo repeated in a low but matter-of-fact

voice. “You think that I have a secret agenda and pursue my own
targets while merely pretending to work with the FBI.”

“Well, you know, it might help with the trust thing if I actually

knew why you decided to change sides all of a sudden.”

“Maybe I just didn’t want us to be on different sides anymore.”
“Maybe you didn’t or…?”
The corners of Romeo’s mouth lifted, but the smile failed to reach

his eyes. “I don’t want us to be on different sides, Jules. And I’m
sorry if that’s the only reason I can give you right now. This isn’t easy
for me either, you know.”

“What isn’t?”
“Meeting you and finding myself in this situation—that’s not what

I had planned.”

“Oh. And what did you have planned?”
Leaning in, Romeo slipped one arm around Julian’s hips and the

other around the back of his neck. “Nothing you need to trouble that
beautiful head of yours with. Now just kiss me and forget about this

A Talent in Your Lies

stupid fight, okay? Making up is so much nicer. Not to mention that
we have a case to discuss.”

It was tempting to let all remaining traces of anger melt away in

the sweet, sunny brightness of Romeo’s charm. And already, kissing
him felt like coming home after a long, hard day outside. Julian could
have happily stayed like this for a much longer time, especially when
their kiss began to transition from homecoming to going to bed, and
then, faster than he could stop it, to a lot more.

Romeo was right. Kissing and making up was so much nicer.

Julian was hard within a few seconds, and when he reached down, his
fingers brushed the matching bulge in Romeo’s pants. He gave it a
squeeze, drawing a delighted, husky moan from Romeo, who
promptly pushed back into the touch and tightened his hold on Julian,
seemingly as eager to replace the memories of their clash with more
delightful thoughts.

The time wasn’t quite right. They had a case to discuss. But the

place was perfect, a small chamber next to the interrogation rooms
which had the great advantage of being very private, since it usually
provided a safe place for agents to discuss strategies before or during
interrogations. As long as the occupied sign was up, they would
remain undisturbed. It would probably not go unnoticed if they failed
to return within a certain reasonable time span, however, which meant
that they would have to make it quick. Julian leaned in again with
renewed vigor, feasting on Romeo’s startled mouth while undoing his
fly in a swift motion. He felt Romeo’s hand move next to his,
mirroring Julian’s motions as fingers closed around hardened cocks,
rubbing, stroking, and pressing. They knew each other well by now
and knew what brought the other off in an instant, and they were
desperate enough to use this knowledge as the risk of being caught
added to the rush they were in.

Julian was light-headed from the lack of blood in his brain and the

tight, exciting grip Romeo applied while yanking his dick. He realized
that he himself was far from being gentle with his lover’s most

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sensitive body parts, but Romeo didn’t complain as he thrust into
Julian’s fist over and over again while holding on to him with an
almost desperate half hug. It seemed they both needed it to be like
this. Their almost simultaneous gasps as they climaxed within
seconds of one another were stifled in a continuing, passionate kiss.

Julian leaned back, stumbling, as his knees threatened to give out

from the mingled sensations of an adrenaline high and the relaxation
of sexual release.

Romeo tightened his arms around him, steadying him and, at the

same time, confusing him as usual with his strength.

“Easy, baby.” He chuckled near Julian’s ear. “I’d have a hell of a

time explaining if you passed out on me now.”

“It’s okay,” Julian mumbled, gingerly wiping his hands clean on

the lower part of his shirt. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to put a
washbasin and a couple of tissues in here yet? Maybe that was
something to suggest during the next staff meeting.

Catching the motion, Romeo let go of him and grinned as he

tucked himself in. “Perhaps we should have taken a few seconds to
plan this,” he observed. “Ah well, at least we didn’t spill any on the
equipment. I just hope the ventilation system in here works properly.
Wanna go out and grab a coffee somewhere while we discuss this?”

“The case, you mean?”
“Of course. What else?” Back in front of the mirror to adjust his

tie and shirt, Romeo cast him a glance over his shoulder and batted
his eyelids innocently.

Julian resisted the urge to answer the question. Instead he stepped

in front of the mirror to smooth over his hair and tug his own tie back
into place before he said, “We’ve got gallons of coffee here at the
office.”

Their relaxed demeanor was a fake. Romeo was still turned on,

that was easy to see, and so was Julian. The quick, rushed hand job
had barely served to take the edge off and had done little to satisfy the
deeper yearning.

A Talent in Your Lies

“Ah, you know I hate the plonk you guys have here,” Romeo

replied. Julian knew indeed. Romeo hadn’t failed to let him know
right from the start what he thought of the federal coffee supply.
Usually Julian ignored it as a matter of principle. This time, however,
he was willing to indulge his consultant. Going out for coffee was
probably the only way to keep them from jumping each other again,
and the room smelled of sex way too much as it was.

“All right then. Where do you want to go?”
“Café de Paris?”
“Funny.”
“Aw, come on. It’s a lovely little place.”
“I don’t stand a chance anyway, do I, so I think we might as well

just go.”

Julian was well aware of Romeo’s smug smile as he led the way

to the elevator.

* * * *

The Café de Paris was indeed a lovely little place, small yet

charming with its authentic French flair. There were delicate, welded
tables and chairs, the scents of coffee and Mediterranean spices in the
air, along with the hushed voices of the patrons, who, for the most
part, looked as though they’d just hopped on a plane from somewhere
in the south of France to enjoy un croissant et du café en New York.

Julian hadn’t had much time to fully appreciate it the last time

he’d been there, which had also been the first time. He’d been too
busy trying to figure out what Romeo was up to.

This time, he seized the chance for a thorough look around while

Romeo went to use the restroom. At least Julian didn’t have to worry
about him disappearing anymore, although he still hadn’t gotten
completely used to that notion. A part of him was still pleasantly
surprised every time Romeo turned up again, and not just for the little
jolt of arousal he felt whenever he saw his handsome, graceful lover,

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the tiny spark of magic, just like now, as he watched Romeo weave
his way back to him through the sea of scattered tables. Julian wasn’t
the only one observing his approach. Several heads, almost
exclusively female, turned in his wake and tilted toward their friends
to exchange whispered comments. The scene sent a warm wave of
pride through Julian. Pride and triumph. He was the one Romeo was
walking toward. He was the one Romeo shared a bed with, as well as
quite a few hours of sexual pleasures.

“What’s up?” Romeo asked with his usual sunny half smile as he

sat down.

“Nothing. Just watching the crowd.” Julian hid behind his coffee

cup. Romeo was scarily good at reading him, and there was no need
for him to know how delighted Julian was at something as simple as
seeing him. “What do you think?”

“About the crowd?”
Rolling his eyes, Julian clarified, “About our case—this is

supposed to be an official work meeting, remember? So what do you
think? By the way, those were some neat interrogation techniques you
used in there.”

“Oh, thanks.”
“Where did you learn that?”
Romeo stared at his coffee and reached for his spoon. “Must have

picked it up somewhere.”

“I see. I take it you’re not planning to tell me where somewhere is,

right?”

“Right.”
“Of course not.” Julian didn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

“Well, I guess that leaves us to discuss the case.”

“Ah, the case,” Romeo said with little enthusiasm and turned to

his chocolate croissant instead of giving an answer. He started a slow,
annoying process of idly shredding it into small chunks before he
stuffed a piece into his mouth, chewed, and washed it down with a sip
of his café au lait.

A Talent in Your Lies

Julian watched him for a while, guessing that Romeo was testing

the boundaries once again and making a very silent but nonetheless
clear statement while he was at it. He seemed to be doing that a lot
lately. Oh hell, life could have been so easy.

At last, Romeo used his thumb to gather the last crumbs of his

croissant with painstaking care, drained his coffee, gave the waitress a
signal to bring another, and, surprisingly, shifted his attention to
Julian, who in the meantime had done a very good job of not turning
purple with rage. Romeo’s blue eyes still mocked him, but Julian
knew that his reaction had been right. He had passed the test.
Whatever it had been on.

“We know that someone from Townsend’s own household is

involved, but personally, I’d prefer not to point a finger at anyone in
particular just yet.”

Julian’s patience was beginning to wear thin.
“Oh, great.” What was it with Romeo today? He’d come forward

with the solution in the museum case readily enough and done a good
job with Keener, but now it seemed he’d slammed on the brakes and
was dragging his heels.

“You’re supposed to be the expert in such crimes, and now that

we have our first real case, you’re just sitting on the fence instead of
giving me at least a theory?”

Romeo accepted the coffee the waitress brought him with a

beguiling smile that dimmed as soon as she’d turned her back.

“No,” he said. “I’m just saying that I prefer not to focus on one

suspect in particular until we have more information so we don’t lose
sight of the big picture. But why don’t you tell me what you think?”

“Oh, I think that Townsend himself might be worth a closer look.

He is the one who stands to gain the most if the painting is stolen. The
insurance money should easily cover what it is worth, and seeing as it
is a forgery, he could hardly just sell it, could he?”

Romeo wrinkled his nose. “Fair enough. That is assuming that he

knew it was a forgery, though. If he didn’t, he would’ve definitely

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been better off just selling it on because it’s worth more that way and
a lot less risky.”

“But he gets the insurance money either way. Maybe he needs the

money fast and he couldn’t find a buyer who was willing to pay what
he asks. A painting like that is worth a few bucks, and if no one’s
interested in it at the time the owner tries to sell it, well, then its
monetary value sinks.”

“Hmm.” Romeo pulled a face. “You do have a point there. I’ll ask

around and see what the market situation for the lilies looks like these
days.”

“But still, it is a fake. Goldstein confirmed that he forged it. I

thought we’d agreed on that?”

“Yes. But Jacob didn’t identify Townsend as the guy who

commissioned it.”

“Not as such, but if your friend Goldstein was given the original

painting to make the copy from—well, who would have been the one
to hand it to him? You said yourself that Townsend probably doesn’t
even let his cleaner touch it, so he would have hardly allowed anyone
to take it out for a walk, would he?”

Romeo nodded in wordless agreement and picked up his cup.

There was little to say against that argument.

“So I think we should start closing down on one suspect by

finding out who took the original painting to Goldstein.”

“If you can get a photograph of Townsend, I’ll ask Jacob if he can

identify him,” Romeo offered, but Julian held up his hand and shook
his head.

“You already said you wanted to explore the market situation for

the painting,” he reminded.

“Yes, but—”
“Your expertise is better suited for doing the market research. I’ll

send someone else to show Goldstein the photograph. That’s the way
we do it at the FBI, you know. Let the experts do what they’re good
at. There are other people who can do the footwork.”

A Talent in Your Lies

Clearly not happy with this suggestion, Romeo looked about to

protest, but then he bit his lip and put down his cup.

“Fine,” he muttered and got up.
Julian winced. “Where are you going?”
“Doing market research,” Romeo answered, slipping his usual

mask of charming indifference back on.

“Will I see you tonight?”Although Julian hated how the question

made him feel vulnerable, he was unable to resist asking. Maybe
Romeo was waiting for an invitation. On second thought, no, he
wouldn’t be. If he wanted to see Julian, he would simply turn up at his
home, suddenly materializing out of thin air as usual. Julian couldn’t
help smiling at the image.

Romeo hesitated. “It will get late though. Around ten or maybe

eleven. Is that all right with you?”

“Sure.”
“Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”
Julian glared at him in mild irritation. “Ha-ha. I’ll wait up.” He

cast a quick glance around, and then he smiled suggestively and let
his voice get a little rougher to add, “Maybe I’ll even find something
to keep me occupied while I’m waiting. Get in the right mood for you,
baby.”

Breath hitching, Romeo swallowed and blinked. “I’ll try not to let

it get too late.” Straightening up, he made to turn away again.

“I suppose this leaves me to pick up the tab?” Julian grumbled,

vexed by Romeo being apparently back to treating him with
professional distance, as if the intimacy between them was something
that he could just switch on and off as he chose. Already a good five
feet away from the table, Romeo turned back to him and winked.
“This was an official work meeting, wasn’t it? Put it on your expenses
account, and let the bureau pay.”

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Chapter 5

Julian didn’t waste any time. He left the money on the table and

hurried to his car. With any luck he’d make it before Romeo
contacted Goldstein. Of course, if Romeo suspected what Julian was
up to, a simple phone call would be enough. In that case, Julian would
have to come up with more convincing reasons than Romeo to make
Goldstein talk to him anyway. Contrary to what he had told his
consultant, he had no intention of letting one of the junior agents
interrogate Goldstein. He was going to do that himself, and they were
not just going to talk about Townsend’s photograph.

He found the gallery easily. It was just as crowded as he

remembered it, and, despite what he’d feared, Goldstein was in. The
man was busily dusting one of the shelves packed with unidentifiable
little objects and looked completely at ease. He also looked honestly
surprised at Julian’s appearance, so it seemed that Romeo hadn’t
contacted him yet.

“Mr. Goldstein,” Julian greeted in his friendliest tone. “Agent

Harris, FBI. I’m sure you remember me. I’m sorry to bother you
again, but there are still some questions I would like to ask you if you
don’t mind.”

Goldstein’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he climbed off his

little stepladder and faced Julian with only a hint of defiance
resonating in his voice. “What questions?”

“That man you copied the Monet for—is this him?” He held out

his phone to let Goldstein take a look. Barnes had emailed him
Townsend’s driver’s license photograph, which was admittedly not
the best one, but it would have to do. Asking Townsend for a better

A Talent in Your Lies

photograph would have raised too many suspicions, and at this point
of their investigations, Julian didn’t want to risk that.

Glancing at the screen, Goldstein nodded. “Yes. Yes, that could

be him.”

“Are you sure?”
“I said it could be him. I only met this man twice, briefly, and that

was over five years ago, but I believe it is him.”

“Good. Thank you for your help, Mr. Goldstein. Now, if you

don’t mind, I have some more questions that don’t concern this
painting.”

Judging by the way the little old man squared his shoulders and

stuck out his chin, he had a good idea of what was coming.

“The man I was here with earlier,” Julian began cautiously. “You

seem to be on rather familiar and friendly terms with him.”

“We go back a while,” Goldstein said, not meeting Julian’s gaze.
Taking a step forward, Julian crowded him against the counter.

Just a little. “Funny. That’s exactly what he said about you. You seem
to have heard that he is on friendly terms with us now, and while so
far I have been respecting his wish to keep his former contacts from
us, that might be about to change.”

To his credit, Goldstein was fast to understand. “What do you

want to know?”

“Oh, you see, he’s the new guy in the team,” Julian explained.

“And I’d like to fill in some gaps. So how about you simply tell me
what you know, and I’ll see if it fits?”

Goldstein’s eyes widened. “Sir, I really don’t know all that much

about him. We have mostly just—”

“Just tell me what you know, Mr. Goldstein, before the idea

occurs to me that your little business might be worth taking a closer
look at. Why don’t we start with a name?”

Goldstein’s face took on a hangdog expression, and his shoulders

sagged, making him look even smaller than he was. Julian knew his
type. A fundamentally kind, harmless man who happened to be

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brilliant at what he did, but what he did was something a certain kind
of people were willing to pay a lot of money for. Goldstein just didn’t
have the criminal energy it took to withstand a threat from an FBI
agent.

He managed to defy Julian’s scowl for another second or two, and

then he dropped his gaze and asked, “I thought he’s working with
you, so why don’t you know his name?”

“Oh, I know a name. I’m just not sure if that’s the one he goes by

in all his, um, fields of occupation.”

“I see.” Goldstein heaved a sigh. “Well, I’m not sure if I can help

you with that. Like you, I know a name, but I doubt it’s his real one.
He’s very secretive when it comes to his own person.”

“Just tell me what you know.”
Meeting Julian’s eyes briefly, Goldstein took a breath and opened

his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the ringing of a telephone.
His relief was plain to see as he hurried to answer the call. Though
irritated, Julian let him go. The poor man was clearly torn between
loyalty to his friend and fear of Julian and whatever distress he might
bring down on him.

“Saved by the bell,” Julian grumbled through clenched teeth. He

kept his eyes on Goldstein throughout the conversation and listened in
shamelessly, although it was hard to tell what it was about. Maybe
just a customer, maybe something else. In the worst case, Romeo
finally getting in touch.

Eventually Goldstein hung up and returned to Julian. He was still

pale, and his hands shook, but apparently he had decided that talking
to Julian was the best option he had, so he talked.

Julian left the little gallery twenty minutes later with a contented

smile on his face and some rather interesting information on his mind.

* * * *

A Talent in Your Lies

It was late, well past the time Romeo had said he’d be there. As

usual, Julian hadn’t heard him arrive. Fast asleep, he didn’t wake until
he felt Romeo slip under the quilt with him. The cool freshness of the
night clung to him as he pressed his hard, muscular chest to Julian’s
back, gently winding one arm around Julian to pull him closer. Julian
felt the scrape of stubble on his skin as Romeo buried his face at the
nape of his neck.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Romeo whispered, nuzzling the delicate

patch of skin below Julian’s ear. The slick little bastard knew without
a doubt exactly what that did to Julian’s libido, along with his
resolution to be at least mildly annoyed.

Julian kept his eyes closed, desperate to cling on to the peace of

the night and pretend for just another moment. “What happened?”

Romeo’s answer was evasive, just as expected. “Something came

up.”

“Hmm. Well, same situation here.”
“Oh, really?” Pressing himself yet closer to Julian, Romeo rubbed

his filling cock on the round of Julian’s ass with slow, lascivious
motions. “Need a hand with it?”

Julian squeezed his eyes shut. This time, it was to block out the

pain. “It occurred over an hour ago. I think I got it under control by
now.”

“I see.” The sensual movements stopped, and the sweet pressure

of Romeo’s body vanished. “So you’re pissed off with me.”

“A bit.”
“Still or again?”
Well, that was the question really, wasn’t it? Julian stared at the

wall next to the bed. “Does it matter?”

“It would be nice to know if you ever stopped being mad.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Well, what is the point?”

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“The point is—” Julian lost the nerve to continue. He knew he

was treading a fine line. Romeo’s behavior during the day had told
him that clearly enough. Apparently he didn’t have to say it, though.

Romeo slipped out of bed as smoothly and noiselessly as he had

arrived.

“It’s the same old matter again, isn’t it?” He yanked up his pants,

hissing when the zip got stuck under his assault.

Julian watched his struggle from the corner of his eyes. “What?”
“You don’t trust me.”
Julian didn’t know what hurt the most, realizing that Romeo

obviously knew what bugged him, which meant that he could have
done something about it, or the cool indifference with which he
acknowledged it. Whichever it was, Julian couldn’t take it anymore,
and what he’d learned earlier didn’t help much either.

“It’s not like you give me reason to. You’re up to something,

aren’t you?”

There it was. The tiny, barely noticeable flicker in Romeo’s eyes

Julian had come to understand was one of his very few giveaway
signs. Instead of telling Julian the lie he’d expected, however, Romeo
changed tactics.

“You’ve been to see Jacob,” he said matter-of-factly, transitioning

from defensive to attack in a fragment of a second.

“We needed him to identify Townsend, remember?”
“I thought the FBI had someone to do the footwork? I wasn’t

aware that the head of a division is the right one for that.”

“Well, I thought, seeing as I already knew the way, it would be

easiest to go there myself.”

“And you made him talk to you?” Romeo finally succeeded in

doing up his fly.

“Of course I did. It was what I went there for, after all.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Oh, so you’re not denying that there are things he could tell me?”

A Talent in Your Lies

“Quit the games, Julian,” Romeo snapped and grabbed his shirt.

“What did Jacob say about me?”

“Well, we had a nice little chat about a certain painting and a

certain museum. Oh, and about names. He mentioned someone called
Simon Henderson. Apparently he’s an Australian expat who lives in
New Jersey now but travels a lot for business reasons—does that ring
a bell?”

Romeo’s expression had turned into a careful blank, but his

fingers were steady as he did up his shirt buttons. “I really wish you
weren’t doing this.”

“Don’t try to distract me. Let me guess—Simon is just another

alias, and all the ones I burnt already are still not the only ones you
have, right?”

Romeo tucked his shirt in. “We’ve been through this before,

Julian. I’m on your side now. You have no reason to keep chasing
me.”

Julian let out a bitter chuckle. Oh, the fucking nerve of him. “You

really expect me to just trust you on this, huh? What about your trust
in me? Where is that? If you’ve got a clean conscience, then why the
fuck can’t you just tell me what you’re up to?”

Romeo had been pacing the room slowly while fumbling with the

knot on his tie. Now he spun around and stared at Julian defiantly. “I
just can’t, okay? And if you can’t let it rest, then—”

“Then what?”
“Then I can’t keep doing this!”
A cold shudder of apprehension ran down Julian’s spine. Sure, he

was mad, and sure, he wanted answers, but this wasn’t what he’d
intended to happen. “Can’t keep doing what?”

Romeo took a breath and hesitated. Then he ran his fingers

through his hair. “Putting us both into a situation where we have to
choose between trusting each other and being loyal to—” He bit his
lip.

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“Loyal to—loyal to what? Who? I’m being loyal to my job, but

what is it you’re being loyal to? Your twisted idea of doing justice by
returning stolen things to their rightful owners?”

Romeo flinched and went pale. He didn’t meet Julian’s eyes as he

whispered, “I swear to you, here and now, that I’m not about to do
anything illegal.”

“Oh, and you expect me to believe you just like that?”
“It’s your choice to believe me or not.”
“Is that it?” Julian asked, not willing to accept what he knew was

happening.

“Is that what?”
“You’re a thief. I know you lie for a living, but you said you’d

never lied to me. Is this the first time that you do?”

A muscle twitched in Romeo’s cheek. He blinked. “No. When I

said I’ve never lied to you, I meant it just as I mean it when I say I
never will lie to you.”

“Oh, Romeo,” Julian sighed, absentmindedly realizing that he

used the name in an intimate moment for what must be the first time.
“You’re good. There’s a talent in your lies, and I honestly wish I
could believe them, but I can’t. Not when my instinct tells me that this
is just a part of something you’ve been planning all along.”

Even in what little light the street lantern cast into the room, Julian

could see the giveaway glitter in Romeo’s eyes as he shook his head.
“Let it rest, Jules.”

“You know that I can’t. Not even for you. If you’re planning

something, you might as well tell me because I swear I’ll do
everything in my power to stop you.”

Romeo stared at him for a long time, and then he raised his hand

to pinch the bridge of his nose, or maybe to inconspicuously wipe his
eyes, before he said, “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from
you. Thanks for the warning. I appreciate it.” He swallowed and
squared his shoulders. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow
then.”

A Talent in Your Lies

“So that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“About us, I mean,” Julian added, weak with the burning,

suffocating tightness watching Romeo leave caused in his heart.

“I know.” Romeo’s voice was barely audible, just like his steps as

he crossed the room, opened the door, and once again walked out of
Julian’s life.

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Chapter 6

Back in the office the next morning, Romeo was nowhere to be

seen, and Barnes confirmed that he had yet to check in. Julian didn’t
know what Barnes made of him asking about Romeo’s whereabouts,
and he didn’t care. He went to fetch himself a cup of coffee, the way
he always did, took it back to his desk, and settled down. To his
surprise, five minutes later the door to Chief Baxter’s office was
opened and Romeo walked out, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in
his mouth. An easy smile on his face, he strode past the glass front of
Julian’s office and went to his own desk next to Barnes’s.

Watching him, Julian noticed Barnes watching him, too. The look

on the junior agent’s face was far from friendly. Not everyone was as
pleased with Romeo’s addition to their little division as it had
appeared at first. Julian made a mental note to talk to Barnes at some
point in the not-too-distant future. Maybe a chat about a different
topic would put him at ease and help him confide some of his
concerns in Julian.

But that could wait. Now he had more important issues on his

mind. Their job was to investigate crimes, not suspect each other of
committing them. Julian got up and went to the door.

“Mr. Moore, can I see you for a moment?” he called across the

row of desks, detesting the false name as always, but this was the way
to summon a subordinate, and he wasn’t going to make an exception
for his…ex-lover. Julian swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Romeo for his part apparently didn’t require the exception either.

He smiled when he saw Julian and got up, shooting a sour-looking
Barnes a wink in passing. Julian felt a pang of regret and longing as

A Talent in Your Lies

he watched Romeo walk up to him in those long, graceful strides with
the trademark charming smile lighting up his handsome face. How
could he let this bundle of beauty, charms, and cheerfulness go?

Romeo, for his part, didn’t seem too affected by their breakup last

night. Fuck, had it happened only last night? Had it really happened
last night? Julian shoved the thoughts aside. He’d take them out again
at some later moment to dwell on and, quite possibly, drown his
regrets in something liquid with a high figure on its label. No, Romeo
did not look affected as he jogged up the few steps that led to the
elevated part of the floor which contained Julian’s and Baxter’s
offices and the conference room. If anything, he looked more
attractive than ever, tailored suit emphasizing all the right lines of his
body, brown hair tamed in a perfect cut, and stubble trimmed to the
perfect degree between casual elegance and rough masculinity. As
usual, his bright-blue eyes were sparkling with mischief, although, as
he came closer, Julian detected a certain wariness in them that he
couldn’t remember having seen before.

“Good morning,” Romeo said. As if he didn’t have a care on his

mind, Julian mused.

He muttered a greeting in return as Romeo walked past him, and

then he inquired, “Been to see Baxter already?” The words were out
before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to address the topic.

“Uh-huh.”
“You must have been here for quite some time already. Barnes

didn’t even see you come in, and he’s usually one of the first in the
building.”

“Ah well, I had an early start.” Ignoring the visitor’s chair, Romeo

settled on the edge of Julian’s desk and flashed a crooked but
nonetheless sexy smile. “To make up for the time I lost yesterday.”

Trying not to notice how the fabric of the dark-gray suit stretched

over Romeo’s muscular thighs, Julian answered, “Oh. Good. I’m glad
you’re so devoted to your, uh, job, which is why I wanted to talk to

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you.” Did he really have to point that out? Romeo didn’t look like he
was expecting anything else. Certainly not a tearful reunion.

Eyebrows raised, he waited for Julian to continue.
“What about your market research yesterday? Any results that

could be of interest?”

Romeo made a face but didn’t stop sorting through the collection

of pens, pencils, and various office supplies Julian kept in the little
metal box on his desk. “Not yet. I’m still waiting for answers from a
few people, but it seems that no one is interested in gathering Monet’s
lilies these days.”

“So Townsend couldn’t have sold off the painting?”
“I don’t know. I mean, there’s always someone who would buy it

once it is up for sale, but they wouldn’t be willing to pay quite so
much if they didn’t want that particular painting in the first place.”

“Which confirms our theory that he would lose a lot of money if

he’d tried to sell it. So Townsend could have wanted it to be stolen,
right?”

“Uh, right,” Romeo agreed with an absentminded nod while he

inspected an old, inkless pen. “He would be better off that way
financially.”

“Wonderful. Well, I think in that case we ought to ask Mr.

Townsend what he has to say about our theory. He’s coming in for a
little chat tomorrow afternoon.” Reaching out, Julian grabbed the pen
and put it back into the box.

Romeo picked up a grubby pencil and scratched its blunt tip with

his fingernail. “Why so late?”

“Because the poor man is incredibly important and thus incredibly

busy. What else did you expect?” Julian replied and snatched the
pencil away.

Romeo froze mid-motion, hands raised, a secretive smirk curling

his lips. “Okay. Want me to be there?”

“Oh, absolutely. But there’s something else I’d like you to do.”

Julian opened a drawer, dropped the box into it, and shut it.

A Talent in Your Lies

A shadow of suspicion creased Romeo’s forehead. “What’s that?”
“Well, you claimed to be capable of producing a top quality

Monet forgery. Can you forge one of poor quality, too?”

Romeo stared at him with raised eyebrows. “Why would I do

that?”

“Because I’d like to see his face when he realizes that he has got a

forgery that can be easily identified as such. You said he should want
to have it examined if it is returned to him, right?”

“Right.” Romeo tilted his head to the side. “If he doesn’t want it

to be examined, it’s because he doesn’t want it to be identified as a
forgery.”

“Exactly. He won’t get the insurance money in either case, but if

the official version is that he still has the original, he might try to cash
in on it again.”

“Meaning to have it stolen again,” Romeo translated with a sly

grin.

“Uh-huh. Even Keener mentioned that there might be someone

else doing it after his failure.”

“Good thought. And here’s another. Can you call the insurance

company and get them to send you copies of their photographs of the
margins of the painting?”

“The what?”
“The margins of the painting. They take photos of these because

usually the painting is in a frame, so no one ever gets to see the
margins.”

“What do we need those for?”
“Because if our forgery is too good, then we know that our forger

has produced the copy from the real one.”

“Oh, so the legend about the margins is true?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. But we already know that Goldstein has made the copy

from the real one.”

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Fumbling with his cuff links, Romeo nodded. “I know. It’s just

that…I was hoping we could keep Jacob out of this. The margins
would give you sufficient evidence to prove that Townsend has
handed over the real painting to be copied even without the forger’s
testimony.”

“Without revealing the forger’s identity, you mean,” Julian

concluded. Romeo held his gaze and inclined his head for only the
fraction of an inch.

Julian let out a sigh. “I don’t know about this. If—”
“Come on, Jules. There’s no point taking Jake down because of

this. Should the case not hold without him, you could still get him in
to testify. But not…not unless it’s absolutely unavoidable.” Glancing
up at Julian through his ridiculously long lashes, he added an earnest,
“Please, Jules. He’s a good guy. Don’t do this to him.”

Julian tried to resist the plea of those beautiful blue eyes and tried

not to remember them squeezed shut in pleasure. He averted his gaze.
“Okay. We try it your way. But if it doesn’t work, Goldstein had
better not be around for interrogation—unless he has something very
good to tell us, which would make us offer him a deal. Are we clear
on this?”

“Yes.” The corner of Romeo’s mouth lifted in his cute, secretive

half smile. “Thank you, Jules. I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Julian fixed him with a stern glare. “What

about the Monet? Can you do it?”

“That’s what I said, right?”
“By tomorrow afternoon?” Julian asked, skeptical. He had seen

the original—well, not the original painting, of course, but the
original forgery—and that didn’t look like something that could be
done in less than a day’s time. Not even in less than a week’s time or
a month’s.

Romeo didn’t bat an eyelid. “If that is when you need it, then that

is when you’ll have it,” he replied and cast a glance at his watch.

A Talent in Your Lies

Julian tried not to think about how he could afford a watch that

Julian himself had only ever gotten to see as evidence in a case of
brand forgery.

“Although it would help a lot if I didn’t have to stick around here

until the end of the official office hours,” Romeo said.

“Sure. That would be all anyway, so as far as I’m concerned,

you’re free to go.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Romeo got up and

went to the door. “What time is Townsend coming in?”

“Half past three.”
“I’ll be here at three.”
Romeo was out of the office before Julian had the time to say

anything else. Just as well. He would have liked to have Romeo close,
or rather, under his own surveillance, but he accepted that the task he
had just set him on was one that was going to keep him occupied for
most of the time he was officially at home. On second thought, maybe
it was a good thing if he could rely on Romeo being busy at home.

He waited several minutes before getting up and walking to the

door where he verified that Romeo’s desk was deserted, his screen a
black blank, and the man himself nowhere to be seen.

“Agent Barnes,” he called. “I’d like to see you for a moment,

please.”

Thin frown lines wrinkled Barnes’s forehead as he left his work

space and walked up to Julian’s office. “Sir?”

“Close the door.” Julian waited until Barnes had done as he’d

been told and settled in the visitor’s chair across from Julian.

“I want you to listen very carefully, Agent Barnes. And just to

avoid misunderstanding, what I am going to tell you is not to leave
this room, okay?”

“Yes, sir. It won’t.”
“I know.” Julian inhaled deeply and cleared his throat. “I have

received an anonymous hint. It looks like our very own Mr. Moore
might be planning something.”

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“Something, sir?”
Julian pursed his lips. “Yes. Something.”
“I see. And what would you like me to do about it?”
“Nothing. I just want you to keep an eye on him.”
“Keep an eye on him or…?”
“No or. Just watch him. Observe him. Position yourself in front of

his home and follow him if he leaves. Don’t tell anyone on the team,
and don’t show yourself to him, no matter what happens. But call me
if he’s up to anything unusual.”

Shifting his weight, Barnes crossed his legs and stared at his toes

in obvious discomfort.

“What is it, Agent Barnes? Any concerns?”
Barnes blew out a breath and raised his gaze to Julian. “Sir, are

you sure about this?”

“I am, Barnes. I am. And I will take full responsibility for this.”
“There’s more between you and him, isn’t there?” Barnes’s eyes

were wide and sincere with understanding, and, Julian recognized to
his mortification, there was something that resembled compassion in
them.

“Sir…I know this is out of line, but…I’m here if you want to talk

about it. Him, I mean.”

Julian nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat. What a

fool he must think I am. And what a fool I must be if my own agents
pity me. Maybe he was a fool indeed, and maybe it was time to share
some of what made him a fool.

In the long minutes that followed, Barnes listened attentively and,

Julian didn’t fail to notice, with a smug expression. Of course, he
wasn’t among Romeo’s biggest admirers in the world, but that was
why Julian had chosen to confide in him. Immune to Romeo’s charm
as he was, Barnes was the perfect man for the task, and as he listened
to what Julian had to say, he once more proved that beyond the slight
but forgivable weakness of personal aversion, he was professional
enough to regard the case with all due respect. To his credit, he barely

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Chapter 7

The building Julian found at the address he’d been looking for

was not quite what he had imagined. He wasn’t sure how he had
imagined the home of someone like Romeo, but the well-kept, two-
story house with its neat front garden and the flowers in the windows
would not have made it among the top five of guesses. And yet, even
though he double-double-checked the address, this was it. He walked
up to the house, wondering what name he’d find on the doorbell. To
his disappointment, there was none. He pushed the button anyway,
with mingled feelings in his chest. In all likelihood, Romeo was going
to be annoyed with him for intruding like this, but Julian wanted to
see how good this supposedly brilliant forger really was.

“Yes?” A gentle, mature voice startled Julian back into the

present, and to his surprise, he found himself facing an elderly lady.
Time had been very kind to her, and although she must be well into
her seventies, she still possessed the delicate features and radiant skin
of a much younger woman.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry, madam. It seems I have the wrong address.

I’m Special Agent Julian Harris, FBI.” Julian suppressed the instinct
to reach for his badge. This wasn’t official business. “You wouldn’t
happen to know a Paris Moore, would you? Did he perhaps live here
before or…”

He fell silent at the woman’s gentle smile and nod. “Ah, yes.

Julian. He said that you might come around here one of these days.
Why don’t you come inside? Can I offer you something? Coffee?
Tea? I have some delightful, self-made lemon cookies.” Stepping

A Talent in Your Lies

back, she held the door open for him and gave a little inviting wave
with her hand.

“That is very kind of you, but I’m here to see, um, Paris.
“Oh, of course you are.” She sighed. “Silly, old me. Here I am

delighted by the prospect to have some company, while in truth I am
only keeping you waiting. Follow me, please.”

She led the way along a narrow but brightly lit and artfully

decorated hallway to a staircase at the back of the building. At some
point she cast a curious glance over her shoulder but didn’t say
anything.

The upper floor revealed a short landing and a door, so Romeo—

Paris, Julian reminded himself—must have his own apartment within
the house. The woman gave a terse knock on the door and opened it
after a muffled voice from the inside had said, “Come in!”

The apartment was large, much larger than the outside led one to

assume. It consisted of one big open-plan room that covered the entire
upper floor, and was separated into different areas by a variety of
screens or just the arrangement of certain pieces of furniture. Just like
on the ground floor and in the hallway, Julian noticed several
tastefully selected paintings on the walls. All in all, the place looked
inviting in an elegant yet comfortable way.

“I’m through here.” Romeo’s voice could be heard from

somewhere further inside the apartment.

“Oh, okay,” the woman said and led Julian across the living area

to a part of the apartment that was mostly blocked from view by the
angle of one side wall. “Here we—dear lord, Paris!” she exclaimed
with a girlish giggle. “I can’t say that I’m not delighted, but you might
want to put something on. You have company.”

Julian’s heart skipped a beat as he went around the corner.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of paint-stained, and otherwise faded,
formerly-blue jeans that sat indecently low on his lean hips, Romeo
stood in front of an easel, paintbrush in hand and an expression of
deep absorption on his face.

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“Thank you, Diana.” He gave an easy smile that was tinted with a

smirk as he noticed her ogling him rather indiscreetly.

“You must forgive me, dear,” she said with a sly grin, catching his

eye. “But at my age you come to realize that you have to take your
pleasures where you find them, and I don’t find many of that kind
anymore.”

Turning away with a faintly regretful sigh, she made to go back to

the entrance. “Well, gentlemen, have a nice time.”

“Thanks again, Diana!” Romeo called after her.
Silence fell after she had left. Julian was too busy trying not to

stare at the enticing view of Romeo’s half-nude body to find
something inconspicuous to say. Fuck, not only the bare part of the
man’s body was scorching hot. Or maybe it was just that he knew too
well what those snug-fitting jeans hid. His gaze flicked nervously
from the smooth skin on Romeo’s slim waistline down to his legs,
which should have been relatively unproblematic if it weren’t for a
very vivid memory of how those long, strong thighs had felt wrapped
around him.

Julian looked up into Romeo’s smiling face, but he found that he

couldn’t stand to see that knowing expression in his eyes, so he
dropped his gaze again, which promptly put Romeo’s muscular,
naked chest and stomach into his line of vision again.

Julian licked his lips. Hell, seeing him in a suit every day and only

having sex in the middle of the night had almost made him forget just
what kind of a body was hidden underneath Romeo’s clothes. Sleek,
long lines, well-defined muscles that, although lacking bulk, were
quite astonishingly strong, and all of that covered by silky skin and
only just enough hair to make for a nice change of view. It was a body
Julian had explored thoroughly and come to know so well. He knew
its reactions and knew its pleasure zones. He had discovered the spots
where Romeo was ticklish and the ones that made him writhe with
lust.

A Talent in Your Lies

The desire to have all that back, to feel that gorgeous body united

with his own again, and, above all, to share the emotions that still
hung between them, became overwhelming. Julian swallowed hard,
trying to breathe around the lump that had built in his throat and was
trying to choke him. He was nervous and miserable and struggled for
something to say, but when he finally dared himself to meet Romeo’s
gaze, he knew that there were no words to express what they both
wanted to say.

Julian found his own desperate longing and his own misery at the

break between them, mirrored in those blue eyes that were for once
unguarded and stripped of all defenses. He would never be able to say
exactly who had given the signal, but all of a sudden they both
stepped forward, covering the distance between them to latch on to
one another with a need born of the mutual despair at their separation.

Their mouths met, hungry for each other, eager to reacquaint and

reassure themselves. Bodies were pressed together tightly, and they
reached out blindly to touch everything within reach as they
instinctively started the sensual dance of passion. Soon the air was
filled with their gasps and groans as hot arousal replaced the more
abstract emotions.

“Easy, baby,” Romeo panted. “I’ve got paint stains everywhere,

and not all of it is dry. You don’t wanna ruin your suit, do you?” His
low chuckle told Julian that he wouldn’t consider it a great loss, but
Romeo had a point. And the idea it inspired was a very welcome one.

“Get in the shower,” Julian ordered in between two more long,

scorching kisses.

Romeo was clearly as reluctant to go as he himself felt, but after a

few more precious moments of exchanging sensualities, he turned and
led the way to the bathroom, undoing his fly as he went. Following
him, Julian enjoyed the view of those tight buttocks shifting
underneath the snug jeans a lot. By the time they reached the shower,
he was more than just hard. His cock was throbbing with arousal,
ready to explode at the merest touch.

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But that wasn’t an option. Julian would hold back and make the

most of this, even if it would kill him.

Romeo slipped out of his jeans. He’d gone commando, and his

proud erection strained from his groin as if trying to reach for Julian
of its own accord.

“Hello, cutie,” Julian said, greeting it playfully as he sank to his

knees. He brushed his lips across the swollen head then gathered the
single tear of salty anticipation it was weeping for him with his
tongue.

A soft moan escaped Romeo. It made Julian look up, and as he

did, he met Romeo’s gaze. The sight nearly knocked him over. There
was so much emotion and tenderness in those lust-hazed eyes, so
much longing and need. Julian’s chest tightened, and he swallowed
around the knot in his throat. It was the moment he realized that
Romeo’s feelings for him ran a lot deeper than those one would have
for a casual affair, deeper yet than what he would feel for a guy he’d
simply grown used to going to bed with.

Unable to face those emotions, neither in his lover nor in himself,

Julian leaned forward again and wrapped his lips around the heavy
cock that rested in his hand. Suckling only the head at first, he made
his way down until he had taken as much of Romeo’s generously-
sized dick in as he could manage, and then he used his free hand to
cup and gently squeeze Romeo’s balls.

“Fuck, Jules!” Romeo grunted. “Keep doing that and I’ll come.”
Julian pulled back. “Not yet, love.” Readjusting his fingers, he

applied pressure to the base of Romeo’s cock to help him stave off his
orgasm. “Let me wash you first.”

The sound Romeo made was hard to define, but Julian took it as

an agreement to his suggestion. He undid his own buttons and
dropped his clothes carelessly, and then, grabbing Romeo by the
shoulders, he spun him around and made him step into the shower.

The warm water felt delicious on his skin, but even more delicious

was the feel of Romeo’s skin underneath his fingertips. He found

A Talent in Your Lies

Romeo’s shower gel, an extravagant and doubtlessly expensive
product, and poured a liberal amount of it into his palm. The lather he
created from it was rich and velvety, and he spread it on every plane,
every bulge, and every hollow of his lover’s body that he could reach.

Romeo turned around at a gentle nudge from him, bracing his

arms on the wall as he offered his ass to Julian. It was too tempting.
Fingers slicked with the luxurious gel, he worked his way past the
ring of muscles and into the narrow, hidden channel. Once inside, it
was easy, and he found the right spot almost instantly.

Romeo whimpered and sagged against the wall. He seemed barely

able to hold himself upright when Julian rubbed his prostate over and
over again, stimulating him on the inside just as he curled his fingers
around Romeo’s cock once more.

“Please, baby,” Romeo pleaded. “Gonna come if—oh, fuck…”
“Shh,” Julian soothed. “Not yet. Not like this.”
“But—” Romeo’s protest turned into a helpless moan. Shifting

behind him, Julian had parted his buttocks with his hands, exposing
him and breaching him with both thumbs.

“Help me out here, love,” he whispered and replaced one of his

own hands with Romeo’s. Twisting to be able to look at Julian past
his outstretched arm, Romeo watched him for a moment.

“I never realized how roguish you are.”
“Tell me you don’t enjoy it at least as much as I do,” Julian

countered.

“Oh, I do.” Romeo turned his head to face the wall again. Little by

little, Julian removed the thumb he’d still had inside Romeo’s body
but stopped right at the rim to keep the hole from closing. Leaning in,
he nudged the sensitive, puckered skin with the tip of his tongue. As
expected, the gentle contact was enough to make Romeo squirm and
yelp, but Julian was happy to give him more. So much more. He
licked and teased, alternating the stimulation he could provide with
his tongue with the firmer pressure he could apply with his thumb
until Romeo was shaking all over. He was right at the verge, but what

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Julian was giving him wouldn’t be enough to send him over, so Julian
changed his position once more.

Still keeping his face buried in the cleft between Romeo’s ass

cheeks, he used one hand to grab Romeo’s cock while pushing one
finger of the other hand into the velvety cave. He pumped Romeo’s
shaft a few times before he flicked the tip of his tongue along the
stretched rim, and then he nudged his gland with his fingertip. Romeo
screamed. He thrust into Julian’s fist, only to push back against his
face and tongue again almost instantly, and then another jolt forward
and he went still. His cock, still nestled in Julian’s hand, pulsed and
covered Julian’s hand with strings of creamy, white cum that washed
away and disappeared down the drain almost instantly.

Julian couldn’t stand it any longer. Pushing to his feet, he reached

for his own achingly hard and neglected dick. He gave it a few
comforting, long strokes then brought it in line with the cleft he’d just
vacated. Romeo flinched a little but let him get on with it and even
clenched his buttocks, once Julian had found his rhythm, to help
increase the tightness. Looking down, Julian watched his own dark-
red, swollen flesh slide against the pale globes, watched the glistening
head almost hide from view whenever he retreated then gape at him
lewdly when he pushed close again. The sight was hugely erotic and
almost made up for the fact that he missed out on the real deal.

The dull, burning tightness in his balls grew brighter and sharper,

as it bubbled up and spread in his groin then exploded in several fiery,
electrical jolts throughout his body. His veins were on fire, and the
universe seemed to stop existing for a few precious, magical seconds.

Slowly coming down from one of the strongest orgasms he’d had

in years, Julian dragged his eyelids open. The water was still
streaming over him, caressing him with its perfect liquid warmth.
Romeo was still bent forward and panting heavily as he rested his
forehead against the tiles.

“You okay?” Julian croaked. He wiped the soaked strands of hair

from his eyes then stroked his exhausted lover’s back.

A Talent in Your Lies

“Hell, yeah,” Romeo groaned and grinned. “Didn’t you want to

fuck me for real?”

“Nn-nn.”
Romeo raised his head. “No?”
“No. This was only to clean you up, remember?”
“Yeah, right. I think I’m clean now. Both outside and inside.

But…” The question was plain in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Julian assured him. “I believe the talk can wait.

Should wait, in fact. Right now I just want to take this moment and
make it last as long as it possibly can.”

“Okay.”
Twisting around, Romeo offered his mouth for another kiss. He

was less urgent than before but still passionate, and Julian felt the
need he’d managed to hold at bay for so long return and pulse in his
groin with quiet but burning intensity.

They toweled off quickly, but the way to the bed was impossible

to tackle. They made it half of the way before they sank to the floor
just a few feet from where Romeo had been busy painting, grateful for
the lush, crimson carpet that cushioned their makeshift bed. Still,
there was no need for words as they shifted into position. Moving like
they had been doing this together for all of their lives, they arranged
themselves on their sides, facing each other.

Romeo brought his leg up and hooked it over Julian’s, pulling him

close with strong muscles to bring their groins together for that long-
missed, sweet union. They each wrapped one hand around both of
their cocks, easily settling into a rhythm they enjoyed, and stroked
each other while still kissing and touching every part of the other they
could reach.

It was delightful, all heady scents, blurry visions, and arousing

touches, but over far too soon, despite the earlier romp in the shower.
Julian felt Romeo’s cock spasm under his fingers and alongside his
own just seconds before he himself found his release, adding his hot,

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salty juice to Romeo’s that had already liberally coated their bellies
and groins.

They remained lying there for a while, too exhausted to move at

first then reluctant to leave the state of foggy absolution that allowed
them to be back together and enjoy each other like this, but eventually
reality caught up with them again in the shape of the merciless room
temperature. Although not exactly cold, it was too cool to lie naked
on the floor, not even wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Shivering, Romeo sat up. “I guess this means you are glad to see

me, huh?” he said with only a hint of his usual playfulness.

Still a bit shaky, Julian got to his feet. “Was it that obvious?”
“Quite.” Romeo went to the bathroom but returned almost

instantly. He’d put his paint-stained jeans back on and carried Julian’s
discarded clothes. Handing Julian the pile, he looked at him with a
frown wrinkling his forehead.

“Is that the reason you came here?”
Julian sighed and grabbed his clothes. If only it were that easy.

“No. Not really. I wanted to see how you were getting on with the
painting.”

“Oh. Is that so? I’d have expected you to drop by earlier, you

know.”

“Really? Well, it wasn’t all that easy to even find out where you

live. Did you know that your personnel file is classified?”

“Is it?” Romeo’s mouth was set in a firm line.
Julian closed his fly. “Yep. I had to seriously put my foot down

for them to tell me where you live.”

“Ah, you know. One can’t be careful enough these days. Anyway,

about the painting. It’s over there as you can see and—”

“Fuck it!” Julian snapped, surprising himself as much as Romeo

with his sudden outburst. “I don’t give a toss about the fucking
painting. You said you can do it, and I have to trust you on that
anyway. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to tell a real Monet from a forgery
unless it said ‘printed copy’ on the wrapping.” He ran his fingers

A Talent in Your Lies

through his hair and let out a bitter snort. “At least it gave me a reason
to come here. I miss you. I’m not sure if that changes anything, but
I’m sorry for not trusting you. I just can’t help it. You are what you
are, and I am what I am.”

Arms folded in front of his chest, Romeo watched him. “Fair

enough. So basically we’re back to where we’ve been. You don’t trust
me, and there’s nothing I can do to change that, but at least the sex is
mind-blowing.” He pursed his lips, and then he shrugged. “Ah, what
the fuck. There are relationships based on less good grounds.”

“Relationships? Does that mean you…you want us to get back

together?” Julian dared himself to ask. “In spite of everything?”

All playfulness had vanished from Romeo’s eyes. He took a deep

breath and let it out slowly. His bottom lip trembled, and he gripped it
with his teeth before letting go to say, “I love you, Jules. What’s
happened between us or the fact that you can’t trust me doesn’t
change that. It’s you who has to decide if you can live with it. The
only condition I have is that you’ll have to stop investigating me. If
you can’t do that, then I can’t allow for us to be this close.”

Julian was stunned. Confused. Was Romeo serious about them

and just didn’t want the complications that an investigation would
bring with it, or did he want to stop the agent who was chasing him
and was ready to use Julian’s affection for his own purpose?

“What?” he choked out.
“You heard,” Romeo whispered, and from the look on his face, he

knew exactly what was going on in Julian’s head. “The choice is
yours. I’m here if you want me, but I won’t tolerate you snooping
after me.”

“Well, seeing as I can’t seem to let you go, I think I have only one

option.”

“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I won’t investigate you any further.”
Head tilted to the side, Romeo watched him for a long moment,

and then he nodded. “Okay. Wanna see the painting?”

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“Yes, of course. How are you getting on with it?
“Take a look.” There was a peculiar glitter in Romeos eyes, and,

seeing the canvas on the easel, Julian realized what it was. Pride. And
Romeo had every reason to be proud.

The painting was almost finished, and although Julian wasn’t an

expert when it came to the art of painting, he knew enough to be able
to tell that it was good. He had been given several pieces of Monet’s
work to analyze during his training, so he was well familiar with the
style. If it weren’t for the two-inch wide strip of plain canvas, he
could have been led to believe that it was the genuine painting.

“Oh my,” he said with open admiration. “You are good.”
“Thank you.” Romeo had picked up the bottle of wine from the

counter in the kitchen and joined Julian with it and two glasses in his
hands. “It’s not as good as it should be, I’m afraid, but you said you
wanted a bad copy.”

“This is what you call a bad copy? It’s brilliant. Where did you

learn to paint like that?”

Shrugging, Romeo filled a glass with deep-red, almost-black wine

and handed it to Julian before he topped up his own. “A bit here, a bit
there,” he said in that airy way he always assumed when Julian’s
questions became personal. “I had a great teacher at school.”

“No, really.” Julian grinned and raised his glass. “That’s not

exactly something you pick up in art class at high school. Where did
you learn it? College?”

Romeo sipped his wine and stared at the painting. The muscle in

his cheek flexed a few times, but at last he sighed and put his glass
aside. “It was a Swiss boarding school. I went there for three years,
and I had one of the best art teachers ever. He taught me a lot about
painting in general, but especially about Monet, so it’s basically a
fortunate coincidence that we’re dealing with a Monet in this case.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t be able to copy a da Vinci quite so easily, for
instance.”

A Talent in Your Lies

Julian took the bait. Romeo opening up like that came as a

pleasant surprise, and he had every intention to take whatever he
could get. “But you could do it?”

“Why, do you want one?”
“Hmm, not sure. Do you think it would match my interior

design?”

Romeo clapped his hand in front of his mouth. “Julian! You don’t

choose such a painting because it matches your interior design. A da
Vinci, or a Monet, are no decoration. They’re objets d’art. They stand
alone and exist to be admired, not to blend in. If you want something
to match your interior design, buy a couple of movie posters.”

“Movie posters? What’s that supposed to mean? That I have tacky

taste?”

Romeo lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I just don’t think that

one of the Old Masters is quite the right thing for you, that’s all.”

“But it is for you, from the looks of it.” Julian glanced pointedly at

one of the very genuine-looking paintings on the wall near them.

Following his gaze, Romeo raised his eyebrows and shook his

head. “None of my doing. The apartment comes fully furnished and
decorated. The only things of mine in here are myself and some
clothes.”

And me. Julian bit his lip against the words. “These aren’t quite

the quarters I imagined you in,” he said instead.

“No? What did you imagine, then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…oh, I really don’t know. I definitely didn’t

imagine you living with a nice elderly lady. She’s not your grandma,
is she?”

“Diana? No. No, she’s my landlady. We’re not related, but

she’s…she’s probably the closest to a grandma I’ve ever had.”
Picking up a brush, Romeo absently stroked its bristles with his
fingertip.

Boarding school. A landlady who was closer to him than a

grandmother. Julian sank into the armchair next to where Romeo was

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standing. Angled just right, it offered a nice view out of the glass door
and across the adjoining roof terrace and the night sky that was
glowing in that odd shade of orange-purple that was so typical of a
city that never went to sleep. It also offered a nice view of Romeo,
who had turned to the painting and looked at it critically, tapping the
brush against his leg with light, casual flicks. Good thing it was dry
and clean, or he’d end up looking a lot like an impressionist painting
himself.

Julian picked up his glass and watched Romeo get back to work. It

was hard to stay where he was and simply watch the lean muscles
shift and flex underneath all that smooth skin. He hoped that Romeo
didn’t take much longer to finish the painting. There were so many
things they still had to do and so much to share that the earlier
frenzied couplings under the shower and on the carpet hadn’t been
able to satisfy.

A Talent in Your Lies

Chapter 8

Julian woke, disoriented and lethargic. The room was dimly lit,

and his inner clock told him that it couldn’t be much later than seven,
but he didn’t have a clue where he was at first. Blinking his eyes fully
open, he took a look around. He didn’t need to check the other half of
the bed to know that it was empty. Reaching out a blindly searching
hand anyway, he found that the mattress next to him was cold, so
Romeo must have been gone for longer than just the few minutes it
would have taken him to use the bathroom and go to make coffee, the
way he usually did on the rare occasions when he stayed over.

Over. Romeo.
The realization where he was hit Julian with a pang. Romeo’s

home, the apartment on the top floor of that nice elderly lady’s house.
The nice elderly lady who was closer to Romeo than his own
grandmother. More bits and pieces of last night’s conversation came
back to Julian, fragments that floated in the dusty room of his mind
and took on shape and, eventually, color. He sat up, surprised at the
unfamiliar soreness. The realization where that came from hit him
with a much stronger pang. He’d really let Romeo do it, hadn’t he?
Well, it had certainly seemed the right thing to do at that time. Or
rather, it had seemed the right time to do that…thing.

With Romeo.
He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, telling himself that it

wasn’t that big a deal, really. It wasn’t as though he’d done it for the
first time, and Romeo had been gentle and attentive throughout, just
as Julian had known he would be. He remembered that much easily
although he tried not to pick at the seams too much for fear of the

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entire coating giving in and all of the memories spilling out. It really
hadn’t been that big a deal, and there had been no particular reason
why he’d left it so late to do it that way either. Just…He padded to the
bathroom to relieve himself. The shower cabin was splashed with
waterdrops, so Romeo must have taken a shower before he’d left.

Strange that Julian hadn’t heard a thing, but then the bathroom

was at the far end of the apartment. He didn’t mean to but found
himself automatically taking stock of the room. Toothbrush, razor—
those two looked familiar. Romeo had brought them with him on
those few occasions when he’d planned to stay over.

Julian’s belly tightened with affection when he remembered his

astonishment at finding that Romeo shaved in the evenings. It had
made sense when Romeo pointed out that it saved him time getting
ready in the morning and enabled him to grow the stubble just the
way he liked it for the day.

Julian continued his exploration of the small bathroom. Romeo

wasn’t overly tidy, and the room looked lived-in without being a
mess. That was promising. It meant that he didn’t bother cleaning up
after himself too meticulously, while not crowding the space with
unneeded things, either. He obviously didn’t have a cleaner either, at
least not someone on the same scale as Mrs. Dobbs, the good soul
who kept Julian’s home a delight to return to in the evenings. She
never would have allowed for the homely ease of piled-up laundry or
the thin layer of dust on the shelves or the paintbrushes near the sink,
along with a stack of dishes that were cleaned but had yet to be put
away.

Honestly, Julian didn’t mean to. He’d promised not to, after all,

but before he knew it, his training kicked in and he searched Romeo’s
home with the methodical professionalism he’d have shown when
inspecting any suspect’s belongings. Just that those items weren’t any
suspect’s belongings, nor was it any suspect’s home. They were the
possessions and the home of his lover, of the man he had come to
trust more than anyone else. On a certain level, that was. The easy,

A Talent in Your Lies

affectionate intimacy between them was as true as anything Julian had
ever experienced, and already about to become the closest he had ever
been with anyone. On another level, the one where his profession
became part of the game, he didn’t trust Romeo at all. Quite the
opposite. He was still convinced that he had absolutely no reason
whatsoever to trust the man and that, indeed, the thief in Romeo was
up to something. Had been up to something. Well, he would find out
soon enough.

Whether or not he believed that Romeo was using his newly

established status as FBI trustee, and his personal relationship with
the head of the division he worked in, for his own purposes was
something Julian still didn’t allow himself to dwell upon.

The bathroom and the kitchen were dealt with quickly. There were

few items there that looked personal. The living area of the spacious
apartment took up a lot more time, but Julian didn’t discover anything
of greater value to his inquisitive mind. He tackled the bedroom next,
ignoring the king-size bed with its twisted and crinkled sheets.
Typically, he found what he was looking for in the last spot he
searched.

Romeo’s wardrobe. A classic.
He fingered black clothes, a cashmere turtleneck sweater that he

remembered only too well from a night spent at a deserted house in
the mountains. It had been just him and Romeo talking through most
of the night before he had fallen victim to Romeo’s irresistible charm
at some point in the very early hours of a freezing cold Christmas
Day. And a willing victim he had been, even back then.

He flicked through several pairs of black cargo pants, refusing to

imagine how snugly they would hug Romeo’s long, muscular legs and
that tight ass. Instead, he let out a low whistle as he discovered a flat
but rather large rectangular box tucked away at the farthest corner of
the walk-in wardrobe. He paused to listen for sounds and even went
as far as raising his head and looking around, but the apartment was

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as quiet and deserted as it had been ever since the last of his dreams
had ended and he’d woken up in an empty bed.

He pulled the box from its hiding place underneath the rows of

Romeo’s suit pants and shirts. It was quite heavy, and Julian opened it
with a curious tremor of expectation and apprehension. He knew what
it was even before he opened the lid. And he turned out to be right.
Ropes, hooks, a variety of electronic gadgets the purpose of which he
didn’t stand a chance at figuring out, and finally, a stack of passports.
He whooped.

One glance at the multicolored heap of their skins told him that

they belonged to people from at least five different countries. Not
people, he reminded himself. Identities. He opened the first,
Canadian. Anthony Bronson. The second, Italian. Angelo Ferro.
Annoyed, he flicked through the rest. Not one of them matched any of
the aliases he had already burnt, which, if he was honest, he hadn’t
expected anyway. Romeo was too much of a levelheaded professional
to cling on to an identity he could no longer use.

Julian had seen enough. He put everything back into the case the

way he had found it and shoved the whole thing back into its original
hiding place. His heart was pounding as he pushed to his feet. Had he
really believed Romeo had quit? He’d hoped for it, perhaps, but
believed it? That was just another of the many questions he preferred
to leave unanswered, at least for the time being.

Julian went back to the bathroom, restored himself so he was fit to

be seen, grabbed his jacket, automatically checking it for wallet,
badge, and keys, and left Romeo’s apartment. Although he hadn’t
dared hope for it, his exit went unnoticed. The charming Diana was
nowhere to be seen. Whether that was coincidence or she preferred it
that way was unclear, and it didn’t matter anyway. Julian rushed back
to his car and hurried to get home. In the heat of the hunt he had lost
track of time, which meant that he was now running late for work.

At his own home, he didn’t allow himself the much-longed-for

shower. He splashed the parts most in need of a wash with some

A Talent in Your Lies

water, put on a fresh shirt and suit, and took his gun from its safe
place before he rushed out again.

* * * *

Julian checked in at work an unprecedented hour and a half late.

Of course, in his position nobody tackled him about such trivialities.
It wasn’t as though he had a plain office job, and if he said he’d been
investigating something, no one would challenge the truth in that. In a
way, it was the truth, he mused grimly. He had been investigating
something. Someone. Someone whom he had promised not to
investigate any further just a few hours and a significant act of
lovemaking ago.

As usual, he fetched himself a cup of coffee to take it through to

his office. On the way, he noticed in a strange moment of déjà vu that
Romeo’s desk was as deserted as it had been the day before. As it was
supposed to be, Julian thought, a fragment of a second before he
realized his error. That desk wasn’t supposed to be deserted. Its only
justification to be deserted was if its owner was still where he was
supposed to be—at home, working on a forged painting he had
promised to finish by that afternoon. Problem was, Romeo wasn’t at
home. So where was he?

Cold rage clenched its fist around his heart. It wasn’t hard to

figure out where Romeo was. Or rather where he had been, which
might be the explanation for his absence. No, it wasn’t hard at all. The
information Goldstein had given him made it back to the surface of
Julian’s mind. And yet, a part of him still refused to accept it and
clung on to the chance that there might be another reasonable
explanation he had failed to notice.

“Barnes,” Julian called across the room.
Head snapping up like a well-trained dog’s, Barnes met Julian’s

gaze. For the half second it took him to turn, there was a strange

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expression on his face, but it disappeared and was replaced by a
slightly surprised blank. “Sir?”

“Any news from Mr. Moore?”
Barnes’s eyes widened, and Julian knew that the agent had

understood the real question. “No, sir. I thought he was with you.”

Julian watched Barnes for a moment, listened to the echo of his

voice, and tried to make sense of his words. Barnes had been
watching Romeo’s home, so how could Romeo have disappeared
without him noticing? And what had he been up to during those
unobserved hours? Barnes must have read the urgency in Julian’s
eyes, because he was already pushing to his feet when Julian said, “In
my off—” The words died in his throat when the door to Baxter’s
office flew open.

She fixed him with a serious, cold stare. “Agent Harris, a minute,”

she said tonelessly. Abandoning his coffee mug at the nearest desk in
passing, Julian hurried up the steps to her office.

“Close the door,” she ordered as soon as he was through it, and

then, without further preamble, she asked, “Has Moore been in
contact with you?”

Julian needed a moment to take in the question, distracted by her

obvious state of anxiousness. Several almost parallel frown lines
crossed her forehead, and she was wringing her hands. Chief Baxter
might frown, but she did not wring her hands, least of all while
frowning.

“Chief, what—”
“Just answer my question.”
“Well, the last time I heard of him was last night.” Julian was

reluctant to go into detail as to what exactly he had heard of Romeo.
Baxter wouldn’t care to know about how sexy Romeo sounded when
close to losing control on the verge of orgasm.

Her eyebrows were raised. “Last night? But not since?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Could he have reached you if he’d needed to?”

A Talent in Your Lies

“Yes, of course, but why would he…” This time, Julian picked up

on the note of distress in her voice. His heart gave a painful jolt. If
Baxter had asked him about his consultant’s whereabouts in a normal
situation, he might have been a little miffed, because technically
Romeo was under his order, but this was different.

“Chief, what’s wrong?”
Back to her professional self, Baxter was quick to cover up her

trepidation. “Nothing so far, Agent Harris. Please make sure to let me
know if Mr. Moore should get in touch.”

“Chief, I…” I’m worried about him. He’s my lover, and even

though I don’t trust him any further than I can throw him, I love him.
I need to know if he’s okay.

The truth in that realization hit Julian firmly in the gut, even

though he should have known it all along. Of course he loved Romeo.
He had fallen in love with the impertinent, annoying, beautiful thing
well over a year ago.

“I will. Maybe, if you don’t mind, if you hear from him, would

you—”

This time it was a brusque knock on the door that kept Julian from

finishing his sentence.

Baxter jerked her head up. “Come in!”
The door was thrown open with so much vigor it bounced off the

wall, and in came Romeo. Julian didn’t need to see his eyes to know
that something was wrong. In all the time he’d known him, Julian had
never seen him anything less than elegant and styled to perfection in
public. Today, he was more than just a little rough around the edges,
and, although that might just be an illusion, he seemed to hold his
right arm at an odd angle. Even more than his disheveled hair, his
choice of clothes gave Julian reason to be alarmed. Black cargo
pants—yes, they fit very snugly, bringing out Romeo’s ass and those
lean legs to perfection—and a black suede jacket below which the
turtleneck of a black cashmere sweater peeked out.

Baxter let out a long sigh.

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“Agent Harris. That’s all for now,” she said. Her sharp tone sent

another jolt through Julian’s body. This time it was one of anger. He
barely managed to hide his irritation as he took a breath to object, but
she anticipated him. “Thank you, Agent Harris.”

Trying to catch Romeo’s eye or even read his expression was

impossible. He was holding himself angled away from Julian,
showing him only the elegant but tense lines of his back and the set
frame of his shoulders. It said a lot about how well Julian had got to
know him already that he was able to tell from what little he saw that
Romeo was majorly pissed off. At least if he was pissed off, he was
still very much alive and kicking.

“Of course, ma’am.” Julian got up and hurried through the door.

The glimpse he caught of Romeo’s face before the door was slammed
shut made him cringe. Jaw set and lips pressed into a thin line, Romeo
avoided meeting his gaze.

* * * *

Julian’s confusion was complete when, minutes later, the sound of

raised voices came from Baxter’s office. That must be a first. No one
shouted with Baxter, and she’d never been known to raise her voice.
Julian would have loved to be the fly on the wall, but as it was, he
didn’t stand a chance to catch single words any more than the other
members of his division even though all of them cast occasional
curious glances toward the door. None of them dared comment on the
situation.

When Romeo emerged a good thirty minutes later, Julian was in

his office and relieved to find that Romeo actually took the time to see
him as soon as he was out of Baxter’s office.

“Special Agent Harris.”
Julian squirmed. The lines and angles of Romeo’s face were still

hard and unforgiving, and the cold tone of his voice combined with
the official address didn’t bode well. “Yes?”

A Talent in Your Lies

“I need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course. Come in and close the door, please. Take a seat. Are

you okay?”

Julian was not at all glad about what he saw. Romeo’s cheeks

were tinted in an odd, almost greenish pallor, and he moved
awkwardly. He winced as he sat, as usual preferring the edge of
Julian’s desk to the chair. He favored his right arm, and even
breathing seemed difficult for him, or maybe painful, but he nodded
in answer, so Julian decided to ignore the abysmal state of him for the
time being. Maybe for once Romeo was indeed ready to talk to him of
his own accord.

“I just wanted to check in with you and see if the Townsend

interrogation is still on this afternoon,” Romeo said.

“Uh…It is,” Julian confirmed. “He’s supposed to be here at two.

What about the painting?”

Romeo made a face. “So you haven’t taken the time to check on it

before you left, huh?”

The allusion to the night before and their intimate relationship was

unexpected, and it stung. More than anything, Julian longed to just
reach out and take Romeo’s hand or, even better, get out of this stupid
chair and gather the man he loved into his arms, hug him tight, kiss
him, and tell him how glad he was that he was still in one piece and
breathing. But he couldn’t. Not even if the expression on Romeo’s
face had been a little less distanced. He shook his head.

Romeo’s smile looked strained. “It’s ready. I finished the last

touches on it when…while you were asleep.”

“Did you? Fuck.” Julian did the math in his head. They’d still

talked around eleven and had sex again a little while after that. They’d
taken it slowly, so they couldn’t have finished before one. Julian had
woken around six, or maybe half past, so that left very little time for
Romeo to do whatever he’d been up to.

“You didn’t get much sleep, did you?”
“None at all, in fact.”

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“You should just go home. Take a nap and a shower and—”
Romeo flicked his hand. The left one. “That’s exactly what I’m

about to do. I just wanted to see…how you were.”

There was nothing Julian could do about the sarcastic little

chuckle that wanted out. “You’re the one who looks like death
warmed over, sweetheart, and you’re here to see how I am?” He
allowed his voice to transmit the emotions he couldn’t turn into
actions in his all-glass office, once again desperate for the luxury of
adjustable blinds like the ones Baxter had in hers.

“Yes,” Romeo whispered. He blinked and swayed slightly.
Unable to hold back, Julian touched his knee, the only part of his

lover he could reach without it being observable from the outside.
“Fuck, Romeo! You look about to pass out from exhaustion or maybe
just drop dead. Go home, sleep, and come back here at four. I’ll call
Townsend and postpone it. Better yet, I’ll just make him wait and tell
him something’s come up. There isn’t much he can do about that.”

Romeo gave a weak nod, already pushing to his feet.
“I’ll be here at half past three with the painting.” His lips

remained parted, as if he were about to say more, but then he just
turned around and went to the door. Resting his fingers on the
doorknob, he hesitated and turned around. The blue of his eyes
gleamed brightly in his pallid face, enhanced by the too-pink eyelids.

“I love you, Jules. Never forget that.” He yanked the door open,

leaving Julian with a pounding heart and a spinning mind.

It wasn’t the first time Romeo had said those three words. He’d

said them pretty early on in their would-be relationship, sooner even
than Julian had admitted to himself what he felt for the beautiful thief
who had stolen his heart, along with the rest of the things he’d been
after. What startled him was the odd urgency in Romeo’s voice this
time. Not to mention the “never forget that” part. It sounded final.
Dooming. As if Romeo expected not to come back.

Julian shook the thought off. Romeo would come back, the way

he always did. The way he had to. Had to, because life without him

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Chapter 9

Romeo did come back. At a quarter to four precisely, he strode

into the office, dressed in a crisp, costly suit like a model fresh out of
an ad. He carried a big, flat, rectangular parcel. He also looked like
butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, an impression that Julian by now
knew to be misleading, but having sworn to himself not to bring up
his latest discovery before they had dealt with Townsend, he gritted
his teeth against the words that wanted out and settled for enjoying
the view.

Romeo had for once even bothered with a day-time shave that had

left his jawline unfamiliarly smooth. Along with the slicked-back hair,
it added to his impression of pure, youthful innocence. Although
personally preferring the edgier, rougher style with the stubble and
fashionably disheveled hair, Julian understood and appreciated the
thinking. The suit Romeo wore was the equivalent to the house
Townsend lived in.

Julian was itching to get Romeo into the interrogation room, and

although he would have loved to make him sit on the other side of the
table, he wanted to watch Romeo’s performance during an
interrogation once more. Seeing how he handled the task when the
suspect wasn’t one of his kind, but an up until now respectable
member of society, had become a matter of personal interest to Julian.
So far Romeo certainly looked fit to take on the Steve Townsends of
this world.

“How do you want to do this?” Romeo’s husky voice broke into

his musings. He’d poked his head round Julian’s door without coming
in, coffee cup in hand, like he had somewhere else to go. The usual

A Talent in Your Lies

sparkle of mischief was back in his blue eyes, Julian noticed. Well,
Romeo had every reason to be cheerful, hadn’t he? Last night’s coup
had been a success, after all. Down, boy. This wasn’t the right time to
address the matter, Julian told himself once again.

“Hmm, I think the good cop, bad cop technique worked quite well

the last time,” he said. “Maybe we should use it again.”

Romeo shrugged. “Fine with me. Do I get to be the baddie this

time?”

“Isn’t that who you are anyway?” Julian let his tone transmit the

message that Romeo was dismissed. Understanding, and quite
possibly picking up on the bitter note of accusation that had slipped
into Julian’s voice along with the words, Romeo frowned and blinked
but turned around and went to Baxter’s office.

* * * *

Ten minutes later, they stood inside the small electronics and

observation chamber and watched Townsend pace the adjoining
interrogation room.

“What do you think?” Julian asked as he drained the last of his

coffee.

Romeo pursed his lips, and then he said, “Hard to tell at this point.

Just because he’s nervous doesn’t mean he’s got something to hide.
Most people would be uncomfortable in a situation like this, I
suppose. After all, you don’t get invited for a chat at the FBI
headquarters every day.”

“You don’t seem to be too uncomfortable hanging out here,”

Julian pointed out with just a hint of acid in his voice.

Romeo didn’t bat an eyelid. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are. Shall we?”
Before Romeo had a chance to answer, Julian left the room,

heading for the interrogation room and poor Mr. Townsend, who had
been kept waiting for a good twenty minutes now. It was astonishing

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what an indefinite time spent alone inside a small, bare, gray-walled
room did to one’s psyche. Even the most innocent were guaranteed to
develop some degree of unease, but with a guilty person it was the
best way to put the first cracks into even the strongest veneer.

With a bright smile plastered onto his face, Julian entered the

room. “Mr. Townsend. Thank you so much for coming. I’m Special
Agent Julian Harris. This is Paris Moore.”

The tall, dark-haired man glared at him. “It’s not as though I had

much choice, is it? Although I really don’t understand what I’m
supposed to do here. I told the police everything I know already.
Twice,” he emphasized with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, I’m afraid your presence here is required for some

further questions. It’s nothing to worry about, merely a formality.
Besides, we wanted to tell you the good news in person.”

“Good news?” Townsend perked up. “What good news?”
At a tiny nod from Julian, Romeo left his spot in the background

and approached Townsend.

“We believe we have retrieved your painting, sir,” he said. His

charming, harmless smile was firmly in place. He looked like he was
about to sell Townsend a car, or quite possibly a house, rather than try
to prove him guilty of a crime.

Townsend flinched but tried to hide the reaction by rubbing his

thigh. “No, really? You’ve found it?”

Julian had angled himself at Townsend’s other side, opposite

Romeo, who promptly turned his shoulder on the man, breaking the
connection he’d just built. The timing was flawless and impressive,
considering they had worked together in such a situation only the one
time before.

“Easy, Mr. Townsend,” Julian soothed. “As Mr. Moore said, we

believe we have found it. We cannot say for certain yet if it really is
your painting, which is one of the reasons we asked you to take the
trouble to come here. We need you to identify the painting for us.”

A Talent in Your Lies

The tense muscles in Townsend’s cheeks relaxed a little, but his

fingers were still curled into fists. “Oh. Well, that shouldn’t be a
problem, really. Where is it?”

“Already on its way here. Mr. Moore, our expert in such matters,

will take you through the necessary steps.”

Romeo caught the ball with ease. All smiles again, he rounded in

on Townsend. “First of all, just for the record, I need a detailed
account on how you got into the possession of the painting in the first
place.”

“Uh…” Townsend blinked. He looked from Romeo to Julian and

back, probably wondering whether he really had to give them that
kind of information. He didn’t, but it was a great way to keep his
mind busy and him from thinking up a plausible story.

“I, um, think I…” He chuckled, a rough, shaky sound. “It’s, uh,

funny, but I can’t seem to remember right now. Not off the top of my
head. You see, I have collected quite a few items over the years and
can’t remember the history of every single one. Would it be okay if I
give you that information later?”

Romeo flicked his hand. “Ah, of course. That’s no problem at all.

It really is just a formality. But maybe seeing it will help get your
memory back on track.”

Right on cue, the door was opened and Barnes entered, the fake

painting in his hands. He propped it up on a chair, cast a quick,
inquisitive glance at Romeo before he nodded at Julian, and left again.

“This is it,” Romeo said. “Do you recognize it?”
Townsend didn’t even turn his head. “Of course I do. It is my

painting.”

Julian caught Romeo’s eye and watched the corners of his mouth

twitch, the only outward indication of what must be a very loud
inward laughter.

“Wouldn’t you perhaps need to take a closer look?” he suggested.
“Uh…Why?”

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“Well, this might look like your painting,” Julian explained,

taking mercy on Romeo, who looked about to pop an artery with the
effort it took him not to burst out laughing. “But you never know. It
might just be a forgery.”

Townsend flinched at the last word. “Uh, but I thought it was my

painting?” he objected lamely. He must have realized his mistake by
now and tried to cover it up by playing dumb.

“As I said,” Romeo pointed out, standing right next to the

painting, hands resting on the back of the chair it was propped up on.
“We assume it is yours, but we will need you to identify it.”

“How would I do that? I’m not exactly an expert.” Townsend’s

eyes were narrowed suspiciously. He seemed to have understood that
something was going on but couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

“You don’t need to be an expert to recognize your painting, Mr.

Townsend,” Romeo explained. “In fact, it must be an easy task for
you, I believe. Someone who loves and appreciates art the way you do
must have seen this painting close-up at least a hundred times. That
makes you notice things. Tiny, individual characteristics, like a crack
in the paint or a speck of the wrong color.” He patted the canvas.
“Come, have a look. That way you might save us the time and
expense to have it examined by an expert.”

“You mean it hasn’t been examined professionally yet?”
Romeo bit his lip and flashed a convincingly embarrassed smile.

“No. You see, experts don’t work for free, and the government has to
save money wherever possible, so unless absolutely necessary, we try
to find other ways. Of course, if you still have doubts, you’re free to
consult an expert of your choice once the painting has been returned
to you. But for us to be able to do that, we need you to identify it
first.”

“Of course.” Seemingly getting the idea after Romeo’s heavy

prompting, Townsend got up and rounded the plain, steel table.

He approached the painting hesitatingly, and then he made a big

show of looking at it from different angles. He even went as far as

A Talent in Your Lies

touching it, at which moment Romeo’s eyes narrowed, and he cast
Julian a sorrowful glance. His concern was justified. Doing the
painting overnight had been cutting it close. If the paint was still
moist and came off, there was no way Townsend could pretend it was
the real one, no matter how much he wanted to.

The moment passed, the paint stuck, and Townsend let out a

breath. He nodded and turned to look at Romeo.

“It is mine.” To his credit, he said it with reasonable conviction.

Julian might have believed him if he didn’t know for certain that it
was a lie. Townsend had just closed the lid on his coffin. Now it was
up to Julian and Romeo to put the nails in.

“Just for the record—the painting you see here in front of you is

the one that was stolen from your home a fortnight ago?” Julian asked
calmly.

Townsend offered him a smile. “Yes. I recognize it. As Mr., uh,

Moore said, you come to notice certain characteristics.”

“Uh-huh. You do,” Romeo said. He walked up to Townsend with

deliberately slow steps, looking more than ever like a cat rounding in
on his prey. He was clearly loving this.

“The problem is that the painting you see in front of you didn’t

even exist a fortnight ago. It’s a reproduction that was finished last
night. You can’t recognize any characteristic details in it because you
have never seen it before, least of all in your own home.”

“But—”
“Why did you switch off the touch sensors, Mr. Townsend?”

Romeo asked in a level tone.

Townsend went pale. “How…I didn’t…”
“Of course you did, and we would like to know why. Above all,

we would like to know whether the burglar tricked you into it or if
you just deactivated them because you knew he was coming.”

Furious, Townsend jumped to his feet. “How dare you insinuate

that I helped the thief to—”

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“Easy, Mr. Townsend,” Julian warned. “We’re just taking every

possibility into account, and if you think about it, I’m sure you’ll
agree that this is a possibility. You just tried to make us believe that a
painting you must have recognized as a copy is, in fact, your property.
I can’t help but wonder why you would willingly give us a false
identification as that means giving up every chance of recovering
your own painting unless you know that the painting that was stolen
from your home was no more a real Monet than this one.”

“What happened?” Romeo asked in a tone that was close to

compassion. “I know you don’t want to admit to having deactivated
the sensor yourself because the insurance company would argue that
the painting was not protected sufficiently according to their
regulations at the time of the theft. And yet you know it’s over, so you
might as well tell us the truth now rather than wasting even more of
your time and ours.”

“Nothing happened,” Townsend insisted. “Other than that I

believed this to be my painting. I didn’t do anything with those
sensors. The thief must have meddled with them. But I’ll tell you
what will happen. I will stop talking to you and call my lawyer, who
will then dissect this case along with every other the two of you have
worked on in your career. Are you sure that is what you want?”

Romeo held his gaze with perfect calm. “Are you sure that it is

what you want, Mr. Townsend? Having your lawyer cause an
investigation on such a large scale would mean a lot of unnecessary
commotion that will be impossible to keep from the public. Think
about it. You can help us, give us the names and information you
have, and we will deal with this quietly—or you can cause a big fuss
and make sure that every single newspaper in the country will take an
interest in the question why Steve Townsend has had his own painting
stolen. A painting we can prove was a forgery commissioned by none
other than yourself, at that. The choice is all yours.”

Townsend went even paler, and his shoulders sagged. “I didn’t

know what to do,” he whispered. “The recession hasn’t exactly passed

A Talent in Your Lies

me by, you know. I had to sell the original years ago, but I didn’t
want my wife to know about it. She would never have agreed to it.
She loved her water lilies. They were a present for our fifth wedding
anniversary.”

“Hence the forgery.”
Townsend swallowed and nodded. “I could have needed the

money that cost me, but I thought it was the lesser evil. At least that
way Connie still had her lilies, or thought she did, anyway.” He
locked his lips.

“I didn’t intend to commit a fraud, but when I went through some

papers a couple of weeks ago, I found the insurance certificate. You
have to understand. I need to invest a six-figure sum to save my
business, and that painting is worth a few million. At least it had been
at the time I bought it, and that is the sum the insurance documents
state.”

“Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad plan altogether,” Julian

acknowledged. “If the painting was stolen, your wife couldn’t blame
you for the loss. You’d get the money from the insurance and had the
chance to destroy the proof of the art forgery as well. A total winning
situation for you—if it had worked out.”

“But you tried to save money on hiring a thief,” Romeo filled in.

“And had to pay the intermediate, so you went for the cheapest one
available. Unfortunately, that was a complete amateur who got
himself caught. And talked. Well, Mr. Townsend, I’m afraid you’ll
have to write that off as an unwise investment.”

Townsend rolled his eyes and glared at Romeo before he turned

his head in Julian’s direction. “So what happens now?”

Julian gave a shrug. “That’s none of our business, really. The

insurance company will certainly want to have a word with you for
attempted fraud and—”

“Does my wife have to know?” Townsend interrupted him with

pitiable despair. “She’ll freak out if she learns that I sold it, and…she

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adored that painting, and all the time it was just a copy because I had
sold on her beloved water lilies. Her present.”

Head tilted to the side, Romeo watched Townsend for a moment.

“She is the reason you identified this copy as your painting, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”
“Well, you could have said it is a forgery and claimed that the

thieves had it made and planted to throw us off. But instead you were
very willing to confirm that this painting was indeed yours. It’s
because of Mrs. Townsend, isn’t it?”

Townsend’s shoulders sagged. Staring at the table in front of him,

he nodded. “She cried. When she found out that it was gone, she
broke down. I can’t remember seeing her this sad. She cried, and do
you want to know what she said?”

Townsend looked up and, taking in Romeo’s raised eyebrows, he

continued, “She said that during everything we’ve been through, all
the hard times we’ve had, this painting has always been a symbol for
her. A reminder of the good times, and a token of my love for her.
She wasn’t sad because she’d lost a favorite painting. She was
heartbroken because the symbol of all the love between us was taken
from her.”

He scratched his chin and made a face. “I just want her to have her

lilies back, you know? I don’t care about the money. The funny thing
is, when you showed me this joke of a copy, I thought it had been, in
fact, a forgery made by the thieves to throw you off—the very thing
you said. But I figured that if you guys hadn’t realized that and
believed it to be the real thing, then why should I tell you?”

“Right. It would have been the solution to your problems. Your

wife gets her painting back, we stop investigating, and all this sad
episode costs you is the money for the idiot you hired to steal your
copy.”

“Yes,” Townsend admitted quietly. “But that’s not an option

anymore, is it? I’m not even sure she wouldn’t have noticed the

A Talent in Your Lies

101

difference anyway, but now…She’s going to learn about what I did,
isn’t she?”

“Don’t you think she’ll understand if you explain the situation to

her?” Julian asked, but Townsend just let out a disgruntled huff.

“She’ll hate me and lose all respect for me. There are things a

woman will never understand, don’t you know that? Taking away a
present, no matter what the reason, is one of them. Do you have any
idea what I’m supposed to tell her?”

Holding Townsend’s desperate gaze, Julian said, “Well, I

wouldn’t know about what to do with a woman in that situation, but
in my experience, the best way to make sure the person you love still
respects you is telling them the truth.” He shot Romeo a meaningful
glance as he said the last words, earning himself a glare from
narrowed eyes underneath a pair of closely knitted, dark eyebrows.

Ignoring his personal problems for the time being, Julian got up.

“Someone will come in and take your written statement. I recommend
being cooperative and honest. That’s the best way to deal with law
enforcement as well as with a betrayed partner.”

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Chapter 10

“What the fuck was that about?” Romeo snarled the moment they

were out of the room and the door closed behind them.

Julian spun around, facing him. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me, for fuck’s sake!” Julian roared. “Damn, how I

wish I knew what name to put to your lying, scheming face! Now
more than ever before.”

Romeo’s jaw set in that firm, unforgiving line Julian had come to

know so well. “It might help if you told me what it is that you’re
accusing me of this time,” he said with cold anger.

“You said you weren’t committing crimes anymore. You said I

could trust you and then you…you…”

“Then I what?”
“The attempted break-in at the Museum of Fine Arts last night—

that was you, wasn’t it? You said you wouldn’t do it anymore, Ro—”
Biting his tongue as usual when the name wanted out, Julian snatched
a shuddery breath instead. “I really wanted to believe you. I did.
When your friend Goldstein told me about it, I so hoped the
information would turn out to be wrong. I even came to see you last
night, thinking it might make you change your mind if you were
really planning to do it. But you didn’t hesitate, not for a moment, did
you? You just—”

“You knew about it?” Unlike before when he was furious,

Romeo’s eyes weren’t shooting sparks with anger. Instead, they had
gone almost deadly cold. Two bottomless pools of blue ice,
unforgiving and potentially lethal.

A Talent in Your Lies

103

Fear clamped an icy grip around Julian’s heart. For the first time

since they had met, he was afraid of Romeo. He’d known right from
the start that Romeo wasn’t violent and didn’t even carry a weapon
other than the army knife which he used for his break-ins. What Julian
saw now in the eyes of the man he loved sent a cold chill down his
spine. Romeo might not be one to use violence unnecessarily, but he
was capable of it. The stiff line of his shoulders said so, and the way
the fingers of his left hand were clenched and ready to attack.

In that one instant, Julian came to understand a lot of things about

Romeo. One was that he didn’t carry weapons because he didn’t need
them to defend himself. He was well capable of doing that without the
aid of arms. Another was that he really didn’t have a clue who this
man was.

The chill had settled in Julian’s stomach, a hollow, gnawing pain

that seemed to destroy what little he had thought he knew about
Romeo until a few minutes ago. “Who the fuck are you?”

“The question is, who are you?” Romeo retorted frostily, and to

Julian’s surprise and horror, he reached out and clenched his fingers
around Julian’s arm in a viselike grip. “I think it’s time for a little chat
with the chief, don’t you think?”

Not waiting for an answer, he set off, half dragging, half marching

Julian along with him toward Baxter’s office. The door was closed,
but Romeo didn’t wait for an answer to his brusque knock.

“Chief, I think—” He fell silent when she turned to face him. Pale

and wide-eyed, she looked more than ever like a startled deer, which
was another thing Chief Baxter didn’t do. She seemed as frightened as
Julian had been that morning when her concern had been about
Romeo’s absence. Seeing Julian standing next to Romeo, she brought
her hand to her lips, and, closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep
breath.

“Agent Harris, I’m so glad you’re here. Safe,” she said in a tight

voice.

This was a day of wonders.

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“Why wouldn’t I be?” Julian asked. An overwhelming sense of

apprehension rose inside him.

“I’m sorry, Agent. Of course you haven’t heard yet.”
“Heard what?”
“There was an explosion…your house…It’s all gone.”
“What?” The shout came from both Julian and Romeo

simultaneously. Letting go of Julian’s arm, Romeo stared at him, and
then his gaze flicked to Baxter for a nanosecond and back to Julian.

“It happened two hours ago,” Baxter explained. “The firefighters

say they’re just about to go in to investigate, but so far they believe it
was a gas leak that caused the explosion. Either that or some kind of
explosive.”

“It can’t have been gas,” Julian said numbly, remembering a scene

from the evening before. “I use gas for cooking, but the container was
empty. I didn’t get round to buying a new one yet.”

“Are you sure it was empty?” Romeo inquired in an

uncharacteristically shaky voice.

Julian rolled his eyes. “I had an atrocious burger from a restaurant

for dinner on the way to you because the stove didn’t work. You
commented on the aftertaste of it at some point last night. Yes, I am
sure.”

Baxter cleared her throat. “That being said, and inadvertently

overheard, am I right in assuming that you didn’t spend the night at
your own home, Agent Harris?”

Julian sighed. No point in trying to cover anything up now, was

there? “No. No, I didn’t. I spent the night with Ro—Mr. Moore.”

“I see. Well, I think that—” The phone on Baxter’s desk rang. She

stared at it with contempt, but when she checked the display, she
hurried to pick up.

“Baxter,” she barked down the line. “Yes…Yes…I see. Uh-

huh…Oh. Are you sure?” Frowning, she looked up at Julian, cast a
quick glance at Romeo, and focused on Julian once more. “No,
Special Agent Harris is alive and kicking. Fortunately…Yes, he’s

A Talent in Your Lies

105

standing right in front of me…Of course, I’ll ask him. Thank you for
calling me, officer.”

She sat down, kneading her hands. What little color had been left

in her cheeks had vanished during the phone call.

“That was the police,” she said quietly. “Agent Harris, do you

have a relative or…a friend staying at your home?”

“No,” Julian answered, bewildered. Her raised eyebrows could

mean a lot, but he decided not to take it as an insult. She had to ask.
“Why?”

“The firefighters found a body inside your house. In the bedroom,

to be precise.”

The floor under Julian’s feet seemed to have come alive, and the

room spun around him. At the same time, a wave of nausea flooded
his tormented stomach. “No. But…Oh my God.” Julian sank into the
nearest chair, absently noting that Romeo remained at his side,
guiding him with strong, but gentle hands. “Mrs. Dobbs. My cleaning
lady. She comes in on Fridays. At one.”

“Your cleaning lady?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m sorry.” Baxter straightened up, still gray in the face. “A

police officer is coming in to talk to you. They should be here in just a
few minutes. Please wait in your office. They will meet you there.”

Julian got up. He was barely aware of it, just acting on autopilot.

Gracefully following his movements, Romeo offered him wordless
support. The warm hand he rested on Julian’s shoulder felt nice. Solid
and alive. Neither of those were qualities Julian found anywhere in
him when he thought of Mrs. Dobbs, the nice, chummy lady who had
been keeping his life-space a pleasure to live in for the past five years.

“Are you going to be okay?” Romeo’s gentle words drifted to his

ear. Julian forced himself to nod, but it felt odd, as if his neck were
made of rubber. Trying to observe the scene objectively, he
understood that he must have been in shock and unable to process the

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whole extent of the information. That would happen later. Right now,
he was merely coping.

“Listen, I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can, okay?” Romeo

said. He’d shifted his hand lower, held Julian’s fingers wrapped in it
as he watched him with sorrowful eyes. “Until then, don’t leave the
building. I’ll find you when the chief and I are done talking.”

“I’m fine,” Julian replied. His voice was surprisingly calm. “I’ll

just go and wait for the police. I’d like to go—” Home, he had wanted
to say. His stomach tightened painfully when he reminded himself
that home didn’t exist anymore. Just like poor, friendly Mrs. Dobbs
with her rounded apple cheeks and the ever-present smell of cleaning
agents that wafted around her.

“Uh, I’d like to go somewhere when they’re done with me. Maybe

a hotel. I’ll—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Romeo objected.
“Too right you’re not, Agent Harris, and that’s an order.” Chief

Baxter backed him up, adding to Julian’s confusion. “You talk to the
police, and after that you wait for Mr. Moore to take you somewhere
safe and quiet. I will figure something out with him in the meantime.”

“But—”
“Go, baby.” Romeo gave Julian’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and

then the solid warmth of his body vanished and Julian was shoved to
the door instead. “Don’t go anywhere without me, got that?” Romeo
reminded.

Julian’s rebellious streak stirred. He wasn’t a kid, and he hated

being treated like one. “I’m well capable of looking after myself.
What is the fuss about anyway?”

He noticed the quick exchange of looks between Romeo and

Baxter but couldn’t quite place them.

“We believe that this explosion was, in fact, attempted murder.

The attempt to murder you, Agent Harris,” Baxter explained. Romeo
winced.

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107

“Now do as you’re told, or I’m having you locked up for your

own safety,” Baxter warned. Another reassuring squeeze and shove,
firmer this time, sent Julian out of her office. He heard Romeo’s voice
as soon as the door had fallen shut behind him. The man sounded
agitated and, yes, livid. Baxter seemed to have trouble making herself
heard over the furious litany he threw at her. Once again, Julian
would have loved to be a fly on the wall and hear what the two had to
say to each other.

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Chapter 11

The interview with the police went smoothly. Quick and

professional, Officer Fitzpatrick went through his catalogue of
questions. He was neither too friendly nor wary, and his cool
indifference made it easier for Julian to deal with the full realization
of what had happened when it finally hit him. Romeo joined him
much sooner than he could have hoped for, but his face was a careful
mask that betrayed no emotion other than some mild compassion.

When they left the FBI building together, it was already past

seven. Although clearly far from enthusiastic, Romeo agreed to
driving Julian to his house, or rather what was left of it, when Julian
asked him to. He was there, right by Julian’s side, a subdued but
steadfast companion, reliable and unwavering. When Julian was about
to be overwhelmed by the knowledge that a person he had cared for
had died in the charred, broken ruins in front of them, Romeo stood
behind him, wrapped him in his arms, and held on to him.

Julian didn’t understand it. He couldn’t make sense of what had

happened, no matter how hard he tried. Baxter and Romeo seemed to
assume that someone had attempted to kill him. But why? Why him?
Why now? He wasn’t investigating a case that was worth committing
murder for. And why would anyone blow up a house just to wipe him
out? Why not just shoot him quickly and efficiently?

The pressure of Romeo’s arms around him grew stronger, and his

breath caressed Julian’s skin, a cool, clean reminder that life
continued, even in this moment of darkness.

“What now?”Julian choked out, furiously rubbing his eyes.

A Talent in Your Lies

109

“Hmm. How about dinner? You need some food to keep your

strength up.”

“Huh.” Julian let out a snort. “Dinner. I don’t even know where

I’m going to sleep tonight.”

“Oh. That.” Romeo took Julian’s hands in his, tangling their

fingers together. “Well, quite simple—you’re going to stay with me.”

“I’m what? But—”
“At least for the weekend. If we know more about what’s going

on and who’s behind this, you can find a hotel or whatever if that’s
what you want, okay? Anyway, you know what Baxter said. You’re
under orders to stay with me.” He grinned crookedly. “I’ll make sure
you won’t regret it. I promise.”

“What about you?” Julian challenged. “Won’t you regret it?”
A tender smile lit up Romeo’s face as he tilted his head to the side

and leaned in for a kiss. “Regret being with you? Why would I?”

“Because it would be indefinitely more difficult for you to keep

all your secrets from me.”

“Secrets?”
“Yes. Secrets.”
“Ah, Jules. I could never keep a secret from you anyway.”
“Liar. Beautiful, talented liar,” Julian scolded, but he couldn’t

resist the temptation to sink into Romeo’s arms, to let himself drown
in the embrace of the man he loved.

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Chapter 12

“So…here we are,” Romeo said unnecessarily. He dropped the

bag he’d insisted on carrying—some basic items bought in a hurry
and with little interest—on the floor. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” The word burned in Julian’s throat, just like the tears

stung the backs of his eyes. He’d been so close to breaking down at
the sight of the ruins that had once been his home, but he’d been
unable to cry.

Romeo stuffed his hands into his pockets and waited, watching.

Julian knew he was supposed to say something or do something, but
he couldn’t. All he could do was stand there, feeling numb, and try
not to let the loss get to him.

He didn’t know how long they had been standing there for when

Romeo let out a sigh, stretched his back, and ran his fingers through
his hair. “Would you…uh, I don’t know, like to take a shower or
something?” he mumbled, uncharacteristically subdued.

Julian knew he was supposed to give some kind of response, but

again, he couldn’t. Another awful minute or maybe ten passed, and
then Romeo took a deep breath.

“Aw, Jules,” he said and went to Julian, arms held out. “Baby,

don’t—”

The rest of his sentence got caught in Julian’s sudden, fierce

attack on him. To his credit, he didn’t stumble or waver, although
Julian could feel the tightly coiled muscles under his hands in the
places where he touched Romeo, or clung on to him, rather. Clenched
his fingers into his body, really.

A Talent in Your Lies

111

“Take me to bed,” Julian choked out in between painfully hard

kisses. Romeo’s teeth grazed his tongue, and freshly grown stubble
pricked his lips and sandpapered his chin, but he didn’t care. If he
hurt, then at least he was still alive. And if he was still alive, then he
deserved the pain. It should have been him, not poor, innocent Mrs.
Dobbs, whose only crime had been to take on the wrong job.

“Jules.” Romeo’s mildly concerned groan brought Julian back to

reality. His fingernails were hurting where he dug them into Romeo’s
flesh, right above his hip. He forced himself to loosen his grip, but the
action hurt almost more than holding on.

“Take me to bed,” Julian repeated, and this time Romeo obeyed.

Something, worry or apprehension, flickered in his eyes, but he turned
away and, pulling Julian with him, led the way to his bedroom.

Romeo was strong. He had to be, and he wasn’t holding back and

couldn’t allow himself to, because Julian was past the point of
holding back himself as the numb desolation he’d felt at the loss
initially turned into blind rage. A rage that turned against the only
target available, even though, paradoxically, it wasn’t the one who
was to blame for what had happened. And yet, Romeo took it. He
took the screaming, the furious yells that seemed to scorch Julian’s
throat on the way out. He took the frenzied, unexpected attack,
putting up just enough of an obstacle for Julian to have something to
fight, to channel his anger and aggravation into.

Julian realized all that with the part of his overstimulated,

confused mind that was still providing him with some information on
what was going on around him even while he was doing it, but he
couldn’t seem to stop. He even realized that, in spite of Romeo’s
strength and enormous skill, the occasional blow connected, and yet
Julian couldn’t stop. Whatever was bringing on the manic, dark storm
raging inside him needed out, or it would tear him up inside. He knew
that, and Romeo must be sensing it, too. It was the only explanation
for him to put up with what Julian did to him, what he allowed Julian
to do to him. When the hurricane of blind hatred and rage inside

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Julian finally ebbed away, they were both sweaty and exhausted, two
warriors in a sea of tangled sheets. Ashamed beyond anything he’d
ever felt before, Julian noticed the stains tainting what had once been
elegant, crisp, cream-colored sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Romeo’s heaving, sticky belly. He

tried not to think about which bodily fluids exactly caused the
stickiness.

Romeo’s answer arrived with a few seconds’ delay. His voice was

rough, left hoarse from the screams Julian had forced out of him, and
yet there was still that sweet, unmistakable note of affection in it.
“Don’t be, sweetheart.”

“But I hurt you.”
“You did nothing I couldn’t handle. Nothing I wouldn’t be happy

to take again if it helped you,” Romeo said softly. “Now stop
worrying and c’mere.”

Julian let himself be pulled into the kiss, horrified when he tasted

blood. He leaned back, gingerly inspecting the damage and somewhat
relieved when it turned out to come from a tiny gash in Romeo’s lip.
Nothing serious, but not the worst of the harm he’d caused, either.
Julian was well aware of that fact.

“How can you still put up with me when I…did this?” Julian

choked out.

Romeo made a vague little sound that could have been an amused

snort.

“Firstly, it’s not you who is like that. You suffered a serious

trauma today, and people have different ways of coping with that.”

“But that’s a horrible way to—”
“Shh. I’ve been where you are. Not the same situation, but my

reaction to bereavement is not unlike yours. Secondly—I love you.”

“That still doesn’t give me the right to use you as a punching bag

to blow off steam.”

A Talent in Your Lies

113

“Ah, Jules.” Romeo chuckled. “You’re making far more of a fuss

than it is worth. It was rough, but I’m fine. I’ll just have to make sure
not to get a physical checkup for the next couple of days.”

Julian groaned. “Oh, God. Don’t say stuff like that!”
He was beginning to believe it, though. Romeo didn’t need to tell

him he was fine if he wasn’t, and from everything Julian had learned
about the man so far, he wouldn’t put up with anything if he didn’t
want to.

“Who was it?” Julian asked into the darkness after a while.
Romeo tensed underneath him. He probably knew what Julian

was referring to but decided to play dumb. Maybe just to buy himself
some time, or maybe to get Julian to back off.

“You said your reaction to bereavement was like mine. Whom did

you lose?”

Romeo took and exhaled a few deep breaths before he answered.

“My parents,” he said at last.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Really, that’s…Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
When it seemed that Romeo wasn’t going to talk, Julian asked,

“Wanna tell me what happened?”

This time, the sound Romeo made was somewhere between a

chuckle and a sniff. “Not really.”

“Come on. Give me something. You’ve just seen me at my

worst,” Julian persisted.

“I know. Well, they…died. It was an accident.” Wriggling,

Romeo shifted away from Julian and sat up. He rested his back
against the headboard but apparently found the position too
uncomfortable and started propping up the pillows.

“Who’s fussing now?” Julian said after several minutes of

observing his lover’s efforts at evading the answer.

“Ah, fuck it. You’re right,” Romeo said and ran his fingers

through his hair. “It happened five years ago, and I really should be
able to at least talk about it by now, but…” He scratched his chin.

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“But the wounds haven’t healed yet,” Julian finished.
“No. They’ve barely started scabbing over.” Romeo winced. “It

was a car accident. Apparently a tire got punctured, Dad lost control,
and they went over the edge of the road. It was one of those narrow,
bendy roads along the coast of France. Three hundred feet of nothing
but rocks, all the way down to the ocean. By the time they managed to
get someone down to the wreckage, there was…” He broke off on a
choke, the desperate attempt to snatch a breath and force air into his
lungs instead of letting out the tears. “It took them two days to get
there.”

Julian took Romeo’s hand. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry, R–Romeo.

Really.” They sat in silence for a moment, Romeo clearly struggling
to gather his composure, and Julian struggling not to dwell on the
images crowding his mind. Two days to reach the wrecked car. All
there was to hope was that they had met a fast and merciful end, but
that wasn’t something he could say to Romeo.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Julian asked instead. He

wasn’t trying to seize the moment to milk Romeo for personal
information, but it was the first thing that came to his mind. Family.
When the parents were gone, siblings could offer each other a lot of
support.

“No.” Romeo shook his head. “I’m an only child.”
“Oh.”
“You?”
“Me what?”
“What about your family? Are your parents still…around?”
“Yes. They’re fine. Both of them. Chances are they’ll make it to at

least a hundred—sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy for you. Siblings?”
“I’ve got a little sister, Hannah. She’s a darling. She’s twenty-one

now and deciding on her career. We spent months talking her out of
joining the FBI.”

“Really? Why?”

A Talent in Your Lies

115

“Because my Dad says it’s enough to have one kid in federal

service.”

“Fair enough. Has she made a decision yet?”
“Uh-huh.” Julian grimaced, remembering that particular dinner at

his parents’ home. “She joined the police.”

“Oh dear,” Romeo groaned.
“You said it.” Julian sat up as a thought came to his mind. “Hey,

would you care to meet them?”

“Huh?”
“Meet them. I usually join them once a month for dinner and

maybe…maybe you could come with me next time. Next week.”

Romeo gave him a wide-eyed look. “You want to introduce me to

your parents?” he said tonelessly.

“Not as such,” Julian pedaled back. “I mean, it’s just a dinner. No

big thing. Not like in meet the family and let’s get engaged.
Just…dinner.”

“I see. Mind if I mull it over a bit?”
“No, not at all. Just let me know when you’ve decided, okay?”
“Okay. There’s something else we should talk about while we’re

on the prickly topics.” Romeo’s voice was just a little too casual, and
Julian realized that the invitation to dinner with his family had left far
more of an impression with Romeo than he had anticipated.

“Is there?”
“Yep. I know you need to sort out where you’ll live the next

couple of weeks. I imagine it’s going to take some time until the
insurance company comes through with the money and you’ve found
a new home.”

“Probably, yes.” Julian’s mind was racing as he tried to figure out

what Romeo was aiming at.

“When I said you could stay with me,” Romeo said slowly, “I

meant all the time. Until…you know. You’ve found something. I just
thought you should know that.”

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Marlowe

“Oh.” That was unexpected. But nice. Very, very nice. “Are you

sure about that?”

Romeo blinked but held Julian’s gaze. “Yes. Yes, I am sure.

You’re the first I’ve ever let come this close, Jules, and I really want
to give this a try. I know we have our problems. I know you still don’t
trust me, and I’ve honestly no idea how it will be if we live together,
but I’d like to give it a try, and I think that now is probably the best
time ever, seeing as you’re currently out of a home and—”

“Romeo?”
“Yes?”
“You’re babbling,” Julian pointed out. Seeing his lover this rattled

with nerves must have been a first. “And if I didn’t know any better,
I’d say you are nervous about asking me to live with you.”

“Me? Nervous?” Romeo smirked. “Never. What do you say?”
“The only thing I can possibly say to that—yes. I’d love to.”

THE END

WWW.SAGE-MARLOWE.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I've been dreaming about writing a book for, well, ever. But as it

is so often with dreams, reality got in the way in the shape of a mind-
numbing day job and an enormous lack of inspiration.

Then—rather unexpectedly, I admit—a very generous muse made

an appearance in my life, hand in hand with an incredibly persistent
character’s appearance in my head. They just wouldn’t be ignored,
and although it came as a bit of a surprise that said character was gay,
it explains a lot.

From that night on, writing took on a dynamic of its own. I’ve

become the willing slave to all those fascinating characters who want
their stories told and keep turning up sometimes faster than I can take
notes. This has resulted in several manuscripts at various stages of
completion, so I’m always working on clearing some much-needed
headspace and giving all the gorgeous guys who live in there the
happy ever afters they deserve.

My characters often have a dramatic, sometimes even traumatic,

past and have to overcome some mostly internal conflicts to be with
the one they love. The fact that they tend to get quite a bit of naughty
action along the way is, well, a very nice side effect.

For all titles by Sage Marlowe, please visit