“Just checking,” Sierra said.

“Fine. You checked.” North downed the last of his triple-shot grande and got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Sierra reminded herself that she needed the work. A woman in her current financial situation could not afford to be too picky.

She got to her feet. “Swan’s shop isn’t far from here. We can walk to it.”

CHAPTER 9

It was weird, North thought, but until he walked into the Vault and saw Sierra Raines waiting for him in a booth, he had never realized he had a thing for women in leather. Leather, after all, wasn’t unusual or exotic or trendy in his world. A lot of cleaners, including the women, wore it. But on Sierra it looked different. Sexy as hell.

It wasn’t just the leather that appealed. He had been right when he had studied her photo in the file that Lucas had given him. Sierra wasn’t Las Vegas beautiful. No, she was compelling. Strong-willed, intelligent and gutsy. It was, of course, the perfect camouflage for a professional con artist.

But something—everything—about Sierra had revived his spirits, and not just the physical side of things. He reminded himself that she might be an experienced con artist, but his intuition was sending him other messages. Or maybe it was another part of his anatomy that was making him want to trust her.

All he knew was that her energy quickened his senses and offered him what was probably a false sense of hope. He seized on that silent promise because he was in desperate need of hope. Then again, that was the core talent of a professional con artist—the ability to make the mark believe that what he wanted most in the world was within reach. Just trust me.

Having agreed to work with him, she had lost no time in taking him straight to Swan Antiques. He probably would have wasted an hour or more trying to find the place on his own. The shop was located halfway down an alley in the Pioneer Square neighborhood, an old part of town distinguished by narrow lanes and unmarked doorways.

The best thing you could say about the address of Swan’s shop was that it was atmospheric. But alleys were alleys the world over. He had seen enough of them to know that by their very nature they attracted those who preferred to avoid the bright lights of busier, more crowded thoroughfares. A lot of trade in hot artifacts was done in alleys.

“Of course I remember Mr. Chastain,” Gwendolyn Swan said. “I sold him a vintage radio. There was definitely some heat in it but it was low-level energy, the kind that gets picked up from sitting around in a hot environment. Why are you interested in it?”

“I’m trying to trace the artifact,” North said. “It’s a crucial element in my investigation.”

“I just told you, your father purchased it. I never saw it again after he took it out of this shop.”

“Chandler Chastain was attacked a few hours after he bought that artifact from you,” North said. “The relic has gone missing. That means there’s a connection.”