“But—”
“Just listen.” He placed a finger over her damp lips. The electrical connection pulsed directly to his groin. A damned inconvenient reaction, Quinn thought, and gritted his teeth. “Zoe will contact you when she can. In the meantime, you get on a plane to Vermont and do not under any circumstances come back until your sister tells you it’s safe.”
The entire operation depended on her cooperation. Damon needed to believe that Zoe was dead and that Quinn had done the deed. To maintain the charade, Ari needed to take herself home. It was the only way to keep her safe. “Do you promise?”
She met his gaze, her eyes damp with gratitude as she nodded.
“You’ll leave town?” He needed to hear her promise.
“Yes.”
Quinn exhaled hard and sat up, turning the key in the ignition. A glance over his shoulder told him Ari was trembling with relief. And since she wasn’t Zoe, he trusted her to do exactly as she promised.
Professor Ariana Costas would return to her safe life in Vermont . And Quinn would never see her again.
• • •
Like hell she’d leave town. Even after a fitful night’s sleep, Ariana had a hard time believing Quinn could suggest such a thing.
He possessed nerve and arrogance in abundance, not to mention a hefty dose of sex appeal. But no matter how attractive she found him, she wasn’t sure how much she could trust him. She’d dealt with a domineering man before, and lying to Quinn hadn’t been as difficult as it once would have been.
Ariana had come from a family of con artists, and she’d definitely learned a trick or two. The ability to fib convincingly had quickly returned, even if she wasn’t all that comfortable with the act. But Quinn had boldly stated that he knew for certain her sister was alive, then refused to elaborate. Not even the police could say for sure what had happened to Zoe, yet Quinn, a man she barely knew, expected her to take his word at face value.
She couldn’t give in to fear—her sister’s life was too important. So was making amends and repairing their relationship. When the twins should have been each other’s best friends and confidantes, they’d been each other’s judgmental opposition instead. Zoe had disappeared not knowing Ariana cared.
Obviously Quinn didn’t know the Costas determination very well. Ariana understood the danger was as real as the bullet she’d dodged yesterday, but she was staying.
To start, Ariana needed to get info rmation from people at Damon’s Casino, where her sister had worked. Since there was a strong possibility that the person who had shot at Ariana would be there and possibly mistake her for her twin again, Ariana would take a few necessary precautions beforehand. She needed to look different enough from Zoe that the shooter wouldn’t confuse them again.
To accomplish that purpose, she’d made an appointment at a hair salon for later on that day, to change her haircut and color, but the external differences could only go so far. In order to fit in with Zoe’s friends and coworkers and coax them to trust her with whatever they knew, Ariana needed to dress like her twin. The dark suits and long-sleeved outfits she’d brought with her were useless for this kind of fishing expedition. She needed to shed her Professor Costas demeanor in favor of a more relaxed, Jersey-girl image.
She rifled through her sister’s closet, searching for something to wear. She pulled out a black miniskirt and red leather bustier from the closet. Lordy, her sister actually wore these clothes?
Ariana held both up in front of the mirror and turned from side to side. How ironic that she now had to take on the look and persona of the person she’d always chided her sister for becoming.
“Barbie with a black wig,” she said, frowning at the sight. She had to make the huge transition from professor to vamp in one night, and she wondered how she’d ever pull it off.
“Looks more like a Halloween costume than something my Ari would wear,” her mother said from the doorway to Zoe’s room.
Ariana blew out a puff of air in frustrated agreement. “Tell me something I don’t know.” She looked over her shoulder at her mother.
Elena wore a long black dress that matched her raven hair, which cascaded down her back. Lace sleeves covered her arms to the elbows and then trailed to the floor. Her mother was wearing her Morticia outfit.
“You know when I first saw you standing there, I had a sense of déjà vu.” Elena curled her fingers around the molding in the doorway as she spoke. “I felt an immediate rush of relief that Zoe was really home.”
Ariana understood her mother’s feelings. For all her eccentricity, Elena adored her daughters. “Come here, Mom.” With a smile that didn’t come easily with Zoe missing, Ariana extended her hand, needing her mother’s hug as much as she sensed Elena needed hers.
Elena shuffled across the room with tiny steps. Beneath the dress, she twisted her ankles in a practiced move that would put Angelica Huston or Carolyn Jones to shame. “Show season’s over,” Ariana reminded her mother.
“All the more reason to keep my skills highly polished. Although things may change soon.” Before Ariana could question her, Elena finally reached her daughter and pulled Ariana into her arms.
Closing her eyes, Ariana breathed in deep and, for a moment, immersed herself in her mother’s love. She soaked in the warmth and caring, then pulled herself together. She needed to be the strong one and help her mother through this hard time.
“Mom, Zoe will be fine.” Ariana counted on Quinn’s words as she reassured her mother. She was putting her faith in a man she’d just met and a story he refused to tell.
She straightened and tossed the clothing onto the bed behind her. “I need something more middle-of-the-road,” she murmured, speaking of clothing. “What do you suggest I wear to Damon’s?” she asked her mother.
The normally unflappable Elena stiffened suddenly. “Damon’s?” she asked, her voice rising. “Why on earth would you want to go to the casino?”
Ariana lowered herself onto the bed and urged her mother down beside her. Since she already had one daughter missing, Ariana hadn’t told her mother she’d been shot at yesterday, and she understood Elena’s worry now.
She squeezed her mother’s soft hand. “You aren’t going to lose me, too. I just want to ask some questions and find out if anyone knows where Zoe went.”
Elena’s gaze remained downward, studying the patchwork quilt on Zoe’s bed. “But the police already questioned people,” she said, urgency in her voice.