It Takes a Thief

by Kay Hooper

  "How?" she asked curiously.

  He hesitated, then said, "We were both out there at Kelly's shack. Skye followed Kelly back to the house."

  She accepted the explanation, then said, "It'll be over tonight? You're sure of that?"

  "Yes."

  "Why do you have to play against him now? Since you know where the press is, I mean."

  "It'll be easier to make a case against him if he tries to pass some of that phony money," Dane said lightly. He hugged her tightly, then sighed and released her. "We'd better go while there's still enough light to see the snakes and alligators," he told her wryly.

  Jennifer hated leaving, but she couldn't argue with what he had said; the swamp could be a dangerous place, especially in the dark. So they tidied Narna's small home and set out to circumvent the swamp in order to return to the main grounds of Belle Retour. It took nearly an hour to make their way to where Dane had left the Ferrari hidden on the track near the lane, and by then it was dark.

  Dane had to return to his hotel to change before meeting Kelly, so he drove Jennifer to her house. He quite literally didn't have the time to linger, but made one very expressive comment as she was getting out of the car after the most passionate leave-taking they could manage under the circumstances.

  "Sports cars," he grumbled.

  Jennifer had to laugh, even though she felt annoyed herself at those damned bucket seats and the gear box between.

  "I'll be back in the morning," he told her.

  She nodded. "I'll be here."

  After the car was out of sight, she wandered into the house, and found her mother standing, hands on her hips, just Inside the door. "Well?" Francesca demanded.

  Jennifer, very conscious of wrinkled clothing and what she suspected was a permanent smile on her face, blinked and tried to look innocent. "Well, what?"

  "When is this man going to marry you?" her mother asked in a fine show of maternal niceties.

  "Well, since he hasn't asked me – "

  "I will speak to him," Francesca decided.

  "You will not," Jennifer told her fiercely. "And stop calling him this man. His name is Dane, and I love him." In a defiant tone, she added, "And if he doesn't want to marry me, I'll still love him, and I'll live with him wherever he wants!"

  Tempestuously, Francesca threw her arms around her daughter and hugged her, laughing aloud. "Ah, you do love him! Will he take care of you, my baby?"

  "Yes," Jennifer answered without a shadow of doubt. "He makes me happy. Mother."

  Francesca looked at her intently. "And his gambling? That no longer disturbs you?"

  Jennifer smiled slowly. "I love a man who happens to be very good at playing a game. So good, in fact, that he's become a professional. I'm not afraid of that anymore."

  Her mother pursed her lips unconsciously. She studied Jennifer with an appraising eye and then, decisively, said, "You will have beautiful babies together, I think."

  Remembering the passionate interlude in Nama's shack, Jennifer felt herself flush a little. "No doubt," she murmured.

  "I will be a grandmother." Francesca turned this new idea over. half winced, then shrugged away what was obviously a disconcerting realization. "I shall learn to knit," she said in a brave tone.

  Jennifer giggled despite herself.

  Francesca eyed her sternly. "Grandmothers do that," she explained quite unnecessarily.

  "You aren't a grandmother yet," Jennifer reminded her. "And stop building families, will you please? Dane might well have a thing or two to say about his future, you know."

  "He loves children," Francesca said complacently.

  "How do you know?"

  "He told me."

  Jennifer thought about that, remembering Dane's brief visit with her mother days before. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "After you innocently asked him, I suppose?"

  "A mother must know these things, my baby." Francesca was unrepentant.

  Half closing her eyes, Jennifer sighed. "It's a wonder he didn't kick up dust getting out of here," she murmured. "Dane is a brave man. Mother. A very brave man."

  "Of course. A man in love is always brave." But Francesca's voice was absent. Clearly, her volatile mind was angling toward another subject. "Our Belle, Jennifer. Will we get our Belle back again?"

  Jennifer hesitated, then said, "Kelly will go to jail, thanks to Dane. But I don't know about Belle, Mother."

  Characteristically, Francesca didn't request an explanation. "He should be shot, that Kelly," she said roundly.

  Jennifer went suddenly still, remembering something. A promise. Dane had made her a promise. Slowly, she said, "One last game."

  "What, my baby?"

  "Nothing." Jennifer was unwilling to raise false hopes. But her heart was beating fast, and she wondered.

  Nine

  "I'll hold the I.O.U. until after the game, if you like," Dane offered easily. "We can settle up then."

  An almost imperceptible tension eased from Garrett Kelly's expression. "Fine. And I hope you brought plenty of money. I mean to take it tonight."

  "You can certainly try," Dane told him, his tone still light. "And you wouldn't be the first to do it."

  They were back in the parlor, sitting on either side of the green baize game table. As they were alone this time, it was one against one, skill against skill. On the mantel, the clock ticked steadily; otherwise, the house was silent.

  The game began quietly, reasonable bets made in an almost casual manner. But beneath the surface, Kelly was taut. And Dane was aware that he himself was too tired for this, not at his best. Still, he was determined to get Jennifer's home back for her, and he understood the legal system too well to believe there was a better way than this.

  The danger was that this way presented more than its share of drawbacks. After twenty years, Dane understood the game too well to discount sheer, blind luck as a factor, and that could work to Kelly's benefit as easily as to his own. But he had already made up his mind to win fairly – if Kelly played fairly.

  And, as the hours passed, it became obvious to Dane that his opponent was not cheating.

  Dane played with no change in his serene expression, losing some hands, winning most. He watched the money come and go on the table, Kelly's phony bills mixing with his own legal ones. And, Just as the night before, he was waiting for Kelly to become a little too intense, a little too willing to believe in his own luck. It was a common gambler's fever, that state – and exactly what had happened to Jennifer's father.

  Inevitably, it was happening to Kelly tonight.

  The game went on, and Dane casually accepted more of Kelly's I.O.U.s, making certain that the other man won back the scraps of paper each time he was driven to scrawl another one, even if Dane had to fold with a winning hand to do it. He expected Kelly to begin using the promises of payment as actual money, staking them over and over just as he would cash, and that was exactly what Kelly did. But whenever Dane took a pot containing a scrap of paper with the other man's promise scrawled on it, he set it casually to one side and didn't bet with it himself.

  "Call. Raise two thousand."

  "Your two. And two more."

  "Call."

  "Four queens."

  "Damn."

  With the sure skill of a hunter, Dane made certain that Kelly was never completely out of the game, that he never abandoned hope of coming out ahead. Concentrating intently, and having gained an insight into the mannerisms of the other man after several nights of play, Dane unerringly knew when Kelly was holding a strong hand, or when he was bluffing, and he used that knowledge carefully.

  The scraps of paper at his elbow increased, apparently unnoticed by Kelly. Like many gamblers, the intensity of the play blinded him to his own growing debts, and as long as he had money to bet with, he was convinced his luck would turn in the end.

  Dane, on the other hand, knew exactly how much Kelly owed him, and kept a running total in his head as the amount grew. But none of that showed on his tran
quil face. For the first time, Dane was playing for personal stakes, and the outcome was too important for him to take any chances. His weariness was held at bay with an iron will, his concentration focused with all the mastery of twenty years of practice. And, most Importantly, he used his ability to almost literally detach his mind from his body. The muscular twinges of protest from a body held still for too long never touched his mind and, so, never betrayed him.

  The game went on. Hours passed.

  Since it was dealer's choice and Kelly favored wild cards, at least half the time the matches tended to finish with high-ranking hands. And since they played draw poker rather than straight stud poker, no cards were left faceup, so neither could measure the possibilities of the other's hand.

  One on one. Skill against skill.

  Gradually, Inexorably, the pots began to increase, and the bets became tens of thousands of dollars.

  The clock on the mantel ticked away steadily.

  * * *

  "Jennifer."

  She came out of a sound sleep, instantly awake and sitting up, blinking at the light on her nightstand and then turning her eyes to the window. "Dane!" She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, puzzled. "It's almost dawn. What – "

  "Will you get dressed and come with me?" His voice was steady, like his eyes. "There's something I want you to see."

  "Of course, but – "

  "I'll wait at the front door," he said softly, and glided from the room like a shadow.

  Bewildered, she hastily slid out of bed and dressed in jeans and a pullover top, wondering what was going on. Why had Dane come here like this, apparently slipping into the house through a window? She felt uneasy, and something was nagging at her, some elusive thing she couldn't grasp.

  Dressed, she left her room and joined him by the front door. He gave her no opportunity to ask questions, but simply led the way out to his car. And she said nothing until they were a heading down the road toward Belle Retour.

  "So you finally got fed up?" she murmured. And felt his swift glance.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Ferrari is gone." Her hand absently smoothed the vinyl of the seat between them. "No bucket seats in this one."

  He was silent.

  "Dane, what's going on?"

  "Just wait, all right?"

  Jennifer said nothing else, her mind busy wtth speculation. Had that last game gone wrong, was that it? Something he wanted her to see. What? And why was he ... different? He hadn't touched her at all, hadn't tried to reassure her in any way. And that was very unlike Dane.

  But she remained silent, not even commenting when, after driving halfway down the dark lane to the house, he cut off the car's headlights and almost coasted the remaining distance. She said nothing when he stopped and got out, or when he came around to her side and she left the car as well.

  She just looked up at him and waited.

  "Trust me?" he asked.

  "Yes." But she didn't say. Of course I trust you – I love you. She didn't say it. And she didn't know why.

  "Wait here."

  Jennifer didn't see him leave as much as feel it, abruptly conscious he was gone. She stood alone in the shifting shadows, hearing the soft whine of the breeze through the tall oak trees. Her mind was curiously blank, yet her body was tensed, uneasy in some way she didn't really understand. She sensed that she was braced for something, instinctively or intuitively certain there was a shock in store for her. But she waited for him, there in the dark.

  When he returned to her side, a bare ten minutes later, he made no more sound than he had when he'd left her. He was simply there, a presence returned. He didn't tell her where he'd gone or what had happened, but simply stood looking down at her for a moment. She had the odd certainty that he could see her more clearly than she saw him, as if she could feel his eyes, like a cat's, in the darkness.

  Quietly, he said, "I want you to listen to me carefully. In a minute, I'm going to take you into the house because there's something I want you to see. But you have to be absolutely silent. If you make a sound, then you'll never have the revenge you want against Kelly. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. I understand."

  Without another word, he took her hand and led her to the front of the house. Jennifer thought about the security guard, but something in his swift, certain movements told her there was no need to worry about the other man. So she followed him through the front door he opened and then closed silently behind them. She followed him into the foyer, remaining near the walls where the old floors would be less likely to betray them with a sound. The house was silent, but as they neared one of the parlors she could hear the murmur of male voices from inside.

  The doors were standing partially open, and only a dim light shone from within, from the far side of the room near the windows. Where they stood was in darkness, but she moved obediently to his guiding touch, slipping around him until she could gaze into the parlor. And it didn't take his grip on her shoulder to hold Jennifer silent. In her shock, she couldn't make a sound.

  Two men sat playing cards in a circle of light from a low-hanging lamp. Between them on the round table was a pile of money and a number of papers Jennifer couldn't see clearly from where she stood. The men's faces were expressionless, yet somehow tense, deadly serious. On Kelly's face, the lamplight caught the gleam of perspiration, the throb of a pulse at his temple. She could almost smell animal emotions, like the fear of some beast at bay, cornered and desperate.

  And that other face . . .

  The guiding hand on her shoulder drew her silently back away from the door, and she obeyed. Her body felt leaden with shock, yet she followed him with no sound back across the foyer and down another hallway, until at last he led her into the study, where it had all begun, and shut the door behind them.

  "They won't be able to hear us in here," he said in a quiet but normal tone. Then he sent her a flickering smile as he rested a hip on the corner of the desk. "Unless that temper of yours explodes, that is."

  Jennifer felt no anger. Not yet. Now, all she could feel was shock, astonishment, confusion. She stared at him, noting the watchful eyes that had seemed so different even in the brief time she had seen them, set in a strikingly handsome face she knew as well as her own.

  "Twins," she whispered.

  He nodded, still watchful. "I could hardly deny that, could I? My name's Skye."

  "Why didn't he tell me?" There was still confusion in her voice, and hurt.

  "He couldn't." His face, so like Dane's except for the indefinable difference in the vivid eyes, was serious. "Jennifer, for more than ten years, Dane and I have bet our lives on the certainty that no one knew we were twins. No one knew there were two of us. Dane's was the public role, the well-known face and personality of an international gambler, a man who might be many things, even a thief. Trusted by intelligence agents for his information; trusted by criminals who were almost sure he was one of them."

  "And you?"

  Skye smiled a little. "I was the one in the dark, the one without a public name – unless I needed to borrow Dane's."

  "You switched places?"

  "A game peculiar to twins." His smile faded, and he was suddenly intent, grave. "But a very serious game in our case, Jennifer. Because of what we are, we have the unique ability to literally be in two places at the same time. All the records were altered, our names changed; Dane Prescott doesn't officially have a brother, much less a twin."

  Jennifer was trying to think clearly. "I don't understand. What are you? Both of you?"

  He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Put simply, we're federal agents. But it's more complex than that. The two of us took the concept of an agent and – divided it in half. Dane is the cover. His identity is so deep and so completely real that no one with any suspicions could ever prove he was an agent. Because he isn't, not really. I am. I have the training, the official credentials. I'm the one who carries a gun and a badge."

  Jennifer could see
, intellectually, how their uniqueness could have been an advantage. But a disadvantage as well. "Then each of you lives . . . half a life?"

  Skye didn't take the question lightly, laugh it off. Instead, he continued to gaze at her seriously. "We didn't anticipate how it would really be for us in the beginning. That Dane's friends would know me only as him, even though they were my friends too. That Dane would, over the years, often hate the role we'd created for him. It became a trap for us, Jennifer. We set something in motion – and got caught in it."

  "No going back?"

  "We can't, not now. Oh, we could both just stop, turn our backs and build normal lives. But if we did that, we'd be saying that the past ten years were just a game. That we did it all for nothing. And that can't happen, Jennifer. Because if it did, it would destroy Dane."

  She sat down slowly in a chair, staring at him. Beginning to understand, now, one of the things Dane had said to her. "Because of his integrity."

  Skye nodded. "I thought you'd understand that." He sighed roughly. "It went against the grain for him, leading the life he has these past years. On the surface, such a meaningless life. It's only his belief that we are doing good that's let him make the sacrifices he has. He would never have become a professional gambler if it hadn't been for me. Oh, he had the skills, but he never thought of making that a life's profession until I suggested it. Until I went to him after my own training with a plan. I believed we could make a difference, and he believed it too."

  "So he stepped into the light," she murmured. "And you stepped into the dark." Even their clothes, she realized, reflected each man. And that had been the first thing that had almost unconsciously alerted her: Skye was dressed all in black, a color she'd never seen Dane wear.

  Skye smiled suddenly, a smile as reckless as the brightness in his eyes. "That's the basic difference between Dane and me," he told her. "We're both part cat – but different parts. Dane likes the sun; I like hunting in the dark. This life suits me, Jennifer. And as long as he can believe it has meaning, Dane's life suits him too. You see, the irony is that while Dane has the Instincts of a gambler, he has the heart of an honorable man. It's always been a struggle for him to reconcile the two."