Midnight Jewels

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  She was never really certain what made her start toward the pool. Theoretically, she told herself, she ought to check the vault room first. But the aura of the glowing blue water drew her. Lately she seemed to be haunted by that shade of blue. Mercy found herself moving quickly along the white gravel path.

  She saw the dark shape floating in the pool within seconds after leaving the platform. Shock went through her. She got only a glimpse through the palm fronds and ferns of what looked like a black pant leg billowing languidly in the water, but it was enough. Someone was in the pool and whoever it was, he wasn’t moving.

  It was the color of the pant leg material that added the extra dimension of horror to the scene. Mercy broke into a run. It was true a few other men had worn dark clothes to the party, but she was willing to bet those guests were all still upstairs. The man in the pool was Croft.

  He couldn’t be dead. Not like this. Croft Falconer wasn’t the kind of man who would end his life by getting ignominiously drunk and falling into a pool.

  “Croft! Oh, my God, Croft, don’t you dare drown like this. Don’t you dare.” Mercy reached the edge of the pool, stumbled slightly as she kicked off her high-heeled sandals and then she dove into the water. Croft was floating as if he were unconscious or dead.

  The skirt of her dress became a heavy, soggy weight almost instantly. But she was only a couple of feet away from Croft. Mercy stroked fiercely and caught hold of his arm.

  Croft moved at her touch, rolling over in the water like a seal and smiling complacently.

  “I knew you’d get here sooner or later,” he said. “Never had to depend on anyone else before. Dangerous. But I knew I could depend on you. Strange, huh?”

  Mercy released him as though she had been burned. “What is this?” she demanded through set teeth. “Some kind of game? Croft, you had me scared to death.”

  “Not you,” he informed her as if he had given the matter some thought. “You’re not the kind who gets scared to death. You might be terrified, but you’d keep moving, keep fighting back. It’s your nature, you know. By the way, I can see your nipples through that wet material you’re wearing. Very sexy.”

  “You idiotic bastard,” she breathed, staring at his abnormally pleasant expression. “You are drunk.”

  “I never get drunk,” Croft said and smiled wickedly. “But it might be interesting to see you when you’re tipsy. Would you lose all your inhibitions and crawl all over me?”

  “There’s no point trying to talk to you now. You’re too far gone.” Mercy began tugging him toward the edge of the pool. He drifted happily along in the direction she was aiming him, neither helping nor hindering her efforts. “We’ve got to get out of here. For pete’s sake, Croft, it’s a miracle you didn’t drown yourself.”

  “I can hold my breath a long time,” he confided proudly.

  “Is that so?” She got him to the steps and struggled to get him balanced on his feet in the water. “How long can you hold it?”

  “A while.”

  “Oh, that’s just terrific. How long have you been floating here in the pool practicing your breath holding skills?”

  He swayed upright in the water, blinking water out of his eyes. “A while,” he said again. “A long while.” Then he leaned forward as if imparting a confidence. “I was just about to cheat and take a breath when you showed up.”

  “How very intelligent of you.” She held her dripping skirts with one hand and yanked on his arm with the other. “Come on, Croft. Move, damn it.”

  “Don’t swear at me. No need to swear. Unbecoming in a lady.” His words were only slightly slurred as he staggered up the steps and reached out to steady himself on the rail. “Good thing I didn’t have to take a breath. Would have tipped ‘em off. They were watching, you know. Wanted to make sure. But now you’re here they’ll have to pretend everything’s hunky dory.”

  “Croft, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, and if you don’t want me to swear at you, try behaving yourself.”

  “I am behaving. Perfect gentleman. If I weren’t behaving, know what I’d be doing now?”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this,” she muttered as she pulled and prodded him to the top step. Out of the water Croft was a lot harder to maneuver.

  He was leering cheerfully at her. “If I weren’t such a perfect gentleman I’d drag you off into the middle of this phony tropical garden, take off your clothes and make love to you until you couldn’t scold me or swear at me or yell at me. By the time I was finished with you you wouldn’t even be able to glare at me the way you’re doing now. You’d just lie there under me, clinging to me, pleading with me, whispering my name until you went up in flames. I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”

  It was his eyes that seemed to be turning into flames. Mercy felt herself growing warm beneath the hungry, anticipatory expression in Croft’s hazel eyes. She wasn’t sure if her uncomfortable flush was a reaction to the softly voiced sexual threat or if it was merely the result of sheer outrage. “I can’t believe you allowed yourself to get into this condition,” she muttered, releasing him to look for her shoes. “I just can’t believe it. It’s disgusting.”

  He reached out to touch her breast, which was clearly outlined by the wet dress. “I didn’t do it on purpose, you know”

  She brushed his hand away. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

  He glanced around, apparently looking for something. “Where is it?”

  “Where’s what? A towel? Taking a swim was an impromptu decision on your part. You didn’t bring a towel with you. Next time plan ahead.” Water was dripping off her in long rivulets. “Wait a second. There’s one on that lounger over there. One of the guests must have left it behind this afternoon.” She picked it up and thrust it at him.

  Croft’s brows came together in a heavy line as he stared at the towel in his hand. He shook his head impatiently. “Not a towel. The book.”

  Mercy went still, her fingers pausing over the second shoe. She looked up at him. “Croft,” she said as gently and clearly as possible, “did you get into the vault?”

  He blinked owlishly down at her. “Sure. It’s what I came down here to do, remember? I always finish what I start.”

  Mercy rose slowly to her feet, automatically wringing water out of her skirt. The water had been warm and the garden room was even warmer but she was suddenly experiencing a genuine chill. “Did you bring a book out of the vault?”

  “Meant to.” He frowned again. “Wanted to take another look at it.”

  “Was it Valley, Croft?” Mercy grasped his damp sleeve, trying to get him to focus his attention on her. “Did you take Valley out of the vault? Damn it, why am I trying to carry on a coherent conversation with you while you’re in this condition?”

  His mood shifted again. The frown disappeared and the cheerful, blatantly sexual invitation was back in his eyes. “You want to look at the pictures with me, Mercy? We could look at Valley together and see if you get hot.”

  “Women,” she informed him sharply, “do not respond to visual sexual stimuli nearly as much as men do.”

  “Is that right?” He appeared fascinated. “You’d rather have the real thing, huh? That’s okay by me.”

  “Croft, stop it. You’ve got to get hold of yourself.”

  “No need to do it that way. Very lonely that way. Now I’ve got you to hold. Much better.” He draped a heavy, wet arm around her shoulder. Some of his cheeriness faded again as he stumbled against her. It was obvious that the unfamiliar lack of coordination was puzzling to him, even in his present condition. “What’s the matter with me?”

  “You’re drunk. Come on, Ο Great Ninja Master, time for you to go to bed.”

  He shook his head but didn’t pull away when she wrapped an arm around his waist and started to guide him down the path. “Not ninja. That ninja stuff
is for television.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s about your speed tonight. If you get real lucky, you might be able to kick in a picture tube.”

  “The book,” he said abruptly.

  “The book is safe.” She sensed the lightning shift of his mood. It was disturbing having him switch from a state of silly, stupid inebriation to one of clear concern about Valley.

  “Safe? You got it?”

  His head came around quickly and for just a few seconds Mercy thought she saw a spark of normal reasoning in his eyes. Then she decided it was more likely a trick of the poor light.

  “I don’t have the book. It’s in the vault,” she reminded him patiently.

  “Get it.”

  “What?” Mercy came to a halt on the path. “Are you crazy? How can I get into the vault?”

  Croft wiped water off his forehead with the towel. “I left it open.”

  “The vault?”

  “Must have left it open. I was in there when I realized someone had followed me. Closed the door but didn’t lock it when I went to see who was in the garden.” He stopped and grimaced. “Shit. I think I’m going to throw up after all. Thought the sick feeling was gone.”

  “Your stomach is upset? Croft, pay attention to me.”

  He took a deep breath. “There. It’s gone. Damned nausea.”

  Mercy was getting frustrated and scared. She caught hold of the lapels of Croft’s wet shirt and tired to shake him. He blinked and looked down at her.

  “Did you find someone out here in the garden?” she demanded softly.

  “Didn’t have to,” Croft explained. “He found me. It was a man. Must have been Dallas or Lance. Embarrassing. He shouldn’t have been able to get that close without me knowing it. Something’s wrong with me, Mercy.”

  Mercy was suddenly the one feeling nauseous. “Did he throw you in the pool?”

  Croft considered that. “I think he tried to knock me out and throw me in the pool. But I tricked him.” He grinned in memory of his own brilliance. “I went into the pool all by myself.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Mercy yanked on his arm, hurrying along the path once more. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Croft abruptly stopped cooperating. He didn’t actively fight her grip, he simply came to a halt in the middle of the path. Mercy couldn’t budge him.

  “Not without the book,” he said. “Got to get the book.”

  Mercy was feeling frantic. “If I get the damned book, will you come with me?”

  He nodded happily. His sexy grin returned. “Sure. Always happy to come with you, Mercy. I like to come with you and in you. I like to make you come, too. I like to watch your face when it’s about to happen. I like to feel you get all hot and tight and wet around my—”

  “Shut up. We are in serious trouble here. If you don’t stop talking about sex, I’m going to throw you back in that pool, do you hear me, Croft Falconer?”

  “Geesh, what a grouch. Lucky for you I’m so good-natured, huh?”

  She decided the only thing she could do was ignore most of what he was saying. The book seemed to be the one thing he was really concerned about. If she got it, he might be more amenable to following her orders.

  Mercy came to a decision. It looked as if she was going to have to give a few orders to Croft tonight. He had finally succeeded in convincing her that something was very wrong at the Gladstone estate. The only sane thing to do was leave. It was very obvious he was incapable of organizing the retreat. That left her to manage things.

  “Croft, listen to me. I’m going to get that copy of Valley for you if I can get into the vault. Then we’re going upstairs. If anyone sees us, we will pretend you’re so drunk you have to go to bed. Once upstairs we will pack our things and go down the back way to where the car is parked. Got that?”

  He smiled and nodded his head in pleasant agreement. “Anything you say, sweet Mercy. I am yours to command.”

  “Remember that.” She guided him off the path and into the depths of the garden. She drew him to a halt under a huge palm. “All right, Croft. Here’s the first command. Sit here and don’t move until I get back with the book. If anyone comes out on the platform, he won’t be able to see you. Just sit perfectly still and don’t move. Pretend you’re meditating. Think you can do that?”

  “No sweat.” He sank down immediately into a neat, cross-legged position and looked up at her for approval. “Slick, huh?”

  “Amazing,” she muttered.

  “I don’t suppose you want to try making love in this position again?” he asked hopefully. “You know, the way we did in that meadow? You could sort of sit on my lap and wrap your legs around my waist. Then I could—”

  Mercy began to feel desperate. “Hush! I’m going after that book now. Remember, don’t move until I get back.”

  A flicker of more sober intelligence briefly appeared again in his eyes. “You’re going to get the book?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Hurry.”

  “Believe me,” she said as she turned and started through the garden, “I will.”

  Maybe Croft was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t left the vault unlocked. If she couldn’t get inside to retrieve Valley, she would simply lie to him and tell him she had it hidden in the folds of her skirt. In the shadows of the garden he might not be able to tell, and in his present mood he might not be inclined to demand proof.

  The room in which the vault was housed was dark. Mercy thought about turning on a light and decided that would be the height of stupidity. Summoning up a mental image of the approximate location of the heavy steel door, she made her way carefully across the room and groped along the wall.

  Her memory turned out to be reasonably accurate. Her nails skidded across metal a few seconds later. She found the handle and didn’t know whether to pray it would turn or hope it wouldn’t give an inch.

  It turned easily. Croft had, indeed, unlocked the door earlier and left it unlocked. An amazing accomplishment considering his obvious condition. Mercy took a deep breath and stepped inside the cool, metal room.

  Now she had to have light. There was no way she could find the copy of Valley by memory or touch. But she couldn’t risk having a sliver of light leak out into the main room. She would have to close the vault door behind her while she switched on the interior light and searched for the book. The thought of letting the massive door swing shut behind her was almost enough to make her forget the entire project.

  Mercy remembered questioning Gladstone about being trapped in the vault. But he had assured her the vault was no trap for him. Just the opposite. Mercy set her back teeth and let the door swing silently shut. Then she reached out and turned on the light.

  The sudden brilliance made her blink rapidly while her eyes adjusted. Then she went quickly to the section of the room where Gladstone shelved his small collection of curiosa. Burleigh’s Valley of Secret Jewels was sitting right where it had been left. Mercy snatched it down off the shelf.

  “You’ve caused me nothing but trouble, Rivington Burleigh. I wonder if you know that. This is what comes of writing erotica, I suppose. Why couldn’t you have been a metaphysical poet or something?”

  She held her breath again when she switched off the light and reached for the door. For a terrible instant the heavy door didn’t budge when she pushed against it. She was terrified she had accidently tripped the interior locking mechanism. Mercy was nearly swamped with visions of being locked in the vault. She had never thought of herself as being claustrophobic, but in that moment when the vault door didn’t seem to be moving, she knew she had a very strong fear of being trapped in a small, confining space.

  Then her weight overcame the normal inertia of the solid door and it swung silently outward. Mercy hastened over the raised metal threshold and closed the door behind her. She hesitated and then decided to reset the lock. With any lu
ck at all Gladstone might not guess that anyone had been inside. She reached out and pushed the small button on the door.

  There was a nearly inaudible click as the lock took hold.

  Mercy realized she was starting to shiver in her wet dress. Clutching Valley, she picked up her limp skirt once more and slipped out of the room and back into the garden. It would be a grim joke if Croft had decided to play games by hiding from her now.

  But he was right where she had left him, sitting quietly in his meditation pose. His head turned as she came toward him through the shadows.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick and dark as molasses.

  “I’ve got Valley. Let’s go.” She reached down to catch hold of his wrist and draw him to his feet. She felt another abrupt shift in his mood. “Are you okay?”

  “Feel sick again,” he mumbled.

  “Oh, Croft, not here or now. Wait until we get upstairs.”

  “You’re damn bossy at times, you know that?”

  “I’m not nearly as bossy as you are. Give me that towel.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can drape it over Valley, you idiot. I don’t want someone to see us going up the stairs carrying this stupid book. How would we ever explain taking it out of the vault?”

  “Good point,” Croft said with an air of grave admiration.

  “Come on, let’s hurry.”

  They made it to the first level of the house before encountering anyone. Mercy was guiding Croft past the darkened entrance of the sitting room when an amorous and quite inebriated couple lurched through the doorway and nearly collided with Croft.

  “Better watch out,” Croft advised politely. “Ι might throw up on your shoes.”

  The woman, dressed primarily in glittering eye-shadow, gazed up at him with a shocked expression. Her companion yanked his foot out of Croft’s path.

  “You sick?” the woman inquired sympathetically. “Yeah,” Croft admitted cheerfully.

  “You’re wet,” the man observed.