by Brynna Curry
“He’ll deal. I know it, once he sees what I have. Now just follow the directions I gave you, Jack. I need quiet.” He saw Devin stretch out in the back seat in his rearview mirror, doing whatever he did to mentally scry someone.
“Hey, wizard boy, tell her I love her and I’m on my way. Okay?”
* * * *
Gueraldi stalked his study and waited impatiently. He should kill Christophe the moment he showed his face, but then he might not get his diamonds. Oh, but he wanted to though, slowly, viciously until he was begging for release from life. So he wanted to make a trade, hmm. If he proved truthful, the woman might be worth the jewel, but it would be more satisfying to have both.
A discreet knock came at the door. He’d been expecting it for some time.
“Yes, Ashton?” He addressed the ancient man who opened the door.
“Christophe LeFleur to see you, sir.” Ashton smiled wickedly and added, “Along with two companions.”
Gueraldi lifted a brow and considered. Absolutely perfect. “Names, Ashton. Don’t disappoint me.” He clipped the end off one of his expensive Cubans, lit it and drew deep. The diamond ring on his pinky winked in the light.
“A rather motley crew, sir, a writer by the name of Jackson Roarke.”
Gueraldi’s smile went feral.
“Of course, the brother of your special guest accompanies him as well.”
“How does lovely Olivia like her accommodations?” He imagined she would still be tossing things into the windows and trying to escape. They were better when they were fighting.
“The lady is looking for a way out as we speak. She woke about an hour ago, but was vilely ill when I left her tray. Perhaps Muscles was a bit rougher with her than you intended?”
“I intend to get a lot rougher with her myself. See my guests in, Ashton, and guard the door once they are. If they walk out of this room before me, kill them.”
“Of course. Shall I put another guard on Miss Corrigan’s door?” He looked pleased with the aspect.
Gueraldi nodded and watched his majordomo leave. The ancient exterior belied his true nature and abilities. He wasn’t as nearly as old or decrepit as he appeared. It was the man’s finest weapon.
* * * *
They stood in the foyer under guard, literally. Two bulky men with assault rifles trained on them watched their every move. All three were dressed in black from head to toe. Devin noted Jack leaned against the wall, a cocky few inches from a painting worth a small fortune. He was dark, in looks and mood. Devin knew Jack could feel Liv close by and wanted her safe with him. He was anxious and ready to brawl, at the same time taking in all his surroundings and filing it away, the cop, the writer, and yet another part that was both pirate and knight.
Ryan stood at ease, hands in the pockets of his dress slacks. Every so often he checked his watch and scowled at their wardens, calm cool and professional, though inside he was a whirlwind of turmoil.
The creaky old man who wasn’t returned and beckoned them to follow. Thankfully, the arsenal stayed behind. They reached the end of a long hall and were directed to enter a darkened room.
Devin could feel Jack’s temper on high boil and he whispered, “Keep it in check, Jack. It won’t do her any good and may make things worse. Let me handle this.”
Jack said nothing in return.
Gueraldi put out his cigar and gestured them to be seated. “I should kill you before you can speak a word to me. You crossed me, Christophe.” He growled but inclined his head toward Jack. “You’d be the writer. I can say I heard a lot about you. I’d like to give you the same service, and you, Corrigan, are a thorn in my side. You should be dead already. Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
Devin opened the black case he’d carried in with him. The beautiful blue diamond called Hope outshone Marie’s necklace and the pair of them was enough to dazzle the eyes.
“Two treasures for one. I think the trade is fair. You do have Miss Corrigan, don’t you, Gueraldi?” He watched uncensored lust come into the man’s eyes, pure greed masked his face. Oh, he wanted. Gueraldi reached out and stroked them as if they were a lover, cherished.
“One you owe me. The other…”
“Is like no other, anywhere, and the history should add its own value. I have something you want. Now have you what I want?” Devin smiled and Jack slammed the lid on the case, just barely missing the man’s fingers. He’d deal. Gueraldi was practically drooling.
“I want to talk to Olivia before you make any deals, Christophe.” Jack swallowed back the fear that came with his next words. “She could be dead.”
“She’s alive and pleasured to be my guest at the moment.” Gueraldi emphasized the word pleasure and had Jack gritting his teeth. “She thinks you are dead, Roarke, as burnt as your house. Christophe, you may talk to her for a moment if she answers. Otherwise you’ll have to take my word for it.” He dialed the phone.
* * * *
Olivia heard the phone ringing from in the bathroom. Good God, why was she so sick? They must be trying to poison her. Even if she had to starve to death, she wouldn’t eat another thing they brought her. She washed her mouth out and went to answer. Jack would come for her, or Ryan. Jack was alive. He just had to be.
“Hello?” Her stomach roiled again, and the room spun with the new wave of dizziness. Did she have food poisoning?
“Olivia, it’s Christophe.” She didn’t know the name but knew the voice, Devin. She trusted him and tried not to give too much away in the event someone listened. Why did he sound French, when only the other night she’d have pegged him as southern as fried chicken and iced tea?
“I have to get out of here. I saw the house on the television in here. Jack needs me. They told me he was dead. I won’t believe it. I’d feel it in my heart.” She put a fist to it now.
She got a flash of Devin, Jack and Ryan in Gueraldi’s office. Then he began to talk to her in his mind. “I’ve been looking for you, Liv. It’s okay. Jack is alive and we are trying to negotiate a trade.” His mental voice took on the very distinct burr of a Scot, such a severe contrast to the lazy Southern drawl she’d heard the other night. “He’s really quite terrified. He must love you a lot.”
With her mind’s eye, Devin let her see Gueraldi cut them off before they could say anymore. “There. You talked to her.”
Liv could still hear their conversation. Devin must have left a link open for her.
“She’s fine, but worried sick over you. Have we a deal then?” Devin kept their mental link going. “Well?”
“It could be a fake, Christophe. How do I know you didn’t just have one made?”
Devin stopped him before he could go any further. “I didn’t. We broke into the Smithsonian only a few hours before I spoke with you, but if you want proof, call the police. I left an accomplice there I’m sure is more than willing to spill her guts to the law and my name will be all over them.” He didn’t add that Gueraldi’s would be as well. He also knew full well that Gueraldi himself would not check it out.
“Ashton.” Gueraldi called for him loud enough for the old man to hear him on the other side of the door. The man creakily entered and from somewhere inside his stiffly starched black suit produced a wicked looking hunting knife. He nicked the tip of his thumb, purposely, and kissed off the blood.
“At your service, sir.”
“Find out if there was a break in at the Smithsonian Institute’s Hall of Gems several hours ago.” Gueraldi waved him out the door. Ashton slid the knife out of sight and closed the door behind him. The disappointment in his departure was evident to everyone in the room. Gueraldi chuckled when he heard the distinct groan and shuffling of feet.
“Ashton does love to slice up things, and I hate disappointing him, but if you check out we’ll deal, LeFleur. If you have the bad business sense to give up a treasure such as the Hope for a mere woman then I must take advantage of that. Mind now, I’d rather watch Ashton cut you slowly a piece at a time, but one must exert some control now an
d again.”
He made them wait for over another hour, before Ashton’s knock came once again. The look he gave his employer was pained at best.
Gueraldi scowled. He’d obviously hoped it would be a forgery.
“Have Ms. Corrigan’s brunch sent to her room.”
Ashton left to carry out his orders.
“My jeweler will verify the authenticity of the gem. When I have his confirmation I will turn over Ms. Corrigan to you. Not before and that is the best chance you will get. I’ll also allow you to leave with your lives provided you will disappear. That’s my deal.”
“It would be a foolish man who wouldn’t take it, Gueraldi,” Devin commented.
“You may wait in the foyer. If the diamond is genuine she will be sent to you. If not... Well, none of you will leave here alive, LeFleur.”
Left with no other choice, they were shown back to the foyer to wait.
* * * *
The overly muscled goon with the semi-automatic glared at each of them in turn. Jack watched Ryan flip out the little cellphone and made a show of looking for a number. He nodded toward the man.
“All right if I call my secretary? I need to reschedule my morning appointments.”
The goon shrugged as if not seeing the harm in technology. What could he do? Call in the law?
“Hello, June. Move my nine to two. I’m going to be a little late. Rearrange everything else accordingly, please.” That was the agreed signal informing the agents they were in and Gueraldi had the diamonds. Perfect. Ryan waited a beat as if someone were responding then said, “Great, all is in order, then.” He hung up the phone. Feds were on their way. Before they could do anything more, a bell sounded at the front door. The goon glared at them and went to answer.
“Simon Peninden to see Gueraldi. I believe I am expected.”
Jack noted Agent Spiller spoke in a clipped British accent while he made a show of adjusting a pair of tortoiseshell glasses he retrieved out of the inner pocket of his five-thousand-dollar suit, complete with the snooty air, which could have been innate. The agent nodded curtly to the men, and was shown back while they waited wondering.
Obviously a usual here.
“Wait here, sir.” Another man appeared just off the foyer to watch them from shadow. “Now what do you suppose he’s doing here?” Ryan whispered to Jack when the guard turned his back.
“I’m not sure, but we aren’t supposed to know him. That much is evident. What I do know is that it can’t be anything good.” Jack stared darkly at the hallway the agent had disappeared into.
It was taking everything in him not to go tearing through house ripping it apart to find her. He needed to know she was okay, needed to see it with his own eyes. A wild animal stalked and raged inside him. Jack didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep hold before he had to loose it.
Chapter 23
Gabriel Spiller glided into Gueraldi’s dark office and took a seat before the man could offer. Play the part and it will be finished, he thought. Serena will finally be able to rest, and so will I.
“Have you my diamonds, Gueraldi? You’ve kept me waiting. I don’t like it.”
He bit his tongue. Business first, have to keep the client happy.
“I do regret the delay, Peninden, but I can assure you there will be no further delay in our future dealings. The incompetence has been taken care of.”
Gabriel thought of the three men downstairs. Had it really? Should he be worried Gueraldi had caught on to him?
“I want to see the necklace.”
“That’s fair. I’ll have them brought down from the safe.” Gueraldi stepped out of the room.
He only needed to see him holding the necklace, just see it. The locals had picked up an accomplice to the theft of the Hope diamond only hours before. She had sung Gueraldi’s name like a song before they could get her cuffed. He waited a moment and then followed.
* * * *
Liv waited behind the bedroom door. The sickness that had been plaguing her was beginning to wear off. In fact she felt fine. They must have given her something. In her hand she held a gilt candlestick at the ready. Was that footsteps she heard outside her door? Slowly it eased open; she brought the candlestick down on the unknown man’s head with a sickening thud. In a moment of insanity, she thought about a mystery game, killed in the bedroom with a candlestick. Tossing the makeshift weapon on the floor, she tore out of the room and down the hall.
* * * *
Liv ran straight into the hard chest of an angel with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“Miss Corrigan?”
“Let me go.”
“It’s okay. Agent Spiller, FBI.”
Spiller’s partner came out of nowhere. Wyatt fired as he shoved Liv and Spiller into the wall beside them, but Gueraldi’s shot went off at the same time. She saw it as it had been in her nightmares, but not Jack. Wyatt’s bullet struck the other man in the chest. Gueraldi was dead before he hit the floor, but the instant he had taken to push them aside had cost his life. Liv screamed Jack’s name over and over as Wyatt’s brains and skull spewed all over her face from the force of Gueraldi’s shot hitting him between the eyes. Covered in it she watched a redhead walk up to her.
The woman looked right at her and said, “Take good care of him. He needs you.”
Liv watched the ghostly woman walk away. She couldn’t stop screaming. She was sure she had just seen Jack’s dead wife.
* * * *
She had waited for him while he gave the necessary statements and such to the feds at Ryan’s. She had given hers on-scene, better to get it over and done. She wanted it over. She wanted home. Her flight was leaving in just a few hours. All it would take was a word of hope, and she would cancel her plans. She heard Jack’s key turn in the lock.
“Liv?” Jack called out.
“I’m in the bedroom.”
“Sorry I took so long.” He started to move to her but she held up a hand to ward him off.
“I’m for home, Jack. I’ve been away well over a month. It’s time for me to go.” Please say something. Beg me not to go. Go with me. Be with me. For God’s sake, Jack, love me half as much as I do you.
“I see.” He didn’t. “I guess I should say have a safe trip. It’s been a wild ride. I’ll think of you.”
Bastard. He could actually say that to her? “Well, I’ll just be going then. If you ever wander our way, look us up. You’ll be welcome.” She headed for the door.
“What’s all this, Liv?”
He just really didn’t get it. Did he now? It’s not enough to say I love you. He didn’t remember hurting her. Oh, but he had. That last time together in his bed, in his arms, tangled with him, the name he’d uttered had been Serena. She choked out a sob.
“I’m not Serena. Don’t you get it? You held me, made love to me, but when you were still tangled with me you called me Serena. I love you, Jack, so much, but I won’t stay here and share you with her memory. It isn’t fair to you or me or even her. It’s time to let one of us go. I’ve given you everything I had to give, heart and mind, body and soul. I don’t regret that or us, but you won’t give me your heart, at least not completely, and I’ll not settle for less than that anymore. I think I deserve more and I know you do.”
His anger rumbled deep in his chest when he shouted at her and raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve given you everything. I don’t want to fight with you, Liv. I do love you. Don’t ask for more than I can give.”
Liv didn’t rise to it. “I know that, in your own way, but I am going. You see, I’m one of those few that only have one. I will love you as long as God lets me draw breath, and I will live without you. Without the life we could have together. I don’t want to, but I will. It’s what you seem to want most. You want to live with her memory? Well, I love you enough to let you have your way. You’ll have home and family waiting for you, if only you’ve the courage to let go and reach out and take hold of it. Be it a year or twenty, I’ll be
there for you, Jack.”
“Goodbye.” She rose on her toes, kissed him once more, and walked away.
* * * *
Liv had been home two weeks. She’d hoped and waited, but he hadn’t come to her. After all that had happened to them and between them, she thought he would realize how much he did care, hoped he’d see how much love he had inside him to give, what they could share together. He hadn’t darkened her door.
Liv cried on her mother’s shoulder, spilled all the sordid details to her twin. Well, she did hold back a few for herself, like the night they had become lovers. That was a memory for her alone to keep. She didn’t regret it. Not even when she had woke at five o’clock, dog sick, for the fifth morning in a row. She clung to the sink, laughed so hard she cried and ended up on the floor sick, soppy happy and miserable. Another gift to keep. She was pregnant with a child by the man she loved who couldn’t love anyone but a dead woman. It was laughable and horrible.
That’s how Skye found her. It took him all of two seconds to read her mind. “You fell in love with him.” He need say no more.
The fury he tried to mask left no doubt what he would do if he could get his hands on Jackson Roarke.
“No, Skye. That’s not the way. When he comes, if he does, it can’t be because I trapped him into it. That’s not love, Skye. Now, I’m fine, and I love you, but I need some time to myself for a bit.”
“I’ll be here if you need me.” He hugged her and she left through the kitchen door.
* * * *
Liv leaned against one of the big stones of the ancient circle. It was a place of beginnings and endings. How many storms had it withstood? How many lovers had it brought together? How many lives had it seen born and pass while it lingered on? What would she tell him? He’d told her once how much he and Serena had wanted children. Would he even want a child that was his and hers?
She felt him before she could see him climb the rise. He’d come.
“You took your own time, didn’t you?”
“Olivia. I’m here and I’m not leaving until you give me a chance. I want it all, Liv.”