The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  The English woman stepped into the room and Lucie held her breath. Not a sound, not a sound, not a sound.

  “Why is this door open?” a very American sounding male asked.

  “It gets jammed,” the woman replied. “We told Mr. Habers about it and he’s coming ‘round to have a look.”

  Lucie heard a shuffle and the two left. She released a silent breath as her heart banged. She couldn’t move. Not yet. Not until they brought the key back.

  A long two minutes later—Lucie had counted in her head—the voices drifted closer again.

  “I’ll put the key back,” the man said. “I hate leaving this door open though. We’ll have to shut it.”

  Please don’t let him see me back here.

  And then everything slowed as the clink of the metal key being replaced vibrated off the stone walls and a big meaty hand wrapped around the edge of the door just inches from her nose. She pulled in her stomach, imagined herself shrinking and willed her body to be still.

  The door swung away from her and caught at the jamb before the man forced it shut.

  Lucie bent at the waist and drew three long breaths. Way too close.

  She was so not cut out for this.

  Get moving.

  Once again, she grabbed the key from the back of the desk and placed her ear against the door, checking for the distant click of the woman’s heels. Quiet. Good. She pulled on the door handle.

  Nothing.

  She tugged again. Nothing. Trapped. Seriously? She placed one foot on the wall, held the door handle with the other and pushed off with her foot. Not even a budge.

  A vision of her fingers being removed flashed in her mind. Damned dungeon. Don’t think about it. She wouldn’t panic.

  “Luce?” Frankie whispered from the other side of the door.

  Thank you. “What?”

  “What are you doing?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Having my nails done.”

  “What?”

  “I’m stuck!”

  “Uh-oh.”

  No fooling. “You push from that side and I’ll pull.”

  “Okay. On three. Ready?”

  Lucie propped her foot up again. “Yes.”

  One, two, three. She pulled with every bit of strength she could summon. Two seconds later, the door flew open and Lucie sailed across the tiny room. Rather than take a face plant, she twisted and—boom—her left shoulder bounced off the wall. She landed on the tiled floor with a whoosh.

  “Ow!” Pain rocketed through her backside.

  Frankie stepped into the room, grabbed her hands and hauled her up. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Let’s just do this.”

  She ran back to the wine cellar, inserted the key into the lock—score—opened the door and tossed the tote bag.

  Wait! If the camera taped her with the tote bag and then without, they’d know she was the one who’d left it.

  Not good.

  She entered the wine cellar and her skin puckered from the chill of the refrigeration. She removed the gallon-sized bag of diamonds from the tote and tossed them back on the floor. Good enough.

  With swift movements, she locked the door, wiped the handle and key and ran back to the storage room to replace it.

  At the hall entry, Frankie grabbed her arm before she stepped in front of the camera.

  “Listen for the swivel. There. Go.”

  Lucie hopped over the red rope, heard the hum of the video camera and glanced up. Aimed right at her. Panic ripped into her. Was the camera on her when she stepped over the rope? She couldn’t worry about it now. She watched the camera swing away from the entry and waved Frankie over the rope.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  He slid his arm around her and squeezed. “You okay?”

  The feeling of his hands on her brought instant calm to her shattered nerves. She loved this man and their world was screwing everything up. “I’ll be fine when we’re on a plane home.”

  “Not so fast,” a hushed voice said from behind them.

  Caught. Lucie reached for Frankie’s arm, squeezing with such intensity he winced.

  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

  She tore her gaze from Frankie and looked over her shoulder at the man with the newsboy cap she’d seen in the main hall. The dim light forced Lucie to lean forward for a better look and, three seconds later, the realization of who this man was hit her. His plain beige jacket and dress slacks screamed I’m-trying-to-blend, but Frankie’s father always did have a sense of style.

  Mr. Falcone, the security camera to his back, looked at Lucie first and then his son. “You idiots.”

  But Frankie wanted no part of that and took two steps toward his father before Lucie grabbed him. “Don’t freak out in here.” Heck, usually it was him doing the warning.

  “What are you doing here?” Frankie repeated.

  “What are you doing here?” Mr. Falcone slid his eyes to Lucie and whispered. “Where are my diamonds?”

  For the first time since this dognapping ordeal started, she was in control and the perverse pleasure warmed her. “Locked in the wine cellar down this hall.”

  Mr. Falcone made a move around them and Frankie blocked him. “Don’t do this. We’re getting the Rizzos out of this. Joe will never have to know. Leave it alone.”

  A moment of steel-jawed tension pulsed between them and Lucie began to flop sweat. Fabulous.

  Finally, Mr. Falcone stepped back. “I didn’t chase after you to let you give them back. Of all the stupid things, Frankie.”

  Lucie gasped at Mr. Falcone’s vicious tone. She shouldn’t have been surprised after what she’d learned about him. Regardless, they were wasting time.

  They’d been down here almost ten minutes. Someone was bound to come along.

  “We need to move,” she said.

  Frankie grabbed his father’s elbow and half dragged him to a display. Something that looked like a life-sized set of salad tongs. What the heck did they use those for? Lucie leaned back and glanced down the corridor as the camera swiveled away from her. They needed to wrap this up and get out. No telling if they had people manning those cameras.

  And then, her bladder filled like a water balloon attached to an open faucet. Was the flop sweating not enough?

  Frankie, in a very Frankie move, stepped closer to his father, their noses just inches apart. Lucie held her breath. Their profiles—the long, straight nose, the angle of the jaw—were so similar, she could have been looking at an aged progressed photo.

  “You’ve done enough,” Frankie said. “Keep moving and I might forgive you.”

  Was he really speaking to his father this way? This is what the situation had come to. She should have been happy, ecstatic even, because all along she’d wanted Frankie to separate himself from his father. To take her side. Somehow though, this seemed wrong. All wrong.

  She put a hand on his arm. “This is over. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Lucie,” Mr. Falcone said.

  The sound of her name coming from his lips fried her and she poked a finger at him. “You shut up.”

  The stern look he wore had probably sent many men to their knees, but Lucie’s fury ran so hot she was immune. This man had tormented her for weeks, not to mention what he’d done to her mother. Being disrespectful was the least of the damage Lucie sought.

  “I haven’t been hiding those diamonds all these years to let you give them back.” He snatched her arm and squeezed. “Where’s that damned key?”

  The camera hummed again and Frankie stepped sideways to block it from capturing his father’s hold on Lucie. “Let go or I walk out of here and you never see me again.”

  The un-Frankie-like violence simmering in his voice wasn’t helping her back teeth to stop floating. Good Lord, she had to pee.

  He stepped closer to his father. “Am I worth what’s in that bag?”

  Mr. Falcone had the nerve to laugh. At his own son.

 
; Enough of this. Lucie elbowed them both away. “Knock it off. We’re all leaving here.”

  Voices from the stairwell carried through the narrow hallway and a couple with two young children stepped into the dungeon. Lucie, Frankie and Mr. Falcone huddled around the salad tong display and played tourist.

  Could there be a bathroom down here?

  Frankie blasted the woman with the Frankie Factor smile and she returned the gesture. “We’ve seen this before,” she said to her cohorts. “Let’s get to the next area.”

  All four filed passed and Lucie crossed her legs. Really have to pee.

  She went up on tiptoe and put her lips to Frankie’s ear. “Let’s just leave. There’s nothing he can do.”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  With his attention focused on his father, he said. “Even if he finds the key, he’ll have to explain to my mother and sister why I refuse to see him.”

  Mr. Falcone gritted his teeth and Lucie imagined those pearly whites snapping under the stress. Thirty years from now—if he lived that long—he’d be an old man with shifting dentures who could have been her father-in-law.

  “You would do that?” Mr. Falcone asked Frankie. “Over money?”

  “I should be asking you that.”

  Touché, young squire. Lucie stood a little taller as her heart flip-flopped. After all the fighting and breaking up and getting back together, Frankie might finally understand her yearning to be more than Lucie Rizzo, Mob Princess. And all it took was a couple of dognappings, a concussion and stolen jewelry.

  “What’s it gonna be, Pop?”

  Lucie glanced at Frankie. “I could always ring up Detective O’Brien and tell him about this. Or, better yet, the local police. I bet they’d love to hear this story.”

  “There’s a thought,” Frankie said.

  “Wouldn’t Neil love that?” she added.

  Mr. Falcone drilled her with another hard stare. “Don’t be stupid, Lucie. You’ve got a lot to lose.”

  “But not nearly as much as you. I can’t imagine my father would be very happy about this. You know what a temper he has. Then there’s the whole messy legal aspect.” She shifted around him and stood next to Frankie, but she wasn’t done yet. This man needed to pay. And she was just the girl to make that happen. “I could crush you with that bag. Or, we can all walk out of here and forget the whole thing. I’d say that’s fairly generous of me considering what you’ve put me through.”

  Mr. Falcone shifted his gaze to Frankie.

  “Don’t make me choose, Pop. You won’t like it.”

  And Lucie knew it was over. For once, Frankie had sided with her.

  “I have to pee,” she said as they pushed through the door leading out of the dungeon. Frankie kept an iron grip on his father’s elbow as they walked and Lucie picked up the pace.

  Like a beacon, the restroom sign flashed into sight. Thank you. She turned down the corridor and sprinted.

  “Luce? Please.”

  “Sorry. Gotta go.” Did he think she wasn’t just as anxious to get away?

  Well, some things couldn’t wait.

  “Hurry,” he called from behind her.

  Two minutes later, after the longest pee of her life, she emerged from the restroom to see Frankie and his father waiting for her. In silence, they all walked out the main entrance to the long driveway that had led them in.

  Once they were out of earshot, Frankie said to his father, “How’d you know where we were?”

  “Your mother told me you were going on a trip. The timing was strange for a vacation. I wanted to see what you were up to.”

  “I didn’t tell Mom where I was headed.”

  “Cell phone,” his father grumbled. “My guy at the P.D. has a friend at the phone company.”

  Frankie halted. Uh-oh. To remind him she was there, Lucie clasped her hand over his. She, of all people, knew the hurt that came when a parent proved to be a disappointment.

  “Stay focused on what’s next,” she said.

  He drew a long breath and closed his eyes. “Right. We get him back to his car, get his stuff and he flies back to Chicago with us.”

  “That’s a plan.”

  As much as the idea of being in Mr. Falcone’s company infuriated her, they couldn’t risk him trying to steal the diamonds back. He’d caused enough trouble over these past weeks. Lucie would never forgive him.

  Never.

  Particularly because the other half of those stolen jewels were somewhere and she knew who was responsible.

  These damned people. All she wanted was a respectable life and this is what she got. Shoulder-deep in stolen jewels.

  ***

  A banging on the aiport’s single bathroom door sounded and, like a springboard, Lucie shot off the toilet. For God’s sake. Why couldn’t she take a pee in peace anymore?

  All she wanted was a few minutes alone before they boarded the plane and the only place to find it at this private airstrip was the miniscule bathroom the pilots used.

  “Luce!” Frankie banged again.

  She yanked her pants up, washed her hands and ripped the door open. She loved this man, but the damned building had better be on fire.

  He dragged her into the outer room where the attendant had abandoned the news to chat with their pilot on the tarmac. “It’s on the news. The stones. The owner can’t believe it.”

  On the television, a reporter doing a live feed from Kildare Castle was delivering the details of the recently discovered bounty.

  Frankie jerked his chin to the television. “They’re questioning all the tourists who bought tickets with credit cards.”

  “Good thing we paid cash,” she quipped, but her head began to pound. What if the camera had caught her going down that hall?

  “The Kildares will have to give the insurance company part of their money back, which we didn’t think about, but hell, Luce, we got rid of the stones.”

  They had actually pulled it off. It wouldn’t right the wrong, but at least the stolen merchandise was out of the hands of innocent people.

  “Do they have any idea it was us?”

  “Don’t think so. No one has come forward about seeing anything.”

  She dropped into one of the two metal-framed chairs. Could it really be over? It would seem so, but they needed to get out of England. No sense hanging around. She could follow the story on the web. “We should get out of here. Fast.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days later, Lucie arrived home at three-forty-five after walking the dogs. With the stolen jewelry no longer in her possession, she had taken the bold step of not only walking alone, but going back to her original, time-efficient route. The emotional freedom of it, the mental peace, allowed her to feel like herself again.

  She settled in with her laptop at the dining room table to review the inventory for the Frampton’s order. Good progress had been made and she needed to log each item. Her mother had separated everything into large bins stacked in the corner of the room. A bin marked Coats sat at the top and Lucie hauled it to the table.

  The front door opened and she turned to see Frankie come through.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She smiled. “Hi. Look at what we’ve created. This Frampton’s order might be the start of something. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited.”

  “Does that mean you’re staying in Franklin?”

  Lucie made a huffing noise. She hadn’t thought about living arrangements. “I guess it does. For now.”

  He grinned, pulled her out of her chair and wrapped her in a hug. “Good for you, Luce. I’m proud of you.”

  Slamming her eyes shut, she concentrated on breathing. How did he always know exactly what she needed?

  Because he loved her. Over the years, they had learned to tune into what the other needed. He was definitely better at it, but maybe that could change. Despite the craziness of their families and the fact that his father had put her in danger, she loved him.

&
nbsp; All this time she’d been blaming him for being born into the life, asking him to change, to do what she wanted. He deserved more than that. And she’d give it to him.

  She backed out of his grasp, but held onto his arms. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  She waved a hand toward a chair, and Frankie dropped into it as if the world had pushed him there. He’d been through a lot these past days.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  He shrugged.

  “About your father, I mean.”

  “It is what it is.”

  What a typical male non-answer. Lucie snorted. “Silly me, I expected you to talk, but then I remembered that men don’t talk, so I guess I will. You’re in a bad place. Your father disappointed you. I’ve been in that place. I’d love to say you’ll get over it, but you probably won’t. You will learn to deal with it though. I promise you that. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

  He waggled his eyebrows and she rolled her eyes. Always with the sex.

  “Actually,” he said, “I’m not even in the mood for sex.”

  “Lordy, it must be bad then.”

  “I’m so pissed I can’t even look at him. All I want is a meatball sandwich from Petey’s, and I can’t go there because I’ll see him. I’m so filled with…with…I don’t even know…that I’m not sure what I’d say to him.”

  “I know.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s like someone drilled a hole in your chest and scooped out part of you.”

  He blew air through his lips and started tracing imaginary lines on the table.

  And then she remembered something her mother had said to her a few years back when she and her father were fighting like rabid animals. At the time, the words didn’t seem like much, but over these weeks, she had come to understand the importance of them. “Frankie, our fathers, in their own way, love us. They simply make bad decisions. We don’t have to embrace their choices, but we need to live our own lives. I’m hoping you and I can do that together.”

  Frankie’s fingers stilled on the table and he glanced up at her. The silence of the room lingered.