Charmed and Dangerous

by Lori Wilde

  This realization brought a raw, intricate pain, shredding her earlier peace. She didn’t want to be dead. She couldn’t be dead. She had so very much to live for.

  “Maddie! Maddie!”

  Who was calling her? Was that Cassie? She frowned. Or at least she thought she frowned. She couldn’t really tell. Did dead people frown?

  She felt herself being yanked around.

  Ow! Who was pulling her hair?

  So much for the quiet dignity of death.

  She tried to struggle, to fight the water, to fight for her life but her hands seemed leaden and reluctant. Was she dead or not? She couldn’t seem to move or open her eyes, but someone kept yelling her name. A rough, frightened masculine voice.

  David. It had to be David.

  Her heart gave a crazy little hop and she wondered when she would get to float out of her body so she could see him.

  “Don’t you dare leave me, Maddie Cooper,” he raged. “Breathe, dammit, breathe.”

  It sounded like he was getting mad. She tried to obey, tried to breathe, but her lungs didn’t want to expand. The languid ease of the water was gone and her back was pressed against something hard. The ground?

  “I gave you my word I wouldn’t let you drown,” David was babbling. “And I never go back on a promise. Never. So you can’t drown. Get it. You won’t drown. Don’t give up on me. Fight. Fight. Fight for your life.”

  He might have slipped a hand under her neck, but she was so numb she couldn’t really tell.

  “Breathe.” She thought he might have been stroking her face. “Breathe.”

  She felt pressure against her lips. Heat against her cold flesh. Her lungs, which had been peaceful in the water, now ached and burned. She heard more sounds. A seagull’s caw, a fish breaking the surface of the water, a helicopter rumbling overhead.

  And she experienced the heavy rush of David’s life-giving breath forcing its way into her narrowed airway. Her stomach churned. She was going to be sick.

  With a sudden gasp, Maddie sat up. David rolled her onto her side and held her tenderly while she purged the seawater from her body.

  “That’s my girl,” he soothed, gently running his fingers through her hair, stroking her forehead. “Cough it all up.”

  She opened her eyes and looked into his face.

  Not dead. Not by half. David had given her the precious second chance she’d mourned so woefully. She was reborn.

  “David,” she croaked.

  He clutched her to his chest, rocked her back and forth in his arms. The helicopter flew above them, blades whirling. The force of the air sent dirt and debris blowing over them. Luckily the bedsheet was so wet and tangled around her legs, that the breeze from the helicopter couldn’t raise it.

  Maddie tilted her head and saw it was a police chopper. Henri Gault was half hanging out the door. He waved to them.

  “The cavalry is here,” she whispered.

  “Late as always,” David murmured.

  “Where’s Blanco?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care. All I care about is you.” His eyes shone with the truth of his statement. His words and the concerned expression on his handsome face warmed her in the way nothing else could have.

  The helicopter touched down. Henri and a Venice police officer hopped out and hurried toward them in a running crouch.

  “You all right?” Henri shouted over the noisy chopper.

  David nodded.

  Henri pointed to the rubble of the campanile. For the first time since David hauled her from the sea, Maddie looked back at where they’d been. The sight of the demolished building struck her like a slap. If they hadn’t jumped they would both be dead. No one could have survived. She gasped and David tightened his grip around her.

  “From the air we could see a man crawling over the rocks,” Henri said.

  “It’s got to be Blanco,” David said.

  Henri clamped a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, mon ami, we’ll take care of this one for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Henri and the policeman took off after Blanco and the helicopter pilot came over with blankets. David wrapped Maddie warm as a papoose and although she protested, he insisted on carrying her to the chopper, his casted wrist be damned. She wrapped her legs around his waist and allowed him to tote her like a toddler.

  “There are clothes in the helicopter you could change into,” the chopper pilot said in heavily accented English as he eyed their sopping wet garments. “They are costumes my wife and I wore for a Carnevale pageant this morning and I was supposed to take them back to the costume shop but didn’t have time. You can wear them. I wait out here while you change inside.”

  “Thank you,” David said.

  They found the costumes, wriggled out of their wet things and into the new outfits.

  “I look like Jane Austen,” Maddie said.

  “Lucky you. I look like Lord Dandy.”

  They blinked at each other. They were both wearing Regency era dress. Just like her fantasy. Maddie gulped. Stupid, stupid fantasies.

  “I guess we’re both lucky it’s Carnevale. No one will take a second glance,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he agreed huskily and she couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking what she was thinking. “It’s better than being wet.”

  Henri and the policeman returned, supporting a hobbling Blanco. They loaded him onto the police boat David had shown up in and the policeman motored Blanco back to the mainland while Henri rejoined them in the chopper.

  “Love the costume,” Henri grinned at David as he climbed into the helicopter. “Shall we waltz?”

  David shoved a hand through his hair and the shirtsleeve brushed against his cheek. He was expected to believe manly men in the nineteenth century wore crap like this? And to think Maddie’s dream proposal consisted of her beloved dressed up like a pompous ass. Women. Who could figure ’em?

  “I’m grateful for your help,” he growled at Henri. “So I’ll ignore that comment.”

  “Better be nice to me. I have more news.”

  “News?” David tensed and leaned forward. “Good or bad?”

  “Is it about my sister?” Maddie interjected.

  David shot her a glance. If she didn’t look so cute in that pageant dress, he would have been irritated with the interruption. Now on her, the Regency thing worked. Especially the way the cut of the dress emphasized her assets.

  Henri nodded. “Your sister called in a bomb threat to the Vivaldi. At least we suspect that it was her. We traced the call and it came from Shriver’s room at the Hotel Polo.”

  Maddie groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “Why would she call in a bomb threat?”

  “To get the police to the Vivaldi in time to foil Shriver’s art auction,” David said.

  “I don’t understand. Is Cassie with Shriver or against him?” Henri asked.

  “Neither do we,” David muttered darkly. “Did they succeed in stopping the auction?”

  “They stopped the auction,” Henri confirmed.

  “And they caught Shriver?” David fisted his hand and his gut clenched. Was this it then? The compilation of ten years’ worth of police work. Was his dream about to come true? His hand trembled. He was that moved by the notion of finally, finally winning this thing.

  Henri shook his head. “Shriver disappeared.”

  David cursed. Not again!

  “But what about Cassie?” Maddie asked. “Where is she?”

  “There is an all points alert out on her for calling in the bomb threat,” Henri said. “No one knows where she is.”

  “Did the police at least nab Levy or Philpot?” David snarled.

  Henri smiled. “They did even better.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “They arrested both Levy and Philpot, almost a dozen collectors and they recovered seven stolen paintings including your aunt’s Rembrandt.”

  “No kidding? They’ve got Aunt Caroline’s Rembrandt?” David slumped against
the back of his seat. Well, at least that was something. He imagined the joy on his aunt’s face when he returned the painting to her and his spirits lifted. This wasn’t over yet. He would get Shriver too.

  “Levy brought the Rembrandt to the auction to dump it. Apparently the pressure we’ve been putting on him was too hot. He was desperate to ditch it.”

  “High five,” David held up his left hand.

  “You Americans with the victory celebrations.” Henri grinned and smacked his palm.

  “Hey, it’s been a long time coming. I’m due a little victory dance.”

  “Not so fast, mon ami. I’m afraid there’s more unpleasant news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Cézanne and the El Greco are still missing. The ones we found at the Vivaldi auction were forgeries.”

  David sucked in his breath. Cassie had been a busy girl. “Where are the originals?”

  “That’s what your supervisor wants to know,” Henri said.

  David swallowed. “You called Jim Barnes?”

  “No, he came to Venice after receiving your telegram.”

  “I didn’t send him a telegram.”

  Henri shrugged. “Someone did. And they signed your name. The telegram said you had the originals in safe-keeping.”

  “What? I don’t have the originals!” Panic took hold of him. Calm down. Chill. You’ll figure it out. You’re so close to wrapping this up. Don’t take a dive now. “Who could have sent Jim the telegram with my name on it? And why would . . . oh, shit.”

  His eyes met Maddie’s and in unison they both exclaimed, “Cassie.”

  Henri went to the boat launch to meet the police and oversee Jocko Blanco’s arrest. “Go on,” he told David. “Find Shriver. This case belongs to you. After ten years, you deserve the win.”

  Leaving Henri behind, David and Maddie ran through the streets of Venice looking like a deranged Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. If she hadn’t been so worried about Cassie, Maddie might have seen the humor in the situation. As it was, she was desperately missing her half-a-heart necklace. Ever since she’d lost that necklace in Spain things had gone dramatically from bad to worse.

  They zipped around the Carnevale crowd and clattered through the Piazza San Marco on the boards set out to provide a makeshift walkway for spanning the encroaching tidewater. They arrived at the Hotel Polo where Shriver and Cassie had been staying. An investigative team from Interpol was there, along with David’s boss Jim Barnes, meticulously combing through Shriver’s room for evidence.

  “Marshall,” Barnes barked, the minute he spotted David standing in the doorway.

  Maddie saw David’s shoulders tense and his jaw clench. “Yes, sir.”

  “You look like hell, man.” The salt-and-pepper-haired Barnes was in his mid-fifties with a bulldog face, buzz cut and stocky build.

  “Ran into a slight problem.”

  “I hope the other guy looks worse.”

  “He does, sir.”

  “And what’s with the foppish outfit?” Barnes made a face at David’s costume.

  “Undercover at Carnevale,” he said.

  Maddie had never seen this side of David. All correct and by the book. It was a far cry from the usual loose cannon persona he wore in the field. He was a secret bad boy, she realized. Eager to please those in power, but deep down inside not really willing to let go of control for anyone.

  Jim Barnes took the telegram from his pocket and handed it to David. “You want to explain this?”

  Maddie hesitated in the hall behind him, her gaze trained on David’s face. Would he tell his boss the truth? That he had recruited Cassie to spy on Shriver and she’d been the one to make forgeries of the paintings and hide the originals?

  Would he assume responsibility for breaking all the rules and take his lumps? Or would he pretend that Cassie’s accomplishments were his own and throw her sister to the wolves?

  “Do you have the original Cézanne and El Greco?” Barnes asked.

  Maddie closed her eyes briefly. Please, David, please, David, please say the right thing.

  “Yes,” David said and with that one word, he shattered all hope for their future.

  Maddie opened her mouth to call him a liar, to defend her sister, but no words came out. She was too stunned to speak. Mind numb with the realization that David actually would do anything to win, no matter what the cost, she turned on her heel and stiffly walked away.

  “Good job.” Jim Barnes slapped him on the back. “Now bring in Shriver and Cassie Cooper and that promotion belongs to you.”

  “Maddie,” David called out to her. “Wait a minute. I have to talk to you.”

  But she didn’t want to hear rationalizations or excuses.

  “Maddie!” David bellowed. “Stop right there.”

  To hell with that. She was one person he wasn’t going to best. She ducked her head and ran. I won’t cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking my heart.

  “Maddie, don’t you dare take another step.”

  She flipped him the finger just before she dashed through the fire exit door and plunged down the stairs.

  “Sir,” David said to Jim Barnes. “I need to leave right this minute. I love that woman and I’ve got to straighten things out. She’s misunderstood my intentions.”

  “Well isn’t this just precious. Bullshit, Marshall. What you need to do is tell me where those paintings are.”

  “I don’t have access to them at the moment.”

  “What do you mean you don’t have access to them? Did you send me this telegram or not?”

  “I did not.”

  “Then who did?” Barnes’s face was a thundercloud.

  “Cassie Cooper.”

  “Shriver’s girlfriend? What’s she got to do with all this?”

  David blew out his breath. If Barnes got pissed, then Barnes got pissed. At this point, he didn’t much care. He wasn’t going to hang Cassie out to dry, no matter what Maddie believed him capable of. “She’s not Shriver’s girlfriend.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been working for me all along.” Which was true. Cassie had been on his side whether he’d known it or not.

  “You told her to call in a bomb threat?”

  “I told her to do whatever she had to do to stop Shriver.”

  “So you went behind my back and recruited her. Just like I told you not to.”

  “Yes, I did. And it was a good solid plan.” Until Blanco had fouled things up. “We’ve been working together to round up Levy and Philpot and Shriver and the stolen artwork.”

  “So where’s the El Greco? Where’s the Cézanne?”

  “Cassie has placed them in a secure location.”

  “How do you know?” Barnes glared, his nostrils flaring.

  “I just know.”

  “So if she’s working for you, then where is she? Where’s Shriver?”

  “At the moment, I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t just scamming you, Marshall? Ever think that maybe you’re the dupe?”

  “I’m not a dupe.”

  “Bring me Shriver and those paintings, Marshall. Now. Or you’re out.”

  “You’re firing me?”

  “If you go after that woman, yes. My patience with you is at an end. You’ve gone behind my back one time too many. Your call. Either the promotion or the boot.”

  David ground his teeth. He was jerked in two opposing directions. On the one hand there was his job, which was much more than just a job. It was a career. It was his identity. Once upon a time the promotion would have meant everything to him.

  But now there was Maddie.

  Fireworks were going off on the Grand Canal. A parade of lights on the water. A spectacle of flotillas. Maddie ran through the narrow streets along the canal not knowing where she was going, not really caring. All she wanted was to escape David and the aching pain in her heart.

  She kept running until her side hurt and she couldn
’t get her breath. She had trusted David and he’d betrayed her. With one bald-faced lie, he’d claimed to have the paintings and he’d taken credit for the work Cassie had done. He didn’t care about her or her sister. All he cared about was winning.

  Her stomach twisted in knots. A rocket exploded into ribbons of colorful light overhead. The crowd oohed and aahed.

  Maddie skirted a clot of people lined along the bridge and turned down the cobblestone walkway. Glancing up, she was taken aback to see she was on the steps of the Hotel Vivaldi. The place where Shriver had held his illegal auction and Cassie had called in the bomb threat. She didn’t see any policemen. Had they already cleared the robbery scene?

  The crowd was on the move, trailing along the canal, following the water parade away from the Vivaldi. Within minutes, the immediate area was silent, deserted.

  From her peripheral vision, Maddie caught movement in the shadows of the side street. A man and woman struggling over something.

  It’s none of your business, Maddie. Stay out of it.

  Another rocket from the fireworks display exploded into the night sky.

  The couple was silhouetted in the reflected glow and she could clearly see the man had a gun.

  Maddie’s heart leapfrogged into her throat.

  It was Cassie and Shriver.

  Years of honing her protective instincts toward her sister sent Maddie hurtling straight for them. She didn’t stop to think things through. Only one thing pounded in her head—the same thought that for the past eighteen years had rarely left the forefront of her mind—save Cassie, save Cassie, save Cassie.

  “Get away from my sister!” she yelled and with the intensity of a wrestler intent on full body smackdown, Maddie charged into Shriver.

  And knocked him into the canal.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie shrieked as Shriver disappeared into the black water.

  Maddie spun around to face her sister. “Are you all right?”

  “Dammit, Maddie. You’ve gone and screwed up everything.”

  “What?” Cassie was mad because she’d saved her life?

  “When are you going to stop interfering?” Cassie’s eyes flashed fire and she sank her hands onto her hips.

  “I was just trying to help.”

  “Well stop it! I’m tired of you always running interference for me. You act as if I’m a child. We’re not nine years old anymore and I’m not your responsibility, so leave me alone.”