Rose Quartz

by Sandra Cox

  “Well, that would solve our problems.” Jack said out loud what Bella and probably the others were thinking.

  Bella and Maureen looked at each other, cut their eyes toward Sabina and looked away. He wants the creativity amulet to get out of prison then he’s going after the power amulet himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. Bella bit her lips together to keep from cursing Victor in a very unladylike manner.

  “What about this latest attack?” Hank put in, his gaze never leaving Adam.

  “My uncle knew nothing about it until you called.” He shook his head. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. I’m not sure you’re the brightest man around to threaten my uncle but you do have courage.

  “As far as Victor Price, he’s an enigma. I can tell you this. Anyone who would cut a deal with Franky Death or Striker would be willing to cut a deal with the devil himself.” He leaned back and his gaze slid over his hosts, making contact with each person. It lingered on Sabina then moved on. “What can I do to help?”

  “What exactly has Morelly told you?” Hank asked then took a swallow of his coffee.

  “That you,” he looked at Bella, “have a piece of jewelry Franky Death wants for a man named Victor Price. Jewelry that is worth no more than a few hundred dollars on the open market but it is important to Price.” He tapped his fingers on the table, studying her. “And you have no idea who’s after you now?”

  Bella shook her head. “There was a woman with the man who tried to steal my armband. She looked familiar but I just can’t place her.”

  Adam’s gaze dropped to her left arm. “A very interesting piece of jewelry. It looks old. Is it?”

  Bella nodded.

  “I suppose a museum might be interested in it. Or someone whose family had it in their possession generations ago. Maybe he wants to use it as a bargaining chip.”

  Relief swept through Bella. Adam Morelly did not know the significance of the amulets. “Possibly, although you’d think if someone else wanted it they’d contact me directly.”

  Adam shrugged. “Just a thought.”

  “Not a bad one,” Jack put in.

  Adam acknowledged Jack’s response with a nod then repeated, “Now what can I do to help?”

  Hank leaned forward, his distrust apparent. “Why would you be willing to help us?”

  “You questioned the honor of my uncle. His honor is important to him and he’s important to me. The sooner we find out who’s behind this the sooner my uncle’s honor will be restored.” Adam’s eyes narrowed, “After you apologize, of course.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Hank erupted. “That man tried to kill Bella. If you think for one moment I’m going to apologize you’re crazy.”

  “No one would expect you to apologize for that. But you did malign him after he gave his word. For that, when you have been proved wrong, you will apologize.”

  Before Hank could snarl back, Bella cut in. “If he won’t I will. Now what happens to your uncle in all this since he didn’t deliver the amulet?”

  Adam shrugged. “He gave it an honest attempt. Not even Franky Death would question my uncle.” He looked at Hank, “Only a crazy man does that. Not that Franky’s not a little bit crazy but he doesn’t have a death wish. Now,” he emphasized, “what can I do to help?”

  “Come to the wedding tomorrow and keep an eye on the guests,” Bella said.

  As if they had a will of their own his gaze flickered toward Sabina. “Who’s getting married?”

  “Jack and Maureen,” Bella answered, wondering what his reaction would have been if she’d said Sabina.

  For a moment, relief flashed on his face to be replaced by a polite smile as he turned first to Maureen then Jack. “My congratulations.”

  “Speaking of which, I’d better let Maureen get her beauty sleep for the big day tomorrow. Not that she needs it,” Sabina added, smiling as she rose.

  Everyone stood up.

  “Where are you staying, Ms. Comti?” Adam asked.

  “At a little hotel in Bluewater.” She named a little town about ten miles from the ranch. “And please call me Sabina.”

  “What a pleasant surprise, Sabina, so am I. I’ll follow you home.”

  “I’ll follow you both,” Hank said in a voice that didn’t invite argument.

  Adam shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Hank pointed toward the porch. “You might as well go out the back way. Are you ready, Ms. Sabina?”

  She nodded.

  Hank, Sabina and Adam headed toward the door.

  Adam stopped and turned. “Oh, by the way, when is the wedding?”

  “Five o’clock,” Bella responded. “Come any time. We’ll put you to work.”

  He nodded and followed the other two out.

  As they heard the three cars start, Bella turned to Jack and asked, “What do you think?”

  Jack took his time in replying, mulling over the question, finally he responded. “He has good eyes.”

  “He sure does,” Maureen responded a trifle too enthusiastically.

  Jack gave her a mock frown. “That’s not what I meant, wench. Are you toying with my affections?” He lunged for her.

  Giggling, Maureen allowed herself to be caught.

  Bella sedately sipped her coffee, watching the interplay. “Okay, boys and girls, bedtime, big day tomorrow. I guess there’s no point in asking Jack to sleep on the couch tonight.” She looked at two identical indignant faces. “No, I didn’t think so,” she sighed. “Well, I’m turning in.” She got up, rinsed out her coffee cup and headed upstairs.

  Once in the bedroom she began to pace. There was no longer anyone to keep a front up for. Tension rode just under her skin, making her edgy. She rubbed her hands over her forearms. As she touched her amulet she couldn’t help but wish for the amethyst in the center of Maureen’s amulet. Then she scoffed at herself. Everything came with a price. Along with the amethyst came the boji stones and the pain of healing. She would just stick with creativity and beauty, thank you very much.

  As her hand lingered on the tourmaline stones on her forearm, creativity surged through her. She might as well make use of it and finish her wedding gift. There would be no sleep for her tonight. Changing clothes, she walked over to her easel and picked up a brush, fighting back the panic that snapped at her throat. Something terrible was going to happen tomorrow. She could feel it.

  * * * * *

  Bless Victoria. Her mother had been a fool to place her only child in that wretched place where she was kept drugged up like a zombie. But it had made the child all the more appreciative and pliable, eagerly agreeing to his every suggestion.

  And the girl was smart. She thought on her feet. Hadn’t she found a well-known cat burglar to attempt to steal the amulet at the showing in Atlanta? And hadn’t she followed the women to shop after shop until she found a chatty clerk who’d overheard when and where the wedding would be held?

  Soon he would be a free man. Victoria knew what to do. And he’d given her a backup plan if the original failed. Bella Tremaine and Maureen Sinclair were bound together. If he got one he’d get the other. And when he had the creativity amulet he and Victoria would go after the power amulet and from there rule the world. But he had no intention of telling Victoria about the power amulet or the healing amulet yet. When he was out of prison it would be time enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Bella woke sprawled across the bed, a crick in her neck and pain knotting her shoulder blades. She’d finished it. The best work she’d ever done. Jack was leading his black stallion and Maureen her white mare across the courtyard. A moment caught in time. After painting tightly bunched muscles and quivering horseflesh it was going to be difficult to go back to painting flowers.

  The bed creaked as she jumped up and stretched. She’d worry about that tomorrow. Today she had a wedding to launch. And why on such a happy occasion were flashes of tension running up and down her spine?

  She walked to the window, pushed aside th
e white lacy curtain and watched the sun come up in all its rose and gold splendor, tinting the sky with a lush palette of color. Gods, it’s good to be alive. She fisted her hand resting against the sill. I can do this. I can beat Victor at his own game. All I have to do is think like him. The thought made her shudder.

  She touched the amulet and felt a creative surge flow through her. If I were Victor I’d make a grab for the amulet at the wedding when everything is in good-natured chaos. She leaned against the windowsill, enjoying the aesthetic beauty of nature while her mind tried to figure out the knotty problem of Victor Price.

  It surprised her that Victor felt he needed the creativity amulet to break out of prison since he’d broken out once before. But then again this was a high-security prison. And the last time he’d broken out, he’d probably still had the residual effects from her creativity amulet. The bastard.

  Now that Morelly was out of the picture, who else was working for Victor? The man was like a king commanding his minions from afar. And wouldn’t he just love that analogy.

  Bella straightened. Well, he wasn’t the only one with resources. She had Hank. Her heart gave a hard thump at the thought of the no-nonsense ranch hand. She also had Jack, Maureen and now Sabina and perhaps Adam. It remained to be seen how much help Morelly’s nephew would be or if he had his own agenda. She stuck her chin in the air. Regardless, she had her own army. One she’d pit against Victor Price any day of the week. She pushed herself away from the wall. It was time to prepare for a wedding.

  The day passed in a flurry of activity. There were the caterers to be dealt with, the florist and the people delivering and putting up the tent where the wedding would be held. Hank was running a shuttle back and forth from the Milwaukee airport.

  Sabina and Adam showed up about two o’clock. Together, Bella noted. Sabina helped with the last-minute preparations while Adam strolled around, his sharp eyes watching everything. By four o’clock Bella was frazzled. Maureen on the other hand was as cool as a cucumber.

  Bella smoothed an invisible wrinkle in Maureen’s silk wedding gown as the bride stood in front of an old-fashioned full-length mirror. Bella straightened, tears welling in her eyes. “You look beautiful,” she whispered.

  “So do you. That violet is an absolutely stunning shade for you.” Maureen tugged at a curl in Bella’s perfect do. “Come on, blondie, this is no time for tears. I swear I just don’t understand why girlie girls feel the need to turn into watering pots. Speaking of girlie girls, where’s Sabina anyway?”

  Bella sniffed and touched the amulet for a glamour sweep to rid herself of red eyes. Then for good measure she touched the bride too. “Not that you need it,” she said with a watery smile. “Sabina’s rounding up a pen for the sign-in book.”

  Maureen smiled as she rearranged the crown of silk flowers on her head, her flaming red hair loose and free, falling past her shoulders. “I’m probably the only woman in history to have a wedding registry that’s got a painting by Isabella Tremaine on it.” Impulsively, she turned and hugged Bella. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it. It’s the most beautiful thing. Of course you glamorized me but I don’t mind.”

  Bella had painted a miniature of Maureen on the white silk cover, in the shape of an old-fashioned cameo.

  “It was good, wasn’t it?” she said smugly. “Take care of it, sugar. If you ever get in a financial bind you can sell it and make a tidy little profit.”

  “Never. That registry will be handed down to my daughter and her daughter after her.”

  “Pretty sure about having a daughter, are you, shug?” Bella teased, moving Maureen’s crown of flowers a millimeter to the left.

  Maureen glanced at her amulet. “Of course, I am.”

  Bella paused, her hands in Maureen’s silky hair. She was forty-two. There would be no daughter to pass the beauty-creativity amulet to. Shaking off the gloomy thought, she smiled and said, “May she be as beautiful as her mother and as articulate as her father. I’d better go downstairs and do a last-minute check.”

  “Everything is going to be fine, Bella,” Maureen reassured.

  Her hand on the doorframe, Bella turned and winked at her best friend, her sister by link of an amulet. “You bet, sugar.” She stopped. “Damn, I almost forgot the trinkets.”

  With an absent wave of her hand, Maureen pointed to a silk-lined wicker basket that held a variety of winking armbands.

  Bella grabbed it and headed for the stairs.

  Walking down the polished oak steps, she saw Hank pacing in the hall, a scowl on his face. As her heart did a flip-flop, she paused, one foot on the lower rung. He and Jack had rented black coattails for the wedding. Rough and ready Hank McHenry looked damn hot in a tux. Of course, she reminded herself, the time he’d spent carrying her amulet around hadn’t hurt anything. Damn, he was handsome.

  As if sensing her presence, he looked up. The frown disappeared. He looked as bemused as she felt. For a long moment he just stared then said gallantly, “The bride is going to take a backseat to her bridesmaid. You look absolutely breathtaking, Bella. That violet dress matches your eyes to a T.” His glance swept down her and brought warmth to her face. His gaze rested on her shod feet. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who but you would have thought about having jewels the color of your dress on your shoes?”

  “They are just paste, sugar.” She felt flustered.

  He shook his head. “You have more fashion savvy and the looks to pull it off than any woman I know. Though to be fair, most of the women of my dealings wear tight jeans and drink beer in local honkytonks.”

  “Well, that puts me in my place,” Bella laughed as she slipped her fingers into the hand he held out.

  He glanced down at their linked hands. “It wasn’t meant to unless you are considering your place is with me.”

  Joy rocked through her like a tidal wave followed by paralyzing fear. Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears, “Don’t ever trust a man, Bella darling. They’re no better than tomcats. They’ll use you then leave you.”

  She snatched her hand away. Men normally didn’t rattle her. She’d known how to handle the male species since she was twelve years old. “What were you frowning about when you walked in?” It was a deliberate change of subject and they both knew it.

  Her stomach muscles clenched as the eager light in his eyes went out.

  He dropped his hand to his side. “Where do I put the harp player?”

  Her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god.”

  “What’s wrong?” He leaned toward her, concern overriding his hurt.

  She dropped her hand and looked at him. “I forgot a soloist. Can you believe it? I got a harpist to play the ‘Wedding March’ and forgot the soloist,” she wailed, nearly knocking him over as she hurried down the hall.

  “Where do I put the harp player and her blasted instrument?” he called after her.

  “In the front, left side of the altar,” she called over her shoulder.

  She touched her amulet and the answer came. Of course. Hurrying outside, she looked at the forty-by-sixty-foot, white-framed tent with windows then walked inside.

  Her gaze swept the interior of the tent.

  On the red-carpeted center aisle, Adam ushered a gray-haired, heavyset woman to a seat on a white folding chair on the groom’s side.

  To her left, Sabina talked to the caterers. Bless the woman. She hurried to Sabina and pulled her away. “I’ve got a problem and I need your help. Can you sing?”

  Sabina blinked. “Of course.”

  “I knew it, I knew it. Anyone who speaks with the voice of a nightingale has got to be able to sing. Will you sing the solo for the wedding?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Bella heaved a sigh of relief.

  “What would you like me to sing?” Sabina asked, elegant in a shell-pink suit.

  “Whatever you think is appropriate. Thank you, Sabina, I can’t tell you how much this means.”

  “It is
nothing.” Sabina gave an Italian shrug. “If I could have followed my chosen path, I would have been a singer. I had better talk to the harpist.” Sabina glanced at a classy little watch set with diamonds. “Twenty to. Is the bride ready?”

  “Yes, but I’d better go get her.” Bella’s glanced around the tent then out the window to the backyard. Everything looked perfectly normal but how could she be sure if she didn’t know any of the guests?

  She thrust the basket of trinkets at Sabina, who looked understandably startled. “After you talk to the harpist, would you pass these out to the women who are seated then put them on the table at the entryway? Just tell them they are wedding souvenirs.”

  Sabina looked at the basket then up at Bella and nodded. “What a marvelous idea.”

  Bella shrugged. “It may be stupid and pointless but if Victor has sent someone who doesn’t know us, maybe it will throw them a red herring.”

  “Red herring?” Sabina’s lovely brow furrowed.

  “I’ll explain later, shug, I’ve got to get the bride,” Bella called over her shoulder as she hurried away.

  As Bella walked out of the tent, she nodded to the harpist that she could begin. The woman sat down, her long mauve chiffon skirt floating then settling around her. She began to pluck a soft, sensuous melody that made Bella think of angels.

  Hank stood at the very back of the tent, his glance traveling over the people settling into their seats. Bella took a deep breath, determined to act as if nothing had passed between them a moment ago. She stopped beside him. “Do you recognize everybody?”

  He shrugged. “Maureen’s guests yes. Jack’s no.”

  Her gaze swept the area as she talked. Bright yellow daffodils bloomed outside, visible through the clear, plastic windows. The scent of pine swept in on a light breeze through the open door. Someone flipped a switch and the chandeliers sparkled to life.

  The tent and all its accessories had cost a bundle. She’d quoted Maureen a nominal fee then unbeknown to the bride had picked up the rest of the exorbitant bill herself.