by Beth Rhodes
She glared at him.
“Not trying to offend. Some people are down on their luck. I get it.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “But some are not. I’ve been there. Be careful. Okay?”
“I’m careful.”
Malcolm finished off his coffee and set the mug back on the saucer. He leaned over the table as the bell over the door jangled, making him realize they’d been here long enough. He checked his watch. Almost two in the afternoon. “You ready to go?”
“I’m so full.” She moaned. “Can we nap first?”
He nudged her toward the edge of the seat. “Let’s go. We can get back, and you can nap the afternoon away in your comfortable twin bed.”
She grinned. “Only if you’ll join me.”
His gut tightened, but he rolled his eyes.
Edna met them at the cash register, pressed a few buttons, and then grinned. “This one’s on the house, my dear.”
“Oh, no—” he started.
“You don’t have to,” Marie said at the same time.
“Nonsense. It’s been too long. You come back, and the next time you pay.”
Malcolm threw his ten into the tip jar. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Edna came around the counter and threw her arms around Marie. Malcolm sensed her tension, but it fled quickly enough, and she relaxed into the hold.
“You tell your uncle we’re praying for him.”
Marie frowned. “I will.”
They were putting their helmets back on when Marie stopped. “Seriously. Uncle Bert is going to be in so much trouble.”
Marie didn’t quite lose her frown, and she also let him drive home.
And he found being on the bike with her was pleasure in itself, whether he rode front or back. He kind of liked having her arms around his waist, her hands loosely clasped in his lap.
And when she gently rested the side of her face against his back, he knew the walls he’d built up until this point were slowly crumbling…and it scared the crap out of him.
***
His back pocket played Van Halen as he came to a stop in the barn. Putting the kickstand down, he stood and pulled his phone out. “Hey, Tan.”
“Malcolm. How’s the vacation going?” The innocent enough question seemed pregnant with unspoken words.
His conscience interfering, probably.
“Good,” he answered without inflection. “Vacation-y.”
Tan laughed. “Gotcha.”
“I don’t think you do,” Malcolm said. “What can I do for you, man?”
“I’ve got a job out here, starts on Wednesday. Need a few guys on the team. Thought you might be looking for an excuse to get back to Raleigh.”
Okay. So some people thought he would be unhappy paired up with Marie. Understandable. He wasn’t looking for an excuse, but maybe he needed one. Maybe a step back was necessary right now. “I could come back if you need me. What kind of job are we talking?”
“Three-day executive detail for Lime Tech, the company out of Bolivia.”
“Holy shit. We got the contract?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Count me the fuck in,” he said, without even thinking about it. Some of the smartest IT men and women in the world worked for the company. He wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to rub elbows. “I’ll catch a flight home first thing tomorrow.”
“Josie’s got a ticket for tonight.”
“Oh.” He caught Marie’s gaze on him, and his heart gave an extra thud. “Um, okay. Well, it’ll be close, but I’ll try.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Malcolm hung up with a funny, disappointed feeling rushing through his veins. “I have to go.”
“It’s the IT job, isn’t it?” She nodded, as if resigned, then straightened her spine. “Maybe you’ll get a chance to talk shop with them about some of your inventions.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. She understood. “I won’t hold my breath—”
“But you’ll go, because deep down inside your pessimistic, cynical soul lives hope.”
“Psh.” He shook his head. “That’s a bit strong, don’t you think?”
The clouds cleared from her pretty eyes, relieving him as she laughed and held out a hand. “Yes. Actually. I am putting it a bit strongly, but I think—in the end—I like you the way you are. Ornery, grumpy, and a bit of a cynic.”
“Gee. Thanks. I think.”
They walked up to the house in silence, a very gray, clouded silence. He didn’t want to leave her like this, and reached for her before she could open the door. “Thank you for today, for yesterday. Last night, even. It’s—”
She touched his face, leaned in, and gently kissed him on the mouth, pulling away too soon. But he let her go. Maybe they would continue this later. Maybe the separation would knock some sense into them both. He didn’t know. But maybe time to think was what they needed.
When his phone buzzed, it was a text from Josie with his flight information.
He hugged Marie one last time, tugging on her hair so her chin rose and he could see into her eyes. “Stay out of trouble, Marie Feur. You got it?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a grin. “I’m an angel.”
Chapter Fifteen
When he’d been gone two hours, Marie knew he had probably made it to the airport. She sat out on the cliffs and puffed at the thin cigar her uncle had offered her, a guilty pleasure she rarely indulged in. She took her time with each inhale and then let the smoke circle her as she slowly exhaled.
She liked watching the storm roll over the horizon. The dark clouds tumbled with each other as if trying to win a race. With the sun barely above her line of sight, she knew it wouldn’t be long before the light of day would disappear.
“He didn’t stay long,” Uncle Bert said from above her. “What happened?”
Marie glanced up. “Nothing. Something came up at work. That’s all.”
“You could have left with him. Why did you stay?”
Why hadn’t she gone?
“Two reasons, I guess.” She scooted over as he hobbled down the steps to her level and sat. His warmth radiated to her, and she shivered. She moved closer, and then he put his arm around her and pulled her into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder. “He isn’t sure about me yet. I wanted to give him a chance to think about us.”
“Hm. Never a good idea, dear.”
She laughed. “Maybe not. But then there was you.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” she answered. “You haven’t been honest with me. I want the truth.”
He hummed first, coughing from deep in his chest. “I’m dying, Marie. Stage four cancer. Liver turned on me, baby.”
Her brain function stopped, falling off completely. The cigar dropped from her fingers.
Quick as a lick, he picked it up off her lap before it could burn.
“What do you mean? Stage four?” Her throat was tightening, as if swelling shut. “I’ll take you to the doctors.” She moved to get up, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. She ripped her hand from his. “There’s a clinic in Raleigh. The university is there. Studies are being done. Why didn’t you tell me? Have you started treatment?”
“No, Marie.” He squeezed her hand. “There’s no treatment for me.”
“Of course there is. People are surviving cancer all the time.”
“Not this time.”
“Why—”
He took her chin in his hand. “Because it’s too much. It’s in the liver and the lungs and the kidneys and up in the brain. I’m a ticking time bomb, girl.”
She paused. “Are you in pain?” She forced down the need to cry, but a tear slipped out. And when one fell, it became pointless to stop the next and the next.
Uncle Bert patted her back. “Come on now. Show me the strong girl who lived beyond her own parents’ deaths.”
She cried, a sob breaking from deep inside of her. She couldn’t stop. Her shoulders shook. And anger broke her. “How
long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have come home. Are you in pain?”
“No, baby. I’m not in too much pain. And the doc gave me some meds.” He rubbed a hand on her arm. “But I don’t got much time, either. Couple months.”
How selfish could she be? All she could think was that she was going to be alone. Her entire family was going to be gone. Her chin shook as she wiped at the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I need you to do something for me.”
She nodded as another sob escaped, and she sucked in a breath.
“Get the armband, Marie. Take it. For me. For your parents.” His grip tightened. “Take it to our special place, once and for all. Put it to rest, so this doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Do it with me,” she said with a shaky smile, even as fear shot through her at the realization her people were dying—had died—over this piece of gold. “One last heist.”
But he shook his head. “You do this one alone, baby.”
She’d planned to, and in the last day had changed her mind about doing it at all. Malcolm had gotten to her, but this changed everything. She had to get that armband back. Healing powers. Odd legends and myths. Nothing mattered now except fulfilling her uncle’s last wish.
She had no choice. “I’ll get it for you, Uncle Bert.”
***
He’d been sitting for almost six hours; his flight delayed two times so far because of weather. He was tempted to ride out the storm back at Marie’s. Rumor was they would for sure be in the air before ten o’clock. He sat forward and touched his toes, stretching his back at the same time.
His phone buzzed in his leg pocket and he pulled it out only to find an unknown Sacramento number. “Hello, Malcolm here.”
“Malcolm Daniel with Hawk Elite?”
“Yes, sir. Zack Benson, right?” He leaned forward on the seat and rested his elbows on his knees. “You were at the symposium on the use of droids as guards. Must have been four years ago now. Los Angeles?”
“Good memory. I thought your name was familiar. Hell, I’m sure I’ve got your business card around here somewhere.” He sounded pretty chill for a man who’d been fired from an account not long ago. “You ready to move west yet?”
Malcolm chuckled. “No comment. How about you? You ready to merge with Hawk Elite? Two offices? Twice the clientele? Twice the manpower? More money? We could really use you.”
“You mean use me to handle your West Coast clients, like Vladimir Dimitru?” The sneer came through plain and clear.
“The guy’s a douche,” Malcolm agreed. “Hawk’s up to something, and I have a suspicion he’s holding out for the feds. Ain’t no way he takes on a client like this guy because he can make a few bucks. He has to have a reason.”
Benson’s answering silence sent a chill through Malcolm. “He wanted me to put in video and audio feed through his entire house,” Benson said. “He paid particular attention to the guest wing, installing at least three cameras per bedroom and a few of the bathrooms, too.” A shuffling in the background pulled Benson from the conversation, and Malcolm heard another muffled voice. “Lena, mi querida. Come get Alejandro, por favor.”
More muffled speaking in the background.
“Sorry. I’m calling from home. It’s a bit of madhouse right now. My sister-in-law is in town.”
Malcolm waited again, and a door slammed.
“Okay. That’s better,” Benson said, laughing. “Look, he fired us. No doubt about it, there were things I wasn’t going to do for this creep.”
Creep. Exactly like he and Marie had both felt, making the assessment a unanimous vote.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Benson continued, “the way he had his house rigged, he was either getting ready to produce a bunch of porn, or maybe he was a Peeping Tom when family came to town. All I knew was that doing business with him made me feel dirty. I’d already put together a separation packet when he came forward with his dissolution papers. Was fine by me. I had my lawyer look at them very closely. I didn’t want anything coming back to bite me in the ass. His name came up in the papers shortly after. He’d acquired some old Romanian pieces, brought over from the old country, which I believe you couriered.”
“Yeah, sort of,” Malcolm said, thinking about Marie and Albert, and a conversation by the fire. One about magic and treasures…and family feuds.
“Like a good boy, Vladimir gave them up to a museum for a few months, before hoarding them back into his dungeon.”
“Shit.” Those items would be marked for provenance, which would make it even harder for Marie and Bert to reclaim them.
“Oh, no. That’s just the icing. There’s more. The FBI has a man on the inside. Vlady’s been under investigation for human trafficking.”
“Fuck.” Malcolm’s vocabulary had been reduced to one-syllable words. “Finish it,” he demanded, knowing that there had to be something even bigger.
“Not long after, some old guy comes to my Sacramento office. This was a few months ago? Claims some asshole stole a family heirloom. A bracelet, which loops around his dear niece’s arm four times.”
Malcolm’s heart pounded hard. “Shit. Bert Bălan?”
“Yeah,” Benson said. “You know the guy?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Put me on speed dial, Malcolm. You need anything, you call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Malcolm sat there for a minute. Go? Stay? Trust Marie wasn’t going to follow a wild idea back to the Dimitru mansion? “Fuck.”
His phone beeped again, and this time it was a software notification. “Fuck.”
The lady next to him glared at him.
“Sorry. Talking to myself.” He opened his bag and pulled out his laptop. The woman got up with a huff and moved down the row.
Malcolm shoved aside her offense. He was too busy to worry about it right now. His computer came awake with a series of noises, and he shut the sound off before clicking through and looking for the tab with the flag.
Dimitru.
“Damn it, Marie.”
There was activity at the Dimitru mansion. Someone had deactivated the security system. Thousand bucks said it was his sweet, “reformed” little Marie. “Fuck.”
He expected the anger, but the twisting in his gut, the weird feeling of hurt, had him clamoring to get his emotions in check. He didn’t need this kind of chaos.
Not then.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter Sixteen
Her uncle’s surveillance sufficed, giving her the information she needed, and she’d hung outside the drive for almost two hours before Dimitru finally left. The man had a standing poker game on Sunday nights and left the house at seven o’clock, sometimes not returning until well after midnight.
On occasion, he would pick up a lady friend to take with him, leaving an hour earlier. Those nights, he wouldn’t return until the next day. Which gave her plenty of time to get in and out either way. Thanks to her premeditated brilliance, she wouldn’t even have to break in. Pulling her rented vehicle up to the creepy estate, she parked at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the massive door.
She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as the nerves flared against her backbone.
A glance up showed her the cameras under the eaves were moving, as was the one braced to the stone about ten feet above. The man was paranoid.
Marie didn’t blame him. She was here, wasn’t she? And she was going to rob him, to reclaim something. It wasn’t stealing if it belonged to her. The argument ran through her mind.
Until working for Hawk, she’d never questioned. The connection there and with Malcolm especially made it hurt a little, knowing how disappointed he was going to be.
Uncle Bert had taught her how to rationalize, whether it was the need to survive, as it had been in those early years, or righting wrongs, as it had been later when he’d take jobs in the private sector. Acquiri
ng. Working for private investigators or the occasional insurance adjuster. There were so many opportunities to utilize her skill set…
Like she was doing tonight. Like she’d done for Hawk.
No guilt.
With a growl, she ignored her gut and pulled the car another quarter of a mile up the road to the small, almost invisible drive of the abandoned house next door. She shut her lights off as she turned and slowly crept up the muddy, rutted ground and parked on the darker side of the garage.
The Dimitru house could be seen from here, its four corners towering over the sloping hillside down to the river. She had more than one escape route mapped out in her head, and prayed the river didn’t end up being her best bet.
From the trunk, she pulled out her slim, black tool kit and tucked it into the pocket sleeve against her thigh. She hadn’t worn the black neoprene suit in months. More. It seemed like forever, and had felt funny going on. Too tight. Too foreign.
After tugging the black baseball cap over her head, she pulled her hair through the hole at the back, twisted it into a bun, and then checked her watch. T–minus thirty seconds. Marie gently closed the trunk, tucked the key into her sleeve, and zipped it closed.
As she did, the day lights on the Dimitru estate shut down and the security lights turned on. The house was asleep. With Vladimir gone, there would only be a skeleton crew. And she needed a mere three minutes to cut the power, access the security room, and get the armband.
The strip of dense forest separating the properties gave her a few seconds to shake loose the nerves in her stomach. She took several deep breaths as she moved toward the clearing ten yards in front of her. At the tree line, she paused and scanned ahead into her most vulnerable moment. There was a thin line between where she stood and full-blown exposure, but if she stuck to the north border…
Marie crouched, looked again to the camera near the front corner as it turned away from her position, and ran. Thirty yards, twenty-five…fifteen…five. At the last second, she sidestepped into the alcove, which hid the side entrance, and slowed her breathing.