by Nancy Warren
“She was killed with my gun? That means, oh, God, that means she was still alive when they brought her to my place. They killed her there.” Then the implications of the murder weapon struck her. “Dad, am I a suspect?”
“Of course you’re not a suspect,” he barked at her.
She licked her lips, thinking back to that terrible night. “But I had my gun out that night. There’d be fresh prints.” She remembered threatening Charlie with the gun, the pounding and breaking glass in her front studio that had distracted her long enough for him to overpower her and grab the weapon. But Charlie, consummate thief that he was, had been wearing gloves. And she’d be willing to bet that whoever else had handled her gun, whoever had killed Tiffany Starr, had also worn gloves.
She felt like she was twelve again and in trouble. Only this time she knew her trouble was serious. She found herself pleading her innocence. “I’d never met the woman until that day. She came in and gave me a false name. She wanted an expensive necklace reset. A necklace she stole. But why would they use my gun?”
“You got any idea who might have killed her?”
They were interrupted by the door opening. Charlie came in, took one look at her face and strode to her side. “What is it?” He held out his hands and without even thinking, she put hers into them. His clasp felt warm and reassuring.
“They used my gun to kill that poor woman.”
“Bastards.”
“You mind telling me who you are and what you know about all this?” her father commanded.
“Oh, Dad, I’m sorry,” she said before Charlie could speak. She released his hands. “Charles Pendegraff, meet my father, Jed Dabrowski.”
Charlie extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
Ignoring the hand, her father stood and glared at Charlie. “If anything happens to my Lexy while she’s with you, I’ll shoot you dead.”
“Dad—”
Letting his hand drop back to his side, Charlie pulled himself up to his full height. “If anything happens to Lexy while she’s with me, I’ll load the gun myself.”
The two men stared at each other, both tense and wary, and then to her amazement her father nodded, once, like he’d made up his mind about something. His prizefighter stance relaxed. “Good. We understand each other.”
He sat down on the luxurious couch and motioned them to do the same. “Now, suppose you tell me what the hell is going on?”
And, to her amazement, Charlie did. He explained that he’d been hired to retrieve the stones, and pretty much gave a full description of everything he knew and everything that had happened up to and including the moment she caught him stealing the necklace.
At this point, she took over the story before Charlie did anything stupid like incriminate himself. “Charlie saved my life, Dad. He got me out of there and convinced me to get right out of New York with him.” She didn’t tell her father that he’d “convinced” her using unorthodox methods.
“Damn it, Lex, you shoulda come to me,” her father said.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Ha, and wasn’t that the truth. At the time, she hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d been drugged into unconsciousness.
“It would have been a good thing if you had. Well, you’re not a suspect, but they’d sure like you to come down to the station and give a statement.”
“And I will. But not until after the gala. They wrecked my place and now it turns out they killed that woman in my home. Using my gun. I am so bringing that Grayson down.”
“I’ll help you,” Charlie said.
There was a tense pause. She looked at her father with appeal in her eyes.
“And so will I,” her father echoed.
And suddenly they were a team.
Another knock sounded on the door. She stiffened.
“That’ll be Healey,” Charlie said.
He rose and opened the door to Healey, who came in and swept a swift glance around the room, as though checking for weapons, before entering. Amanda came in behind him. She held herself stiffly away from him. Wow, Lexy thought, she really doesn’t like this guy.
“Healey, this is Jed Dabrowski, Lexy’s father. Jed, Healey’s my associate. And I assume you know Amanda?”
The two men shook hands, sizing each other up as they did so. The suite seemed to be pulsing with testosterone all of a sudden.
Thank heaven for Amanda, Lexy thought as her father said, “Hi, sweetheart,” and enveloped her in one of his bear hugs.
They sat around the ornate living area sharing information, and throwing out ideas.
“I want my daughter protected,” her dad said.
“Absolutely.” Charlie turned to Healey. “How many security guards do they usually hire for the Diamond Ball?”
“They call in twenty men from a private security firm. Six outside making sure nobody gets in who shouldn’t be there and that the guests get inside the mansion with all their jewels intact and back to their limos. Another six patrol the grounds and eight men work the interior. In addition, Grayson has a few permanent employees who wander around.”
“Okay. Could be better, could be worse. But I think we can make it work.”
He glanced at Jed. “I’m guessing, based on the bling at these events, that the NYPD has some kind of presence?”
“Sure. But I don’t get involved in that kinda crap.”
“This year, I think you should. See if you can get assigned to the detail. Lexy and I will both feel better if you’re on the premises.”
“Consider it done. Anybody who doesn’t already owe me a favor, soon will.”
“Excellent.”
Jed Dabrowski was looking at Charlie through narrowed eyes. “You’ve got something in mind?”
“Yeah. How ’bout I bring in some pizzas and we’ll go over the plan?”
So they sat over pizza and sodas making plans, contingency plans, thinking of everything that could go wrong and how to prevent disaster.
Hearing Charlie explain the details to someone new, she realized how simple his plan was. So simple she almost laughed. Except that nothing about murder and arson was funny.
After everyone left, there was a moment of awkwardness. She didn’t know what to do. It was nine-thirty, too early to go to bed, too strange to sit out here chatting with Charlie.
He seemed equally restless. He picked up a sports magazine, put it down.
Finally she said, “I apologize for my father. He’s very old school. You hurt his daughter and there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I respect his position. He seems like a good man.”
Her lips relaxed into a smile. “He is a good man. But tact was never his strong suit.”
“He’s worried about you.”
“I know.”
“Damn it, he’s right. Lexy, you don’t have to do this. I was crazy to suggest it. I’ll find another way.”
“Hey, I’m in this, too. Grayson burned down my house and business, remember?”
“Grayson’s a dangerous man.”
“So it seems. But he’ll be in a public venue with no idea that I’ll show up with his necklace on. What can he possibly do to us?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Hey, you’re not getting sentimental on me, are you?”
“No. Don’t want your father using me for target practice.”
He came closer, looked as though he were going to reach for her and then suddenly turned away. “Think I’ll get an early night. Busy day tomorrow.”
And he was gone.
16
SHE WAS KEYED UP, excited, nervous and—if she was honest with herself—a little nauseated.
She was like a little kid, getting ready hours too early for a birthday party. Charlie was mysteriously gone again and so she’d indulged in a bubble bath, shaved and plucked and polished herself. The manicurist, hairdresser and makeup artist had already been and she’d slipped on the lacy black un
derwear. All she was waiting for was the time to crawl along so she could slip into her dress.
Her freshly manicured fingers drummed against the upholstery. She tried to read the paper, but she couldn’t concentrate. She flipped on the television, flicked a few channels and then punched the off button.
She considered having a drink to calm her nerves, but decided she’d better keep a clear head for tonight.
She opened the closet and considered the dress hanging there. It wasn’t simply a dress. It was a net to catch a killer. The Isabella Emeralds the bait.
And they planned to snag a very sharp-toothed shark tonight.
She put a hand to her stomach. Phew. Pressed her lips together and the unfamiliar thickness of lipstick on her mouth reminded her of the unfamiliar amount of cosmetics she was wearing. The makeup felt oddly protective like a mask.
The shoes were in their box sitting on the bottom of the closet. She eased the box open, slipped the shoes on. Maybe if she walked around the suite in the unfamiliar gold heels it would ensure she was smoother tonight. At least the activity would give her something useful to do while she waited for time to pass, for Charlie to return, for the big night to begin.
She walked around the suite once, twice, until it felt more like pacing than walking.
Then she heard the key in the door.
Thank goodness.
It opened and Charlie walked in. He caught sight of her and it seemed as though he stopped, going completely still. He glanced at her hair, her face and all the way down to her new shoes. “I see the salon people have been,” he said at last in that lazy drawl.
The air between them felt suddenly electric and she’d never been more conscious that she was wearing nothing but a hotel robe and, under it, the skimpiest lingerie imported from France and a pair of gold heels.
“I always get ready early. It’s a curse. Then I have nothing to do with myself.”
“You look beautiful,” he said. It didn’t sound entirely like a compliment, more like an inconvenience.
“Thanks.”
He went to the hotel safe, punched in the code and popped the door. Out came the jewelry case that had started this nightmare. He opened the case and brought it to her.
The Isabella Emeralds.
“The jewels will look spectacular against your skin,” he said, like a connoisseur considering a painting for his house.
“I usually wear my own creations when I go out socially. It’s good advertising.”
He smiled briefly, stepping closer to her. “Next time I take you out, I promise you can wear your own merchandise. For tonight, you’ll have to settle for the emeralds.”
Even though she’d seen them, studied them, copied them, she was still awestruck by the brilliance and clarity of the gems. By the setting that was so perfect. The intricate setting that was both ornate and delicate had been designed and executed by a master craftsman. She’d handled a few pieces that might compare in value but never anything that also had historical importance, or that she would actually wear.
“Do you know the legend?” he said as he carefully lifted the glittering mass from its case.
She’d read everything she could find on the set and was fairly certain she knew the legend to which he was referring, but she chose to say, “Which legend?”
Charlie moved behind her, nudged her until she could see herself in the ornate mirror. Her hair was styled in a simple knot to keep it out of the way. She wanted nothing to distract the eye from the necklace.
As he moved behind her she felt his presence, felt the heat coming off his body, his breath stirring the skin at her nape. She felt the coolness of the stones and metal as they rested against her upper chest, under the white hotel robe.
“There’s a story that Isabella wanted so badly to finance Columbus’s voyage to the new world that she pawned her jewelry to raise the cash.”
He fingered the gems at her throat. “Among the other bounty he brought her, this gift was a nice repayment for her pawned stones.”
They both watched the green wink in the mirror. “I’ve rarely seen such a deep green but it’s characteristic of emeralds originating from the ancient Muzo mines of Colombia.”
The thought that Christopher Columbus had handled these gems, that Queen Isabella of Spain had worn them around her own neck, sent a thrill through Lexy.
“It’s also rumored that the stones inflamed the royal lust, giving her back the pleasure of youth.”
As he spoke, his fingers traced her collarbone, softly caressed the skin of her shoulders and neck in a gesture that felt both intimate and arousing.
“You made that up,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper.
“Want me to cite my sources?”
She felt her breath hitch. He was so close. His fingers were smooth and sure as they fastened the complicated clasp.
“Magnificent,” he said, his words stirring her hair. Their gazes connected in the mirror and it was as though an electric storm passed through her.
She felt transfixed, mute, could neither turn around nor throw out some flip remark. Instead she remained rooted to the spot, feeling her breath grow shallow. With every breath she felt the weight of the gems, could see the flash of light, the deep green and hot white diamond spark in the reflection. She needed the extra makeup, she realized, to match the drama of the jewels, and the sophisticated side twist of hair was perfect.
In slow motion she watched as Charlie eased the fluffy white robe to the side, revealing the jewels in their full glory. He didn’t remove his hands, so she felt the heat of his fingers burn into her flesh.
He bent closer, his eyes growing heavy with an emotion she recognized as desire because it so neatly mirrored her own. In slow motion she saw his lips come nearer, felt his breath on her shoulder and then the soft, warm press of his lips. “I’ve tried to stay away from you, but I don’t think I can do it any longer.”
A tiny tremulous sigh escaped her lips and she felt his curve slightly as he pressed his mouth to the pulse beating at her throat.
“You arouse me, bewitch me, make me crazy with wanting you.”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered in a voice she barely recognized. Must be all the stress, she thought dimly, causing both of them to act so crazy. She felt the light stubble of his beard as he kissed his slow way up to her ear, then whispered, “You are so beautiful. I want you.”
His clever thief’s hands then moved, tracing the front of her robe to the sash, which he slowly untied, pulling the edges apart and revealing her in the deliciously lacy bra and panties.
The robe fell to the floor and it was his turn to make an incomprehensible sound, half sigh, half moan.
Her body was on fire; she felt as much on display as the gems and the experience was intoxicating. “I want you, too.”
He touched her slowly, carefully, like a man who appreciates art and takes what he wants without asking permission. She saw herself being touched, watched his hands tracing the shape of her breasts through the filmy lingerie. His fingers looked dark against her pale skin.
He was fully dressed standing behind her, dark and serious but for the gleaming eyes that showed how close to the edge of passion he was.
“This is a terrible idea,” she said.
“I know.” And then he turned her around and pulled her into his arms, kissing her so hard she felt the breath squeeze out of her. His arms held her tight, hands running up and down her back as though he couldn’t get enough of her.
Her passion flared brighter than the flash of the gems as she ground herself against him, panting against his mouth, opening to him, offering generously and taking greedily at the same time.
She wanted everything, all of him, and she needed it now. His erection was strong and hard as she reached between them for his belt buckle.
He toed off his shoes, she tugged at his shirt. A jagged scar on his shoulder caught her attention as she pulled the shirt off him; she pressed her lips to the spot, tasti
ng heat and salt on his skin.
He dragged his boxers off, and then he was naked and magnificent before her.
He sucked her through the lacy bra, making her moan as her tingling nipples sprang to life. He peeled the lacy thong down her legs, then rose slowly, kissing whatever part of her was in reach of his mouth, her knee, her upper thigh, her belly, her breasts and finally her mouth, kissing her deeply while he reached between them and began to play in her curls, finding her slick and hot. When he rubbed her clit she found herself thrusting forward into his hand; when he pushed a finger inside her she cried out.
In her lust-fogged brain she managed to pant, “condom,” and he sped to the bathroom, returning with a package, which he ripped open as he ran back. In seconds he was sheathed and then his hot length was pressing against her, her arms wrapped around his neck. He scooped her up, and she opened for him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He backed her up to the wall, and with his eyes open on hers, thrust up and inside her body.
Oh, he felt so good, so absolutely right as he pushed deeply inside her, giving her a moment to adjust before moving, driving her up, up, until she was wild for release, her hips riding against him, her breasts pressed hard against his chest, the necklace pressing against their hearts.
Their mouths were fused, their bodies locked together and as they moved with a kind of frantic desperation she felt the delicious ache begin to spread, build, until she shattered against him, crying out into his mouth, feeling her body busting with light.
He muttered nonsense words against her mouth and then she felt him stiffen and cry out as he climaxed deep inside her.
She felt boneless as she slid down the wall and back to her feet, though she still needed to hold on to him as she was afraid she’d collapse to the floor if she didn’t.
He didn’t let her go. He was breathing heavily, his heart thumping hard against hers. She stroked his back, waited for both of them to come back down to earth.
She tilted her head back, eyed him through half-closed eyes. “Maybe I believe in that legend after all,” she said.