by Nora Roberts
TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE Jack’s alarm rang, Gideon brewed the first pot of coffee of the day. He rooted through Tia’s cupboards and found the poppy seed bagels. He was beginning to appreciate the Americans’ fondness for bagels. While the others slept, he tucked a bagel into his jacket pocket, poured an oversized mug of black coffee and headed to the door.
He’d have his breakfast, and a morning smoke, up on the roof.
He opened the door and stared at the attractive black woman who had her finger poised to ring the buzzer.
She jumped; he tensed. And when she let out a quick, nervous giggle, he shifted gears smoothly.
“Gave us both a jolt, didn’t it?” He offered her a broad smile. “Something I can help you with?”
“I’m Carrie Wilson, a friend of Tia’s.” She shifted her gears as skillfully as he, and studied him carefully now. “You must be Malachi.”
“Actually, I’m Gideon. Tia’s mentioned you. Are you coming in?”
Her measuring gaze narrowed. “Gideon who?”
“Sullivan.” He stepped back in invitation just as Malachi came out of the bedroom. “That would be Mal. We’re just starting to stir. We had a late night.”
Still on the edge of the threshold, Carrie goggled at both men. “Good God, she’s got two of you? I don’t know whether to be impressed or . . . I’ll stick with impressed.”
“Actually, one of them’s mine.” Cleo, wearing nothing but a man’s T-shirt, strolled out of the spare room. “Great shoes,” she said after giving Carrie the once-over. “Who are you?”
“Rewind.” Jaw set, Carrie marched in, shut the door. “Who are you? And where’s Tia?”
“She’s sleeping yet.” Malachi aimed a smile that was every bit as potent as Gideon’s—and, in Carrie’s opinion, just as suspicious. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch the name.”
“I’m Carrie Wilson. And I want to see Tia right this minute.” She set her briefcase down, pushed up the sleeves of her Donna Karan jacket. “Or I start kicking some ass.”
“Start with one of them,” Cleo requested. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“Why don’t you pour some for everyone?” Malachi said. “Tia’s just sleeping in a bit. We were up late.”
“Move aside.” Carrie took a meaningful step closer. “Now.”
“Suit yourself.” He moved out of her path and watched her stride into the bedroom. “I think we’re going to need that coffee.”
The drapes were drawn. All Carrie saw in the dim light was a lump in the middle of the bed. A tongue of fear licked over her annoyance as she thought of all the things a trio of strangers might have done to her trusting, vulnerable friend.
There’d been a bulge in the dark-haired man’s jacket pocket. A gun, she thought. They were drugging Tia, holding her at gunpoint. Terrified at what she’d find, Carrie tore the sheets away.
There was Tia, buck naked and curled in a cozy ball. She blinked sleepily, started to stretch, then let out a thin scream.
“Carrie!”
“What’s going on here? Who are those people? Are you all right?”
“What? What?” With a blush rising from her toes, Tia crossed her arms modestly over her breasts. “What time is it?”
“What the hell difference does that make? Tia, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me, except . . . Jesus, Carrie, I’m naked. Give me the sheet.”
“Let me see your arms.”
“My what?”
“I want to check for needle marks.”
“Needle—Carrie, I’m not on drugs.” Keeping one arm tight over her breasts, she held out the other. “I’m perfectly fine. I told you about Malachi.”
“More or less. You didn’t mention the other two. And when my best friend, whose toes would fall off if she considered jaywalking, asks me to break the law, she’s not perfectly fine.”
“I’m naked,” was all Tia could think of. “I can’t talk to you when I’m naked. I have to get dressed.”
“Christ.” Impatiently, Carrie stomped to the closet, yanked it open. She sniffed, audibly, when she spotted the men’s shirts hanging beside Tia’s clothes. Then she pulled out a robe, tossed it on the bed. “Put that on, then start talking.”
“I can’t tell you everything.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.” Tia stuck her arms in the robe, dragged it around her. And immediately felt better.
“Tia, if those people are pressuring you into something—”
“They’re not. I promise. I’m doing something I need to do, something I want to do. For them, yes, but for me, too. Carrie, I bought a red sweater.”
The lecture on the tip of Carrie’s tongue fell away. “Red?”
“Cashmere. I don’t seem to be allergic to wool after all.
I’ve missed my last two standing appointments with Dr. Lowenstein, and I canceled my monthly appointment with my allergist. I haven’t used my inhaler in over a week. Well, once,” she corrected. “But that was pretend, so it doesn’t count. And I’ve never felt better in my life.”
Carrie sat on the side of the bed. “A red sweater?”
“Really red. I’m thinking about getting a Wonderbra to go under it. And it doesn’t matter to him. He likes me when I wear dirt brown and dull underwear. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yeah. Tia, are you doing what you’re doing because you’re in love with him?”
“No. I started doing it before I fell in love with him. All the way in love anyway. It’s connected, Carrie, but it’s not the why. I shouldn’t have asked you to get that information on Anita Gaye. I’m sorry I did. Let’s forget it.”
“I’ve already got the data.” With a sigh, Carrie got to her feet. “You get dressed. I’m going to have some coffee and decide if I’m going to give the data to you.” She crossed to the door, turned back. “I love you, too, Tia,” she said, then closed the door behind her.
And scanned the trio in the living room.
The woman with the legs was sprawled on the sofa, sipping coffee with her feet propped on the thigh of the hunk who’d opened the front door.
Hunk number two was leaning against the opening into the kitchen.
“You.” She pointed at Gideon. “What’s the bulge in your pocket?”
“Bulge.” Cleo gave a wicked laugh, then poked Gideon’s ribs with her toes. “You happy to see me, Slick?”
“It’s nothing.” Vaguely embarrassed, he dug into his pocket. “Just a bagel.”
“Is that the last poppy seed?” Cleo straightened, snatched it out of his hand. “You were sneaking off with the last poppy seed bagel. That’s low.” She unfolded herself. “Just for that, I’m eating it. No weapons,” she added for Carrie’s benefit, then strolled into the kitchen.
“Would you like coffee?” Malachi offered.
“Cream, no sugar.”
“Cleo, be a pal. Cream, no sugar for Miss Wilson here.”
“Work, work, work,” came the mutter from the kitchen.
“First question,” Carrie began. “Tia claims she can’t tell me what she’s involved in. Is she protecting you?”
“No. She’s protecting you. You don’t have to ask the second question, I’ll just answer it. She matters very much to me, and I’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep her from being hurt. She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
“Just for that,” Cleo said from behind him, “you get half my bagel. You’re a friend of Tia’s,” she continued, nodding at Carrie. “So am I. You’ve got seniority, but that doesn’t mean I’m less of a friend.”
Considering, Carrie looked at Gideon. “And you?”
“I love her,” he said simply, then grinned a little at the looks he got from Cleo and Malachi. “In a warm and brotherly fashion. Do I get the other half of the bagel?”
“No.”
“I’m under constant abuse.” He got to his feet. “I’m going up and having a smoke. If Becca or Jack call, let me know.�
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“Becca? Jack?” Carrie turned to Malachi as Gideon walked out of the apartment.
“Rebecca’s our sister. Jack’s another friend of Tia’s.”
“She certainly stockpiled a lot of friends in a short time.”
“I guess I was saving up,” Tia said as she came out of the bedroom.
Carrie glanced over, sighed again. “I told you red would look great on you.”
“Yes.” With a little smile, Tia brushed a hand over her new sweater. “You always did.”
Carrie went to her, took both Tia’s hands, looked hard into her eyes. “You wouldn’t have asked me to do this if it wasn’t important. Really important.”
“No, I wouldn’t have.”
“When you can, you’re going to explain everything.”
“You’ll be the first.”
She nodded, then turned to Malachi. “If whatever’s going on here hurts her, in any way, shape or form, I’m coming after you. And I’m taking you down.”
“I’ll hold your coat,” Cleo offered and bit into her bagel. “Sorry, Mal, we girls have to stick together.”
“I’m probably going to like you,” Carrie decided. “All three of you. I sure as hell hope so, since I broke several federal laws acquiring the information I’m about to give you.”
“For that, you get a whole bagel. We’ve got cinnamon, plain and onion.”
Carrie offered Cleo her first smile. “I’ll live recklessly and go for the cinnamon.”
ABOUT THE TIME Carrie was polishing off her bagel and explaining the details of Anita Gaye and Morningside Antiquities’ financial picture, Anita was having breakfast in bed.
Now that she’d had time to think, and a bit more rest, she wasn’t so upset about the attempted break-in. She’d just consider it a wake-up call.
Nobody and nothing was to be trusted.
It was true that the security had held. But as far as she knew that might have been dumb luck or due to some foolish mistake by the thieves. She’d have Jack Burdett and company go over the system, inch by inch. And when they were done, she’d call in another consultant, have them evaluate the system.
One doctor tells you something’s wrong with your body, a smart woman gets a second opinion. Morningside was every bit as vital to her as her own health. Without it, her business and social contacts would start to dry up, and her income would suffer a serious shortfall.
Anita Gaye took care of Anita Gaye.
She sat back against the pillows, sipped her coffee and glanced toward the doors of her walk-in closet. Behind the side panel where her day-wear suits hung in a meticulous, color-coordinated row was a safe even the household staff knew nothing about.
The Fate was tucked away now. She was glad the break-in had jolted her into bringing it here. She’d long since stopped thinking of it as an asset for Morningside, but as a personal belonging.
For the right price, of course, she’d sell it without a moment’s sentimental hesitation. But when she had all three, she would wallow in it for a while. Her little secret. And she was considering keeping them for a short time. Perhaps putting them on loan—briefly—and reaping the publicity.
Anita Gaye, the skinny girl from Queens, would have made the biggest find, successfully executed the splashiest coup of the century. You couldn’t buy that kind of respect and power, she mused. You couldn’t inherit it from your rich, elderly and conveniently deceased husband.
It was going to be hers, she thought. Whatever it took. Whoever had to pay.
After pouring the second cup of coffee from her favorite Derby pot, she picked up the portable phone on her bed tray and called Jack’s cell phone.
“Burdett.” He was drinking coffee himself, and nibbling on Rebecca’s fingers.
“Jack, Anita.” She worked tears into her voice. “I want to apologize for my behavior this morning. I had no right to take things out on you the way I did.”
Jack winked at Rebecca. “No need to apologize, Anita. You’d had a bad shock, were understandably upset.”
“Regardless, you were there for me, just as your system was there for Morningside. I feel dreadful about it.”
“It’s forgotten,” he said while Rebecca mimed strangling herself and gagging. “I’m on my way back to Morningside right now,” he began.
“Pants on fire,” Rebecca whispered and got a light bop on the head.
“I’m going over the system personally. I’ve already called in my best tech to do an analysis. We’ll both be there within the hour. Whatever vulnerabilities allowed the system to be breached as far as it was will be corrected. You have my word.”
“I know I can count on you. I’ll meet you there, if you don’t mind. I’d feel better knowing more of what’s involved.”
“I’ll take you through it.”
“I’m so grateful. Jack, I wonder if you’ve had any time to work on that other matter we discussed.”
“Cleo Toliver, right?” He gave Rebecca the thumbs-up sign. “As a matter of fact, I got some data just last night. I intended to write up a report for you today. Slipped my mind with the trouble this morning.”
“Oh, I don’t need anything as formal as a written report. Anything you can tell me—”
“I’ll fill you in when I see you. How’s that? I’m glad you’re sounding more yourself, Anita. I’ll see you at Morningside.” He clicked off before she could answer.
“Butter wouldn’t melt,” he commented, and pulled Rebecca into his lap. “What do you want to bet she’s figured out a way to scam the insurance claim?”
“I don’t take sucker bets.” She touched her lips to his, then just sank in.
“We gotta go,” he murmured.
“Mmm. I think we’ve gotten caught in terrible traffic.” His hands slid under her shirt. “It’s a jungle out there,” he agreed. “What’s five more minutes?”
It was fifteen, but he wasn’t counting.
By the time Anita arrived, he had Rebecca suited up in coveralls and a gimme cap, running a system check, with a few finesses. He’d measured and ordered the replacement glass for the window and was outside on the sidewalk studying the delivery entrance.
“My assistant said you’d be out here.” She looked delicately pale. “I thought the staff would be nervous,” she began. “But they seem to be more excited.”
“A lot of people react that way, especially when it’s not their property that’s been violated. How you holding up?”
“I’m fine now. Really. I’ve got so much paperwork to do over this, it’ll keep my mind busy. Why are you out here?”
“Wanted to take a look. I have to figure they did a study of the building, the neighborhood. Traffic patterns, patrols, angle of vision from residential buildings nearby. And they picked the best spot. Upper window. Calculated risk that would be most vulnerable. Replacement glass will be installed by five. Guaranteed.”
“Thank you, Jack.” She laid a hand on his arm. “Morningside was Paul’s life.” She let out a shaky breath. “And he entrusted it to me. I couldn’t bear letting him down.”
Spare me, Jack thought, but laid a hand over hers. “We’ll take care of it for him. That’s a promise.”
“I feel better knowing that. Let’s walk around to the front. I could use the time to clear my head a bit more.”
“Fine. I’ll go over the system with you. My tech’s in there now. If there’s a hole, we’ll plug it.”
“I know. Paul considered you the best. So do I. I trust you, Jack. That’s why I asked for your help regarding this Toliver woman. You said you found out something?”
“It was tricky.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “But I don’t like to disappoint a client. Or a friend.” He ran through basic information he was sure she already knew, listened to her feign surprise as he mentioned Cleo’s parents’ names.
“For heaven’s sake, I know Andrew Toliver. Slightly, strictly socially, but . . . This woman who threatened me is his daughter? What a world.”
“Classic black sheep. Troublemaker,” he added, knowing Cleo would grin wickedly at the rundown. “Problems in school, minor brushes with juvie. Hasn’t had much luck landing permanent jobs as a dancer. Looks like she’s just back in New York from Eastern Europe. I’m still digging into that. It’s not a simple matter to get information from that area.”
“I appreciate your trying. Did you find an address for her?”
“Address on record’s the apartment she had before she took off for Europe. Moved out about eight months ago. She’s not living there now. In fact, she’s not in New York at all.”
Anita stopped dead. “What do you mean she’s not in New York? She has to be. She contacted me. I met her here.”
“That was then, this is now. Cleopatra Toliver, the one who matches your description and the passport number I was able to finesse, left for Greece this morning. Athens.”
“Athens.” She turned, and her fingers dug into his arm. “You’re sure about that?”
“I’ve got the airline, flight and ticket number back at my place. Since I figured you’d want to know, I called and confirmed the flight after I talked to you this morning. She’s been in the air about an hour.” He reached for the door of Morningside. “She’s headed several thousand miles away, Anita. You don’t have to worry about her now.”
“What?” She pulled herself back. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Athens,” Anita repeated. “She’s gone to Athens.”
Twenty-five
WITH her feet propped on the counter while she paged through one of a stack of computer magazines she’d stockpiled, Rebecca manned the listening post. She paused in the middle of an article, ears pricking as she heard Anita’s voice snapping out orders.
Smiling, Rebecca swiveled the chair, picked up the phone. “The rat’s taken the cheese,” she said. “Tell Tia she’s on. Then somebody come relieve me. I’m bored half to death.”
“We’ll be along.” Malachi hung up the secured line. “It’s your cue, darling,” he said to Tia. “Are you set?”
“I didn’t think she’d move so fast.” Tia pressed a hand to her nervous stomach and felt the soft nap of her new red sweater. “I’m set. I’ll meet you all back at Jack’s.”