by Evie Hunter
How could she? The deceitful little whore. She was way too good at this. How much practice had she had? How many men had she smiled at while she was lying?
Her performance in the bar came back to haunt him. At the time, he was convinced she was teasing him. Only him. Now he wondered if she had intended to drive the entire place demented.
Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it. Two could play at that game. Now that he knew she was an accomplished little liar, he would be ready for her. He would get the truth out of her, and what’s more, he would enjoy every minute of it.
She had the most sensitive, responsive little body. It was a pleasure to see her writhing around on the bed, begging him to bring her relief.
But suppose he used her own body against her? He could drive her mad, bringing her to the edge again and again, until she would tell him anything he wanted to know, if he would only give her what she needed.
Niall smiled, a hard smile filled with promises. He was going to enjoy this.
He hadn’t finished contemplating what he was going to do to her, when the phone rang again.
‘Niall Moore, what am I paying you for?’ Tim O’Sullivan demanded. ‘You had one job, keep Sinead from messing with the bail, and what did you do?’ He paused. ‘You made a bollocks of it, that’s what you did.’
Niall winced. ‘There were other factors.’ It sounded as lame to him as it did to O’Sullivan.
‘Your job was to keep Sinead in line.’
‘And find the Fire of Autumn,’ he reminded Tim.
‘Yes, well, that’s what I’m ringing about. What’s this I hear about her being out of the country? That had better be a mistake. If she doesn’t turn up for court, my million francs will be gone. So you’d better make damn sure she turns up. Understand?’
O’Sullivan was in fine form, determined to get his own way.
‘Certainly sir. I’ll have her there.’ He paused. Some perverse part of him itched to ask a question he already knew the answer to. ‘What can you tell me about Sinead’s twin?’
There was silence on the other end of the line. ‘Her what?’
‘Her twin. She said she has a twin called Roisin.’
‘Jesus man, it’s too early to be drinking. Sinead doesn’t have a twin. Roisin was her invisible friend. You know what kids are like.’
‘Are you sure?’ Niall knew he was grasping at straws. Sinead had played him for a fool.
Tim snorted. ‘The poor child was traumatized. She was lucky she survived at all, considering the way – Anyway, enough nonsense. Just make sure you get her back to Geneva on Tuesday.’ He hung up.
Andy was out. A scrawled message on the kitchen counter indicated that he was following up a lead. She was about to show it to Niall, when she realized that the colour had leached from his face. From the hard set of his jaw, Sinead could see he was fighting pain.
He poured a glass of water and popped three pills into his mouth. ‘So, when did you meet Gabriel?’
Sinead scrambled for a suitable response. He wasn’t going to let it go. Was that what was eating him? How could she tell him about Gabriel without mentioning Lottie? She couldn’t say that Gabriel was sweet and funny, with a wicked sense of fun. Or that he was intuitive when they were choreographing new routines, always knowing how best to display and entice. Of all her regular dancers over the years, he was the only one she had taken as a lover.
Yeah, she bet Niall would love hearing that.
That part of their relationship had ended a long time ago and she and Gabriel had settled into a close friendship, with occasional friendly flirting. Sinead sighed. ‘We met in London a few years ago, at the theatre.’
That was technically correct, even if they had been auditioning, rather than watching.
‘Were you lovers?’
There was an edge to Niall’s voice that she didn’t like. He had no right to ask her that question. They had shared amazing sex, but Niall had never pretended that it was anything more than that. He hadn’t offered her any details about his former lovers. For all she knew, he could have a string of women back in London. Except for the niggling voice inside her that told her Niall didn’t get involved.
‘That’s none of your business.’ Damn it, she wasn’t going to stay here. Niall had no right to pry into her past. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Seconds later, it flew open. ‘What is wrong with you? I asked you a simple question. What do you think it’s going to be like when Interpol get their hands on you?’
‘Interpol?’
‘As soon as you left Geneva, it became an Interpol matter.’
Niall raked his fingers through his hair and she almost felt sympathy for him. He couldn’t disguise the fact that he was bone-tired and that he had been operating on adrenalin and painkillers for far too long. But that still didn’t give him the right to harass her.
‘Tim rang earlier. He knows you’ve left Switzerland, and he wants you back there, keeping his money safe. I told him I would guarantee it.’
Her heart sank. How could she have forgotten Niall wasn’t here to help her? She was a job, nothing more. He was working for her uncle.
‘If there is any hope of getting you out of this mess, you have to co-operate.’
‘I’m trying. Believe me. When I meet with my sister –’
Niall shook his head. ‘Fine. We can play it your way if you want, but listen to me and listen carefully. Until we return to Geneva, you don’t eat, sleep or move without my permission.’
She swallowed. His flinty gaze told her he meant exactly that. She sat down heavily on the bed. ‘You can’t do that. I’m not a prisoner. I have rights. I …’
‘You’ve broken bail by leaving Switzerland. And Hall and his buddies are no doubt still looking for you. So feel free to walk out of here anytime.’
He was right. She had nowhere left to go. Sinead stared at him. The man who had kissed her and made love to her had turned into a cold stranger.
‘The stone goes back to the museum within three days or you do seven years in a Swiss prison – that’s the only deal that Rheinbach is offering.’
Seven years or more in prison if they couldn’t get the stone back from Roisin. She would be old before they released her. Old and in disgrace.
Logically, she knew that thirty-four was not that old, but she would never get another job. And all for a crime she hadn’t committed. Sinead slid off the bed and walked to the window. Despite the late afternoon sun, she shivered. She had far too many secrets. She wished she had told Niall about Lottie at the beginning, but if she tried to tell him now, he would believe she’d been lying about everything. There had to be a way out of this.
Outside, it was a beautiful evening. Paris was laid out in front of her – the most romantic city in the world. It should be an evening for strolling hand in hand with a lover or having a romantic dinner. She pressed her palm against the glass and focused her attention on a bird that had landed on the window ledge outside. She shrugged. ‘I didn’t take the stone. I can prove it to you when we find my sister.’
A flicker crossed his face but it turned back into a granite mask. ‘Look at me, Sinead. Let me make you a promise. By the time this is over there will be no secrets between us. I will know everything about you and I mean everything.’
‘Why are you acting like this? What’s wrong with you?’
His face had turned paler than before and he swayed on his feet. ‘There is nothing wrong with me.’
‘That’s what you think. Now, lie down before you fall down. I’ll be outside.’
In the sitting room, she threw herself onto the sofa. What had happened since last night? How could Niall have changed so much in twenty-four hours? It had to be more than the visit to Gabriel.
Their encounters in the Château had been mind-blowing. She had never known that anything could feel so good. But had it been nothing more than a ruse to get her to open up to him?
Was Niall so ruthless that he w
ould make love to her to get the stone back? And what was all that Dom stuff about? What had he been trying to do? Turn her into an obedient little sub who would obey his every word? Get her so hooked on him that she couldn’t think straight? Had it all been lies from the beginning? Get the girl into the sack and get her to talk.
A pity fuck for Plain Jane Sinead.
She remembered the way he had looked at her. The way his grey eyes had turned molten with passion. Could he really have faked that? Sinead punched a cushion and tossed it onto the floor. The only person who stood between her and prison was a man she couldn’t trust and who didn’t trust her. The only thing they had in common was a desire to find the stone and return it to the museum.
When she found her sister, she would show him. Niall Moore could go to hell in a basket. See if she cared.
She switched on the television. She was perfectly happy watching reruns of True Blood until it was time to make dinner. And Niall Moore could fend for himself. Damned if she was cooking for him.
25
The smell of coffee woke her. Sinead blinked and Andy came into focus. He waved a coffee cup beneath her nose. ‘Glad to see that one of you is alive. What did you do to the big guy?’
Memories of the previous day came flooding back. ‘If he’s still alive, then obviously not enough.’
‘That bad, eh?’ His dark eyes held a hint of sympathy.
Sinead struggled to a sitting position and took the cup gratefully from him.
Andy collected his cup from the kitchen along with a bag from the bakery and joined her on the couch. ‘Don’t give him a hard time. This mission has been tough on him too.’
Sinead frowned. ‘He’s not the one who’s likely to end up in a Swiss prison. I am.’
Andy set down his cup and raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Someone got out of the wrong side of the bed.’
‘Someone didn’t get to bed at all. In case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t bother turning on the lights when I got in. I wasn’t home ’til after four and I didn’t notice you curled up on the couch.’
‘Hot date?’
‘As if.’ He sighed. ‘I got intel that Hall was checking out some of the BDSM clubs. I did a trawl but there was no sign of him.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t like the sound of that. Hall was still out there and he was looking for her sister. The sooner she found Roisin, the better.
‘Is there any coffee left in that pot?’ Niall’s voice came from behind them.
‘I’ll make some fresh.’
While Andy busied himself in the kitchen, Sinead risked a glance at Niall from beneath her eyelashes. His hair hung damply around his shoulders. He hadn’t spoken to her or looked at her. She could do just the same to him.
She turned away and pulled a piece from her croissant. She hadn’t bothered cooking in the end. She’d been too mad at Niall. Her stomach growled in protest. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any jam?’
Andy opened the fridge. ‘Afraid not. We need to shop.’
‘We won’t be here for much longer.’
Niall’s statement made Andy raise an eyebrow. He looked from her to Niall and back again. ‘Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?’
The buzz of the telephone prevented Niall from responding. ‘Yes,’ he snapped. ‘When?’
He darted an unreadable glance at her and she shivered. Something was very wrong.
‘Stay where you are. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’
Niall disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. ‘Holy fuck. You let me sleep for fifteen hours?’
Andy shrugged. ‘Don’t blame me. I wasn’t here.’
He shot an accusing glare at Sinead and she couldn’t resist baiting him. ‘Do I look like an alarm clock? I’m not the one who was popping pills for the past three days.’
‘You’re not the one who needed to.’
The edge to his voice silenced her. He was right. It was her fault that he had been injured. ‘I’m sorry, I –’
Niall shook his head. ‘I’m sorry too. I … Sinead, there’s been an incident at Maurice Verdon’s antique shop. He’s dead.’
No, it had to be a mistake. Maurice couldn’t be dead. But the expression on Niall’s face told the truth. The funny little man she had known since her first year at Sotheby’s was gone. ‘What happened?’
‘They think it was a break-in that went wrong early this morning. I’m heading over there now. Stay with Andy until I get back.’
Through the fog of shock, her brain continued to work. Maurice was trying to help her. He was looking for information to help her find Roisin. But why would Maurice be at his shop in the middle of the night? That didn’t sound right. ‘I’m going with you.’
‘No.’
‘You said you weren’t going to let me out of your sight. Give me five minutes to get changed.’
Ignoring his protests, she hurried to the bedroom, showered quickly, changed her clothes and hurried back to the sitting room. Niall and Andy were deep in conversation and they stopped talking when she arrived. ‘I’m ready.’
Niall was silent in the elevator and barely said a word to her on the journey. This just got worse and worse. She grappled with the idea that Maurice was dead. How was it possible?
They parked in the side street near the antique store, and as they turned the corner, crime scene tape fluttered against the scaffolding of the building next door.
The sign announced that the shop was ‘fermé’ but the light was on. Inside, the shop assistant was sitting at the desk talking to another woman. Niall and Sinead pushed the door and the bell rang announcing their arrival. At the sight of them, Madame burst into tears and her visitor gave them a pleading glance. She patted Madame on the shoulder and left the shop. A grandfather clock ticked sonorously as Sinead approached the desk.
‘Je suis désolée,’ she began, but Madame wasn’t inclined to be consoled.
‘Bâtards. I warned Maurice not to have anything to do with them. He …’
‘To do with whom, Madame?’ Niall interrupted her.
She waved her arm. ‘Them. Those men, he talked to them in secret. Told me it was better not to know. Maurice kept his own counsel about his business affairs. What am I to do now, eh? Nineteen years I have worked for him.’
She searched in the drawer of the desk and removed a packet of Gauloises and a lighter. She fumbled with the packet and Niall flicked the lighter when she finally got the cigarette between her shaking fingers.
‘What time did you last see him?’
Madame shrugged. ‘He said he was working late on his accounts. I went home as usual. This morning, the baker across the street phoned me that the door of the shop was open. It was around 4 a.m. He rang the police. When I got here …’
She drew heavily on her cigarette. ‘The ambulance was here, but it was too late. The knife went too deep.’
‘May we see the room, Madame?’
‘I don’t know. The police –’
‘Have already been here,’ Niall finished smoothly. ‘It will only take a moment and then we will leave you to your grieving.’
She ground the end of the cigarette into a replica of a Chinese bon bon dish and removed the keys from the drawer. ‘As you wish.’
As they followed her up the stairs, Sinead’s heart thumped. She didn’t want to do this. What if there was blood? What if there was –
‘Sinead?’
Niall’s voice brought her back to reality. ‘I’m fine,’ she insisted.
Madame unlocked the door of the office. Everything was as tidy as it had been the day that they had visited him. Apart from a new crack on one display case, the locks on the cabinets were intact. The tray on the desk was laid with a pot of coffee and two Limoges porcelain cups and saucers. Maurice had been expecting a visitor.
Sinead’s stomach heaved when she saw the dark stain on the floor. The colour had already leached into the varnished oak. Niall picked up a bunch of key
s from the desk. Sinead recognized the battered leather fob from the day they had been here. Robbery wasn’t the reason for Maurice’s murder.
From his expression, Niall was coming to the same conclusion. ‘Do you know if anything is missing, Madame?’
She gestured to the cases. ‘The police asked the same question. Nothing appears to have been taken, but it will take time to do a full inventory.’
‘The earrings you bought were the best thing he had in stock. He said you always had a good eye.’
Sinead nodded. ‘I should have. Maurice was one of those who trained me.’
Madame nodded sadly. ‘D’accord. Me too.’
Sinead left Niall having a final check while she went outside for some fresh air. Outside the shop, Sinead inhaled deeply. It was starting to rain but she didn’t bother to shelter. She wanted to wash all of this away.
‘Meurtrière.’ The shout came from the bakery across the street and an apron-clad man emerged. ‘Meurtrière,’ he shouted again and she flinched. He was shouting at her and waving his arms. Murderess. Murderess.
‘Je t’ai vue hier soir.’ His shouts grew louder and he looked around him seeking assistance.
‘Appelez les gendarmes,’ he roared at a woman emerging from the flower shop to see what was happening on the street. ‘La rousse s’est renvoyée.’
The redhead had returned. She hadn’t been here for days.
Her breath caught. Roisin was a redhead, just like her. Could he have seen Roisin? Her sister wouldn’t hurt anyone, would she? Oh sweet god. They were staring at her, but her thoughts whirled, wondering if Roisin could be involved in Maurice’s murder. No, it wasn’t possible.
A small crowd gathered. A woman holding the hand of a toddler gave her a wary look and crossed to the other side of the street. Niall’s hand on her elbow broke her paralysis.
‘Sinead, are you all right? You’re chalk white.’
She clutched his arm. ‘We have to get out of here.’
Niall took Sinead’s arm and guided her back to the Jeep. She had paled until even her lips had blanched, and her body was stiff. All the classic symptoms of shock.