Nights with a Thief

by Marilyn Pappano

  He didn’t believe what he was saying, and it was clear she didn’t, either, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she resettled in her seat, forehead knit in a frown, and gestured grudgingly at the upcoming highway sign. “Get off here.”

  He exited and turned toward her neighborhood. A distinctly uncomfortable air settled in the truck rather quickly, but he didn’t let it get to him. Irritation, he could take. Threats against her, he couldn’t.

  But damned if he didn’t like, at least a bit, the idea of being her hero.

  * * *

  “Doesn’t look like luck was with Padma this morning,” Jack commented, directing her attention to the house, where Padma sat on the porch steps, knees drawn up, arms around them, chin down. She looked bereft, not her usual reaction to losing a competition.

  “Padma doesn’t pout when she loses. She immediately starts scheming how to win next time—and there’s always a next time. I wonder if her copter crashed or something.” As soon as Jack parked, Lisette undid her seat belt and opened the door. She’d hoped to get home before her friend, to clean up and change and totally minimize what had happened, but no hope of that.

  When she slid out of the truck, the moment her feet touched the ground, a gasp escaped her, and she grabbed the door for balance. Ah, jeez, every place on her body throbbed, from the cuts and abrasions on her calves to the scalp that she was sure still hosted a load of dirt and pebbles. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Even the fresh air on her bloody scrapes hurt.

  Jack came around to her as Padma launched off the steps and headed their way. He slid one supporting arm around her waist and murmured, “You still sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

  She pasted on a cheery smile. “I’m sure.”

  “Oh my God, Lisette, you won’t believe—” Rounding her car, Padma came to an abrupt stop, her dark eyes widening. “What happened to you? You look terrible. Are you all right? Do I need to call Daddy?”

  Though there was a part of her that wouldn’t mind one bit being fussed over by Doctors Mom and Dad, Lisette shook her head. “I’m fine. Just bruised a bit.”

  “And filthy. You both look like you rolled around in the dirt. What happened?”

  “We rolled around in the dirt,” Jack replied cheerfully, earning himself a scowl from her normally cheery roomie.

  Lisette hesitated. She would tell Padma the truth—they might lie to everyone else but not each other—but not this minute. Not until she found out what had upset her. “Remember how Mom used to say it wasn’t the fall that killed you, it was the landing?” When Padma bobbed her head, Lisette smiled wryly. “Well, I got lucky with the landing. What’s going on with you?”

  Padma gave her a head-to-toe look, reluctant to let go of the subject so easily, but then her eyes clouded and she stepped a few feet closer, her voice lowering. “Someone broke in while we were gone. They ransacked every room. My laptop’s in pieces.”

  Her lower lip trembled for a moment, stirring Lisette’s sympathy. Her own laptop was a convenience. Padma’s was her auxiliary brain. She’d had it built to her specifications, paid a small fortune for it and was rarely more than arm’s length away from it.

  Lisette gritted back a groan and hugged her. “Oh, Padma, I’m so sorry. But all your stuff was saved elsewhere, right? All your work stuff?” She felt selfish asking but went on. “All our work stuff?”

  “Yes, of course. But I loved that computer.” For half a second, she rested her head on Lisette’s shoulder, then abruptly pulled back and grasped her arms. Even though they stood only a foot apart and no one was in sight in any direction but Jack, Padma still lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “They took the fancy red.”

  Lisette’s stomach dropped, and it wasn’t entirely the realization that the credit card bill for her party dress and shoes would be arriving soon, a staggering amount for her working woman income, or the fact that she owed Padma a share of the quadcopter costs, since they were using it for pleasure and business.

  No, this was fear. Shock. Consternation that for the first time someone could actually connect her to a burglary. The fact that it was David Candalaria, the man with more millions than brain cells, didn’t soften the blow to her ego one bit.

  “Crap,” Lisette muttered at the same time Jack murmured an earthier version. She met his gaze. “Do you think it’s laser-inscribed?” An identification number etched onto the girdle of the stone could prove it was David’s stone, and from there, the likeliest conclusions to leap to were that the thief had given it to her or she was the thief. The first didn’t bode well for Jack. Neither boded well for her.

  Jack shrugged. “He didn’t seem to care much about it when we talked last night. He didn’t even connect the red as Bella’s trademark. He did say it had been bought by his grandfather. Laser etching wasn’t available back then, and I doubt David bothered to have it done when it became available. He said he kept the red in a dish with other stones that were worth about a half million dollars.”

  Padma’s jaw dropped. “A half million dollars? You could have taken the entire dish, and you took the time to pick out one small stone? What were you thinking?”

  “That I was covering our costs. We were never in this to get rich. That would make us no better than—” She broke off abruptly, her gaze darting to Jack’s handsome face, then quickly away.

  “No better than me?” He didn’t sound offended, and when she finally peeked, he didn’t look it, either.

  “No,” she snapped, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t mean—We’d be no better than our targets. We’re bad guys because it’s the only way we can help the good guys.”

  Padma hastened to reassure her. “I know, I’m just teasing. I admire that you weren’t even tempted, because I would have. Been tempted, I mean. I wouldn’t have stolen them.” Her expression grew more somber. “Sweetie, Candalaria knows. No one has ever known. What do we do now?”

  Lisette didn’t want to admit that she didn’t have a clue. No one in the entire art world had any idea who Bella Donna was. A lot of people believed she was just a myth created by another thief for the fun—and protection—of it. The fancy reds had been the only link between the crimes, and they had never led anyone anywhere.

  Except Jack.

  Lord, all she wanted right now was a shower, ibuprofen and her bed. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tempted herself with the image: the water pounding to beat away her pains, the superthick fluffy towels so big that she could practically swaddle herself...and maybe Jack doing the swaddling. He would be gentle toweling the water from her hair and patient working the comb through her nightmare curls, and when he was done...

  The image swept away like a balloon pricked by a pin. When he was done, he would tuck her in, maybe kiss her forehead and leave her there while he went off to confront David because she’d made such a mess of things.

  “He doesn’t have proof,” Jack said. “Not the sort that matters.”

  Lisette opened her eyes to join Padma in studying him. He looked as if none of them had a care in the world. Given that he’d had more near misses than Bella would ever have, and that he’d never once been arrested for theft, he had to know more about that sort of thing than she and Padma did.

  “What do you mean, no proof that matters?” Lisette asked. Her last word hadn’t disappeared into the air before Padma came close to screeching.

  “No proof? He’s got the red! His guys found it hidden in our house. You think that doesn’t make us look guilty as hell?”

  “They found it during a break-in. They can think you’re involved. They can tell other people. They can sully your reputation with rumors and gossip, but the one thing they can’t do is take that diamond to the authorities.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “As far as David’s concerned, I stole the stone and gave it to Lisette. He wouldn’t believe she was capable of planning a
nd executing the theft because she’s...”

  Now it was his turn to catch himself before saying something insulting. Lisette shifted her weight, taking more support from his arm around her, and offered him a choice of words to finish the sentence. “Common? Working-class? Inferior? Female?”

  “Yes.” His gaze locked with hers.

  She nodded in agreement. “It took me just two months at the museum to find out that he has excellent taste in art and is an incredible snob and a huge misogynist. He resents people who have more money than him. He envies people who were born into your world. He considers himself far superior to everyone, and the only acceptable places for women are working at the computer, cooking at the stove, cleaning house or faking it in bed.”

  Jack gave her a sidelong glance. “You learned that in a few months and stayed eight years?”

  “The sacrifices we make for the job.” The easy shrug she intended made her bite back a groan. “You’d be amazed how much information and gossip I pick up in my world about yours.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. My world consists of some vapid and self-centered people with limited conversational skills because they’ve been raised on twenty-four-hour care, to spend money like confetti and to never overtax their brains. All that leaves is gossip.

  “So David’s got the red back, but there’s nothing he can do legally besides fire you, and he’s fired so many people for such inconsequential reasons that it’s not even a black mark against them.” He grinned. “The curator of my family’s collections was fired by David years ago. My uncle who hired him considered it a glowing recommendation.”

  Though Lisette smiled at his remark, inside she was thinking what David could do legally wasn’t the problem. His guys had followed them into the mountains. They’d taken a warning shot at them. Other guys had broken into her house, and they’d found proof, usable or not, that tied Lisette to the theft.

  With a deep breath, she pushed one last longing thought of a shower away and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s see how much work they’ve created for us.”

  Padma led the way inside, Jack bringing up the rear. Lisette steeled herself before walking in the door, but the mess inside still took her breath away. She couldn’t find a single item that hadn’t been tossed, upended or broken, from the pictures on the wall to the sofa pillows to the television. Every piece of china, crystal and porcelain in the dining room was broken; the kitchen looked like a tornado had torn through; the contents of the coat closet were on the floor. The bedrooms upstairs, the attic and the basement were the same. The back door had been kicked in, and apparently they’d left the same way, with one of the jerks oh so politely putting his foot through the screen door.

  She wanted to cover her face and weep. This house had been her safe haven her whole life. Nothing bad ever happened here. Her memories were sweet enough to send a diabetic into a coma, all because of Marley. She had picked this place, this furniture, those dishes, had painted the walls and refinished the wood floors, had cooked in the kitchen, told bedtime tales in the bedroom and passed on two lifetimes of experience and love to Lisette in these rooms—her own and that of her father, Levi.

  Suck it up. Keep calm and forge on.

  “Should we call the police?” she asked Padma as they returned to the first-floor hallway.

  In any other situation, Padma’s astonishment would have been comical. “Two thieves calling the police because other thieves broke in and stole back the gem they’d stolen? Are you crazy?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of mentioning our own stealing,” Lisette answered drily. “But if we want to file an insurance claim to replace all the broken stuff—especially your computer—we’ll need a police report.”

  “Don’t worry about the insurance.”

  Jack’s voice came from behind her, where he was picking up coats and jackets and rehanging them in the closet. She watched his strong fingers curl around the collar of Marley’s wool coat, give it a shake, then he lifted it and ducked his head, and his nostrils flared at the faint scent. Was it just Marley’s fragrance, or had he recognized a little of her there, too?

  “Sorry, Jack, but we work for a living—Lisette for your big bad friend, and me for a nonprofit. We have to worry about insurance.” Padma filled a basket with gloves, scarves and hats that were scattered across the floor and began organizing them.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. David will repay me when I’m done.” Jack’s determined tone was unfamiliar and oddly comforting. Lisette had no doubt he did prefer things the peaceful, easy way, but she was also certain he could take care of himself when circumstances demanded it. And it looked as if these circumstances she’d gotten him into most certainly would demand it.

  Good thing for him, the blood of pirates ran through his veins.

  Chapter 7

  They’d restored order to the living room before Padma forced Lisette upstairs to clean up. While she escorted her to the bathroom, Jack started on the dining room. It was a cozy room, the table, chairs and buffet taking most of the space. He used a broom and dustpan to clear a path while avoiding forcing the chunks of broken glass into the pine floor.

  When Padma returned, he’d crouched to pick up a few larger pieces of china: fragile, a delicate pattern of pink flowers on a creamy base, not overly valuable but probably filled with sentiment. She held out her hands for the pieces so she could dump them into the wastebasket she’d set on the table, but she clutched the remnants of the sugar bowl a moment.

  “Marley bought all these dishes at an estate sale when we were kids. Every meal, even every cookie, we had here was on these dishes at a formal table. She wanted us to use our linen napkins correctly, to treat the dishes with the care they required, to know which fork or spoon to use. She promised that someday we’d be grateful for the lessons. Once we truly understood what she was grooming Lisette for—or in my case, when I had to attend a formal banquet my senior year in college—we were very grateful.”

  Jack imagined them: dark-haired, dark-eyed little girls trying not to squirm in their chairs, wishing for paper plates and plastic utensils but doing their best to learn the lessons Marley was teaching them. He understood, having gone through the same lessons himself because at the tables he’d frequented, paper plates and plastic utensils didn’t exist.

  “How did you get involved in the grooming? Surely her mother didn’t decide to train you as a thief without consulting your parents first.”

  Her smile was merely a shadow of the usual million-watt glow. “I wanted to do everything Lisette did. Marley taught her things, and she’d turn around and teach me. About the time we were twelve, Marley finally agreed to teach me, too, just to broaden my education, but I wasn’t supposed to ever use any of it. I never actually did until I was grown, after spending a tremendous amount of time convincing her that I was an adult and it was totally my choice and I wouldn’t do anything dangerous. I’m a complete wiener. I would never take the kind of chances that they did—that Lisette does.” She shrugged, her hair falling over her shoulders. “That’s how I became Bella Donna’s support staff, because I don’t have the nerve to be an actual thief.”

  Falling silent, her expression darkened, then suddenly she smacked him on the arm. Jack yelped. “What was that for?”

  “You were supposed to keep her safe today!”

  “Hey, falls happen. It wasn’t my fault. And she did really well on everything else. Better that she get bruised a little now than get caught in some mark’s mansion because she froze.”

  “I guess,” Padma grudgingly agreed before scowling fiercely at him. “But you’re lucky she wasn’t seriously hurt. Then you’d have to deal with me, and while I’m all sweet and friendly on the outside, there’s a little bit of Satan living inside. You don’t want me to let him out.”

  Lisette had been right: they could be scary when t
hey wanted.

  Over the next few minutes, the only disturbances in the house were their sweeping and scuffing, glass clinking off glass and the rustling of trash bags.

  And the sound of the shower running upstairs. Water cascading down, warm enough to provide comfort, not so hot that it could worsen Lisette’s bruises. Washing away all the dust and sweat and grime. Cleansing, soothing, relaxing... And she, of course, was naked beneath all that lovely warm water, lathering her skin, rinsing her hair, wet and gleaming and—

  Damn, how did it get so warm in here?

  Looking for a distraction, he seized on an earlier remark Padma had made. “You said you work for a nonprofit. What do you do?”

  “I work primarily on water projects—better filtering systems, purification plants, accessibility, conservation. Did you know these guys in Britain created a water bottle that you can actually eat when it’s empty?”

  “I did not know that. That’s a cool idea.”

  “Very cool. Did you know that 780 million people don’t have access to clean drinking water? That’s about one in ten. Very uncool. There are tons of agencies working on it, and we’ve made a splash—sorry for the pun—but it’s a very big problem. What’s the situation at your home?”

  Jack picked up a heavy piece of crystal and dropped it into the trash. “Um...”

  “Come on, Jack. The Caribbean got hit by a drought. Don’t you watch the news? How’s the water supply on Deux Saints?”

  “I, uh, don’t know. I’ll have to ask Simon.” Heat warmed his neck at the admission. Granted, he didn’t live on the island, but he was half owner. He should know about something as important as water. It was an island, after all, surrounded by millions of gallons of the stuff. Of course, those gallons weren’t drinkable without treatment, calling to mind the Coleridge quote: Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.