Nights with a Thief

by Marilyn Pappano

  After giving terse orders to the security force, Simon started toward them, his focus on Lisette. He walked right up to her and locked gazes with her. “You should go.”

  The question she’d asked earlier in the office: Should I stay or should I go? Ignoring the pain in her chest, she nodded. This was what she’d wanted, right? “I’ll contact Candalaria when I’m back in Denver. I’ll send him a message he can’t ignore.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Jack scowled at them. “You can’t send her away. You can’t set her up as bait for a crazy man!”

  Recognizing Jack’s concern as the same he would show anyone in this situation saddened Lisette, but she smiled anyway. “I won’t be the bait. I’ll be providing it. When can I leave?”

  “He wants Shepherdess,” he reminded her. “You can’t give it to him.”

  “No, but I can give him something better.”

  “What?”

  She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Number one on his list is Aunt Gloria’s rubies, but there are a lot of other beauties there. Some pieces he’s made quiet offers on and been rejected. Others, he complains, have been in the same families so long, their owners won’t even entertain offers.”

  Simon’s gaze didn’t waver. “You think you can liberate one of these beauties, and he’ll be satisfied enough with the trade to let this feud with Jack go. What if he reneges?”

  Lisette shrugged. “Then it’ll be up to him just how much he loses—His art. His museum. His reputation. His castle. His freedom.” His life. She had never caused a person pain before—before Jack—but she would stop Candalaria, no matter what it took.

  She hesitated before going on. “I have one favor. Keep Padma here. Introduce her to some conservation experts around here. Keep her busy and safe.”

  “I’m not in the habit of holding people against their will,” Simon said drily, then the lines across his forehead deepened. “It’s neither the best time nor the best place, but I apologize for all the Toussaints before me who did have such habits. Yes, we’ll keep her safe.”

  Emotion radiated from Jack in waves. “You can’t do this, Simon. She’s in way over her head. She doesn’t know how to play David’s games.”

  Simon gave him a grim, sympathetic look. “You wanted her gone, Jack. Soon she’ll be gone. Lisette, if you’ll wait in your room, I’ll let you know when Ali’s ready.”

  She nodded and Simon headed away to deal with one of the dozen crises going on. Beside her, Jack muttered, “This is stupid.”

  She began walking toward the rear entry of the main house. “I created a problem, Jack. Now I’m resolving it.”

  “Bella Donna never put herself into this kind of danger.”

  At the door, she stopped and faced him. “No. But she helped me get here, and she’ll help me out of it.”

  “You can’t take on David alone.”

  “One lesson I learned from my mother, Jack—I can do what has to be done.” She wouldn’t accept Padma’s help, and no one else was offering. She hesitated, thinking of all the things she could, should, say, but in the end, all she had to offer was regret. “I truly am sorry, Jack. I can’t fix this—” she gestured between them “—but I can make everything else right. I will. I promise.”

  Without waiting for his response, she hustled inside and to the stairs. She was halfway up them when Padma caught up, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, sweetie, I have a surprise for you. You won’t believe—I can hardly believe it. It’s the most amazing bit of luck we’ve ever had. Hurry, hurry. I don’t think I can hold it one second longer.”

  Padma pushed Lisette into her room, closed the door and dashed to the bedside table, scribbling on the notepad there before presenting the paper to her proudly. On it was eight characters: letters, numbers, symbols. Padma didn’t wait for her to figure it out. “It’s the code to the galleries! That’s where they sent Maman and me during the attack, and I saw her type it in. It disarms everything—everything, Lisette!” Her voice dropped to an excited whisper. “You can get the statue. You can just walk right in and take it.”

  Lisette stared at the sequence, then wadded the paper and pulled her suitcase from the closet. As she laid it open on the bed, she said, “I’m leaving, Padma. As soon as Simon arranges it, I’m going back to Denver, and I’m going to stop Candalaria.”

  Padma stared at her, jaw dropped, then suspicion narrowed her gaze. “What did Jack say when you found him? Is he throwing you off his precious island?”

  “No. It was my idea. I was planning it before I talked to Simon. I put these people in danger—I put you in danger—and it’s up to me to fix it.”

  It was clear from the confusion and curiosity that Padma was struggling with Lisette’s decision, but her response was typical. “I’ll get packed. I wonder how I’ll fit all those clothes into my bags. You are taking the clothes, aren’t you? I mean, they were a gift—”

  “Padma.” Lisette dropped her own clothing into the suitcase, then stopped Padma on her way to the door. “You’re staying here.”

  “Oh, no. Huh-uh. No way. Aunt Marley would kill me. Mommy and Daddy would kill me if I let you go off to battle the evil dragon by yourself.”

  “Please. They’ll kill me if anything else happens to you. Just for a few days. Besides, Simon’s setting up meetings for you with local water experts. You’ll never have another chance like this. You can’t pass it up to go home and wait while I...do what I do.” Hopefully, the long flight home would help her figure that out.

  Padma shifted her weight as if an imaginary bond was pulling her both toward her room to pack and to Lisette’s side, where she’d always been. No, not imaginary. Very real, and Lisette was deeply grateful for it.

  A sharp rap at the door interrupted Padma’s indecision. She went to open it while Lisette continued to pack. Her heart wasn’t pounding, her nerves not fluttering, so it wasn’t Jack. The knowledge saddened her.

  Simon’s gaze flickered to the suitcase, and the closet still full of Jack-purchased clothes, but his expression remained passive. “The jet is being readied in Santo Domingo. As soon as Ali and the chopper pilot get something to eat, they’ll take you there. You’ll be back in Denver by midnight. You’ll stay at a hotel tonight, and then...”

  He took a few more steps to reach the bedside. “Lisette, I really do regret...everything. Some wrongs can’t be righted, but some can.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out something small and brilliant that collected all the light in the room, then reflected it back. “Keep it. Sell it. Use it as bait. Whatever you want. It’s yours.”

  He opened his hand, and there was Le Mystère, delicate, beautiful beyond words, the object of love and hate, passion and life and death. When Lisette did nothing but stare at it, Simon placed it in her hand, wrapped her fingers around it, nodded once and left.

  Long after the door closed behind him, Padma’s gasp shimmered on the air. “Oh, sweetie. He gave it to you! What are you going to do with it?”

  Lisette stroked the folds of the gown, the trembling leaves in the tree, the ripples in the flowing water. She thought about all the Blues through history who’d touched this statue, about her father who had died for it and her mother who had found purpose in it, and slowly a smile spread across her face.

  She knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

  * * *

  Dusk had settled by the time the Deux Saints helicopter took to the sky, circling the island’s south point before turning north. It disappeared from sight almost immediately, its engine noise fading a moment later.

  Jack was in his favorite childhood hiding place, twelve feet above the ground in the branches of the island’s oldest tree. Its canopy was thick with leaves, but underneath fat limbs joining to the broad trunk provided excellent spots to read, snooze and m
aybe down a bottle of rum or whiskey.

  “I figured I’d find you here.” It was Simon, damn it. Couldn’t he go piddle in someone else’s life?

  “I’m not that predictable.” Irritably Jack uncapped the bottle and took another long swig.

  “Please. All your other favorite places are over by the divide, and you won’t go there after dark.”

  Jack had brought a second bottle with him, in case one wasn’t enough. Maybe he could drop it on Simon’s head and make him go away. “When’s the last time you went up there at night?”

  “We’re not talking about me.” After a moment, Simon leaned against the trunk. “Lisette’s gone.”

  Jack pretended those words didn’t break his heart. Was this what his entire life had been leading up to? Falling in love with a stranger, a liar and a thief who didn’t give a damn who she hurt as long as she won? “Of course she’s gone. She got what she wanted. The game’s over for her.” He wasn’t surprised—hadn’t even been surprised that Simon gave her the statue. Simon was one of the good guys, but thanks to his father and family history, he felt compelled to be even better than good. Add the fact that it was his father who’d had Lisette’s father killed...

  “About that...”

  Because he was exhausted, he dropped the bottles down to Simon, then gripped the branch and swung off into the air. He’d seen Lisette do it that night on David’s balcony—no slow and easy baby steps, but literally flinging herself off the structure. That was when he’d started falling.

  When he let go, he landed with a wobble beside Simon. “What ‘about that’?”

  Simon handed him the open bottle but kept the full one as he turned toward the house. “I want to show you something.”

  Jack badgered Simon to just tell him, even though badgering him never worked. He would talk when he was ready. It was one of the things that made Jack want to strangle him.

  They entered the house through the main entrance. Two guards stood at the open doors leading into the galleries, where the lights were on and the elevator waited with open doors. “Oh, God, what else did she take?”

  Simon walked into the elevator, waited for Jack and pressed the second-floor button.

  How stupid could he possibly have been to bring a thief here? Even he got itchy fingers in the gallery, and half the stuff belonged to his family. To put Lisette in the midst of such temptation...

  Wait. If anything had been stolen, first, Simon would be ticked off, and second, they wouldn’t be going to the tower. It was empty now.

  Except when the door opened, it wasn’t. The oak column stood in the middle of the room, and sitting atop it was Le Mystère, a piece of paper anchored to it.

  Simon stepped out of the elevator, but Jack couldn’t move. He stared at the statue, sure it must be a fake, a trick. Maybe Padma had fashioned some sort of projected image; when he blinked hard, it would waver. But it didn’t.

  “Don’t you want to read the note?”

  Numbly, Jack walked to the pedestal and fixed his gaze on the pale stationery with Deux Saints’ logo at the top. The writing was graceful, full of loops, exactly the way he would have expected Lisette to write.

  Dear Simon, I loved owning the statue for those few minutes, but truth is, I live in a two-bedroom house in a middle-class neighborhood and my sugar bowl is broken so I have no place to keep it. But those few minutes made my mother and father happy, which was the point of the whole thing. Thank you.

  As for bait, I’ve got some pieces in mind. Since they already belong to Candalaria, I don’t think he’ll be able to resist them.

  Tell Jack (without sounding too smug, please) that I beat his system. Don’t tell him how, though, not right away. Let him stew on it a bit.

  Her name looped across the bottom.

  “Is sugar bowl code for something?”

  Jack skimmed the note again. “Whenever she stole a red diamond, they hid it in the sugar bowl until they sold it. David’s men destroyed it.” Though his voice was calm, his brain was racing. She’d brought the statue back. She’d had it in her hands free and clear, with a helicopter waiting to get her off the island and a jet to take her wherever she wanted, and instead she’d returned it. Why? What kind of thief did that?

  Then she’d headed home for a job that just might get her killed, into a situation that she bore little of the blame for. No one had known David would go off the rails here. But she had to do the right thing. That was the way she’d been raised, to care about injustice and to right wrongs. We’re bad guys because it’s the only way we can help the good guys. Because she cared about good guys and bad guys and helping.

  What kind of thief returned the target she’d planned so long to recover, then put herself in danger to protect others?

  One with honor.

  He loved a thief with honor.

  A woman with honor.

  He headed toward the elevator. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask how she got in?”

  “Later. I need someone to take me to Santo Domingo.”

  “The helicopter won’t be back for a few hours. They’ve been flying a lot today. I’d rather not send them out again tonight for anything less than an emergency.” Simon stepped inside and pressed the button.

  “You’ve got plenty of boats. I need the fastest one and the best captain you’ve got.”

  Simon stared at him. “A boat? You’re voluntarily going out in a boat? On the water?”

  The thought made Jack’s stomach heave, but he ignored it. He’d be feeling it for real soon enough. “Just find someone to meet me at the harbor and get me a plane. I’ve got a thief to catch.”

  * * *

  In the crisp morning air, the Castle rose out of the forest, strong and massive and impenetrable. Lisette knew getting in wasn’t impossible; she and Padma had devised several plans allowing just that. Getting out was generally the problem, especially with souvenirs.

  In the light of day, plan M didn’t seem as workable as it had in the middle of the night. Granted, she’d been exhausted then, worried and heartsick. Hell, she still was.

  She sat on the shoulder of the road, studying the scene through binoculars. Thanks to the high-thirties cold, there was no outdoor activity at the Castle in front or on the west side, and the employee parking lot was mostly empty. Not much staff on hand when the boss was gone.

  Too bad it was easier to go unnoticed in a crowd.

  With a sigh, she set the binoculars aside and touched the museum ID badge. It had been deactivated, but that didn’t make it useless. It would get her through the gate with a tale of a delivery for Mr. Chen. Once inside the house...well, she would wing it from there. Good thing she worked well under pressure.

  Pulling onto the road, she drove to the front gate. Cold air blasted in when she rolled down the window to greet the guard. “Good morning. I’m Lisette Malone from the museum. I’ve got the package.”

  The uniformed man studied her badge, then turned a blank look on her. “What package?”

  “The thank-you gift that the sheikh sent Mr. Candalaria. He was a guest here for last week’s party. Didn’t Mr. Chen tell you I was on my way? He said he would call so you’d know I was coming. God, I hope I don’t have to take it back to the museum and try again. It’s a bit of a drive, and—”

  “I’ll check. Wait here.” He walked away, cell phone to his ear.

  So he says he’ll deliver the package to the house. Then what?

  “I’m so sorry, I’d love to leave it with you, but it requires some setup, and I have strict orders to do it myself. My boss would be livid if he found out I disobeyed.”

  All right, you can go to the house. Stay on the drive. Don’t take any turns. Park at the entrance. You get into the house, with more security guards plus staff. What do you do?


  Lisette bit back a sigh as the guard headed back to her. “You always liked a detailed plan, didn’t you?”

  I always liked getting out alive.

  The guard said he would take the package. Lisette gave her excuse. He opened the gate and repeated Marley’s warning, and Lisette drove through. With her cell on speakerphone, she called Dominic, who’d picked her up at the airport last night at Simon’s request. “I’m on the property. Give me ten minutes, then make the call.”

  “Why don’t you just turn around and drive back out?”

  “Admit failure before I even reach the target?”

  “It would be the wise thing to do.”

  “I’ll be okay. I have plans.” And a stun gun. A handy little lock. A GPS, her favorite running shoes and exit routes mapped through the woods. An extra cell phone and a whole lot of lies ready to roll off her tongue.

  And motivation. Jack.

  “Nine minutes. Okay?”

  “Yes, okay.”

  Ending the call, she caught a glimpse of the Castle through the trees. It was impressive from a distance. Up close, it loomed. Shivers danced down her spine when the drive came out of the woods and cut its way across acres of manicured lawn. The grass was yellowed, the fountains turned off, the scene still and quiet and cold. She parked directly in front of the double doors, which opened before she got out of the car. Another guard stood there, watching as she lifted the box from the backseat.

  There really was a sculpture inside that required setup. She had found it at a crafts show, rusted pieces of iron that dangled on the treelike form of the base. It was impressive in its fine balance, but it certainly wasn’t anything Candalaria would give a second look at.

  She greeted the guard cheerily before asking, “Where should I put it?”

  He led her into the nearest room, a library too dark and austere for comfortable reading. An oak table sat in the middle, and she set the box on it. Her movements were slow and methodical: taking out a pocketknife, slicing through the tape, bending back the flaps. She kept an eye on the time, making sure she didn’t reach the midpoint before the guard’s cell rang.