Ring of Truth (Devlin Security Force Book 2)

by Vaughan, Susan

  She shook her head. “Not all my files. The tough break is they know what we know. They have our research.”

  “Your research. Take the credit, Mara.” He lifted one thick, slashing eyebrow as he dipped his egg roll in hot mustard. “What do you mean they didn’t get all your files?”

  “I double save everything, including e-mail, on an external drive.” She saved everything to a cloud site as well, but he’d only tease her about her geekiness if she told him. “It’s not very big. They must not have seen it partially hidden under some printouts. Or they didn’t care. Just unplugged everything and took off.”

  “I’m glad. One less thing to worry about.”

  Too true. She had plenty else to handle. Not the least of which was probing Cort. The break-in had shattered her plan the other night to quiz him. Knowing more about his part in his father’s crimes should solidify her resolve, which at the moment was as firm as warm Jell-O, not to follow through on their mutual attraction.

  “Was the Smithsonian burglary your first?” Chagrinned by her blurted question, she felt heat climb up her cheeks. She wove her fingers together in her lap. “I mean, did you work with him before? The newspapers didn’t talk about you much, just the Jeweler. I’m sorry, but—” Damn, she should just shut up.

  He shoved his chair back and went to the kitchen. Not another beer but one of the bottled green teas in hand, he leaned against the bar like a western-movie gunslinger, dangerous and sexy. His jaw worked.

  “It’s okay. You deserve to know the details,” he said finally. “The Smithsonian burglary was the first time I crossed the line. Leon tried to lure me in before but I always made it clear I didn’t want that life. And I didn’t want to let Mom down. That excuse was the only one he accepted.” A shadow passed over his expression before he banished it. Another mystery to probe.

  “How did he convince you that one time?”

  Cort’s gaze lifted to the ceiling. “He met me after my final exam that Wednesday. Told me his partner went to the hospital with a broken leg from a bad car accident on the Beltway.”

  “That was Falco.” She knew that already but Cort seemed to need her urging to continue.

  He nodded. “Leon said he had this big job lined up on the Washington Mall, all on a timetable. He had to go with the plan. Couldn’t abort because it was coordinated with others. We’d go in and out fast. No risk of getting caught. He made it sound like an adventure. I’d use the climbing skills he’d taught me.”

  His father had rooked him into the crime. She never met the man, hated him for years because of her father, and now detested him all the more because of what he did to his son. She stifled the urge to hug Cort. “Leon conned you.”

  Cort tossed his napkin on the table. “I was young and stupid. He could charm January snow into flowers with his smile and slick words. Convinced me he never robbed anybody who couldn’t afford the loss. Conned me? No shit.” He chuffed a bitter laugh. “He reminded me he was paying the full boat for me to attend one of the finest colleges in the country. And he was—”

  “Your dad. You looked up to him.”

  “That was the last time.” His jaw seemed set in solid steel. “So I climbed up the rope onto the roof. Helped him up. He wasn’t as agile as he used to be. Didn’t want to fall. I waited while he did the deed. Sweated bullets the whole time, expected spotlights to blind me and the cops to arrive any minute. We got away clean. I figured I was clear, except for my conscience. I didn’t sleep for two days.” He fretted his napkin into shreds.

  “Until the cops showed up?”

  “Yeah. Falco’s accident meant Leon had to work alone once he got inside. Time was tight and the cameras came back on. One caught his profile clear as a mug shot.”

  “And you? How did they know you were involved?”

  His jaw worked again as if it ached from tension. “I told them.”

  “What? You confessed?”

  “The FBI knew Falco was out of the picture and I was in D.C. When they came to talk to me, yeah, I confessed. I was that disgusted with myself. I’d have gone to the cops if they hadn’t showed up. But for the confession, the judge would’ve given me more prison time.”

  Her vision blurred. This true confessions session didn’t work as she’d planned. The FBI must’ve searched his mother’s house and questioned her. Mara wanted to ask but the lines bracketing his mouth made her hold off. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “I deserved what I got. I made the most of it.”

  “Your woodworking.”

  He nodded. “What I make of my life now is my doing, not Leon’s.” He reached for one of the fortune cookies. “Maybe this will help.” His crooked, boyish smile nearly undid her.

  She snapped open a cookie. “‘Mountains can move, but not your character.’” Her throat felt too tight to eat the almond-flavored treat. Did the saying confirm her dad’s? Or did Cort’s situation prove that one mistake didn’t make a crook? He’d confessed and paid his debt to society but society was still exacting a price—the return of the Gramornian crown jewels. She forced herself to swallow. “True. As far as it goes. Your turn.”

  He opened his cookie and popped half into his mouth. She heard it crunch while he read his slip of paper. A slow, sexy smile widened his mouth. A Washington summer had nothing on the steam heat in his eyes. “The best lovers make love on a full stomach.”

  Suddenly she felt hot all over. She wanted the passion he offered but she couldn’t. She still couldn’t trust him, and worse, she couldn’t trust herself.

  Chapter 11

  Cort took a circuitous route to shake off Colonel Yerik’s clones in their black Town Car. They’d been watching the apartment from the other side of the street. No sign of a tail now. Mara looked sufficiently occupied on her phone not to notice. Maybe he ought to tell her but he hated scaring her. He left the main drag and steered the Silverado along the quiet suburban Maryland street.

  “That was my sister,” Mara said, stowing her cell in her humongous purse. “She wants us to meet André and her for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “Us? As in you and me?” Like a date? Like normal people?

  She waggled her shoulders and huffed a sigh. “Yes, you and me. I guess I can go alone if you want to do your hermit thing.”

  He slanted a glance her way, saw her sassy grin. Teasing him. When was the last time anybody teased him? He couldn’t remember. “I’m just wondering why me. A hot chick like you, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

  “Euw, boyfriend? You have been out in the sticks for a long time. This isn’t high school. And for your information, I’m in no serious relationship right now but there are a couple guys I hang out with sometimes.”

  Something more was going on than her just wanting company. He pulled over to the curb and turned off the engine but left his hands on the steering wheel. Otherwise, forces beyond his control might tug them over to touch her smooth skin. “But you’re not asking those guys. You want me to go with you. Your sister doesn’t like me, doesn’t trust me. What’s the angle?”

  “Exactly that. Because you read people and you’re always looking for their angle.”

  First the hermit thing. Now this. She’d figured him out. A tossup if that was good or bad. “You want me to scope out Cassie’s new guy. That it?”

  “Bull’s-eye!” She scooted around in her seat to face him. “Cassie met André at the bank where she’s in charge of new accounts. He asked her out that day. They played tennis and went out to dinner. I don’t think they’ve been apart since.”

  “So? Lust at first sight. It happens.” No shit. With Mara, it hit him like a two-by-four. Now he knew what the term pole-axed meant.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, and it happens to Cassie all the time. At least since her divorce. Usually I let her crash and burn by herself. But this time is different.”

  “Because of our search for the jewels.”

  She air-chalked up a point. “You’re on a roll, big guy.
So will you come with me?”

  “Why do you need me? Didn’t you do your Internet voodoo search thing on the jerk?”

  Her brow crimped with what looked like frustration. “He comes up clean. Exactly who he says he is. A wine importer with a family vineyard in France. But... it’s Cassie.” Her embarrassment hung in the air between them.

  Ah, why would a rich international businessman be interested in a small-time single Korean-American mother desperate for love?

  The pleading and worry replacing the playful look in Mara’s brown eyes reached into his chest and squeezed. “On the off chance this André is one of our bad guys, I’ll do it. But for real your sister included me in the invitation?”

  She turned to look across the street from where he’d stopped. Avoiding the question? “Maybe she wants André to scope you out. Should be interesting, the two of you eyeing each other like rival lions.” She pointed. “Is that Falco’s house?”

  No yellow police tape fenced in the white-painted brick Colonial. Just as Cort had hoped. Cops must’ve searched it. But Falco died in Virginia, so his College Park, Maryland, house wasn’t a crime scene. Shades and drapes were closed.

  “Modest home for a high-level jewel thief. Well, modest for around here,” Mara said, peering around him from the passenger seat. She tucked a strand of midnight hair behind her ear.

  “I don’t know how high-end he is—was, but he tried to stay low-profile. After the Smithsonian job, the cops kept a close eye on him. Quiet, older neighborhood. I guess it suited his cover as an insurance salesman.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Did he really have a day job?”

  Cort snorted. “His day job was probably casing his next burglary job. According to Leon, Falco always worked a day job as cover. Lexus salesman, real estate appraiser, and personal trainer once because it gave him entry to wealthy people’s houses.”

  No comment was necessary. Her downturned mouth made her disapproval clear.

  “For him and for Leon, it was as much about the adrenaline rush and the challenge, the nonconformity, as it was the money. For the Jeweler, it was also about the gems themselves.” Cort rolled down his shirtsleeves, switched off the engine, and climbed out of the truck.

  “Wait. What are you doing?” Mara’s shock raised the pitch of her voice.

  All he’d told her was they were going to look at Falco’s house because the truth would’ve had her digging in her heels. “I need to know if he had one of the ring pieces. Kaplan would’ve told me if the cops found it. He didn’t, so it could still be in the house.”

  Brow furrowed in obvious confusion, she walked around to join him as he extracted two clipboards and a canvas bag from behind the seats. She peered from the official-looking forms to the magnetic sign he’d slapped onto the pickup’s door earlier without her noticing. Westchester Appraisals, Inc.

  “The trick is to look and act official, like you know what you’re doing and you’re supposed to be here.” Giving her a clipboard and pen, he hustled her up the driveway before she could protest.

  She took it but her wide eyes said she was ready to rebel any second. Distrust tightened her mouth. “That fake sign. These official-looking papers. You have done this before.”

  “No. Leon just bragged a lot about casing jobs.”

  She didn’t protest again but she’d squawk loud and long soon. He handed her the tape end of a fifty-foot rule. Made a show of measuring the carport and side entrance before extracting his key ring from his jeans pocket. On his way to the backyard, he flipped through his keys as if he had one to the house. The small lawn led to a flagstone patio shaded by maples and one newly leafed cherry tree like the ones by the Jefferson Memorial. Falco’d probably enjoyed its blossoms last month. Damn shame. Worse, if his death was murder.

  Mara clutched her clipboard against her chest. Cort pried it from her death grip and set both on a patio table. Wrought iron. Too cold and dark. Teak would be warmer, lighter.

  “Now nosy neighbors believe we’re official.” And if they didn’t, tall shrubbery hid the backyard from view. The lawnmower next door, with its coughing whine of a giant dying insect, would cover their voices.

  “You intend to go inside? But Falco lived alone,” she said. “We can’t go in unless—”

  Her brows lifted and her eyes widened in comprehension, a comic-book parody. He’d laugh except he didn’t like this either. “Unless we break in. So I finally get to use Leon’s lock-pick set.”

  After studying the façade, he smiled. No slider. Falco had known not to make his house vulnerable. Cort headed for the atrium door beside the picture window. Wired for an alarm. Another given. Vertical shades over the windows hid the interior from view. He pocketed his key ring and slid out Leon’s leather case.

  “No, we can’t do this... this breaking and entering,” Mara said, fear and doubt scraping her voice raw. “I can’t break the law, I mean.”

  Her stricken appeal pinched something in his chest. He’d brought her along for two reasons. Having a woman along was good cover, and he needed to know how much he could count on her in a pinch. And hell, he just plain wanted her with him.

  But here they were, and he had to get the door open, had to search now. There might not be much time. Or another opportunity. “I don’t like it either, Mara. Yeah, technically it’s breaking the law. But the risk outweighs the need for more ring pieces. For me.”

  She shook her head. Stared at the ground. Visibly torn between what she needed to prove and what she had to do to achieve it. Searching Falco’s house was only touching a toe across the line. Who knows what else they—he—might need to do? Could he trust her?

  No time to deal with that now. “Falco is dead. He won’t care. We’re not stealing anything. He’d probably want me to find the ring piece.”

  “If he had one.”

  He winked as encouragement. “Only one way to find out.”

  “The house could have electronic protection. Alarms.”

  “Definitely. Falco would have the best.” He grinned, grasping Leon’s adrenaline rush, and immediately regretted the lapse. “I’m prepared for that too.”

  She narrowed her gaze as if trying to see inside him. “The sign. The clipboards. Did my boss help you with this scheme?”

  No surprise she figured it out. And dammit, Devlin would’ve advised him not to bring her along. Stupid of him to put her at this much risk. “At Devlin’s invitation, I dropped by this a.m. Max introduced me to all sorts of cool gadgets.” He held up the canvas bag. “Including a handy-dandy electronic decoder to disarm the security. Gave me scrambler chips and GPS blockers for our phones. Also something called an RFD to check for listening devices.”

  “Technically a radio frequency detection unit.” A sigh expressed her exasperation. “A bug sweeper in lay terms.”

  “He checked my truck for a GPS tracker. Took off one he said might be Centaur’s.” Could be the colonel’s but why have his men watch them if he had a bug? He held up the lock pick and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

  “It’s a conspiracy.” She gave a fluttery wave of her hands. Nodded. “Okay. I guess. Go ahead and pick the damn lock.”

  He inserted the small tool. No resistance. Bony fingers of cold dread slid down his spine. “Looks like I don’t get to use the pick kit after all. Someone else was here first.”

  “Not the police. They’d have Falco’s keys,” Mara said, staring at the lock. “Left unlocked, just like my apartment.”

  “Yep. Could be the same burglars. They’re long gone.” Shit, how can I be certain? If they’re inside, I’m five kinds a damn fool bringing Mara along.

  He pocketed the lock-picks. Grabbing the clipboards with one hand and her arm with the other, he marched back to the street.

  “Hey, what’s the rush? I thought you wanted to get inside?” she sputtered, jog-walking to keep up.

  He didn’t speak until they were back in the truck. “I was an idiot for bringing you. The burglars could still be i
nside. I’ll come back later. You don’t need to be involved anymore. I can go on alone. Whoever the bad guys are, they have your computer files. They know what we know. They’ll leave you alone.” Not exactly the case but all he had for now.

  “I’m not quitting,” she huffed. “Yes, I’m scared. So are you. We have different agendas. You need to find the jewels. I need to find the truth.”

  Kee-rist on a cracker. First she won’t help me. Now she won’t back out. “You don’t trust me.”

  “Should I? Can I? Do you trust me? You don’t trust anyone.”

  “Ouch.” He rubbed his chest, miming a direct hit, but where he really hurt was his head. A dull throb from temple to temple. “But I have good reason. We can’t be sure who our adversaries are. Or how many, like Devlin said. I haven’t seen a tail but they could still be following us. Watching us.”

  She cast a furtive glance at the quiet street before returning her gaze, filled with fear, to him. “You must be anxious too. Even frightened.”

  “A guy’d be crazy not to be. But I know how to protect myself. You don’t. I’ll talk to suspects, search Falco’s house, keep you informed. You stay out of it. Stay safe.”

  “No deal. I’m in the middle of this mess.” She hugged her bag as if armoring herself. “The same thugs or different thugs might come back. What do I do? Announce on Twitter or Instagram saying I’m no longer involved in finding Leon Jones’s puzzle pieces or the Gramornian crown jewels?”

  He waited to reply until a tan Suburban passed with a mother yelling at a bunch of kids in the back. He took her hand and linked fingers with her, as if that would make what he was about to say easier on her. “If I’m away from you, they’ll track my movements, not yours. Me being with you is part of the problem. Your problem.”

  She started to yank her hand away, but he held tight. “I know that stubborn look,” she said. “I can do stubborn too. And no. Different agendas, remember? My problem is Global Insurance believes Quincy Marton conspired with Leon Jones. I need to prove he didn’t. Without me, that goal will get lost in the race to find the jewels.”