Cleopatra's Necklace (Devlin Security Force Book 3)

by Vaughan, Susan

  And Thomas, beside her, bent over her, scowling, the skin across his cheekbones stretched taut.

  “Thomas.” She grabbed his hand. Rough, warm flesh. Living flesh. “Thank God. But he shot you.” It was all she could manage. She lay back, in the grip of the throbbing.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ll be okay. Bullet-proof vest. Dented but not bleeding. A whole lot better off than Zervas.”

  “And the Bushes.” Lucas Del Rio’s voice came from somewhere across the room.

  “Bushes?” Frowning cued another drummer to action and she gasped.

  Thomas chuckled. A most welcome sound. “The chip explosion assassinated two presidents.”

  Lucas added, “Bush 41 and Bush 43 will need limb transplants.”

  “Andie?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Was it true, what you said? She’s safe?”

  “All true. She’ll tell you all about it.” Thomas lifted her hand to his lips. “God, Cleo, I thought—”

  His words were lost as overhead lights flooded the room and the sprinkler’s rain ceased. What seemed like dozens of men and women ran in with weapons and other equipment. In moments Cleo found herself borne off on a stretcher away from Thomas. As the EMTs slid her into the ambulance, she let go and drifted into oblivion.

  ***

  At University Medical Center, nurses replaced Cleo’s sodden black spy garb with a blue-flowered gown. Amazing, long enough to cover her butt. Assorted physicians poked and prodded her, commented on her bloodshot eyes but even pupils. They finally declared she had a mild concussion. Duh. She could’ve told them that. Zervas clobbered her twice, didn’t he?

  After she answered a few of SA Hunt’s questions, a shouting match among the medicos and the FBI and Thomas threatened to add to the pounding in her head. The hospital wanted to keep her overnight. SA Hunt and a Las Vegas officer wanted to ask more questions. Thomas declared he would watch over her, and tomorrow the authorities could grill her. And him.

  “You are injured too, Mr. Devlin, and have been prescribed pain medication,” a dark-haired nurse in flowered scrubs said, “Let us do our job.”

  After a pause, he threw up his hands. “Fine. Just promise you’ll keep these vultures away from her tonight.” He punched the air toward Agent Hunt and the cop.

  She had no love for hospital stays but Thomas needed rest. He insisted he had no broken or cracked ribs. Not likely. She could see pain digging lines in his forehead and tightening the corners of his mouth.

  Once the agony in her skull eased to manageable levels, she had major thinking to do. Now was not the time, but soon Thomas and she needed to have a long conversation. He remained ever her protector, but he might not want anything more after how badly she’d messed up falling for Zervas’s trick. Pain throbbed in her chest and not from any of his blows.

  She closed her eyes as a nurse wheeled her to a desert-tan room and tucked her into bed.

  “It’s okay,” Thomas said, sidling past the nurse. “We’ll be just a minute.”

  Whatever he might’ve said to her was cut off as someone else rushed in behind him and skidded to a stop beside the bed.

  Andie.

  Her right cheek sported a purple bruise and a gauze bandage circled her right wrist. Thomas had told the Andie saga. Except for her wounds, she looked wonderful. Stronger and more together than she’d been in years.

  She wore a tight white tee with the Bellagio logo, skinny jeans the same pink as a stripe in her spiky ’do, and a smile as wide as the Nevada desert—except for the wobble in her lower lip. “Shit, you didn’t have to get yourself beat up to save me. You look like hell.”

  “Back atcha. Shut up and come here,” Cleo said, opening her arms.

  Andie stepped into the hug.

  Cleo held her best friend tight as if she might vanish if she let go. “I was scared I’d never see you again,” she said through tears of joy. The demons in her head were pounding their drums with giant hammers. Let ’em.

  “Seems I had to get myself kidnapped for us to have a reunion.”

  “I hear you almost took out one of the bad guys by yourself.”

  “Felt damn good after what they put me through.” Andie touched the bandage on Cleo’s cheek where Zervas had whacked her with his pistol. “Bastards.”

  Cleo grinned. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “No shit,” Andie said, eyeing her brother sitting on the edge of the bedside visitor chair. “A lot of catching up.”

  “But not tonight,” he said, pushing up off the chair. His breathing hitched, and he straightened with effort. “All of us need rest. Especially the one with the concussion. Sorry, babe, but they’ll probably keep waking you up.”

  He called her babe. Before Cleo could speak, the nurse returned and evicted her visitors.

  ***

  The next day, Thomas did a walk-through of the previous night’s battle for Agent Hunt and the LVPD detective. It torqued him that they’d already questioned Cleo. Hunt assured him Cleo was feeling better, but he needed to see for himself when this charade was over. Numbered evidence tags marked the wax body parts in the explosion site, bullet holes, expelled casings, and bullet trajectories. Chalk outlined where Marco Zervas had died.

  The damp clothing and disheveled hair of the remaining wax figures looked as if they’d been caught in a sudden downpour and stumbled inside to dry off.

  When the walk-through and various agents’ questions were mercifully finished, Hunt admitted the museum personnel, who’d been waiting in the gift shop. Some began carrying off the damaged figures.

  A petite blonde in a pale blue business suit approached Thomas. She introduced herself as the manager. “Thanks for letting us begin the renovation.”

  Thomas shook the hand she extended. “Renovation’s a polite way of saying it, ma’am. Sorry about all the mess, especially the Bushes.”

  “No problem. Insurance will cover it.” She waggled pink manicured nails toward the damaged corner. “Don’t worry about those two. They were due to be retired.”

  Behind her, Lucas ducked his head and his wide shoulders shook with mirth. He was as worried as Cleo—maybe more—about Mimi. Good to see him smiling.

  The manager’s beaming countenance made Thomas smile. “You seem cheerful about something that’ll shut down this gallery for some time.”

  “Not long. Only today,” she replied. “As soon as we’re cleared, this room will be repaired and painted. Costumers and an artist should arrive from London tonight to fix Cleopatra and the others. When we reopen, I expect the publicity will double our ticket sales. Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook are all abuzz. I hear comedy shows at two casinos have added jokes about Cleopatra and the Bushes. The PR department is writing a press release about how Madame Tussauds helped recover the Cleopatra necklace.”

  He bent in a slight bow over protest from his sore ribs. “Devlin Security Force needed this recovery. I’m happy to share the spotlight.”

  Her smile winked out. “Sadly, the necklace the London staff is bringing won’t be nearly as stunning as the real thing.”

  He looked over her head at Lucas, who gave him the all-clear sign. Both the FBI and the LVPD would immediately release the necklace to Devlin Security custody. Hunt had said although evidence, the piece was too valuable to remain in custody. The police photographs would suffice.

  He grinned at the manager. “Once the original returns to the Cleopatra Tomb Exhibit in New York, I should be able to send you a nice replacement.”

  ***

  “I’m so glad, Thomas,” Cleo said from the passenger seat of the SUV. “I can’t think of a better use for René’s copy.” She smiled but her gaze was solemn as she donned shades.

  He left the University Medical Center campus and headed east on West Charleston Boulevard. She was unusually quiet, her mouth soft but down turned. Probably pain from the concussion. He wanted to talk about them, but this wasn’t the time.

  He reached over to cup her
nape. “You sure you’re okay? I can turn around.”

  “God, no. I couldn’t get any rest at the hospital. They kept me awake asking me question after question. By now I can recite my answers by rote. My name’s Cleopatra Marie Chandler. I live in Venice. Well, I used to live in Venice but right now I guess I live at the Bellagio. My birthday is the ninth of April.”

  “You must feel better if you can joke.”

  “Truthfully I do feel better. Last night—oh, wait, it was this morning—I had a dozen drummers banging competing solos in my head. Today only the winner is performing. More ibuprofen will help.”

  He slanted a glance her way as he turned south on the freeway. The dashboard clock read five-fifteen. Almost time. “But there’s something else. Mimi.”

  She sighed. “You read me too well. Yes, Mimi.”

  “Guilt, guilt, guilt.”

  “Yes, guilt. No shit, as Andie would say. She knows nothing about Zervas and the necklace, but that whole thing is the reason I needed to do something. Chasing after them was the only thing I could do for her. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but she’s still in a coma and there’s nothing left, no way to make it up to her. I feel so helpless.” She twisted to face him, propping her left knee on the padded leather seat. “I can’t even reach her mom on the phone. Lucas says he can’t get through either.”

  He’d planned to surprise her but maybe that wasn’t such a hot idea. “When I heard that, I tried the house number this afternoon. Trudy lost her mobile phone on the flight to Toronto. She has a new one now.”

  “And Mimi?”

  He whipped his vibrating phone from his pocket. “Here. This call’s for you. I’ll let her tell you herself.”

  Mouth agape, Cleo took the phone and said hello. She pressed shaking fingers to her lips as she listened. “Mimi! I thought... I mean, oh, thank God.”

  Mimi’s mother had told him the Toronto specialist could find no reason Mimi wasn’t waking up. Then yesterday Mimi opened her eyes. Today she was sitting up and talking. He guessed Cleo and Mimi would talk until his phone battery died.

  Cleo emitted a soggy laugh. “Thomas, Trudy told her about my concussion. She says I have a much harder head than she does.” Tears spilled down her cheeks beneath her sunglasses.

  “No argument here.”

  He handed her a tissue from the box in the console, then grabbed one for himself.

  Chapter 30

  Arlington, Virginia

  CLEO’S HEAD STILL ached when the red-eye landed in D.C. but she’d slept in the cushy first-class seat. And her talk with Mimi had cheered her. She promised to visit as soon as the doctors okayed visitors. The specialist saw no reason after therapy her cousin shouldn’t make a full recovery. The good news slid away some of her guilt.

  About Andie as well. She’d bounced back, her triumph over the bodyguard reviving the confidence dormant for such a long time. The drugs Zervas had administered seemed to have no lingering effects, and Andie’d already spoken twice with her therapist.

  At Andie’s insistence, Cleo would stay in his condo until they could visit Mimi in Toronto. It seemed to be her only option. Her carryon contained her only possessions including her last seventy-five dollars. With so little to show for her Grand Tour of Europe, she couldn’t, wouldn’t go to her parents in Annapolis.

  But living with him was an option fraught with complications. Since leaving on the flight to D.C., she’d had no moment alone with him. Andie made it an inconvenient threesome. Now that the series of events that threw them together and kept them together had ended, what about Thomas and her?

  The need she’d had to make him lose control had faded, replaced by a deeper understanding of the man. His innate mode was leading the way because he was usually the dominant one in the room. And heck, he was usually right.

  She had no idea if his feelings went beyond desire and friendship. If he might not want her after their intense thirteen days together— not that she was counting. If returning to his office and his social life would change how he saw her. If he was feeling awkward about ending it between them. And worst of the worst, if he hated her because of what her impulsive actions had caused. She ached so much she might split apart.

  Whatever, she would put on a brave face. Thomas had saved her life more than once and either he or the admiral had paid for everything. If the affair ended, they would always have Paris. And Venice. And London. And New York. And Las Vegas.

  Maybe not Vegas.

  She shook off her funk as they walked into the condo.

  “Having you here is so outrageous!” Andie tugged her through the foyer into the living room. “We can talk again later. I have to rush out.”

  As Cleo shed her jacket, she had only a vague impression of the room—deep-pile cinnamon carpeting and a chocolate sofa—very masculine and so Thomas.

  He set down their bags and laid their jackets on top. Shoulders squared, he turned slowly toward his sister. His expression scared Cleo. Stone chin and thousand-yard stare.

  When Andie’s words sank in, she panicked. She’d be alone with him. “Out? Already?”

  “Got a text from Dr. Olsen. She’s in her office doing paperwork, who the hell knows what. She wants a full report, not the Twitter version. I’ll see you guys later.” She grabbed car keys from a tray on the hall table. After a whirlwind of kisses and hugs, she slammed out the door, rattling the wall mirror.

  “She hugged me. Kissed my cheek,” Thomas said, breathless. “Who was that girl?”

  Cleo barely registered his astonishment. She was staring at paintings leaning against either side of the kitchen arch.

  A gondolier hawking rides beside the Rialto Bridge.

  An accordion player serenading tourists in the trattoria beside the San Paolo bell tower.

  And three more. Her paintings.

  Her eyes burned and her throat felt tight. Damn, tears had puffed up her eyes the past couple days more than in years. The doctor had said a concussion intensified emotion, but jeez if she could only dam the waterworks. “Thomas, my paintings. How did you do this?”

  His hands were warm and steadying on her shoulders. He pressed a kiss on the back of her head. “The gallery owner was willing to part with them for a reasonable cost when my attorney persuaded her she couldn’t claim ownership of a dead artist’s works, especially one who still lived. One of my people uncrated them yesterday.”

  She turned into his arms and flattened her hands on his chest, taking care with his bruised ribs. “This is outrageous, like Andie said. Way beyond possible.”

  “Devlin Security Force specializes in the impossible.” He chuckled, a rumble against her palms. “Besides, I wanted an original Cleo Chandler. I know a gallery owner who’ll be interested in the rest.”

  “Of course you know a gallery owner.” Her head was reeling. She shook off the shock and drew a deep breath.

  “Thomas, we haven’t talked.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Let me do this, please. I’m proud of some of what I did. Secretary Vinson seemed to think that posting my picture wearing the necklace helped in the search. But Zervas suckered me into his trap, so I was the bait after all.” No the tracker buttons, not texting Thomas, nothing made up for her stupidity and the tragic outcome. The weight of it ached in her chest.

  “Hush, Cleo. Yes, you did a lot to be proud of. You got us out of some tight situations in Venice and Paris. You did what you had to because I was so bullheaded, not listening to you and shutting you out. I owe you a big apology for my uncalled for, shitty behavior.”

  “Shitty is close. Controlling and dictatorial. Overbearing and high-handed.” She brushed a hand down his arm. “And terrified.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “I should’ve realized the truth when you went into commanding officer mode. You were scared for me, scared for Andie.”

  “Afraid? You have no idea. Fear for what Zervas might do to you nearly paralyzed me. All I could think to do was push you away.” />
  “Lock me away, you mean. I was pissed off and called you every name I could think of. The taxi ride to the wax museum gave me time to think. To reflect on the man I know. You understood Marco Zervas, but that knowledge went both ways. He knew you’d do whatever it took to rescue your sister. And to keep me safe, you’d stash me somewhere. Then he could call me using Andie’s phone.”

  “He would have two bargaining chips to help him get away with the necklace.”

  “You like to be in charge, but the only time you’ve ordered me around was when you were scared for me. At heart you’re not a control freak. You’re a protector. Zervas knew that and so do I. Now. You’re sensitive and honorable.” Some of the reasons I love you.

  “If you hadn’t gone to the museum, Zervas would’ve gotten away with the necklace.” He brushed fingers across her throat. “And you’d still be carrying the explosive chip in your locket.”

  She shuddered, thinking about what would’ve happened if she hadn’t removed the locket for the Met Gala because the simple piece didn’t look right with her gown. “Thank you for that. During this whole—” she held up a hand, frustrated at not finding the right word “—thing, I’ve learned a few things about myself, but apparently I haven’t grown wiser.” A sigh slipped from her throat.

  How could he possibly want her after what she’d done? She steeled herself. “If I hadn’t rushed out in the middle of the night… those men… would still be alive. Because of my stupidity and impulsive actions, those two security guards died.”

  “No wonder you’ve been so quiet, thinking you had something to do with those deaths. You’re wrong. Their deaths were not your fault. It’s all on Zervas. He phoned you from the museum after he killed the guards and disabled the alarms.” Thomas pulled her into his arms.

  Because it might be the last time, she didn’t fight the embrace. “You’re sure?”

  “Right. Checking on Andie’s phone records gave us his locations and times of calls.”

  That weight lifted, but what about Thomas and her? “How can I ever thank you?”