Reilly's Promise

by Christyne Butler

  “Still the night owl, I see,” Reilly said. “Don’t you know you should be asleep, old man?”

  “I was just about to call you. I haven’t heard anything since you left Dallas this morning. By the way, if you need a contact on the NYPD in your neighborhood, get in touch with a Detective Jake Griffin.”

  Reilly made a mental note. “I know that name. It sounds familiar.”

  “He’s a fellow grunt. His unit piggybacked ours during that fun time in the Middle East, but then he left the Corps. He was in D.C. with us, getting a silver star, the same day you got—”

  “Yeah, okay. I remember him now.” He wasn’t lying. The recall was instantaneous. It was hard to forget the citation read for then-Sergeant Griffin on that bright sunny afternoon as they’d stood in a rose-filled garden.

  “So,” Digger continued, “what’s happening there?”

  “First things first. How are you feeling, Dig?”

  “I’m fine, now answer my question. What’s going on?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Having no idea how deep a sleeper Cassandra was, Reilly lowered his voice before he continued. “You told me the Van Winters have more money than God, but Cassandra works for a living. Her mother lives in a ritzy section of Manhattan, but the daughter has her own place across town. A place she rents from a…friend.”

  “So she’s independent,” Digger said. “Not a reason for someone to hurt her.”

  “According to Cassandra, no one’s out to hurt her. She thinks this bodyguard business is a waste of time, and she calls a near miss by a falling light fixture ‘no big deal’.”

  “A what?”

  “Don’t worry, she’s fine, but there is something…I can’t put my finger on it yet. It’s a comment she made about money. The way she reacts whenever the subject comes up.”

  “Rich people don’t always like flaunting their wealth.”

  “Not the rich people I’ve known,” Reilly snorted. “They want to make sure the world knows it’s made up of the haves and have-nots. And they’re on the ‘haves’ side.”

  “Not everyone is like your stepfather or Wendy.”

  “I know, I know.” Reilly rubbed closed eyelids, which were getting grittier by the moment from a lack of sleep. “But something just isn’t ringing true here.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “I figured out one thing. You’re involved with Cassandra’s mother. You want to share that with me?”

  A long pause filled the air. Reilly remained silent. He knew Dig would tell him in his own time, his own way. “Margaret and I are old friends.”

  “I guessed as much when I met ‘Digger’, her dog.”

  “Damn that woman! She said she was going to name the mutt after me. I threatened to take it back if she did.”

  “I think Margaret Van Winter is as stubborn as you are, and her daughter is the same…” Reilly’s voice trailed off. Was there more to this case than he’d been told? Had Digger really hired him as a favor to an old friend?

  Rising from the sofa, he moved across the room, his stare glued to the archway leading to Cassandra’s bedroom. “Is she yours?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

  “What?”

  “Cassandra? Is she your daughter?”

  Another long pause at the end of the line and again, Reilly waited.

  “Would it matter if she was?” Digger said.

  “No, and if you tell me it’s none of my business, fine. But I think it’s important I know.”

  “I was a world away when Margaret gave birth to Steven Van Winter’s child. Margaret and I were high school sweethearts, as much as I hate that stupid expression. After graduation she went on to an Ivy League college and I joined the Marines.”

  “So, she dropped the grunt for money.”

  “I was the one who insisted Maggie continue her education.” Dig’s voice fell to a hard edge. “I told her we could wait to be married. Then my unit got sent to Vietnam and her family insisted she make her début. One thing led—we drifted apart.”

  “She sent you a ‘Dear John’ letter,” Reilly said.

  “Wrong. I ended things between us. It was the best thing for her. I didn’t fit into her world then and I never—”

  Sharp rings filled the air.

  “Damn, that’s Cassandra’s phone. I better go,” Reilly said.

  “Who the hell is calling her at this time of night?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Reilly ended the call and walked back to the sofa. He dropped his phone into his bag. A second ring, then a third. Cassandra still hadn’t picked up the line.

  Another ring.

  Reilly grabbed the cordless receiver from its base. “Hello?”

  “Cassandra Van Winter, please?”

  “This is her number, who’s calling?”

  “This is Ultimate Security. We have an alarm activated at the address of Van Winter Treasures.”

  Cassandra’s shop. Reilly’s heart started to pound and his eyes snapped to her bedroom door. “Wait one minute.”

  Moving across the apartment, he entered her room expecting to find it cloaked in darkness. A shimmering glow of light shone on the walls and bounced off the multitude of plants that filled the room. He immediately locked onto the source. A nightlight. A simple one, often used by kids to hold back make-believe demons. What or who was Cassandra trying to keep at bay?

  A low moan from the bed shifted Reilly’s focus. Rumpled blankets and pillows knocked onto the floor told him his charge was having a rough time sleeping.

  He walked to the side of her bed. “Cassandra.”

  He got no response. Dropping to his good knee, Reilly nudged at her shoulder. “Hey Cass, wake up.”

  Her head moved from side to side against the one remaining pillow. Curls spread across her face, but didn’t mask the pained expression on her delicate features. One shapely shoulder was bare except for a thin strap of material. Reilly refused to think about how much more bare skin lay beneath the blankets.

  His gaze landed on a cordless phone on the bedside table. He picked it up and noted the ringer button switched to silent.

  “Sir? Sir? Are you still there?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Reilly answered the woman on the other end of the line. “Just one moment.”

  Holding a receiver in each hand, Reilly rose and sat on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, braced his arms on either side of her and nudged her shoulder. “Cass, come on, wake up.”

  “No…please…”

  “Cass,” he coaxed, looking the length of her. The blanket shifted, revealing a span of smooth skin from the top of her thigh to her toes. He closed his eyes and bit back a groan of desire. “Cassandra.” Reilly raised his voice to a normal level. “Wake up.”

  Her eyes flew open “What? What’s going—ohmigod—” She pushed herself up against her headboard. Away from him.

  “It’s me, Reilly. Relax.”

  Flipping her hair from her eyes, she blinked, then squinted. Grabbing at the comforter, she pulled it until it reached her chin. “Geez, Murdock, what are you doing?”

  “You’ve got a phone call.”

  “What?”

  “A phone call. One you didn’t hear because you’ve got the ringer turned off.” Realizing he was still leaning over her, Reilly backed up and held out both phone receivers. “The caller claims to be from Ultimate Security. Something about—”

  Cassandra snatched the closest phone. “Hello? Yes, this is Cassandra Van Winter.”

  Reilly placed the other receiver to his ear, his fingers covering the mouthpiece. Her eyes narrowed, but he returned her stare and continued to listen as the security service relayed details of an alarm activation. Genuine shock and fear invaded those green beauties and for a reason he couldn’t explain, he reached for her.

  She dropped the blanket, letting it fall to her lap, and gripped his hand. Her eyes closed. “Have the police—yes, I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

&nbs
p; Ending the call, she opened her eyes. Spotting her hand in his, she pulled free and kicked at the covers. “Get out of my way!”

  “I’m going with you.” Reilly rose from the bed.

  She paused for a moment and looked at him. Was that relief in her eyes?

  “Like I could stop you, right?” She looked away, her voice a hard snap as she crawled out of bed. She grabbed a clip from the bedside table, anchoring her hair into a jumble on top of her head.

  Reilly tried to focus on the rebellious curls swirling around her shoulders, not the long, lean lines of her body. He failed miserably. Instead of the floor length nightgown he’d imagined, she stood in a tank top that didn’t reach too far past her breasts. Her only other clothing was a scrap of pale silk underwear with straps that rode high on her hips and dipped low under her belly button.

  He turned away. “I’ll give you some privacy to get dressed.”

  “That’s not going to happen because I can’t find my pants!”

  Reilly rounded the end of the bed and his foot met a crumpled pair of jeans. Grabbing them, he started to turn back, but his gaze caught her reflection in the mirror and he froze. His breath disappeared from his chest.

  Damn, she was gorgeous.

  Cassandra, bent over the chair next to the bed, randomly tossing items of clothing over her shoulder. The nightlight accented the straightness of her back, the curve of her hip and the lace barely covering her firm backside.

  He crushed the jeans in his fist before he held them out to her. “Looking for these?”

  Cassandra whirled around. She crawled over the disheveled blankets on her bed toward him. The sight of her on her hands and knees caused a riot of fantasies to explode in his head, each one more erotic than the one before.

  “Yes, give me those.” She reached for the clothing and he let them slide from his fingers.

  “Five minutes.”

  His words came out in a growl. Reilly forced his feet to move, pulling the door closed behind him. Thank God his sweats were baggy because the briefs underneath were growing tighter by the second.

  Thirty minutes and counting.

  Cassandra checked her watch for the fifth time. She fidgeted, rocking from foot to foot. Considering it was close to two a.m., she could blame it on the cool morning air. Nope, it was the sight of New York’s finest walking around her shop that had her squirming.

  Two police cruisers parked on the street behind her, next to another nondescript unmarked car, weren’t helping matters. And she could’ve done without her bodyguard’s sarcastic crack about privileged treatment for the rich and famous. Cassandra tried to focus her attention on the police detective’s questions.

  “What’s the crown prince doing here?” Reilly whispered into her ear.

  Cassandra looked away from the detective scribbling her answers to his rapid-fire questions, following Reilly’s pointed stare to the sidewalk. Great, just what I need.

  Willard pushed his way through the small crowd on the sidewalk. He tried to get closer, but an officer barred his way. Anger seethed in his gaze when it landed first on her and then on Reilly.

  “Cassandra, please tell them who I am?” Willard called out.

  “It’s all right,” she said, turning back to the detective. “He’s my business partner, Willard Bancroft. Can I go in now?”

  “Not yet, ma’am,” he replied. “We want to make sure the location is secure.”

  “I still don’t understand how someone got past my pull-down gate.” Cassandra said, her voice quivering under the panic rising within. Hold it together, girl. Don’t fall apart now. “I need to know what’s going on in there.”

  Another officer appeared, gave Reilly a long look, then pulled the detective away. The two of them moved back before falling into a hushed conversation.

  “Cassandra, what’s going on?” Willard said as he approached. “Are you okay?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Cassandra turned to find Willard’s gaze centered over her shoulder. The warmth created by Reilly rubbing her upper arms drew her attention. His casual embrace was so natural she couldn’t pinpoint when he’d laid his hands on her. She hadn’t felt his touch, and she instantly loathed her body’s betrayal in taking the comfort he offered.

  “She’s fine,” Reilly answered. “Obviously someone has broken into the shop. What are you doing here?”

  “The security service called me. I am her partner.” Willard threw back his shoulders and jammed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “That doesn’t explain your presence here. Why haven’t you gone home by now?”

  “I’m here because Cass wants me here.”

  “Oh, please, don’t start this again.” Cassandra shrugged off Reilly’s hands, refusing to deal with another round of male posturing. She faced the detective who rejoined them. “Is it okay now?”

  “Yes ma’am, the building’s secure. But I’m afraid your gate wasn’t. When the first unit arrived they found the open lock still on the latch.”

  “Open? That’s impossible. Lily would never forget to lock up the shop before she goes home.”

  “Lilian James is your employee?”

  “Yes, I’ve told you she’s my assistant. She often closes up for me. There must be some mistake.”

  “This wasn’t a typical smash and grab job.” The detective glanced at his notebook. “With the gate open, the intruder only broke enough panes of glass on your front door to get their hand through.”

  “To open the locks from the inside.”

  The detective glanced at Reilly. “Yes, that’s correct. Let me show you. In fact, we think once he, or they, got inside, they pulled the gate back down,” he continued when they got to the front door to the shop, “to give the appearance nothing was out of order.”

  “But why?” Cassandra and Willard asked in unison.

  “That’s what we’d like to know. You will want to do an extensive inventory, but it doesn’t look like anything is out of place or missing.”

  “What?”

  “Of course, we need you to confirm that. All the locked cases are fine. There’s no evidence of tampering, no overturned pieces. In fact, if it wasn’t for the broken glass and the alarm, I doubt you’d ever know anyone was here.”

  Stunned at the detective’s comments, Cassandra stepped over the pieces of glass littering the front entrance. Her eyes swept over the various displays. The police were right. Nothing was out of place. Trailing her fingers along the edge of a Louis the XVI desk, she robotically pushed back a delicate Ming vase filled with silk flowers that hovered at the edge.

  “Cass.” Reilly’s voice was low. “You do have a safe, right?”

  “What?” She managed to push the word past her lips and refocus on Reilly’s face. “A safe? Yes, I keep the most valuable—”

  The necklace!

  The words choked in her throat. She pushed past a police officer and took off for the back of her shop. Just as she reached the safe, arms tightened around her, yanking her backward.

  “No, don’t touch it,” Reilly warned, pulling her back to his chest.

  Cassandra twisted around to face him, her arms caught against his body. She tried to push away. “Let me go!”

  “Let’s check with the police first, okay? They’re probably done with the dusting, but we want to be sure.”

  “Dusting?”

  “For fingerprints. To see if someone tried to get into the safe before getting scared off.”

  “You don’t understand.” Tears stung at the back of her eyes and her throat constricted. She struggled to speak. “I need to check—to make sure…”

  She looked at the century-old vault. It looked so strong and secure. Had someone gotten inside it? Taken the necklace and then bothered to close the door and reset the locking mechanism? No, that was crazy.

  “Check what, Cassandra?”

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but we are finished with the safe,” a police officer said. “It’s fine and fully intact.”

&nbs
p; Waves of relief washed over Cassandra. “Can I open it now?”

  “If you feel you need to, yes ma’am.”

  Reilly released her. She waited until he stepped far enough away to give her some privacy, then she turned her back to him and quickly spun in the combination. It wasn’t until she’d seen the Fabergé necklace safely nestled in its box inside, did she allow herself to breathe.

  Cassandra reset the combination, then rose and moved to the locked glass jewelry cases lining the long counter. Her hands brushed over the dark-stained wood. Looking up, she took a quick inventory of the silver pieces lining the shelves. Everything was just as she left it. Turning in a slow circle, she continued to look at the cherished bits and pieces of her business.

  Her business? When had she stopped thinking of this place as still belonging to her Aunt Laverne?

  She’d been shocked at the reading of her aunt’s will, only days after the reading of her father’s, to find out the shop and all of its contents belonged to her. At first, it’d taken all her resolve to cross the doorstep. Tarnished family ties did that, but over the last few months she’d come to think of this place as her own.

  A place she’d worked hard to make a success. Now, she saw it through different eyes. Someone had broken into her store, but one couldn’t tell that from looking around. Seeing everything exactly as she’d left it compressed her chest, cutting off her air supply.

  “Why would someone do this? Why would they break into my shop if they didn’t want to steal something?” She turned around, knowing instinctively Reilly was there. “Why come in just to walk through? To touch my things?”

  “Shhh, it’s going to be okay.” Reilly pulled her close. Cupping her neck with one hand, he ran the other up and down her back. “Maybe we should head home. I’m sure the police will contact us if they find anything.”

  Find anything? What was there to find?

  The idea someone had purposely entered her shop to walk among the curving aisles of antique furniture and furnishings left her with a sickening feeling of violation. She shuddered and burrowed closer to the warmth and strength of Reilly’s embrace.

  “Sir, you should cover up those empty panes in the front door.” One of the patrolmen directed his comments at Reilly.