“I’m fine, Dad.”
“What about Glaze?”
“He’s fine, too.”
“Let me talk to him. I want to ask him a few questions.”
Amy smiled briefly at her father’s boardroom tone.
“Sorry, he’s not here at the moment.”
“Where is he?” Slater demanded.
“Out of the country. He’s been gone for over a week.” Amy glanced at the calendar on the wall. She glanced at it frequently lately. She had added a new worry to her already brimming load wondering if anyone in Jed’s agency would think to notify her if something happened to him. After all, she wasn’t his wife. Just a friend. And a lover. Did the government notify friends and lovers when things went wrong? She forced the question out of her mind.
Slater paused. “Hank said he worked for the government.”
“That’s right.”
“I suppose, given the situation you encountered, it’s just as well the man knew what he was doing. All right, I’ve already heard about Renner, Vaden and Guthrie. Tell me about LePage. All of it this time, Amy. No more secrets.”
“Dad, this is a transatlantic phone call. It’s very expensive. Maybe this should wait until you get back to Orleana.”
“I’m paying for it so don’t worry about it. Tell me what really happened the night LePage died, honey.”
Amy drew a deep breath and told him everything. Everything, that is, except about the letters. As she did so she studied the small piece of green glass she was keeping in a little bowl on the windowsill.
“Christ almighty,” was all Douglas Slater said when she was finished. “To think you’d been living with that all these months. No wonder you resisted going back to the island.”
Amy couldn’t think of anything to add to that.
“Hank said you pulled a box out of the cave? Something Wyman hid down there before I got to Orleana and found him?” There was a different, perhaps wary note in Slater’s voice now.
“That’s right. It contained a packet of the stones the Russians apparently used to pay off Wyman. There were also some doctored photos of you meeting clandestinely with some Russian spy. I burned those.”
“Did you?” Slater let silence flow over the line for a moment. “That was probably a good idea. The bastard told me he had some photos but I didn’t believe him. How could he? I’d never been near any Russian spies. It never occurred to me he might have faked a few shots. Typical Wyman piece of mischief.”
“Yes, I guess so. Well, they’re gone. I gave five of the glass stones to Renner, by the way. Kept one for myself as a souvenir.”
“It must have been quite an adventure. I’m just damn glad you had Glaze with you. I had a feeling he was the kind of man who knows how to take care of his own.”
“Yes,” Amy agreed. “He does.”
There was another moment of silence from England and then Douglas Slater said carefully, “You did the right thing burning those photos, Amy. Was that all there was in the box? The photos and the emeralds?”
“That’s all,” Amy said firmly.
“I see.” Then Slater said deliberately, “Amy, honey, I just want you to understand that if by some chance there had been anything else stored in that damn box, I’d want it burned, too. Completely.”
Amy caught her breath. “I understand, Dad. Believe me, I burned everything in that box except the green stones.”
“Good.” Slater sounded curiously satisfied. “I’ve always known you are the kind of woman who can be depended on when the chips are down. As I told Glaze, you’d go for the devil’s throat if you thought that’s what it would take to protect someone you loved.”
Amy’s fingers tightened on the receiver. “Did you really say that to Jed?”
“I really said it.”
“What did he say?”
“He agreed with me.” Slater chuckled. “But then, he understands that kind of direct approach. He’d do the same thing if necessary. Hasn’t he proven it? I think he’s going to make a good husband for you. Listen, your mom’s just coming out of the shower. I’ve already given her the gory details. I’ll put her on so you can say hello.”
“Fine. Dad, before you get off the line…”
“Yes, Amy?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, honey. Don’t ever forget it. But please, no more shocks like this one. A father can only take so much. Here’s your mother.”
Gloria Slater came on the line. “Amy, dear, what a dreadful experience. You’re quite certain you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Thank goodness you had Jed with you through all that. I really do like that man, Amy.”
“So do I.”
“I rather thought you did.” Gloria gave a small, knowing laugh. “I have a feeling we’ll be attending another wedding in the not-too-distant future.”
“I’m not sure about that, Mom. Jed hasn’t said anything about marriage. Don’t get your hopes up.” Or her own, Amy added silently. She decided not to mention that she’d actually gone out and bought a couple of Vivaldi records the day before. Talk about getting one’s hopes up.
“We’ll see,” Gloria said easily. Then she sighed. “To think that awful Michael Wyman was still causing trouble after all these years. The man certainly had a talent for it. I’m just sorry you had to be touched by it, Amy. Wyman was a complete and utter bastard, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. Don’t worry, I believe it. Tell me, how’s London?”
Her mother launched into an account of the trip and Amy relaxed, listening attentively. Everything was all right.
* * *
Jed was chagrined to discover his fingers were a little unsteady as he dialed the phone. He closed his eyes when it began ringing on the other end, waiting tensely for the clear, warm, refreshing sound of Amy’s voice. The receiver was lifted on the third ring, just as he had begun preparing himself for the possibility that she might be out. Jed opened his eyes and found himself staring at the AT&T symbol.
“Amy? It’s me.”
“Jed, you’re home!”
“Almost. I’m in L.A. I’ll be getting into Monterey at…” He fumbled with the ticket. “At seven-fifteen.”
“I’ll be at the airport.”
Jed began to relax for the first time since he’d gotten on the plane in Honolulu. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that. I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Jed, are you…are you okay?”
He grinned like an idiot. “Still structurally sound.”
“Jed!”
“No, I mean it, love, I’m fine.” He took a breath and then took the plunge. “I’m in great shape to start that family you were talking about before I left.”
“Jed,” she said again, this time quite breathlessly. “Do you mean it?”
“We’ll discuss it when I get home. I’ve got to run, Amy. They’re calling my flight.”
“Jed, wait a minute. Tell me exactly what you meant. I’ve got to know.”
“I love you, Amy. See you at seven-fifteen.” He hung up the phone, still grinning, and picked up the flight bag at his feet. It was kind of fun to turn the tables on her once in a while. Let her stew about his last message until he got there, just the way he had stewed about her last message on the way out of Honolulu.
She loved him. She was planning his future for him because she loved him.
The cage door was open and Jed was free.
Jed had just time enough to buy a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums before he got on the plane.
Amy was waiting at the airport. He found out later that she had arrived a good forty minutes early. She had apparently spent the time pacing the arrival lounge until the jet set down. When Jed finally walked through the door she was in his arms before he knew what hit him.
“It’s about time you got here,” she said as she clung to him.
“I know,” he replied gently. “Believe me,
I know.” He hugged her so tightly she gave a tiny yelp.
Then she laughed up at him, her love in her eyes. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go home.”
Jed needed no further urging.
Much later that night Amy stirred amid the tangled sheets, felt the vacancy beside her and opened her eyes. Jed was standing at the window, his strong, lean body silhouetted in the vague moonlight.
“Jed? Is anything wrong?”
“No, Amy. Not any more.” He turned to look at her, his eyes warm and caressing. “I guess I’m still in another time zone. I can’t sleep.”
Amy remembered the intensity of his lovemaking earlier and shook her head, smiling faintly. “I would have thought you’d be exhausted.”
He ignored that and instead met her eyes. “I love you, Amy
“I’m glad,” she whispered. “Because I love you. With all my heart.”
Jed went back to the bed, sitting down beside her and pulling her into his arms. “I missed you so damn much. I was a fool not to realize how much I need you.”
“Don’t feel bad. I spent quite a while suppressing the fact that I needed you. We were just friends, remember?”
“I remember. Amy, I quit my job.”
Her head came up so quickly she nearly hit his chin. “You did what?”
“When I finished this last assignment I told Cutter I wanted out. I quit. Don’t look so surprised.” He smiled. “Didn’t you want me to quit?”
“Yes, but I wanted you to do it for yourself, not just for me.”
“I did do it for myself. Eight years in that business is long enough. I want my future back, Amy. And I want you in it. Do you understand?”
She hugged him. “I understand. Was this last assignment very bad, Jed?” she asked gently.
“It went smoothly.”
“That doesn’t tell me much.”
Jed groaned. “There was a time when you never asked questions.”
“Things have changed, friend.”
“Yeah, I guess they have. All right, I’ll tell you what happened in a few short sentences and then we won’t talk about it anymore. Agreed?”
“I sold the salesman back to the terrorists who were paying him.”
“What does that mean?” Then her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, I see. You made his employers think he’d betrayed them, is that it? And they…they…” She ran out of words.
“They took care of him for us,” Jed finished bluntly. “It’s all over, Amy.”
“Yes.”
“Things might be a little tight financially for a while,” he said tentatively. “I mean, I’ve got some money saved and the cages will bring in a bit, but—”
“The cages are going to bring in a lot. I went down to the Caliph Bay Gallery and upped the prices on all the cages you had there. Two of them have already sold,” she told him smugly. “And when I put them into a San Francisco gallery, the prices are going even higher.”
He laughed ruefully. “I was about to say I was going to try to get back into engineering. I can do it on a free-lance basis, short-term assignments for companies in need of temporary engineering help. It might mean some travel or we might have to move, but you could come with me. If that doesn’t work out, I might be able to do some security consulting work.”
“Whatever,” she agreed blissfully. “In the meantime we won’t starve. There’s my writing and there’s also something else.” She pulled herself free of his arms, slid out of bed and hurried into the living room.
Jed followed curiously. “What are you up to, sweetheart?”
She plucked the green stone off the windowsill and handed it to him. “You are looking at a nice little financial cushion, Jed Glaze.”
He frowned, turning the stone over in his hand. “What kind of cushion?”
“Maybe fifty thousand dollars worth of cushion. Mr. Albright wasn’t certain.” She laughed at the expression on Jed’s face.
“Who’s Mr. Albright?”
“A jeweler I looked up last week. On a whim I had him check out that rock, Jed. It’s real.”
His fist closed around the emerald as he stared at her in astonishment. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. Apparently the Russians really did pay off Wyman. The government’s inside man was wrong.”
“And you gave the other five stones to Renner,” Jed yelped.
“Daniel Renner is Wyman’s son. If anyone deserves them, Renner does. But I figure you and I are entitled to that one for all our trouble.”
Jed looked torn between laughter and shock. He flipped the gem into the air, caught it and reached for Amy. The laughter won out. “Amy, my love, I have a feeling the next sixty or seventy years with you are going to be very interesting.”
More Books by Jayne Ann Krentz
eBooks
Gift of Gold
Gift of Fire
Shield’s Lady
Midnight Jewels
Contemporary (written as Jayne Ann Krentz)
Copper Beach
In Too Deep
Fired Up
Running Hot
Sizzle and Burn
Historical (written as Amanda Quick)
Crystal Gardens
Quicksilver
Burning Lamp
The Perfect Poison
The Third Circle
Futuristic (written as Jayne Castle)
The Lost Night (September 2012)
Canyons of Night
Midnight Crystal
Obsidian Prey
Dark Light
French Quarter
Stella Ann Cameron
Copyright
Copyright © 1998 by Stella Cameron
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher.
Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Dedication
For Jerry, the love of my life
Portrait of a Scoundrel
Α scoundrel, a vicious man, he goes with a leer on his lips, winking his eye, shuffling his foot, beckoning with his finger.
Deceit in his heart, always scheming evil, he sows dissention.
Disaster will overtake him sharply for this, suddenly, irretrievably, his fall will come.
Proverbs 6:12-15
Chapter 1
The towel settled over the man’s face, his shoulders, his chest. A big towel, Jack Charbonnet thought, and damp. It made a white death mask of Errol Petrie’s features, a shroud for his body on the stark tiled floor.
Jack watched the scene framed by the partially open door into the bathroom.
He took several more steps into the bedroom and reached the foot of the empty bed. He heard the beat of his own heart, but felt nothing. Nothing.
An urge to shout imploded. If he shut his eyes and opened them again, he’d see more clearly, and Celina Payne wouldn’t be standing over Errol.
Bamboo ceiling fans turned slowly, clicked on their rods, their long, discolored cords swinging in the humid air. When Jack had entered the courtyard of the Royal Street house, another day was heating up in the Quarter. The warm breeze brought snatches of noise, and the scent of gardenias and old beer past the arched grillwork gate that closed off the yard.
Only minutes earlier he had walked through the streets, annoyed at Errol for insisting on a meeting before nine in the morning, when he knew Jack took his daughter to school every day, and wasn’t available until later.
None of that mattered now. Errol’s message must have come in while Jack was explaining to his mother-in-law that he couldn’t bring Amelia to her for the weekend. That had been after midnight. Then he’d turned off the ringer so he wouldn’t hear if she called again. And he hadn’t checked for messages until he got up. If he had listened before he went to sleep, he’d have called Errol back. .
Celina made a noise, a faint, choking sniff. He noticed she wore a loose yellow bathrobe, and that her short, red-brown cu
rls shone in the yellow overhead light. Her feet were bare. Disjointed parts of a picture he didn’t want to see.
Closing his eyes wasn’t going to make this go away. “Celina?” His voice grated obscenely in the still morning gloom behind closed shutters in the bedroom.
She choked again, and spun around. Her face shocked him afresh. Blοοdless, the skin might be fused to bone, and her dark blue eyes were vast and unblinking. She looked at him without recognition and caught hold of the doorjamb.
“Good God!” Jack said. The numb sensation in his limbs dissolved. He trembled inside, but adrenaline pumped through him and he strode to throw the bathroom door wide open.
“Εrrol,” Celina muttered. “Errol.”
Jack faced the bathroom. The footed porcelain tub came into full view. Pools of water puddled into dips in the uneven white-tiled floor where the boards underneath had warped.
He smelled what he should have smelled before: liquor. He’d brought the remembered scent of gardenias muddled with beer into the house with him, then been vaguely aware of Celina’s incongruously innocent lemony fragrance. The pungent odor of bourbon hadn’t registered.
His stomach constricted, and this time he did glance at Celina. She continued to grasp the doorjamb. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she moaned.
Errol knew better than to take a drink—didn’t he?
Jack looked down at an outflung hand and forearm. Below the white towel, Errol’s long, muscular body was naked.
Naked but for a brilliant green rubber ring on his flaccid penis.
Celina gave a thin, broken cry. “Not Errol. He’s got so much to give, so much to do. We need him.”
On the Edge Page 33