Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue

by Amy J. Fetzer

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  Amy J. Fetzer

  Tell him, trust him, completely, a voice said, and she almost blurted out her feelings before she recalled he wasn't being honest with her either. And then there was Tess and his love for her.

  "Maybe I will . . . when you tell me what Noal Walker is doing for you?"

  Ram blinked, sitting back, disappointed in the fire so quickly extinguished. "I hired him to investigate."

  "Ramsey," she warned, accelerating the car through the intersection, trying to shake a tailgater.

  " Tis the past association of the Rothmeres and Blackwells he seeks on my behalf."

  Penny tried not to panic. Was it her he was investigating? "Tess's family I can understand, but the Rothmeres?" She gave the rearview a glance. Still there. A midnight-blue Mer­cedes, dark tinted glass, and familiar.

  "I believe Tess has gifted me with one of the diamonds she stole, Penelope."

  "Gee, news to me, Ramsey." He gave her that insolent you weren't interested before stare. "And?"

  "I believe Rothmere knows I have it, or rather we have it." Ram cursed himself for having the bloody thing appraised, alerting anyone of its existence.

  "Oh God." Her gaze darted to all the mirrors, unease hiking her panic. When had the tailgater suddenly vanished?

  "He wants them back, all of them, and God knows what else he'll do to see the fortune his again."

  She was in danger. Real danger. And so was he. They didn't have the diamonds. Tess did.

  "Ramsey." She swallowed, her fingers whitening on the steering wheel. "They tried to kill Tess to get them back."

  His brows furrowed. He recalled Tess saying as much, yet thought 'twas feminine dramatics. "You are certain?"

  "Look at your seat," she said, elbowing the back when he stared at the bottom cushion.

  Ram twisted, his features stretching taut as he pushed his finger into the hole in the leather cushion.

  "This is—was Tess's car." His gaze glazed over the interior.

  TIMESWEPT ROGUE

  "I've had the rear glass replaced. It had a clean bullet hole through it. That seat and the body still have to be repaired." She darted a glance at him. "There are at least three bullet

  holes."

  "The constabulary? They know of this?"

  She shook her head, making a left turn. "It happened before Tess left in my car." Before we burned the evidence.

  "Tell me what happened that night, Penelope."

  Penny slowed,.waiting for some children to cross the street

  into the park.

  "She broke into the Rothmere Estate, stole a packet and was caught. It was a set-up," she said with absolute conviction. "Or those diamonds wouldn't have been inside." Damn you Sloane, she thought, her eyes widening at the sight of the Mercedes pulling out from a side street behind them. "They chased her to her apartment, and I knew she was in trouble, tried to help, but only managed to convince her to switch clothes and cars with me." She came to an intersection and stopped, her fingers flexing on the wheel. "She wouldn't tell me what was inside the packet." Behind them, the Mercedes engine revved. "She hopped the cruise liner I was going to take and sailed to the Bahamas. She was headed home, believing she'd eluded them til she saw them on the ship. They were going to shoot her, right there in front of hundreds of people. So she

  jumped.''

  The light changed and she gunned the engine, forcing Ram­sey to grip the door handle. "You know the rest." She made a right, a left, then cut across a mini mall parking lot. "I can't understand why she just didn't give them the diamonds?" She thumped the heel of her palm against the steering wheel. ' 'Why did she hold onto them?''

  Ramsey glanced to at the side mirrort memorizing the car­riage number.

  " 'Twas likely her only bargaining power, should she be

  taken captive by those men." "You see them, don't you?" Only his gaze shifted out the window. "Aye." "They've been following us for—"

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  "I know. Go as you must." He gestured ahead.

  "I've already made two extra turns."

  The Mercedes rode their bumper. "Oh jeez! What do we do?"

  "We must either outrun them or confront."

  "Confront? Be serious, Ramsey. This isn't 1789. Confronta­tions on the streets of Coral Keys is not a daily occurrence."

  ' 'We could head to a populated area,'' he suggested, scanning the area for a way out. "Your fame could aid us."

  "No." She shook her head for emphasis. "No way. People could get hurt. We don't know what these guys want or why they're following or what they are capable of. No."

  "I've ascertained your point, Penelope." His dry tone lacked impatience.

  "They're coming up along side." Panicked, urgent.

  "Allow them to come about and be prepared to evade."

  ' 'Evade?'' she squeaked. ' 'Listen captain, you have no crew and they're probably armed and—oh jeez, what are you doing?"

  He jerked up his pant leg, slipping a knife free from a scab­bard strapped to his calf. He grinned. "Never a harm in being prepared.''

  "I should have known," she muttered, glancing at the side view mirror as the car rode the shoulder to get closer.

  "We're bumper to bumper," she said, swerving.

  "Keep it steady." He maneuvered his big body sideways.

  "Ramsey, they could shoot you," she called when he pushed his torso out the window. The Mercedes pulled up close, scraping the Mustang.

  "Turn, woman, turn!"

  She made a hard right, heard a pop and in the side mirror saw the Mercedes swerve out of control and screech to a halt. Ramsey slid into the seat so hard the car bounced.

  "You hit the tire!" She blinked at all the mirrors.

  "Drive." He gestured ahead, then looked behind them.

  "You actually hit the tire!"

  "Drive, Penelope," he said in a calm voice, grasping the wheel and pulling the car back to the right of the road. She

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  was breathing rapidly, excitedly, and Ramsey couldn't keep from smiling. But they weren't out of harm's way yet. The dark car was pulling back onto the road, limping but still coming.

  "In there." He pointed to a deserted warehouse, its tin walls and a third of its roof pushed in by storms or vandals.

  Penny jerked the wheel and the car listed, tires squealing.

  '' *Tis my desire not to bring attention to ourselves and this blatantly obvious carriage."

  "Sorry." She shrugged, sheepish. "It's my first car chase." She shoved her hair out of her face as he directed her to pass the first two doors of the gaping warehouse,

  As they did, Ramsey found what he sought, another entrance on the side. "Turn right, then sharply right again, Penelope."

  She did and the maneuver put them inside, up against a corner wall. She cut off the engine, looking around.

  There was a wide open door at the end of the car's bumpers and she couldn't understand why he wanted the car in such a vulnerable spot, for she could see the empty street between the gaps in the dented wall.

  "Make haste," he said, climbing out, and she snatched up her purse, leaving the car and following his heated gesture to get into the darkness of the warehouse as he tugged on a corrigated steel door. Rusted, it wouldn't budge without waking the dead and he scanned the area for something to cover the car,

  "This will work," she said, quickly gathering up moldy wet cardboard boxes and laying them against the back of the car. Ram instantly joined her, hiding the vehicle from sight,

  "Enough, enough, hurry," he urged, catching sight of the dark car atween the wall gaps as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along the perimeter.

  Penny felt a rush of excitement like she'd never experienced.

  "This way." He gestured up a metal staircase that looked more like a fire escape. She went first, climbing the dozen rungs.

  "Why don't we just wait in the car?"<
br />
  "And if they decide to destroy the car, assuming we are in it?" he countered.

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  "Oh—right." She reached the top, stepping onto a narrow catwalk. "Oh Jesus," she hissed as it swayed noisily. "This doesn't seem much safer." Fear wavered her voice.

  "Head to that opening," he pointed to a blackened square in the wall. "And put one foot afore the other and 'twill sway less."

  She glanced back over her shoulder. "You're sure?"

  He could tell she was scared. "Trust me. 'Tis like rigging."

  She did, holding the rusted rails and she made it to the opening a lot sooner than she imagined, ducking into the dark­ness, feeling her way for something to grip. Ramsey was there, his feet on solid ground, his body tucked close.

  "Do not step further," he whispered close to her ear. "I fear this place is as unstable as it looks."

  Light flickered between the broken seams of the warehouse, yet not enough to see his face clearly.

  "It smells like oranges."

  "Aye, rotten ones," he agreed. "Nay, do not move. Lean back against me." She did and he held her as he settled to the floor, then shifted her atween the wedge of his thighs.

  "How long do-we wait?"

  "Til the bastards cease circling."

  "They are?" She strained to look, and he pushed her head back.

  "Aye, 'tis their second time."

  A noise and then, "What was that?"

  "Shhh."

  With his back against the wall and his shoulder to the door frame, Ramsey had a clear view below and to the right of a goodly portion of the warehouse floor, the hood of her car and the door they passed through. Yet beyond that, he'would have to make himself known to see. If he were better armed than with a knife and alone, he would have risked the confrontation, but not with Penelope here.

  Ramsey hedged the opening, then jerked back.

  "They are examining the damaged wheel."

  "Great. Let's hope they don't decide to change it here because they'll notice the car."

  She shifted against him, digging in her purse.

  "What are you doing?" he hissed, her fidgeting grinding her softness to his groin.

  "Looking for my cellular phone."

  "Do not bring the constables into this, Penelope."

  "I'm not, but Claire will kill me if I miss another appoint­ment."

  "Claire?"

  "My dressmaker."

  In the dark Ramsey rolled his eyes. Penny muted the sound and dialed, whispering into the phone. She cut the line, tilting her head back to look at his silhouette. "You sure you don't want me to call the cops? We can at least scare them off."

  Silence.

  "Ramsey?"

  "I'm considering."

  ' 'Well, consider that those meat chunks want something from us and I'll give you two guesses as to what it is? And the first one doesn't count."

  Ramsey grinned. Cheeky lass. "Why would they believe we would have them with us? Bloody hell. Twas a king's ransom in gems. Only a fool would take such a risk."

  "Phalon isn't a fool. Sloane is—debatable. I don't think they know for sure if the diamonds are still around. Even if the police knew, they would have to assume they went down with Tess."

  "Yet I saw them."

  "In 1789, and who knows what happened to them since, except for the one Tess left you." She shifted, her voice a conspirator's whisper. "The way I see it, the diamonds are either undeclared wealth or they don't belong to Phalon in the first place."

  "Mayhaps Sloane's? She, after all, put them there."

  She smothered a snicker. * 'If she knew what they were worth, she would never have let them out of her sight. Even I know the value of colored diamonds."

  "The gems have a past we must discover." He sighed, his breath brushing her hair. "By Triton, we are in a fix, lass."

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  "You know, I could buy more diamonds and set a trap."

  He stiffened. "I think not," he hissed near her ear. Her idea sounded much like Tess's need to bait Phillip, with herself.

  "Why?"

  "The culprit has no face yet, and one must know his enemy afore he can strike." He edged for a look at the pursuers and saw the car moving beyond the crumbling walls back toward the street.

  "You sound like it's an everyday thing, to be fighting someone.''

  "You forget that the land you ride upon everyday was Span­ish territory, not yet in statehood, in my time. Your Louisiana was French ruled, territory beyond undiscovered. Land changed hands many times, lass. When Dane's father bought their home in 1762,1 believe, 'twas no more than six rooms, once owned by a fat poppenjay," he said with undisguised disgust, "some official of the Spanish government. Spanish law prevailed then, til . . ." he paused, thinking back, "1783, then 'twas ruled by the British."

  "Wow," she said, thoroughly fascinated. "I hadn't real­ized."

  " Twere Seminole Indians about, too, magnificent warriors, but unwilling to allow passage, nor recognize anyone's owner­ship. 'Twas dangerous to travel the roads without full escort. We'd English spies and saboteurs to tend with, and always the thief or felon. The sovereign thought America his private dumping pile for criminals," he added sourly, "The village streets brimmed with the likes of those." He inclined his head to the warehouse.

  She took a minute to absorb that. "What was*it like?" came softly. "Finding yourself two hundred years in the future?"

  He was wondering if she'd ever ask. ' 'Terrifying. Mesmeriz­ing. A pull like I've never experienced afore." He looked down at her, shifting her to stare at her profile outlined in the dim threads of light. "Know that I wanted to see what lay on the other side of the wall, Penelope. I accepted the risk freely." His lips quirked. "Though I'd no notion my arrival would

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  nearly kill me." He sounded amused, she thought. "But 'tis all too fascinating to ever go back."

  "As if you could."

  He gave her a considering look. "I arrived, did I not?"

  "You don't really think that's possible ... again?" Appre­hension bolted through her. Could he be taken away as easily?

  "The question is, would I go."

  A stretch of silence, then an urgently whispered, "Well?"

  "I like your century fine, lass," he said on a chuckle, loving that she sighed with what he hoped was relief, then dared another look for their hunters. "I believe we have successfully eluded them."

  "Castration's sufficient punishment for this, don't you think?"

  He choked, then shook his head, rueful. " 'Tis cruel side to you, woman."

  "That's self-preservation," she said. "If I don't look out for me and mine, who will?"

  "Me," he said, tilting her face to the sultry gray shadows. "When will you trust me?"

  "If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting in a smelly warehouse with bugs trying to climb up my skirt."

  His voice was low and silky. "Shall I seek and destroy the little beasties for you?"

  She laughed softly as he stood, helping her to her feet. "I'll get back to you on that."

  "Be assured I shall ask again," he said close to her ear.

  God I hope so, she thought, as he poked his head out the opening, then guided her onto the catwalk.

  ' 'I know, one foot afore the other,'' she mimicked and moved cautiously toward the escape stairs. Ramsey waited until she was off the ladder, then took the easy route swinging over the side, hanging, then dropping to the ground.

  "Show off," she said and he herded her to the car. He checked the empty street and yard afore climbing into the car. Penny cringed as she started the engine, the rumble echoing in the barren warehouse and she muttered a half dozen Hail

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  Marys as she pulled the car out onto the road and didn't breathe until they saw other cars and people.

  "Well," she
huffed a sigh. "That was exciting."

  "Having our lives threatened is not a game, Penelope." His gaze still searched around them.

  She maneuvered the car into the driveway before a modest house, using Claire's van to shield the red Mustang, then yanked up the break. She stared out over the polished hood for a moment, then shoved her hair off her forehead.

  "Maybe the diamonds do have a past and it's in Tess's diaries?"

  "You have not read them?1'

  "Not all." She glanced at him briefly. "I guess I know when 1 reach the end, I'll read how she died."

  " 'Tis a fact we cannot escape, love," he said, his eyes soft with sympathy. "Read them all and put her to rest."

  Penny stared at her lap. Once again he was right, but she couldn't help feeling that if she did read it, a part of herself would die, too. "Are you going to tell me what else she left you?" She glanced at him through a curtain of dark red hair.

  " 'Tis naught but personal possessions," he said matter of factly, wiggling the signet ring on his finger. "Dane and Tess thought 'twould bring me comfort were I alone in the future."

  But you aren't alone, she wanted to say. I'm here. But it was Tess he'd loved, and the thought that he still might clawed through her chest like a raging animal. She hated feeling this way and tried pushing the stabbing pain under tight control.

  "Come on. Let's get this over with."

  She retrieved a box from the back seat and Ramsey frowned at the sudden sadness in her green eyes. "Penelope?"

  "Claire hates it when I'm late," she said, ignoring his con­cern and leaving the Mustang. "And even a car chase won't be a good enough excuse."

  Ram followed, damned confused and determined to pry loose some answers.

  Chapter 30

  A tiny bell chimed above his head and Ram paused to exam­ine the street afore closing the door. 'Twas the dressmaker, he realized, the open room filled with bolts of fabric filed by shade in a Queen Anne armoire, spools of trim neatly arranged in glass cabinets and surrounded by artfully placed reticules and matching slippers. He recognized the Hipplewhite chairs and tables and though Ram did not frequent such establishments afore, the shop reminded him of his century.