by Beverly Bird
Panic rolled over her in jittery waves. She had to fix this, had to push him back where he belonged…somehow.
“I’m thinking that Liam Bradstoe might be able to help us, though,” Rafe continued. “The ruby isn’t likely to get out of town without moving under his nose. He isn’t happy about it but he’ll talk to me at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.” He handed the dog to Fox.
“It makes more sense for me to see him.” Fox took the Chihuahua. “If the chase for this stone leads us out of town, you won’t want to leave Kate right now.”
Rafe didn’t need to be persuaded. “Go for it then. Bradstoe will be at Bonnie Joe’s for breakfast. He’ll see you there.” He reached for the door. “For what it’s worth, I’ll swing through Chestnut Hill on my way home but so far the word out of there isn’t good, either.”
Fox nodded grimly. “I figured they didn’t catch the guy inside. I would have heard.”
“They did dig a .357 hollow point out of a tree.”
It was a hefty gun. “You ought to see how it took out my window.” Fox shook his head. “This guy is going to have to make a mistake sooner or later.”
Rafe nodded. “They always do.” He shut the door soundly behind him.
Tara’s gaze danced warily to Fox. She did not intend to go back to where they had been when the man had started pounding on the door. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer of the bedroom now.”
“Be my guest.”
She stood quickly and hurried out of the room. Fox watched her go, undisturbed. They both knew she was running out of places to hide.
She would be polite at all costs, Tara decided as she brushed her teeth the next morning. She felt stiff and achy from a long restless night, but the dark hours had given her room to deal with what had happened. And by dawn she’d known she could get her ground back. She had to.
She washed her face and ran down the rules she’d set. One, no touching. Two, no arguing because that always brought them nose-to-nose, which wasn’t a particularly safe state of affairs anymore. And three, there would be absolutely no discussion of anything personal.
She worked her hair into a French braid and stood back from Fox’s bathroom mirror to make sure everything was as it should be. She wore a tailored man’s shirt—loose and unbelted—and jeans and tennis shoes. Very unprovocative.
She was fine. Everything was fine. She put her hand on the doorknob and stepped into the hall again to the smell—oh, God bless him—of strong chicory coffee.
Tara followed her nose to the kitchen. He was dropping bacon into a frying pan, stepping over Belle as he worked. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of her footsteps and smiled. “’Morning, darlin’.”
Her breath caught. Her heart rolled over. “Same to you.”
He had a radio turned on somewhere, she realized. She heard the distant, tinny sounds of Christmas music. Silent night, holy night… Tara hugged herself and blocked it out. Mention clowns, she thought, and you’d end up seeing them everywhere you looked. Now that she had remembered the holiday was upon them, she knew signs of it would jump out at her all day.
Fox watched her move quickly and precisely to the table. She sat and folded her hands together neatly on top of the wood. “Did you sleep all right?” he asked.
“Very well, thanks.”
So that was the way it was going to be this morning.
It was no more or less than he had expected. Fox rubbed the back of his neck before flipping the bacon over. The problem here was not unlike getting trapped in one of those glass mazes at a carnival, he decided. You thought you knew where you were going only to find that the path you’d planned to take wasn’t there after all. You thought something solid was in front of you but you put your hand out and it sliced through air. The five minutes you were inside, lost and disoriented, had a habit of stretching out until they felt like hours. And for a long time after you were finally free of the place, your perceptions stayed off.
She’d done that to his entire world.
She’d changed his rules, he thought, something even Adelia had not done. Adelia had slid seamlessly into his life, changing nothing, barely causing a ripple. But this woman…this woman rocked his foundations. His need to comfort and protect her ran strong and steady in his blood, but if he tried to save her from the jail she’d put her heart in, he knew it would only scare her to death and make her run.
It was a dilemma, he conceded. He reached for the carafe. “Coffee?”
Her eyes lit. “Thank you.”
He poured a mug and set it on the table. “Sweet and light?”
“Strong and black.”
“Now there’s the Tara I know.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. She wouldn’t rise to the bait. Fox stepped back to the counter. “Sunny-side up or over-easy?” he asked.
Tara looked at the carton of eggs near the skillet, pure cholesterol in a shell. “Neither. I’d like to live to see my firstborn.”
“Ah, come on,” he drawled. “Live dangerously.”
Her heart spasmed.
Living dangerously was what had brought her to this point, she thought frantically. It had made her forget caution and everything she knew to be true. Who walked away when you needed him most? Damn him, damn him! It was none of his business.
He put a plate of toast in front of her and her temper kicked. “You’re a regular Betty Crocker, aren’t you?”
“Cooking is a necessary life skill. Food can be one of life’s most decadent pleasures but eating out all the time can be financially prohibitive.”
She’d rather not discuss decadent. Tara picked up a slice. “Is it dry?”
“Saturated with butter.”
“Must be your Southern genes.” She bit anyway.
“Northerners don’t know how to eat.”
“Obviously, you’ve never been to a clambake.”
“Is that where they stick tofu in the sand?”
Tara choked on her toast. Damn it, she thought, she didn’t want this…this banter. She wanted him to be a stranger, someone whose path she just happened to cross one dark and horrible night.
He put two plates full of bacon and over-easy eggs on the table and sat down himself. The dog inched close and began circling like a shark.
“You could have scrambled them with non-stick spray and low fat,” Tara mentioned.
“That,” he said, pausing for a mouthful, “would be like kissing your sister.”
“Which you have.”
“Many times.”
She choked.
“Not in the respect you mean, though.” He grinned.
“I meant Connie, love.” She took her own quick bite. “Not that I give a damn.”
“Of course, you don’t.”
She had to take this in hand. “Fox, this can’t continue.”
“Hush. One unhealthy meal isn’t going to kill you.”
He was deliberately misunderstanding. She knew that, but she clarified the matter anyway. She motioned a finger between them, pointing at him, at herself.
He nodded. “Ah. Now I get it.”
“It’s got to stop.”
“I can’t think of one good reason why.” He stood and picked up his plate. “Eat up and we’ll go see Bradstoe.”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“I did.”
“Well, I meant it.” Somehow she thought it might earn a bit more reaction.
“So did I.” He opened the dishwasher and dropped his plate inside. Then he came back to the table. He leaned close to her. “Relax, darlin’. Nobody’s pushing you. I’ve got all the time in the world and I’m a patient man.”
She was sinking, Tara thought, just…sinking. At her feet, the dog barked happily.
“Oh, shut up,” Tara muttered at her. “What do you know about it?” Then she figured the mutt just wanted her breakfast so she put her plate on the floor.
They dropped the Mustang at a repair shop to have the window repla
ced then they picked up an unmarked car at headquarters. The interior smelled like old smoke and stale onions. Tara tried not to breathe too much.
They found Liam Bradstoe in a restaurant on Filbert just as Rafe had said they would. It was a quaint place with old-fashioned multipaned windows fronting the street. A string of twinkling red Christmas lights framed them but there was thick darkness behind the glass. Tara’s best guess put the place at being closed but when Fox rapped his knuckles on the door, it opened.
The man who greeted them was obese. His eyes were flat and a shade paler than his mud-colored hair. He was dressed all in tan. His only color was in his florid cheeks.
“Good morning, Joe,” Fox said pleasantly. “We’re here to see Liam.”
The man looked past Fox at Tara, then his gaze dropped to the dog in her arms. “Hey, I’ve seen that mutt before. Your partner brought her by once.”
Tara held the dog out to him. “Would you like her? She needs a home.”
“Won’t work, darlin’,” Fox said. “Bonnie Joe is out on bail. They don’t let you keep pets where he’s going to be living three weeks from now after the trial.”
“I had no damn idea what that blonde was up to,” Bonnie Joe complained.
“Of course not,” Fox drawled. “Right now, though, I’d really like to speak to Liam on another matter.”
The man didn’t move from the door. “I thought Montiel was coming. Him, I trust. You I don’t know so much.”
“I’m much nicer.”
Tara’s gaze had been whipping back and forth between them. At Fox’s response, she rolled her eyes.
Bonnie Joe finally stepped back and waved them inside. Tara followed Fox and nearly walked into a huge, beribboned Christmas tree just inside the door. She caught her breath and looked up at the angel at the top. It seemed to gaze back at her with sad, knowing eyes.
They found Liam Bradstoe at a table in the center of the room. In contrast to Joe, he looked cadaverous. Even sitting, Tara could tell by the length of his torso and the way he bent his shoulders to eat that he was at least six and a half feet tall. Three platters were in front of him—one with fried potatoes, one with poached eggs and one with fried ham. There was a gravy boat of something that looked like hollandaise sauce. Each of the plates showed serious dents. Tara decided he must be a Southerner.
“Where’s Montiel?” Bradstoe asked around a mouthful, repeating Joe’s question.
“He sent me instead.” Fox pulled out a chair for Tara, then one for himself. She sat, resting the little dog in her lap.
“He said you’re looking for a ruby,” Liam said.
“And he said you’d be able to tell me when it started moving around.”
Tara’s gaze flicked quickly to Fox and she frowned. His drawl was gone.
“If it starts moving,” Bradstoe corrected, “I’d know. And I would be glad to tell you for a favor in exchange. But I don’t see it getting real active around these parts.”
“You know the rock I’m talking about.”
“I have my ideas. It’s not changing hands in my city.” Bradstoe took a hefty mouthful of potatoes. “Only a fool would try to fence it here. It’s been in the Inquirer damned near every week for years. You’ll probably want to go north where it might have gotten a little less press.”
“Is there anyone up north I’d particularly want to talk to?”
Bradstoe rubbed his gaunt jaw. “I’d have to think about it, if you get my drift. By the way, I got a niece going up for trial next month. Did you know that?”
Fox grinned. “No kidding. What did she do?”
“She got herself involved with some drug types.”
“What’s her name?”
“Alicia Connelly.”
“I’ll check out the charges.”
“I was hoping for a little more.”
Fox leaned forward. “This is not that big a deal, Liam. I’m not asking you to turn State’s evidence here. I just want to speculate a little bit about some people who might not be averse to playing around with a few million dollars’ worth of hot ruby. Checking out charges is all you’re going to get out of me on this one.”
“No!” Tara interrupted.
Both pairs of eyes swivelled to her. It took her a startled moment to realize she’d protested aloud.
“Don’t be difficult about this,” she said with more dignity.
“Difficult,” Fox repeated.
“Your lady has a point,” Liam mentioned.
“My lady doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Tara leaned toward him. “He knows where the Rose is!” she hissed. “Just make a deal with him and let’s get this over with! Do you think I don’t know what’s going on here? I watch television!”
“Well, now, in all fairness, I didn’t say I know where the stone got to,” Liam interrupted. “However, if you want the gem that badly, I could use my own resources on the search. Alicia—”
“Excuse me, Liam,” Fox interrupted. “I need a moment with my friend here.”
He was on his feet and had her elbow before Tara could take another breath. She nearly dropped the dog and Belle growled a startled warning. Fox tugged on her arm and she followed him into the shadows of a dark corner of the empty restaurant.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“You’re swearing at me again.” She tried to ease out of his hold.
“You’re irritating me again.”
“I want my ruby back!”
“Then stay out of this!”
She’d forgotten her rules.
They were nose-to-nose again. She’d provoked him. Tara felt her legs wobble a little beneath her at the heat in his eyes. At least, she thought, he wasn’t gazing at her in that gentle, knowing way…the way he had been last night. She remembered, and her gaze fell almost helplessly to his mouth.
Fox saw her eyes go smoky. It hit him where he breathed. “Don’t do that.”
“What?” She shook her head to clear it.
“Don’t look at me like that. I might take you up on the invitation.”
Something shivered through her hard and fast. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
“Then tell me what you were thinking when your eyes did that.”
“My eyes didn’t do anything.”
“They went like this.” He let his own gaze drop to her mouth.
Tara clapped a hand to her stomach while it tried to pitch with something that felt entirely too much like excitement. “Okay. I was thinking that you’re an irritating, stubborn, frustrating pain in the—”
“But darlin’,” he interrupted, “at the moment I’m the best pain you’ve got.”
“I don’t have to like it.” Tara turned smartly and went back to the table. Fast.
After a moment, Fox followed. He spoke to Liam but his gaze stayed on her. Speculatively, she thought. She wondered what was going through his mind and gooseflesh rolled up her arms at the possibilities.
“I’ll see what I can do about cutting Alicia’s sentence some,” he said, “but that’s it. I have no patience for drug matters, you know that, and if she was involved I want her to serve time. Now where would this stone go if it was going to go anywhere?”
Bradstoe measured him with his eyes. “I only have a guess.”
“We’ll start with that.”
“Try a guy named Petro Acosta in New York. He’s got a store on the lower east side. He deals high-profile items in the back, if you get my meaning.”
Fox nodded. “You’re a scholar and a gentleman, Liam. Tell your niece to get married and settle down.”
The man sighed. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“Maybe six years instead of ten? Parole in one? She’s young enough to start over.”
Fox thought about it. “With a blood test every two weeks to make sure she’s clean. If there’s any change, she goes back in.”
Bradstoe nodded without hesitation. �
��Deep down, she’s a good girl.”
“And Bonnie Joe over there didn’t know Allegra Denise was running around shooting people,” Fox drawled.
Bradstoe gave a bark of laughter, remarkably robust for such a skeletal man. Joe grumbled from behind the bar.
It took Tara a moment to realize that the interview was over and that Fox wasn’t going to wait for her. He was still angry. She hurried to catch up with him at the door and they stepped out onto the street together.
“Just for the record, I wouldn’t have put up with that from Cornelius or Connie.” He unlocked the car and opened the door for her. “When we go to New York on Monday, let me do the talking. If the need to contribute becomes too much for you, just try to remember this is my job.”
Tara stopped just as she was about to get into the car. He’d said we in the same sentence as New York. That was good. It meant he wasn’t going to try to stash her somewhere and go after the ruby on his own. Unfortunately, he’d also said Monday.
“Why aren’t we going now?” she asked.
Fox recognized the look in her eyes. It was the one that would put a mule to shame. “Please get in the car.”
“After we settle this.”
“We’ll settle it on the way back to headquarters.”
“I don’t want to go to headquarters. I want to go to New York.”
He touched his finger to her lip to distract her. “We all ache occasionally for things we can’t have, darlin’.”
Her blood surged at his touch, but she was dogged. “I can have this.”
“No. You can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I seriously doubt if Petro Acosta will be amenable to talking to a detective from Philadelphia on Christmas Eve. It’s a waste of our time to make the drive today.” And none of that, he realized with his next breath, was as important as that suddenly frantic look in her eyes.
If she was in New York looking for the ruby, then it wouldn’t be Christmas, he realized. She hadn’t been able to push him out of town for the weekend so he reckoned she’d just do the next best thing. She’d make sure they stayed so busy there would be no issue of eggnog with good friends or stuffed turkey with family. She’d make sure that he still wouldn’t know that under normal circumstances, she’d be alone.