The color drained from Sara’s face. She stumbled back a few steps as Carter moved away from the door and toward his desk. Mason put his hands on her arms to steady her.
Carter didn’t miss the simple move. He shot Mason a look of warning as he passed them.
“Sara didn’t do it,” Mason said.
Carter nodded as he sat down in his chair. “Charlie passed along your message last night.”
“Your message?” Sara asked, turning toward him. “You promised you wouldn’t pull anyone else into this.”
“We needed their help. Charlie is the only person in the world who stands a chance of tracking down both Malcolm and the man you followed last night,” he said. “Besides, she was already involved.”
“And him?” she asked, inclining her head toward Carter.
“He is your new boyfriend’s boss,” Carter said.
“Mason is not my boyfriend,” Sara said, shaking her head a little too hard. “And trust me, you do not want to involve anyone else in this mess.”
“Finally, something we agree on.” Carter leaned back in his chair and gave Sara a long look. “But if I’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that I rarely get what I want.”
“What does that mean?” Sara asked.
“It means that while you might be one hell of a B&E artist, Miss Baumgartner, you’re not a liar. Charlie looked into this Malcolm Van Zandt, and he’s every bit as bad as you said he was. It’s too dangerous for Mason to try to take him down on his own.”
“How much of the team are you giving me?” Mason asked.
Carter tucked his hands behind his head. “Everyone.”
Mason’s eyes widened. Carter wasn’t messing around. This Malcolm bastard had to be bad.
She trembled at his side. “You have to call them off.”
A slow smile spread across Carter’s face. “I think you’ve forgotten whose office you broke into. I don’t have to do anything.”
She propped her hands on the top of Carter’s desk. “This isn’t a joke.”
“That must be why I’m not laughing,” Carter said, leaning forward. “I’m also not about to risk the life of one of my best men, not to mention a close friend, just because you have trust issues, Miss Baumgartner.”
“Fine,” Sara’s voice shook with desperation. “All I need is a few minutes and a phone to make a couple of calls. After that I’ll get the hell out of here. Alone.”
“The hell you will,” Mason said, his tone hard. He turned toward Carter. “I won’t allow that to happen.”
“Don’t worry. Neither will I,” Carter said. “There have been two attempts on your life so far, Miss Baumgartner. I can’t in good conscience let you go anywhere without protection.”
“Three,” Mason corrected him. “There was a break in at her apartment a few hours ago.”
Fine crinkles creased the corners of Carter’s eyes. “Any idea who they were working for.”
“The South Africans,” Sara answered for him. “I should have seen it coming. Whenever the Russians are in town the South Africans can’t be far behind.”
“Is there anyone that usually follows the South Africans?” Carter asked, his lips tight.
Sara tilted her head to the side. “The Belgians occasionally, but I haven’t heard any rumors about them being in town.”
“The Belgians. Of course.” Carter sighed. “Maybe it would be easier, Miss Baumgartner, if we put together a list of people that aren’t currently trying to kill you.”
Sara started as a rhythmic knock sounded on the door. She spun around, and reached for his arm. Mason slid his hand over hers reassuringly.
There was only one person he knew that knocked with such a catchy beat.
“Come in,” Carter called, as he reached under his desk to release the lock.
A second later, Charlie’s red head poked through. “Hey, I wasn’t sure anyone was here yet.”
Carter’s lips flattened into a straight line. “Some of us earlier than others.”
Sara shuffled back a step as Charlie walked into the office, but it didn’t help. Charlie’s gaze snapped right to her.
“Ah, Sara,” she said, a wide smile immediately bloomed on her face. “I was hoping that you’d be here with us.”
“You were?” Sara asked skeptically.
“Yeah, you were?” Carter echoed.
Charlie didn’t spare a glance at Carter. Instead, she strode right over to Sara, her hand outstretched.
“I’m Charlie Keswick,” she said.
Sara shot him a questioning glance as she quickly shook Charlie’s hand. “Sara Baum—”
“Baumgartner,” Charlie said. “I know all about you.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“Of course I do. Who do you think made sure that Mason drew this particular assignment?”
“Am I supposed to be thanking you for that?” she asked, her brow creasing.
Charlie shrugged her shoulders. She settled into one of the chairs in front of Carter’s desk. “You will after you meet the rest of the guys I could have sent your way.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on meeting anyone else,” Sara said, waving her hands. “Nothing personal, but I’m not even happy to see you right now.”
“Well, I don’t know how you’re going to avoid it,” Charlie said, digging into her oversized bag and pulling out her laptop. “I passed them on my way up.”
***
Sara’s heart started to pound. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. Somehow there was a huge lump blocking her throat.
She turned toward Mason and wrapped her hand around his arm. “I have to get out of here.”
That second another knock sounded. There was nothing musical about this one though. It was nothing but loud and functional.
Sara barely had time to let out the breath she’d been holding before the door clicked open. She turned her back, but it didn’t help. She could still hear three distinct sets of footsteps entering the room.
Three more people she had to worry about. Three more lives she was now responsible for. That made six total…eight when she counted her parents.
Damn it. This was snowballing out of control. There was no way that Malcolm was going to let this slide.
He’d already threatened Mason’s life if they didn’t deliver l’étoile. She shuddered to think what he was going to do when he found out about all these other people. Hell, she could probably bring him every last bit of inventory inside the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art and he still wouldn’t consider them square.
Mason cupped his hand around her shoulder. Sara could practically feel the strength pouring from his touch.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “Just stay by my side, and everything is going to be fine.”
Sara knew she shouldn’t put any stock in his words. He was just trying to reassure her, trying to calm her down. It was a tactic he would have used with anyone, but still she found herself tempted to believe him.
God, was there any part of Mason Wright that wasn’t tempting?
Sara drew in a steadying breath before turning back around. Three new faces stared at her…each one more intimidating than the next. There was something about the way they were all standing together, shoulder to shoulder, presenting a solid wall of muscle and brawn that made Carter’s welcome seem downright warm in comparison.
“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Sara Baumgartner,” Mason said. His tone was light, but she didn’t miss that he’d angled his body a half step in front of her.
No one said a word—not even a single nod of acknowledgement. A tense silence filled the room.
Sara wasn’t about to be the one to break it. Based on the way all three were glaring at her, none of them wanted to be here anymore than she did.
Great. Now even her supposed allies were against her.
“Oh, come on guys. Be nice,” Charlie said, swiveling around in her chair. “Don’t let them scare you, Sara. They might g
rowl like attack dogs, but they don’t bite.”
A few eyebrows shot up, Sara’s included. She’d known her share of mercenaries in her life and these guys certainly seemed like they fit the bill.
“At least not in the house,” Charlie amended.
Another tense moment ticked by, and Sara figured that, if there was any hope of getting this over with, she was going to have to make the first move. She raised her hand and gave a self-conscious wave.
“Hey…guys,” she said weakly.
Nothing. The cold stares continued.
“Oh for God’s sake,” Charlie groaned, swinging up from her chair. “I don’t even know how any of you get through a day of regular human interaction.”
She went over and stood by the first man on the left, a tall, blonde man with pale blue eyes.
“This is Rhys,” she said. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that he only has one expression. Doesn’t matter if he’s happy, sad or angry. This is what you get. We have a friend that calls him Iceman. It seems to fit.”
She moved on to the broad-shouldered, muscular man in the center. For some reason, the daggers he was staring at her seemed particularly sharp.
“And here’s Jake,” she said. “He’s actually a pretty nice guy, as long as you don’t get on his bad side. Unfortunately, you are currently on his bad side.”
Sara gulped down a breath. That didn’t seem like a good place to be.
“How did I manage that?” she asked.
“My girlfriend is a curator at the San Francisco Museum of Fine Art.” His voice was even deeper and growlier than Sara had imagined.
“I didn’t end up being the one who stole the Evening Star if that helps,” she tried.
“It does not,” he said.
Sara gave a shaky nod. She hadn’t held out a lot of hope that it would.
Charlie moved down to the last—and biggest—guy in the line.
“And this one here is Bowie Tamatoa,” she said.
“Please tell me I didn’t accidentally do anything to piss off his girlfriend,” she said.
She heard Mason let out a chuckle.
Charlie started to open her mouth, but Bowie rushed to answer. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said.
Charlie snapped her head his way. “You don’t?”
“No,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“What happened to Diane?” Charlie asked, her eyes going wide.
“Didn’t work out,” Bowie said simply.
“Oh,” Charlie said. Sara caught the high, hopeful note in her voice, but if anyone else did they kept their mouths shut. “When did this happen?”
“A few weeks ago,” he said.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Charlie asked, playfully reaching up and hitting his shoulder.
“Didn’t think you’d care,” he answered.
An awkward silence filled the room. Sara might not know exactly what was going on, but she could manage a pretty good guess. One she confirmed when she glanced around to see that everyone was looking anywhere but at Charlie and Bowie.
“So…” Charlie said, after a long moment had passed. “You seeing anyone else?”
“Okay, Charlie,” Carter mercifully broke in. “Maybe we should get around to the matter at hand.”
“Yeah. Of course,” Charlie said, shaking her head. She glanced one last time up at Bowie before heading back to her chair. “So, Sara, those are the guys. And like Mason said, this is Sara Baumgartner—the woman who did not steal the Evening Star.”
“And we’re one hundred percent certain of that?” Jake’s gaze narrowed on Sara.
“We are,” Mason said, his voice firm.
“How?” Jake asked.
“Because I had eyes on her all night.”
“All night?” the pale-eyed one asked. Rhys. Iceman.
“Yes.” Mason tightened the muscles in his jaw as he bristled. It was obvious that he didn’t like being questioned, though Sara wasn’t sure if he thought it was his word or her honor that was under attack.
“It also doesn’t hurt that I figured out who did take it,” Charlie said.
Sara’s eyes went wide. She instantly disregarded every glowering male in the room. “You did?”
“Well, maybe that’s an overstatement,” Charlie admitted as she began to poke around on her laptop. “I don’t exactly know who he is, but at least now we know what he looks like.” She swiveled the computer around. “This is the guy you were following, right?”
Sara bit into her lip as she looked down at the still image. The picture was taken from a high vantage point, probably from a private security camera, and clearly showed the one angle that Sara hadn’t managed to get a good look at—the man’s face.
Not that it mattered. His dark pants and shirt might have been unremarkable, but Sara would have recognized that distinctive peacoat anywhere. Add to that his tousled, wavy blonde hair and overconfident posture, and all her doubts fell away.
This was their guy.
“It’s him,” Sara said, then looked up at Charlie. “How in the world did you find him?”
A sly smile spread across the woman’s face. “I have my ways.”
Sara felt Mason’s hand slide over the curve of her right arm as he moved in behind her. “When I sent Charlie that message last night, I let her know the route, the time and the last known location of the man you followed from the museum. All it took was a little digging through back channels to turn up some evidence.”
“Fine,” Charlie said, snapping her laptop shut. “Give all my secrets away, why don’t you?”
“You forget,” Mason added. “They’re my secrets too.”
Sara brushed aside their playful banter. There was only one thing that she was interested in.
“So, if you found this, did you figure out where he went?”
The smile faded from Charlie’s face. “Not yet. I’m sorry. This guy, he’s crafty. His disappearing skills border on magical.”
Damn it.
Sara closed her eyes as her head fell forward.
“I did say bordered,” Charlie rushed to add. “He might be good, but not as good as everyone in this office. His trail hasn’t gone completely cold. I’m still working on it.”
Mason stroked his hand down the length of her arm. “These things take time, Sara.”
“I don’t have time,” she snapped.
“Yes. We do,” he said, entwining his fingers with hers. His eyes were calm and steady. Sara knew it was a common soothing technique, but damn if it didn’t work. “We have two days left.”
“Until what?” a voice from behind asked.
Mason turned toward the big guy, Bowie. “Until we hit the deadline imposed by the man who kidnapped Sara’s parents.”
“So, that’s why you were after the necklace,” Jake said. His head tilted slightly to the side, as most of the hostility drained from his expression. “It’s their ransom.”
“One part of it,” Mason said.
“What’s the other part?” Bowie asked.
“None of your concern.” The lump in Sara’s throat grew. It was one thing having some help tracking down l’étoile. It was another to have a room full of strangers poking their noses into her private concerns. Especially since she knew they didn’t stand a chance in hell of bringing Malcolm down. “The only thing that matters is that if he doesn’t get the necklace in two days, he will kill them.”
No matter how many times she said those words, it never got any easier. The prick of tears stung her eyes. Damn it. Not now. Not in front of these guys.
Sara dipped her head down and covered her face with her hands, as she wrestled with her emotions, desperate to get them back under control.
“Do we know the identity of the kidnapper?” she heard Bowie ask.
“Malcolm Van Zandt,” Carter chimed in. “Runs most of the West Coast art black market, and is not to be underestimated. He’s not above trying to pin his crimes on others.”
�
�Do we have a location on him?”
“Not yet, but we will soon,” Carter said. “Mason is working that angle, while Charlie focuses on the missing necklace.”
“Anything else we should know?”
“Apparently, there are other players after the Evening Star. At least two others that we know about. Possibly three. Right now, we can’t determine how they’ll factor into the rescue mission.”
What?
Sara snapped her head up. Things were moving fast now. Too fast. Tears be damned. These guys had no idea what they were stumbling into.
“No. Absolutely not,” she blurted out. “There’ll be no rescue mission.”
Rhys captured her gaze. The look in his eyes went beyond piercing. It was downright surgical.
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because the moment Malcolm catches wind that any of you are involved, he will come after each and every one of you,” she said. “And he won’t stop until you’re all dead, if for no other reason than to show the rest of the world what happens to anyone who thinks about crossing him.”
For a brief moment, the room was totally still. Then slowly, one by one, smug smiles began appearing on the men’s faces. Some had the grace to tuck their heads down toward their chests in an attempt to hide them; others did not.
Sara looked over at Mason. He was definitely part of the latter.
“You’ll have to forgive us, but we hear that speech a lot,” he said. “Turns out we’re a hard team to take down.”
Sara felt her blood begin to boil. It would have been one thing if they didn’t trust her word. At least that she would have understood. She was used to having to prove that she wasn’t defined by her last name. But not being taken seriously? Having her concerns dismissed so casually? Screw that.
“So were my parents,” she shot back. “So were the last half dozen crews that Malcolm is rumored to have taken out. And I say rumored because no bodies were ever found. They simply disappeared. Gone without a trace.”
“Sara, I know you’re concerned, but—” Mason tried.
“Stop, Mason.” She shook him off. “Just because we shared a couple of tacos and flirted a little does not mean that you know anything about me.”
Mason: The Sinner Saints #4 Page 8