Shayne: The Pretender

by JoAnn Ross

  “I don’t know her name. But I saw her talking to Fortune in Paris.” Scenes shifted, then slipped into place. “At the party.”

  “Where the jewels were stolen? The same party where you met Buss?”

  “That’s it. She was also talking to Churchill in the parking lot after yesterday’s auction.” Obviously they were looking at the woman who’d lifted the necklace from the Paris apartment. Presumably for Nigel Churchill.

  “I told you it wasn’t Bliss,” Mike said.

  Ignoring him, Shayne leaned closer. “Who’s that in the background? He looks familiar.”

  Mike squinted. “It’s too blurry to tell.”

  “Try this.” Roarke pulled a red Swiss army knife out of his pocket and unfolded a miniature magnifying glass. “It’s not much, but it might help.”

  Shayne held it up to the paper, cursing as the photo remained indistinct. But as he drew it slightly away, he experienced a jolt of recognition.

  “My God,” he said. “It’s Cunningham.”

  “Who’s Cunningham?” Roarke asked.

  Mike and Shayne exchanged a grim look. “My boss,” Shayne answered as he reached for the phone and began punching the lucite buttons with more force than necessary.

  “I know you told me to give her some time,” he said, after Bliss’s grandmother answered, “but this is an emergency. It’s about Fortune’s murder.... What?”

  His hand made a frustrated swipe through his hair. “What the hell was she thinking of, to go back there—”

  “Let me.” Mike grabbed the phone from his brother. “Zelda, how are you sweetheart? That’s great. Now, I don’t want to get you worried, because everything’s going to be all right, but I’m going to hang up now so Roarke, Shayne and I can head over to The Treasure Trove. And what I’d like you to do is call 911, and tell the dispatch operator that I told you to have them send a squad car over to the shop. And tell them I said we might have a possible hostage situation.

  “No,” he said quickly, calmly, “don’t get upset, darlin’. You know I’d never let anything happen to Bliss. She’s going to be just fine. It’s just that we might need a little additional help from the cavalry, okay?”

  He nodded at the answer from the other end of the line. “That’s my girl. Now, you stay put, and we’ll be bringing your granddaughter home safe and sound real soon.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to his brothers who were already waiting at the door. “Let’s go.”

  13

  BLISS WASN’T AT ALL EAGER to face the mess left behind by Alan’s death. But on the other hand, she’d been going crazy, sitting alone in her room thinking about Shayne, reliving everything he’d said to her since their first meeting in Paris, remembering every look, every touch, the way her bones melted and her blood flamed whenever he touched her.

  Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and had explained to Zelda that she needed to get the shop cleaned up so she could open in the morning. She also hoped that physical work would take her mind off the man she’d mistakenly fallen in love with.

  It hadn’t been easy, slipping away without the bodyguard Michael had assigned to her sitting in a car across the street from the carriage house. Fortunately, during her teenage years, she’d discovered a gap in the hedge, which she’d used on the rare occasions she’d sneaked out of the house to go down to the Quarter with friends. The opening in the hedge led into the backyard of the house next door. From there it had been a simple matter to escape detection.

  “How could he do it?” she murmured as she unlocked the door to The Treasure Trove and turned off the alarm that certainly hadn’t kept Alan out of her office. Michael had been right when he’d tried to get her to upgrade the system. Once she was willing to talk to him again, she’d have to ask him to do whatever it took to secure the store.

  “How could he make love to me when everything between us was nothing but a lie?”

  “Not everything,” a deep voice murmured just as she turned on the overhead lights.

  “What are you doing here?” She glared at Cunningham. If he thought she was going to subject herself to more interrogation, he had another think coming.

  Bliss was about to insist that he leave her shop before she called the police when she noticed the ugly blued steel gun he was holding in his hand. The pistol that was, unbelievably, pointed her way.

  “Waiting for you, of course.”

  She could survive this, Bliss assured herself. The thing to do was to remain calm. “How did you know I’d come back tonight?”

  “O’Malley has spent weeks filling me in on your every move. And before that, Alan used to talk about you frequently.”

  “You knew Alan?”

  “Quite well, actually.”

  “You were friends?” That came as a shock. As dislikable as she’d found Cunningham earlier, Bliss had, at least, thought the government agent was supposed to be one of the good guys.

  “More like business acquaintances. But our shared interests put us in situations where men tend to discuss—and compare—women. Alan had a great many flaws, but you proved to be his fatal one.”

  “I don’t understand.” This was one more horrible revelation in a day filled with unpleasant surprises.

  “When he found out that Churchill and I were going to frame you for the earlier robberies that had been driving our government and Interpol crazy over the past year, he displayed an unfortunate tendency to play the white knight, by trying to get you to get rid of the necklace so it wouldn’t be found in your shop.”

  “He never said that.”

  “He couldn’t, without implicating himself. But unfortunately, what he didn’t realize was that he ended up putting you in even more danger.”

  “I don’t understand.” The headache that had subsided to the back of her head came pounding forward again, almost blinding in its intensity.

  “You know too much.”

  “I don’t know a damn thing!” Frustrated, and frightened, she dragged her hand through her hair.

  “That’s what you said earlier. But you see, we couldn’t take the chance.”

  “We?” Oh, please, she begged whatever fates had decided to play this horrendous joke on her, don’t let Shayne be mixed up in this, too.

  “Churchill and I.” He smiled. “You were afraid I was referring to O’Malley.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” On this, at least, Bliss was on firm ground.

  “Fine. Let’s talk about what Alan told you. And what you might have passed on to O’Malley.”

  Bliss suddenly realized that in a misguided attempt to save her from being arrested, Alan had put not only his life, and hers, in jeopardy, but that Shayne was in danger, as well. Looking at the implacable cruelty in the government agent’s eyes, she had not a single doubt that if this man believed he was a suspect in the robberies and murder, he’d kill Shayne O’Malley without a second thought.

  “I didn’t tell Agent O’Malley anything. We didn’t discuss Alan.”

  “I find that difficult to believe. After all, you were intimate with O’Malley. And he was investigating both you and your former husband. Surely he questioned you about him?”

  “He tried. But my marriage was not exactly a happy time in my life. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  Cunningham lifted a patently disbelieving brow. “And you expect me to believe that was the end of it?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “O’Malley’s not accustomed to letting anyone else call the shots.” He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and gave her a longer, more intense perusal. “I do believe, Ms. Fortune, that he might have let himself get emotionally involved with you.”

  Bliss didn’t want to allow herself to consider that possibility. Because if she did, she’d have to consider forgiving Shayne. And that was one thing she was definitely not prepared to do.

  When she didn’t answer, Cunningham brought the subject back to his original reason for having broken into her shop in
the first place.

  “If Fortune didn’t fill you in on all the details, then why did you get rid of the bear?” he asked.

  “What bear?” She automatically glanced over toward the locked cabinet of stuffed animals.

  “The Steiff bear you bought in Paris.”

  “Oh, that one. I didn’t get rid of it. I sold it. The very day it arrived. To a German tourist.” Comprehension sank in. “The jewels were inside it?”

  “Clever girl.” He shook his head with mock regret. “That was, indeed, unfortunate timing for us.”

  “Shayne was supposed to find them,” Bliss guessed. “And arrest me, which would take the heat off the real thieves.”

  “That was the original plan. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men.” His smile was as cold and deadly as an alligator’s. “At least the jewels in question were merely paste.”

  So that’s what Alan had been talking about. A new, even more horrendous thought suddenly occurred to Bliss. Alan had discussed the jewels with Zelda. What if Cunningham knew that? What if he also intended to kill her grandmother?

  Over my dead body, Bliss vowed, hoping desperately it wouldn’t come to that

  “Why?” she asked, wanting to keep the man talking until she could figure some way out of this mess. “Why would you get involved with Nigel in the first place?”

  “For the money, of course,” he said. “When I first discovered Churchill’s little theft ring, I decided I had two choices. I could turn him in to the authorities, who’d put him behind bars. Or, I could let him know that he’d just taken on a partner.”

  “That’s despicable.”

  “It’s not as if we were stealing from widows and orphans. Or the church poor box,” he reminded her. “The people who owned the jewelry could well afford to replace it. And besides, they were insured.”

  “Now I understand why my rates are so high,” she muttered.

  Before he could respond to that a siren sounded outside. A moment later, a voice came over an electronic bullhorn, letting Cunningham know that the police had surrounded the shop.

  “Damn,” he snarled, “this has got to be O’Malley’s doing.” He grabbed her by the arm, pressed the barrel of the pistol against her temple, and began pushing her toward her back office.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “That should be obvious.” He’d recaptured his composure and now seemed almost matter-of-fact. “We’re going to play ‘Let’s Make a Deal.’ And you, my dear, are the prize behind door number three.”

  “DAMN!” SHAYNE POUNDED his fist into his palm. “I should have realized it was Cunningham.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Roarke said. “Why would you have any reason to suspect him?”

  “How about the little fact that I always knew the guy was pond scum?”

  “That goes without saying. He’s a spook, isn’t he?”

  Shayne knew his brother’s insult was meant to garner a reaction, to make him stop hating himself. But that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon, and if any harm came to Bliss, Shayne knew he’d never forgive himself.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Michael said. “The guy knows there’s no way out. He’s going to have to let Bliss go.”

  Shayne wished he could be so optimistic. “You don’t know Cunningham. He’s like your average rat—push him into a corner, and he’s going to bare his teeth and fight.”

  There had to be some way out to get Bliss out of this, he thought. But how?

  Buss HAD NEVER been more terrified in her life. But she did not intend to give up without a fight. She was sure that Cunningham had no intention of spending the rest of his life in prison. He’d take his own life, first. But, although she’d be disinclined to shed any tears over this man’s death, the trick was to keep him from taking her with him.

  He was pushing her across the floor, the sweaty hand on her back revealing he was not as cool, calm and collected as outward appearances would lead one to believe. As they approached the counter, she suddenly had an idea.

  Without stopping to consider the risk, she wrenched free and dropped to her knees, landing right in the middle of the bloodstain she’d come here to clean up.

  “What the hell?” Before he could react, she’d rolled behind the counter, pulled out the canister of pepper spray and sent a toxic cloud into the murderous agent’s face.

  As he coughed, violently, she jumped up, grabbed a heavy sterling silver loving cup and brought it down on top of his head. Unfortunately, in order to hit him, then race past him to the door, she had to run through the pepper spray cloud herself.

  As she burst out of the store, she was coughing as violently as Cunningham.

  SHAYNE WATCHED as the door to The Treasure Trove suddenly burst open. Then, as if the action were taking place in slow motion, he saw the gathered police officers all lift their pistols in unison.

  “Hold your fire!” he shouted, just a second before the police sergeant. “It’s not your killer.”

  Risking getting shot himself, he raced toward Bliss, took her into his arms and dragged her behind one of the squad cars.

  “Let...go...” Dammit, her lungs felt as if they were on fire. “Let go of me!”

  Shayne wasn’t about to do that. Not in this lifetime. “Are you all right?”

  “What...do—” more coughing “—you think?” she gasped. Her eyes were tearing painfully from the cayenne pepper. “Do I look like I’m okay?”

  Michael was squatting down beside her. “What happened, sweetheart?”

  “Pepper...spray.” Bliss dragged in a harsh breath, then wished she hadn’t as it burned all the way down. “I zapped him with...the stuff you and Zelda insisted I get.”

  “Good girls.”

  Much, much later, Bliss would look back on Michael’s behavior and decide that it said something about his nature that he could laugh at such a terrifying time. But at the moment, all she could concentrate on was trying to breathe. And fighting against the very strong impulse just to stay forever in Shayne O’Malley’s strong, comforting arms.

  “Don’t talk anymore,” Michael suggested. “Not until we get you to a hospital and get you checked out.”

  “I don’t want to go to any hospital.”

  “Lord, you are one stubborn female,” he muttered. “But this time, you’re outmatched, Bliss. Because if need be, all three O’Malley brothers will sit on you until you agree.”

  She continued to cough as she looked up at them, a solid, unyielding wall of resistance. Knowing when she’d met her match, she shrugged.

  “I won’t stay.”

  “That’s up to the doctor,” Shayne said.

  Although it was difficult, considering he still had his arms around her shoulders, Bliss managed to ignore him.

  “I’m not staying,” she said again.

  An hour later, she was sitting on a cold metal table behind a curtain in Tulane Hospital and Medical Center’s emergency room. Roarke had been dispatched to go to the carriage house and assure Zelda that Bliss was going to be all right, Michael was still right beside her, where he’d been since he’d carried her through the hospital’s automatic doors, and Shayne, apparently, was wearing the tile thin pacing the waiting room floor.

  “I owe you my life,” she told Michael. She’d managed to stop coughing, and although it still burned her lungs to breathe, she was feeling a great deal better.

  “You’re the one who nuked Cunningham,” he reminded her.

  “But I’m betting you’re the one who called the police in the first place, which kept him from just shooting me on the spot.”

  “I told Zelda to call the cops,” Michael admitted. “But if Shayne hadn’t dragged me into his cockamamy investigation, we never would have discovered Cunningham’s involvement.”

  Michael had received a call from a friend on the police force, who’d told him that the government agent, when faced with arrest, had, as Bliss had feared he might, taken his ow
n life.

  “If Shayne hadn’t dragged me into his cockamamy investigation, all this wouldn’t have happened,” Bliss said. “And Cunningham and Alan would still be alive.”

  “Perhaps Cunningham,” Michael agreed. “But Alan was too much of a loose cannon to have survived for long. And it wasn’t Shayne who put you at the center of everything, Bliss. The thefts had become too high-profile these past months. It was Churchill and Cunningham who were looking for someone to take the fall to effectively put the case to rest.”

  “So they chose me.”

  “Since your semiannual trip to Paris came just when they were looking for someone to frame, and since you’d been a thorn in Churchill’s side by refusing to sell him your shop, you were the logical choice. That way he killed two birds with one stone. Metaphorically speaking.”

  “Not so metaphorically,” she murmured, thinking that two men were now dead. And for what? Some pretty rocks. It seemed so pointless.

  Her shoulders sagged. She was suddenly so very tired. “Can I go home now?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll go get the doc and see if we can speed up the paperwork.” He paused. “Shayne’s been going nuts out there. I don’t suppose...”

  “No.” She shook her head with renewed force. “I don’t want to see him.”

  Although he looked inclined to argue, Bliss was grateful when Michael merely shrugged. “Your call,” he said mildly. Then left her alone to ponder yet again why she couldn’t have fallen in love with the steady, trustworthy O’Malley brother.

  THE NEXT THIRTY DAYS were the longest Shayne had ever lived through. Bliss, proving as stubborn as Zelda had predicted, had refused to take his calls or answer his letters. She’d also returned every single present he’d sent to her—chocolates, flowers, a plush pink-and-purple alligator, an antique perfume bottle alleged to have belonged to Marie Antoinette. But even the knowing smirk of the delivery service kid who returned the gifts to him every day hadn’t stopped Shayne from trying.

  He’d had to make three trips back to Washington to testify regarding his superior. The more he spoke about the work they’d done together, the more he realized that in believing anyone was fair game, and the end justified the means to close a case, he’d put his integrity in cold storage.