by Foster, Lori
“Hold still! Neither one of you is going anywhere.”
“What do you want with the journal?” Tamara asked, edging out from behind Zane, thwarting his efforts. He tried to stop her, but she moved too quickly for him.
Boris shrugged, collecting himself as if he hadn’t just shouted, as if he didn’t have a gun pointed at them. “It’s rightfully mine.” He grinned, an evil baring of teeth. “My aunt Felicia wrote it.”
Zane casually strolled across the room until he was once again standing in front of Tamara. “I don’t buy it.”
He appeared taken aback at Zane’s doubt. “It’s true.” “The woman who wrote that journal was generous, open, and warm.” Zane shook his head. “A coldhearted bastard like you couldn’t possibly have the same blood.”
Boris snarled. “She was a whore, fucking anything that got close enough and then having the audacity to actually write about it.”
“That’s not true!” Tamara again left the dubious safety of Zane’s back. “She wasn’t detailing conquests! She wanted to share emotional connections and physical pleasure. She was a sensual woman who enjoyed male companionship. That’s only natural.”
“She was a vulgar bitch behaving below her station. What she did was plebeian, and if society found out, they’d crucify not only her, but every man she named as well.”
“Which would cause some mighty repercussions, wouldn’t it? I have the feeling some of her partners were influential men, men who wouldn’t take kindly to being named. Why didn’t you recover the journal sooner?” Zane asked.
Boris shook his head. “When the bitch died, I was glad to be rid of her, and I had all her belongings sold. But I didn’t know about the ridiculous journal until I cleaned out her safety-deposit box and found a letter about it. She actually wanted me to give it to a friend of hers. Can you imagine?” He shuddered. “Luckily the company who handled the estate sale kept a record of transactions. It was easy enough to track it here, but more difficult to recover it. Now, though, I’ll finally be able to destroy the goddamn thing.”
Tamara was nearly beside herself. “But why?”
Again moving to block Tamara from Boris, Zane whispered, “Because his wife’s family is traditional in the extreme, and they move with the upper crust. If they found out about the journal and knew it had the ability to damage their reputations, they wouldn’t be content with just destroying it. They’d want any and all links to it gone.”
Boris, looking surprised by Zane’s information, didn’t argue the point. “They’d disown me, damn them and their insistence on supercilious deportment.”
“You said that with a straight face, Boris,” Zane taunted, “but you know better. From what I understand, they abhor scandals and leave nothing to chance, especially if it concerns their good name and their standing in the community.” He looked Boris in the eyes and said, “They wouldn’t risk letting you walk free with all that information in your head. They’d get rid of you, permanently, and you know it.”
Boris trembled with rage. Zane wanted him to tremble, he wanted him to quake with fury. The more out of control the man got, the more mistakes he might make.
“Once the two of you are dead and the journal is destroyed,” Boris spat, “they’ll never know, will they?”
Zane snorted. “If you shoot that gun, everyone will hear. The downstairs is crowded with customers and relatives and employees. The police will be here and you’ll be taken away. But then, prison might be better than what your wife’s family will have planned.”
Very slowly, Boris raised his gun hand and aimed at Zane. Madness gleamed in his dark eyes. “Maybe I won’t shoot you, then. I’d planned to burn the journal. Hell, I’ll just burn the whole shop. It’s a blight on an otherwise modern area anyway. The police will assume the fire was caused by whoever broke in here. God knows, Ms. Tremayne, you’ve lodged enough complaints lately.”
“Thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t take all the credit. It seems you’re racking up enemies left and right.”
Why would he still lie? A sickening suspicion curled in Zane’s gut, making him cramp. “She saw you outside her building one night, Sandor, wearing a ski mask.”
“No.”
“Then it was someone you hired.”
“Not I.”
“Damn you, you shut off the electric and tried to break in.”
He shook his head with mock regret. “As I said, I can’t take credit for that.”
Tamara literally heaved with anger. “You went through my belongings, rearranged my books.”
He sniffed. “I haven’t been in your shop except for the appointments, and the one time Thanos brought me over. Ah, he had such grand hopes of us getting together, you know.” He slid his lecherous gaze over Tamara, lingering on her breasts, her hips. “I must admit, the thought of taking you wasn’t completely displeasing. You’ve a certain ... raw appeal with your vampish clothes and rough manners. Quite took me by surprise.”
It was all Zane could do to keep from lunging at him. He wanted to tear Boris apart for leering at her that way, but he had to ensure that Tamara wouldn’t be hurt by his actions.
Then Boris shook his head. “I had hoped to get close enough to you to simply steal the book. Otherwise, I assure you, I’d have no use for a Gypsy fraud with cheap tricks.” He sighed with regret. “Now I’m afraid this little conversation is over. Both of you, into the bedroom. It’ll be a fitting place for you to die.”
Zane planted his feet apart, let his arms hang loosely at his sides. “I don’t think so, Sandor.”
“You refuse to cooperate?”
Zane shrugged. “Why should I make it easy on you?” Damn it, he needed more time to think.
The gun aimed past him. “Fine.” Boris grinned again. “I’ll shoot her first, and then you. Everyone will think it a murder/suicide, that you acted out of jealousy, perhaps even jealousy of me. Her relatives are in my favor, so that would seem logical to them.”
“Luna will know you came up here.”
Zane was proud of how brave Tamara sounded. He could hear the quivering in her voice, but she wasn’t going hysterical on him.
“Your fine assistant, my dear, bid me adieu and watched me leave in a fit of annoyance over your delay. She thinks I’m at home by now, brooding over being scorned.”
Zane’s last hope vanished. There was nothing left for him to do but take Boris by surprise—and hope for the best.
Twenty
Bare-chested and short on temper, Joe sat stewing behind the register. Two female customers, the only ones in the store, continually favored him with funny looks—admiring looks—but it did nothing to lighten his mood. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. What he’d allowed her to do. Why, if he ever got within three feet of her again, he’d....
“Joe!”
He looked up when the same crazy broad came barreling in. He quickly stood, a demonic grin spreading over his face as he prepared for battle.
“Back so soon?” he drawled, gaining the attention of the other two women who watched in frozen fascination. “You should know I let you get away with flinging food at me once, but I’ll turn you over my knee if you try anything like that again. Don’t think I won’t.”
She kept coming, moving at a fast clip. There was a harried, nearly panicked look in her big golden brown eyes that took him by surprise.
Joe backed up. Not sure what the hell to make of her, he muttered, “That was one of my favorite shirts, you know.”
Luna grabbed him by the chest hair, and he howled. Using her secure hold, she brought his face down to hers over the counter and hissed, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but Boris Sandor just snuck up the outside stairs to Tamara’s, and she and Zane are both up there.”
“Ah, shit.” Joe leaped over the counter in one smooth move. Thank God Luna let go of his chest hair when he did, otherwise his chest would have sported an impressive bald spot. He didn’t have his gun on him, b
ut before he even realized it, his knife was in his hand and open, the razor-sharp blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Go call the police.”
“Already done. They’re on their way, but I was afraid to wait.”
“Good girl.” He was aware of her clipping along behind him, out the door and across the lot.
“Tamara and Zane went upstairs,” she whispered, very close on his heels. “When they didn’t come back down, Boris said he’d reschedule his appointment. He’d never done that before, so I peeked out the window when he left and I saw him go around the side of the building. I got there just in time to see him pry the door open and waltz in.”
“The alarm didn’t go off?”
“She only sets it at night.”
“Shit.” Joe stopped to push her flat into the brick facing of Tamara’s building. “Stay back.”
“No.”
A string of near-silent curses tripped off his tongue. “Damn it, woman, do as I say.”
“Go,” she urged him, and gave him a shove to get him moving again.
Not seeing any hope for it, Joe muttered, “You make one single sound and so help me God, I’ll throttle you.”
He didn’t wait to see if she heeded his warning. On light feet, ignoring the stiffness of his busted knee, he dashed up the metal stairs. The door there was closed, but not locked. It let out a tiny squeak when he opened it. Luna was so silent, if it hadn’t been for her breath on the back of his right ear, he wouldn’t have known she was still there.
Voices carried to him, and he crept forward, his knife at the ready. He peeked around the kitchen door to the hallway, and he saw Boris standing there with a gun. A simple thirty-eight, but hell, they were deadly if you had a decent aim. And at that close range, how could he possibly miss?
Fingers spread, Joe reached behind him and flattened his free hand on Luna. As attentive to the current situation as a man could be, he still realized that his hand was on her belly, and that she felt very nice. Damned irritant.
Luna immediately stilled, not out of intimidation, he was certain, because a herd of wild buffalo wouldn’t intimidate that one, but out of common sense. She knew he was about to act, and didn’t want to get in his way. Joe gave her points for intelligence, if not for discretion or moderation.
“Once I have the journal,” Boris said, disgustingly smug, “my aunt Felicia’s disgrace will be forever dead, buried with her where it belongs.”
Joe drew back, his body perfectly balanced. A balisong knife wasn’t really meant for throwing, but the distance was short and he was good, very good. He’d locked the knife open and had not a single doubt that he’d hit the mark.
In that final moment before the blade would have sliced through the air, another voice intruded, screaming, “Bastard!”
Joe paused, senses heightened, and stared, incredulous, as a slim man threw himself at Boris. Both bodies tumbled. The next few seconds were chaos.
Boris cursed, Zane yelled, and the gun went off with a deafening roar.
“Stay here. ” Joe pushed Luna back just to make sure she knew he meant business, and a second later he entered the fray. If he hadn’t been so worried for Zane and Tamara, for innocent bystanders, for Luna, he’d have actually been having fun.
Zane couldn’t credit his eyes when Arkin Devane opened the stairwell door and crept forward. Jesus, he thought, were they working together?
Then Boris made his threat, and the meek and mild Arkin went into a red-hot frenzy. His screech of fury nearly drowned out the blast of the gunshot. Zane bore Tamara down to the carpet and covered her with his body, his arms over her head, protecting her as best he could.
She made a muffled sound that might have been a protest. Zane tightened his hold while Arkin and Boris wrestled for control of the gun, but since Boris was insane and much heavier than Arkin, Zane knew where he’d put his money.
“Stay down,” he instructed Tamara, and started to rise so he could ensure Arkin’s success.
Tamara rolled to her back and clutched at him, her voice desperate and high. “Zane, no!”
“Shh. It’s all right, baby.” He pried her fingers loose and bounded to his feet. To his right, he saw Joe lunge forward. The gun went off again, and Zane caught his breath. Arkin slumped back with a painful groan.
Boris lumbered to his feet. “Miserable little ...” He aimed at Arkin, who writhed on the floor while a sluggish flow of blood pulsed from the top of his right arm.
Grinning evilly, Joe kicked out and the gun went flying. Zane grabbed Boris by the shoulder, flung him around, and did what he’d wanted to do since he’d first met the man. He drove his fist into his face.
Cartilage gave way with a satisfying crunch.
Boris yowled, grabbing at his nose and staggering drunkenly under the impact of the blow. Tamara, disregarding orders as usual, scurried on her knees to the gun and picked it up. She aimed it at Boris.
“You broke his nose,” Joe remarked to Zane in a barely winded voice. He sounded impressed.
Ignoring his cousin, Zane motioned to Boris. “C’mon, Sandor. I’m not done.”
Boris shook his head. “No, no.” Blood poured from between his fingers, made his words choked and garbled, and already his eyes were turning black.
Flabbergasted, Joe said, “You’re quitting because of a bloody nose?” Then with utter disdain, “You big baby, that’s pathetic.”
Slowly, Zane shook his head. “Oh, no, he’s not quitting.” He grabbed Boris, hauled him forward. “You held a gun on her,” he said, and punctuated his words with a hard punch to Boris’s midsection. Boris doubled over, spewing more blood.
“Eeuw.” Luna made a face as she sauntered into the room. “That’s disgusting. What a mess.”
Joe, after giving Luna a sidelong glance, laughed and bent down to Arkin. “You okay, buddy?”
“I’m shot!” Arkin clutched at his upper arm and rolled back and forth, his knees pulled up in the fetal position.
“Yeah, well, I can see that.” Joe held him still with one hand, and lifted away the bloody edge of his sweater to peer at the wound. “Doesn’t look too bad to me. Luckily he hit your arm and not your chest.”
“Luckily?” Arkin quit wailing long enough to fry Joe with a look. “It hurts like hell!”
Unconcerned, Joe shrugged. “Gunshot wounds are a bitch.”
Luna edged closer, looking over Joe’s naked shoulder at the fallen man. “You’ve been shot before?”
Joe glared at her. “None of your damn business.”
She lightly touched a mark on his shoulder. “Here?”
Shuddering, Joe rasped, “Yeah,” and then he shook his head, cursed, and scooted out of her reach.
Zane wrapped a fist in the front of Boris’s shirt and hauled him close yet again. His anger was a live thing, needing release. He’d get that release with Boris.
But, proving what a coward he was, Boris held both hands up to cover his face and began pleading. He wasn’t much sport, Zane thought in disgust, and flung him away. Boris dropped to his knees, moaning.
“Zane?” Tamara trembled, causing the bells on her ankles to chime musically, and the gun in her hand to jerk. But she managed to keep it pointed at Boris.
Gently, Zane covered her hand with his own. “Let me have the gun, honey.”
“Oh no.” She shook her head hard, making her blonde hair fly. “You’re going to shoot him.”
Joe cocked a brow at that, interest lighting his eyes. He looked almost ... hopeful.
“No I’m not.” Zane kept his tone as even and calm as possible, especially since he knew Tamara was likely experiencing her own feelings, and his as well. It was a lot for one small woman to deal with.
She turned to look him straight in the eye. “Yes, you are. You can’t lie to me.”
Zane smiled. “I’d like to,” he specified. “But that’s not the same as I would.” And he added, “You can trust me, honey.”
Her big green eyes stared up at him, and s
he blinked. “Oh, Zane. I know that.” The gun went limp in her hand, and Zane took it. He held Tamara close with one arm and handed the gun to Joe. “Here, you can shoot him.”
Tamara stiffened, but Joe only laughed. “Very funny.” He palmed the gun and squatted down by Boris. “You hear that, old man? I get to shoot you.”
“No!”
Tamara curled into Zane. “He won’t really ... ?”
“Nah.” But Zane added as an afterthought, “At least, I don’t think he will.”
Joe agreed. “I won’t. Shooting him would only add more mess to Tamara’s place, and he’s caused her enough trouble.”
Tamara relaxed, leaning into Zane and turning her face to his shoulder.
“That is,” Joe went on, “I won’t shoot him as long as he just lies there and stays quiet. Give me a reason, any reason, and I’d be glad to give him a little taste of what he gave your buddy there.”
“Arkin Devane is not my buddy.” Zane reached for Luna, dragged her next to Tamara, and told them both, “It’s okay now. I can hear the sirens. The cops will be here in just a few minutes.”
Luna patted Tamara. “Being females, and thus weak, we’re supposed to comfort each other, right?” She smiled. “Well, don’t worry. We’re fine.”
“Tamara?” Zane wanted to hear her speak to him before he put even three inches between them.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I’m okay. Just a little ... shook-up.”
“Adrenaline,” Joe remarked. “Comes in real handy when you need it, but it’s tough to shake off afterward.”
Zane squatted down next to Arkin. “What the hell are you doing here, Arkin?”
Arkin moaned, putting his head back and letting it loll on the carpet. “Tamara didn’t show up, so I came to see why. I saw Luna follow Boris, and I followed her.” He swallowed hard. “I figured something was up when she ran up the stairs with that other fellow, and he had a knife.”
“How are you involved in this, Arkin?”