Stealing the Moon & Stars

by Sally J. Smith

  Charlene came back so fast, Jordan wondered if she hadn’t run. “Here ya go.” She handed drafts out to Diego, Muggs, and Tank. She set Jordan’s in front of her with a smile then turned doe eyes on Eddie.

  “How’s little Tino?” Eddie asked. “And school?”

  “Tino’s great. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown. I’m only sixteen credits away from my teaching degree. Can you believe it?”

  “Good for you, Charlene.” He laid two twenties and three hundred dollar bills on her tray. “Put that in your college fund.”

  Charlene lit up like Times Square. “Gee, Eddie. Thanks. Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?”

  “No. Thanks, though. We’re not here to party.” Eddie seemed preoccupied and unaware of Charlene’s offer. No way it got by Jordan, who draped her arm over his shoulders, leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. The message—He’s off the market, sweetie. Back off.

  Charlene smiled and shrugged then turned away.

  Eddie’s smile was bewildered. “Well, that was nice. What’d I do to deserve such a gift? Please tell me so I can keep doing it.”

  She didn’t answer. Either you’re with him or you’re not. You can’t have it both ways, Welsh.

  They both turned to look as a commotion rippled through the club and the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Owen Shetland and a four-man entourage rolled through the room. Jordan got a whiff of his smelly cologne. The group headed to a booth at the back of the club, where Shetland took up residence over a stack of what appeared to be bar receipts.

  Eddie stood and held Jordan’s chair while she got up. Eddie’s crew followed them back to Shetland’s table.

  Two of Shetland’s men came forward as they approached.

  “You carrying?” The first one directed his question to Eddie, while the other patted down Jordan, not waiting for an answer.

  She braced herself, expecting him to feel her up, but to her relief, he was all business.

  She kept her eyes on Shetland and got a better look at him than she had that day at Cloverton. He was probably about forty, hard-faced, with a granite jaw. His sandy-colored hair was short and curly.

  Shetland raised his pale eyes over reading glasses.

  His stare was intimidating, but Eddie was on her right. Muggs, Diego, and Tank lined up behind them. If she was ever going to have backup, this was it.

  Shetland snapped his fingers as if commanding a pack of canines, and his men backed off.

  Eddie stepped closer to her. Their shoulders touched. “Owen Shetland?”

  Shetland nodded, looking bored.

  “I’m Eddie Marino. This is Jordan Welsh. We’re—”

  “I know who you are. Who you were.” Shetland sneered. “What do you want from me?”

  Jordan found it hard to look him in the eye but forced herself. “We’re here because your name’s come up in regard to a case we’re working.”

  “Yeah?” Shetland seemed ambivalent.

  “Yeah.” Eddie took a step forward.

  “What case would that be?” He looked at them again over his reading glasses.

  “A couple of things, really.” Jordan cleared her throat. “A few nights ago, two slick pros and one sloppy amateur burglarized our office. I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

  Shetland shook his head. “You boys know anything about that?”

  None of the boys even acknowledged the question. Shetland folded his hands on top of the checks he’d been going over and waited.

  “A helluva lot of money’s been embezzled from a local charity,” she said.

  “Terrible.” He looked around. “Isn’t that terrible, boys?”

  This time, all four nodded agreement.

  “I fail to see what that has to do with me.” Shetland spread his hands in front of him on the table.

  “Do you manage Cloverton Insurance?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes. Manage. Not own. I don’t own Cloverton.” Shetland’s tone made it sound as if that detail might be a source of frustration.

  She picked up on the distinction—manage, not own. “Then do you manage or own a company called Lenncore Systems?”

  “I work for someone else at several different businesses. This one included.”

  Jordan’s gaze followed his sweeping hand. “Mmm, and a swell place this one is too. Did I mention I discovered Lenncore Systems is the link to the missing charity funds?”

  Shetland didn’t speak, but something flared in his eyes. His lips pressed together and his fingers flexed. If she was a poker player and he gave her those tells, she could beat his hand. He hadn’t been able to hide his surprise at what she said.

  So Jordan showed her cards. “A couple days ago I found myself sporting a shadow named Ray Tanner. Eddie and I spoke with him at Cloverton Insurance. We saw you there. I’m surprised you don’t remember us.”

  “I never said I don’t remember you.”

  “When we asked him why he was following me, he mentioned you. Said you ordered him to.”

  He didn’t reply.

  She was on a roll. “Why did you put a tail on me?”

  “If Mr. Tanner told you such a thing, he misspoke. I’ll talk to him about it. Mr. Tanner is my affair. Rest assured he won’t be following you again.” He looked at her, hard and steady. “It’s a good idea to stay out of other people’s business. A healthier option, if you know what I mean.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Of course you are.

  “No. It’s just good advice. You look like the kind of woman who’d be smart enough to listen to good advice.” He lifted his chin at Eddie. “He knows what I’m talking about. Don’t you, Marino?”

  Eddie put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

  She glanced at Eddie, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was locked in on Shetland, and Shetland was looking back at him. The blatant hostility on Eddie’s face and the serious intent on Shetland’s shook her.

  “It was interesting to finally meet you face to face, Marino. Heard a lot about you.”

  Jordan let Eddie lead her past the stage show and out into the night.

  She gulped in the cool night air. Her limbs went weak and shaky. She didn’t trust herself to speak. When she did, her voice shivered. “He threatened me. Us. Did he mean it?” She looked into Eddie’s eyes and saw the truth. “He’ll come after us if we don’t back off, won’t he?”

  Eddie put his arms around her and pulled her against him. He was solid and comforting, and ever so warm.

  A shiver of fear ran through her. Eddie cupped her hand in his and took her car keys. He tossed his own keys to Tank then led her back to her car and guided her into the passenger seat before he got in behind the wheel.

  She turned to him, scared to death and not ashamed to admit it. “My God. What have I gotten us into?”

  CHAPTER 26

  It was late, almost midnight. Jordan and Eddie stood just outside her open garage, waiting for Tank to swing by and pick up Eddie.

  He leaned against the house. She leaned against him. They hadn’t spoken since they got out of the car.

  “You know,” he broke the silence, his voice quiet, “I’m having trouble with this.”

  She waited.

  “Unless we’re way off base, Owen Shetland is behind the money missing from the foundation.”

  She prompted, “Yes, and?”

  “It doesn’t make sense.” He cut his eyes at her. “It’s a well-known fact, in certain circles, that Anthony Vercelli doesn’t like his people moonlighting. If Vercelli isn’t in on it, and I don’t think he is, why would Owen Shetland risk going against Vercelli’s, er, employment conditions? I just don’t get it.”

  “You’re saying Shetland has an agenda.”

  “Big time. The thing is, eight hundred thousand dollars is chump change when you put it on the scales against the risk he took that Vercelli might find out he’s doing stuff on his own. Vercelli could and still might come down on him lik
e the wall of Jericho.”

  She thought about it. “You still have people watching Milo Wachowski?”

  “I do.”

  “Let’s see where that takes us. If we can tie Wachowski to Owen Shetland or Ray Tanner, we’ll be in pretty good shape.”

  “Better than Shetland will be if his boss gets to thinking about this too hard.”

  Headlights came around the corner a few houses down.

  “Mmm,” Eddie mumbled, “there’s Tank.”

  He pushed away from the wall and walked out to the curb. Jordan followed a few steps behind.

  The vehicle came closer. It wasn’t Eddie’s big truck but a four-door sedan.

  The car approached at a slow crawl. Doors flew open and three men rolled out. They hit the ground running—straight at Eddie and Jordan.

  Eddie pushed her back and she turned to run, but the men were on them so fast Jordan couldn’t believe it. Two on Eddie, one on her.

  The creep hit her waist high. She went down, landed on her knee and hip on the concrete driveway. Lightning bolts of pain ricocheted through her. He grabbed her, rolled her over hard and straddled her, spreading himself across her. His legs held her from the waist down. His chest pinned her upper body. He pulled her arms over her head and clamped one hand around both her wrists.

  She struggled and tried to force rational thought to the surface, but the fear could not be conquered. Her heart was a revving racecar engine.

  Eddie took on the other two. There was scuffling, grunting, and cursing. Jordan couldn’t tell how he was doing.

  “Get off me, pig.” She squirmed and jerked. No good.

  He laughed. His hot breath reeked of cheap booze. The stench of old sweat rolled off him in waves.

  “You stink!” she added.

  Eddie was beating the living hell out of one guy and trying to hold off the other.

  The goon backhanded her upside the head with his free hand. Alarms clanged in one ear. Blood pounded in her head like a herd of horses. She shook it hard to clear it. He grabbed her jaw. Jordan jerked away and clamped down on his hand with her teeth.

  He yelled and pulled back. Her arms and legs were suddenly free. She rammed her thumbs into his eyes and her knee into his groin. He rolled off, moaning in pain.

  Jordan scrambled to her feet, every muscle taut and raging. She kicked him in the side once, twice. “Bastard. Damn dirty …”

  She whipped around toward the car. Her holster and gun were in it—if she could just get to them—but she didn’t make it two steps before the thug lurched up, grabbed her ankle and pulled. She fell. The bumper of her Cherokee filled her vision. She twisted to avoid hitting it face first. Her head hit the slab and exploded in pain.

  It seemed like hours later. “Jordan. Baby, wake up.”

  Jordan opened her eyes. Eddie sat on the ground beside her, cradling her head in his lap. Tank crouched next to him. The lights to the garage were on, and both men looked scared.

  She tried to raise her head to look around, but the movement set off mini-explosions behind her eyes. “Are they gone?”

  Eddie stayed her, his hand on her shoulder. “Shush. Yes. They’re gone. They hightailed it when Tank drove up.”

  She tried to rise again. He kept her down. “You’re messed up. Stay down.”

  “Messed up? Does my hair really look that bad?” She tried to smile but wasn’t sure she pulled it off.

  “You’re not funny. You were out a couple of minutes. I checked already—no broken bones, but we’re heading to the ER anyway.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Zip it, Welsh. You’re going.”

  She reached up to his face but didn’t touch the mouse swelling on his cheekbone or the scrapes and bruises on his jaw. “You should go too.”

  “We’ll see.” Eddie jerked his head at Tank, who went around and opened the car door. Eddie picked her up as if she were a child and put her in the front seat.

  The adrenaline level dropped and the misery set in. She winced as she put on her seat belt.

  Eddie got in and turned over the engine.

  She laid her hand on his arm. “I’ll go to the ER, but only if you promise to get checked out too.” She might as well negotiate since he was on the way there anyway.

  His face was grim. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

  They drove another mile or so when she suddenly found it hard to swallow. Despite her effort to hold it in, a whimper escaped. She managed to hold off the tears all the way to the hospital. It wasn’t easy, especially when he laid his hand, whisper-light, on the back of her neck.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you what I was feeling until you opened your eyes and looked up at me.”

  She took hold of his hand and held it. His knuckles were scraped. Skin flapped open just above his wrist bone. The wounds still oozed blood. His voice cracked. “I was so freakin’ scared.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Neither fear nor self-pity was the cause of her fragile emotional state, not even the agony every movement brought to her poor battered body.

  Her tears were prompted by the unconditional love displayed in the marathon hand-licking and worried whining from her beautiful Sadie, who hadn’t left her side since Eddie brought her back from the five-hour head-to-toe exam at the emergency room. They gave the hospital a cover story of a minor motorcycle mishap.

  “My sweet, sweet Sadie,” Jordan sighed.

  Hannah, who’d come to the house when Eddie called her, came bustling into the bedroom. Jordan tried to stand, but Hannah wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Ah, ah, no. Eddie said the doctor’s orders were for twenty-four hours of rest and quiet. Just because you were lucky enough not to have a concussion doesn’t mean you can get up and go prancing around.”

  “Since when does any man get to order me around?” Still, she lay back without resistance. “And I hardly ever prance.”

  At a dear cost to her energy level, she made a show of being witty and perky and even tried to chuckle to prove her injuries weren’t that bad. In the end, it was too much, and she abandoned that plan.

  “I’m going to try real hard not to hurt you, sweetie. We need to get this done and get you in bed where you belong.”

  More gently than Jordan would have imagined possible, Hannah helped lift her exhausted limbs then wiped them down with a warm soapy cloth, skirting the raw, scraped areas.

  The nurses at the ER had already scoured those places on her back and legs, hands and arms and swabbed them with antiseptic. Jordan cursed a mental blue-streak during the ordeal but endured the scrubbing in tightlipped silence, only breaking that silence to ask the nurses if they were really using steel wool to cleanse her wounds.

  At home now, she was at Hannah’s mercy. Her housekeeper and friend patted her dry with tenderness, eased her out of the ruined jeans and shantung jacket streaked with dirt and blood, and helped her slip into a whisper-soft mini-gown.

  Jordan remained passive under Hannah’s ministrations. She felt helpless and somewhat stupid but allowed the anxious older woman to tend to her needs, both real and imagined. It would ultimately help them both.

  “Now into bed with you.” Hannah pulled back the duvet.

  Jordan climbed in between the smooth, cool sheets, unable to suppress a wince and a moan.

  “When the Vicodin you took at the hospital wears off, you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

  “Worse than this? I’m in a world of hurt now.”

  “You won’t know hurt until those meds wear off.”

  “There’s something to look forward to.”

  “Eddie’s on his way back here. He’s stopping at the pharmacy to pick up your prescription. If he gets here with it soon enough, you won’t have so much pain to deal with.”

  “Really? He’s hurt too. He should be at home in his bed.”

  “Not according to him.”

  Jordan eased back onto the pillows Hannah stacked for her. Her body adjusted to the cushion of the m
attress. The sleigh bed she knew so well cradled her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’ll bring some soup,” Hannah turned toward the bedroom door, “or maybe some eggs, or a sandwich, or something.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t have to.” It didn’t matter how much she protested; a meal was heading Jordan’s way. When Hannah was upset, she cooked. Always. It would have been odd if Hannah didn’t head straight for the kitchen. “Hannah?”

  Hannah stopped at the door, wrinkling her brow. “What is it?”

  “Not a whisper of this to my mother, please. She may put up a good front, but I know she’ll worry herself silly. She doesn’t need to come back from Chicago early just because of this.”

  Hannah didn’t say a word. She just looked at Jordan and went out. There was a chance that train had already left the station.

  Eddie arrived a half hour later, at 7:30 a.m. Jordan was propped up in bed with an ice pack on the right side of her face.

  “Thanks for getting my meds, Eddie. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m perfect.”

  She smiled, but only a little. It hurt her face. “I know, but how are you feeling?”

  “Pissed off. Let me look at you.”

  He went straight to her, sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and gently took the ice pack out of her hand. “Oh, madonn’.” He groaned and turned his face away. “I’m so sorry. Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  Eddie had showered and changed. He wore jeans and an Izod polo. Two small Band-Aids covered the cuts on his face. The knot on his cheek had gone down, replaced by a slightly discolored area. The other scrapes along his unshaven jaw line were almost hidden. Gauze was wrapped around his wrist.

  She took hold of his hand. “No, no. I won’t let you take any of the blame for this.”

  He turned back to her, his eyes glistening suspiciously behind the fire burning in them. “This had to come from Shetland. Had to be his men.”

  “I know that, Eddie, but I want you to promise you won’t do anything about it.”

  If she’d hit him with a bat, he couldn’t have looked more stricken.