by Jax Abbey
Christoph made a slashing motion at his throat and Marc replaced the tape. There were raised, muffled voices on the other end of the line. Billy made a point not to look over at Phoebe.
“There better not be a single hair disturbed on her head, Christoph. That child has nothing to do with this.” Julian’s voice was low and deadly. “What game are you playing?”
“I let Gilroy leave town with no issue,” Christoph said. “But I still want justice. My leg is immobilized in plaster for the next several weeks, and my wife has suffered a great deal of distress.”
“Just what did you have in mind?” Julian asked.
“I want the chalice returned to me. You and I both know it’s worth a pretty penny.”
“So you want the chalice that you swept out from under me?”
“And the crown that Gilroy was procuring from Texas.”
“And then we’ll call it even?”
Christoph chuckled. “Oh, Julian, you know it’s not nearly that easy. As I said earlier, my leg is of no use to me for the next several weeks, meaning I cannot conduct business per usual. I’ll make you a deal since you’re an old, dear friend. If you allow me the use of Gilroy in my own enterprise for the next six months, I’ll return the girl to you immediately, and as an act of good will, you can keep the items.”
Billy’s eyes widened. What the flying fuck? Christoph hadn’t said anything to him about bringing Finn into the fold.
Julian cleared his throat. “Christoph…I need to think about this.”
“Of course. I forgot that it takes you time to cycle through your decision making process. So I’ll tell you what: I’ll give you until eight o’clock.” Christoph tapped the button to end the call and waved Marc away. Marc hoisted Phoebe up and over his shoulder and took her from the room.
“Do you think he’ll agree?” Claudia asked, pursing her lips.
“Of course he will; Julian’s weak. Dangle a damsel in distress in front of him and he puts on the shining armor and rides into battle at a moment’s notice.”
Claudia nodded and turned to Billy. “You okay?”
Billy’s right hand gripped the arm of the sofa. The tan line on his pinky finger from his father’s signet ring was clearly visible. He dragged his eyes from his hand to Christoph’s face. “You never mentioned anything about Finn working for you.”
Christoph started to rise from his seat, and Claudia rushed to his side. He grabbed his walking stick and shuffled a few steps forward. He stopped next to Billy and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to worry about, William. It’s all business.”
Billy scowled as Christoph shuffled out of the room. You know what? It didn’t matter if Finn was coming to work for Christoph or not. Billy was Christoph’s MVP, and as such, Finn would be the low man on the totem pole here. He’d make sure Finn got his share of the all the grunt work Billy had been subjected to over the years.
Hmm, Billy thought as he drummed his fingers, this might not be such a bad setup after all.
Phoebe, 3:47 p.m.
“Mon Dieu, don’t you ever get tired?” Marc asked as he lifted Phoebe up the stairs of the rotunda.
Phoebe struggled harder. She knew it was futile, but she wanted her resistance known. She couldn’t believe that crusty old man had the nerve to call her a child. A child! And that asshole, Will… He didn’t even have the balls to look her in the eye.
Marc deposited Phoebe back on the chair in the middle of the giant windowless bedroom that had served as her prison for the last day and a half. To be honest, being held in the giant house really hadn’t been so bad. She’d been fed well—fancy French stuff she couldn’t even pronounce—and there was a tall tower full of DVDs, but she was tired of being confined to this room and ordered around. Actually, she was just plain tired. She hadn’t slept well in a couple of days because she was scared of what would happen to her. And if pressed to admit it, she missed Stella and her parents. They might ignore her, but they wouldn’t hurt her. She couldn’t be so sure about these people.
Marc secured her to the chair again. Did they buy zip ties in bulk or something? He yanked the tape from her mouth.
“Jesus!” Phoebe cried. “Have you ever considered a job as a waxer? Are you trying to remove all the skin from my face?”
Marc smiled, revealing the ugly gold tooth. Phoebe wished she could pull it from his mouth and flush it down the toilet. “You removed Beckham’s eyebrows. Maybe you should be the waxer.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. That was out of desperation. You seem to get your jollies from this.”
Marc shrugged, turned to the DVD tower, and gave it a spin. “What do you want to watch now? We still have a couple more Tarantino films.” Marc turned to Phoebe and grinned. “He is a master.”
Phoebe groaned. “Why the hell do you even ask me when you end up putting on whatever you want? Harold and Maude was weird as shit. Who would even want to own that on DVD? And then you made me watch all those Hugh Jackman movies. I get it, you look like him.”
Marc’s face morphed into a scowl as he crossed the room. He planted his hands on either side of Phoebe’s chair and bent down so his face was level with hers. “You are visiting a beautiful place, you are receiving delicious food, and you are watching some of the greatest cinematic works of all time. Why are you so ungrateful?”
“Visiting? Visiting? You bastards kidnapped me!”
“Kidnapping is such a dirty word,” Marc said. He placed a hand over his heart and grimaced as if she had hurt him. “I have been nothing but nice to you. Have I not? Let’s be friends.”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes. This man is not serious…but if he is, this could work to my advantage. Time to put those drama club skills to the test.
Phoebe let her face dissolve into a rueful grin. “You want to be my friend? Let me out of here. Let me go home to my family. I promise I won’t tell anybody what happened or where I was. I’ll say I ran away—I’ll say anything you want. Just get me out of here.”
Marc studied her thoughtfully for a moment, mulling over her offer. Then he erupted into laughter. “I’m not sharpest tool in the shed, but I can see right through that. Nice try.”
If there was one thing Phoebe hated most of all, it was being laughed at. She cleared her throat, hocked a loogie, and spat it in Marc’s face. She leaned back with a smug smile.
Marc turned beet red, the glob of spit tracking its way down his cheek. “Fine. No movie for you.”
He pulled a new piece of duct tape from the roll and clamped it over her mouth, then stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Well, shit.
STELLA, 3:50 P.M.
Stella glanced around the room. Everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts. Julian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, arms folded, chin resting in one hand. Finn sat, rhythmically tapping his foot on the floor. Stella knew her face must have been mirroring Derek’s fear; as soon as she’d heard Phoebe’s fast-paced speech fill the air, her heart had dropped to her feet.
Derek met her gaze with a pained look. “Why didn’t you tell me about Phoebe?”
Stella couldn’t deal with Derek’s hurt feelings right now, not after hearing Phoebe’s scream. Phoebe might be a brat, but she was Stella’s brat. And beyond that, she was still just a kid—she hadn’t asked to get caught up in any of this crap.
Stella shot up from her seat on the sofa. “Obviously, Finn needs to agree to work for this Christoph guy so we can get Phoebe back.” Finn glared at her out of the corner of narrowed eyes.
“Stella, getting Phoebe back home safe and sound is my first priority,” Derek said, quiet but intense.
“What is this so-called deal you mentioned before?” Finn asked. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists.
Derek tore his gaze from Stella, took off his glasses, and rubbed an eye. “Well, originally we wanted your organization’s assistance in trapping von Rothschild, bringing him under arrest, and
consulting with our team on two other cases, in exchange for your continued freedom.”
Finn jumped up. “We’re snitches? No way.”
Stella raised herself to her full height to address Finn. “When you pulled off the road before we got to the flea market and admitted you didn’t know where Phoebe was, you said you and him”—she pointed at Julian—“would do whatever it took to get my sister back. After all, this is your fault in the first place.” She jabbed her finger hard into Finn’s chest.
Finn swallowed and started to speak, but Derek stepped forward and put a tentative hand on Stella’s shoulder. “Can I speak to you privately for a minute?” Derek asked her, gently pulling her away.
“Yes,” Stella said heatedly. Her eyes narrowed as she looked from Finn to Derek. “We have some things we need to discuss.”
Derek shot Julian a questioning glance as he steered Stella around the couch. “You can use the bedroom,” Julian said. “Second door on the left.”
“I have a few choice words for you, too,” Stella said over her shoulder to Julian before turning and following Derek into a sparse but comfortable bedroom.
Derek closed the door. As soon as he was face-to-face with her again, she punched him the chest.
“When did you get so violent?” he asked, rubbing the spot she’d hit.
“Probably while you were away on one of your ‘business trips.’”
Derek shook his head. “I never got the obsession you have with air quotes.”
“Don’t you change the subject,” Stella said, wagging a finger in his face.
“You’re not the only one who gets to be mad, Stella. I don’t even know where to start. Why the hell didn’t you tell me what was going on with Phoebe? Why didn’t you go straight to the police? Instead, you made up some lie about needing time to find yourself…and ended up in Texas with a criminal! Let’s start there.”
Exhausted, Stella sat down heavily on the neatly made bed and willed herself not to cry. “Derek—I don’t even know what’s going on right now. I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake, what’s right and what’s wrong. We have to get Phoebe back.”
Derek sat on the bed and put an arm around her shoulder. She hesitated, then leaned into him and wiped her nose on his shirt. This was what she liked about Derek. The way he made her feel safe, and how she was certain he’d be there for her no matter what.
“That’s super attractive,” he said. He was silent for a couple of minutes. “Can you tell me how you got involved with these guys?”
“Finn—Jacob—has been a regular at the bar with his friend Alex, and sometimes that Billy guy, for months. The other day after my shift ended, I left through the back door by Bert’s office like I usually do, and Finn was there waiting with a gun. I didn’t have a chance to think or anything…there was a freakin’ gun pointed at my face.”
“Jesus, Stella.” Derek’s mouth set into a grim line. He waited for her to continue.
She sniffled and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “I thought he wanted to rob me—” Stella faltered as she felt herself blush. “And then because of something stupid Valerie said, I thought he was interested in me. I mean, he said he wanted to go to my house! He pointed the gun at me and was ready to shoot—it’s not like I could say no.
“We drove to my trailer, and he showed me two fake bloody fingers and told me they were Phoebe’s. Then he said he had kidnapped her, and that he would take me to her if I helped him out with a favor. So I did it. He said she wasn’t in any danger or anything, and I was able to talk to her…but then his friend who was watching her disappeared.”
“Billy,” Derek said matter-of-factly. Stella nodded. “What a bastard,” Derek spat. He didn’t clarify which person he was talking about; maybe he meant both.
Stella leaned away and looked him in the eye. “Finn’s not a jerk all the time. I think it’s more a front than anything. He told me he’d give me part of his commission from the job.”
Derek removed his glasses again and took a deep breath. “And all this happened the night you called to tell me you were leaving?”
Stella bit her lip and nodded. “He was right there with the gun.”
Derek groaned. “This complicates things so much. We need to extract Phoebe without blowing our investigation.”
“That’s right!” Stella cried, shoving Derek away and standing up. “You’ve been lying about your job and God knows what else since we met. How can I believe anything you’ve ever said to me? I was going to marry you! I don’t even know if Derek is your real name.”
Derek stood but kept his distance. “Stella, my job is the only thing I’ve lied to you about; I promise. If I had told you the truth, you would have either decided not to date me because my job can be dangerous, or you’d constantly be in a state of worry. I didn’t want to do that to you. And, I’ll be honest; part of it was because I was selfish. I liked being able to leave work at work and just enjoy spending time with you without worrying about the next case. My job consumes everything in my life…except for you.”
Stella shook her head as she paced the floor. “I’m a waitress…and you’re a fucking FBI agent,” she exclaimed.
“Actually, my title is specialist, not agent,” he said, sheepish.
Stella rolled her eyes. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me? Your mother—is she really that vile, or has that all been an act too? Please tell me it’s an act.”
Derek lifted his hands up, palms toward Stella, and chuckled. “I promise I’ve told you all of it. And unfortunately, Mom is just Mom.” He paused. “What about you? What’s going on between you and Finn? He’s engaged in some questionable criminal activity, and I don’t want to see you go down with him, Stell.”
Stella sighed and wrapped her arms around herself as she thought about how much to reveal to Derek. Of course nothing had happened with Finn, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted it at times. She blushed and glanced at Derek. “I’m not seeing him.”
A slow, hopeful smile started across Derek’s face. “So there’s a chance we can work things out?”
Stella sighed again and scratched the back of her neck. “I’m really confused, Derek. Now I actually do need time to think.”
Derek swallowed hard and nodded. “I understand.”
“I can’t just forget that you put a GPS tracking device on my car…and then followed me to another state.”
Derek flushed. “I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest moment.”
They stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other. Stella inclined her head toward the door. “We should get back in there and devise a plan to get my sister.”
“You go on out,” Derek said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to put in a call to my boss and fill her in. We’ll talk more later?” he asked hopefully.
Stella gave him a half smile and shrug before exiting the room. Figuring out her imploded love life would have to wait until Phoebe was safe and sound back in Las Vegas.
FINN, 3:56 P.M.
While Derek and Stella got reacquainted in the guest bedroom, Julian and Finn sat tensely in the living room.
Finn remained on the couch, drumming a beat on his thigh as he stared off into the distance. Julian sat in his armchair, fingers steepled in his lap.
“Why?” Finn addressed his question to the empty air in front of him.
Julian sighed and gazed around the room before answering. “The FBI has been watching me for some time—it’s part of the reason I’ve been worried about your recklessness. Luckily, our business is a little more legal than his, something of which I’ve always been proud. Knowing my history with Christoph, the Art Crime Team approached me to assist their investigation in the role of consultant; I was going to keep you completely out of it. Unfortunately, you put a target on your back when you shot Christoph.”
Finn heaved a huge sigh and ran his hands over his face. “So what’s going to happen to me?”
“That depends on D
erek and what his team decides. I never expected Christoph to request you join his team. This whole situation adds a new layer of complication. I suggest that whatever the FBI asks you to do, you do it. You know I would never steer you wrong, Jacob.”
Finn nodded slowly. He wanted to believe Julian always had his best interests at heart, but this was a big thing he’d kept hidden.
“How did you meet Derek in the first place?” Julian asked.
“He’s Stella’s fiancé—ex-fiancé. He put a tracking device on her car and followed us out here. He showed up and I knocked him out.”
Julian gave a low chuckle and shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Jacob. Funny how things work out, eh?”
Finn shrugged in response as the bedroom door opened and Stella appeared. Her face looked blotchy, as if she’d been crying. He wondered what that asshat had said to her. He wanted to wrap her in a huge hug, but instead looked down at his hands clasped in his lap.
Stella took a few steps forward and sat at the far end of the couch, not looking at Finn or Julian. “Derek is calling his boss.”
The silence in the room seemed to swell. Finn couldn’t come up with anything useful to say, so he remained silent. He glanced at Julian, who sat looking pensively off into the distance. Stella remained unnaturally still, staring straight ahead through the window.
Finn nearly breathed a sigh of relief a few minutes later when Derek re-entered the room. Julian turned to him, eyebrows raised.
Derek cleared his throat. “Placing Jacob in von Rothschild’s household will speed up our timeline.”
“Wait a second; I haven’t agreed to anything,” Finn said. He caught Julian’s narrow-eyed glance and added, “Yet.”
“We want you to wear a wire when you go to meet von Rothschild. We need as much information as possible to be able to take him down.”
Stella raised her hand. “Can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead,” Derek replied.
“If von Rothschild does the same thing as these guys, why are you taking only him down?”