The supply closet was another story. Everything inside had been soaked by water blasting through the doorway. The space had been cordoned off, as if a single length of yellow tape would stop anyone.
Of course, an unstable basement might. She stopped on the lawful side of the tape and stared, looking for any signs the ceiling was about to collapse. Not having any clue what kind of sign that might be. Through the lingering haze, she could see the alley door was closed. If the fire department was on-site, they weren’t making their presence known. Surely they wouldn’t be in there with the door shut, and she hadn’t heard a sound to indicate movement. She looked up at the ceiling. There were signs of smoke, but nothing of the concrete and steel overhead looked to have burned.
In the haste of their escape, she’d seen fire in only two places—the door at which she stood, and the door to the office. Maybe with the concrete floors, the fire hadn’t spread.
Get the papers and get out of here.
Switching her gaze between the ceiling to the floor, she made her way through the slippery, wet muck to the office. The damage was worse there, much of the wall gone. Edward’s antique bench was scorched, though the desk and typewriter had been spared. Hopefully, she’d have the same luck with the safe.
The boxes that had hidden it were a sopping wet pile of ash. She stepped gingerly around them, then knelt at the safe. It didn’t hold any lingering warmth from the fire. She used Edward’s key to open it and looked inside, relieved to discover the contents were undamaged. She removed the files, then lifted the plate and removed the documents. In less than a minute, she replaced the plate and relocked the vault.
She left the basement much more quickly than she’d entered, not taking a deep breath until she was standing in Adam’s basement lab, the supply room door locked behind her. She was dying to know what she held, but the urge to get out of the building was a little stronger. She stopped long enough to grab a Tyvek envelope in which she put all the documents, then left the building, locking it securely behind her. Using Edward’s phone, she shot a quick text to Adam—Over and out!—and headed back to the hospital to see Edward.
But he was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Edward watched every tick of the clock in Sophie’s absence, his angst kicking up another notch with every passing minute. What if she’d run into trouble? What if she’d gotten hurt? What if Willie Bishop had an accomplice? While the police had interviewed Edward at the hospital, they hadn’t been forthcoming with any information Edward hadn’t already known.
With worry for Sophie overtaking him, sitting and waiting was no longer an option. He’d no more started disentangling himself from the monitors and wires holding him to the bed when a nurse rushed in. “Sir—”
“I’m checking myself out.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You haven’t been released yet.”
“Fine. I’m checking myself out against medical advice.” He still wore his pants, but he had a gown on for a shirt. He tossed it to the bed with his good arm and reached for his shirt.
“You’re going to have to sign a form for that.” The nurse didn’t seem amused.
“You’d better get it in here fast,” he warned. “I’m not sticking around to wait.”
That got her moving. He didn’t know why he needed to stay overnight. His arm barely required a cast and the concussion was deemed mild. Besides, he was pretty sure he could talk Sophie into babysitting him—a scenario he found preferable over having Nurse Ratchet frown over his bedside every couple of hours.
He was pretty sure every red-blooded man on the planet would have his back on that one.
Sophie. Damn. How was he going to let her know he’d left? He tried using the phone in his room to call his cell, but it went straight to voice mail. He could try texting himself from his computer once he got home, but would she even look? Unapologetically, he thought. And smiled.
The nurse returned with the paperwork. “You shouldn’t drive,” she said.
“I’ll take a cab.” He didn’t have much choice—he’d ridden the ambulance in.
The nurse spread the papers over the adjustable, rolling table by the bed. “These are your follow-up instructions, and this one indicates you’re aware you’re leaving against medical advice.”
Edward scrawled his name across both forms. The nurse tore off copies for him, then brought a wheelchair in from the hall.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said, eyeing the chair.
“Yes, it is. And I don’t care how many orderlies are required to ensure it does. You’re not walking out of here.” He got the impression she wasn’t kidding.
Didn’t stop him from trying. “I signed the form.”
She returned fire on the glare. “Hospital policy. Now sit.”
Edward stepped into his shoes and grabbed the plastic bag that held the rest of his stuff. “If you see that redhead come back, let her know I went home.”
“If you’re going home to her, she has my sympathy.”
He eased into the chair. “You’re a cranky old bird, you know that?”
To his surprise, the woman smiled. “Thank your lucky stars. If I liked you, I might not let you out of here so easily.”
Edward laughed. “Fair enough.”
The elevator ride to the ground floor made him think of Sophie, but these days, what didn’t? Sophie Hawk. She was a Hawk.
That was when it hit him. He didn’t care. He was sitting here with a knot on his head and a serious jonesing for some pain medication, and he knew she’d make him feel better than any prescription ever would. He felt like an ass, and he had a feeling she wouldn’t let him forget it. He wouldn’t want her to.
Nurse Ratchet saw him to the cab. She even waved once the door shut, and he gladly returned the gesture. Then he gave the driver his address, learning quickly thereafter that he didn’t care for passenger status. The man, for no particular reason Edward could ascertain, drove like a maniac through the streets of San Francisco. More than once, Edward feared he’d end up right back at the hospital. When they pulled to a stop in front of his building, Edward let out a breath he hadn’t realized he held and handed the cabbie a fifty.
While the driver thanked him profusely, Edward waved and memorized the cab number and vowed to never step foot in it again.
When he turned toward the building he realized he didn’t have his keys. Could the day get any worse? He stopped by the building superintendent’s office. The door was open. “Hey, Jake. I’m locked out.”
The super looked up from his newspaper. “Again?”
“Yeah, again.” Edward had locked himself out the day he’d moved in, and the old guy made a point of reminding him every time they crossed paths, which fortunately wasn’t often.
“Some day you’re having,” Jake said, rising to his feet.
Edward sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
The super shot him an odd look. “Didn’t figure you for a jokester.”
Edward shook his head, earning an instant headache he immediately regretted. “Trust me. I’m not. Can you let me in?”
“I’m up, am I not?” The old man heaved and breathed heavily. “What do you think I’m doing? Running laps?”
Jake was three hundred pounds if he was an ounce. “Now who’s the jokester?” Edward asked.
They boarded the elevator. “Thirty-fourth floor,” Edward said.
“I know.”
The conversation ended there. Edward leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for the duration of the ride, and Jake didn’t say a word. He probably couldn’t—he was breathing like he’d taken the stairs. When the doors opened, Edward followed him down the hall and waited for the door to be unlocked. He gave him a twenty-dollar tip, then went inside the apartment.
Finally.
All he needed now was to know Sophie was okay. He needed her. Everything else would work out or it wouldn’t, but none of it mattered wit
hout her.
The blinds in his apartment had been drawn. The realization gave him pause, but then he remembered he hadn’t been the last one out that morning. It felt like days ago that he’d left Sophie there. He’d been so angry, but now it was hard to remember why.
He dropped the plastic bag that held the rest of his belongings on the counter and went straight to the phone. He wouldn’t even have a landline if it hadn’t come with the apartment, but now he was grateful it was there. With bated breath, he dialed his cell.
“Hello?”
“Sophie?” Relief flooded through him.
“Are you okay?” she asked. He loved that she sounded worried.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said. “Where are you?”
“Where do you want me to be?” It sounded like a loaded question. He liked that.
“Here,” he said. “With me.”
“Okay,” she agreed, “but I’m going to actually have to know where you are.”
He laughed, and it made him wince. “At my apartment.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
The relief that hit him was harder than any other impact he’d felt that day. That scared him, but he liked it. “I’m counting every one of them,” he said, and he meant it. “Did you get the documents?”
“Was there ever any doubt?” He heard the smile in her voice, and it made him smile. “I’ll see you in a few,” she said.
“Okay.” He hung up the phone. And froze. Something didn’t feel right. The air had shifted.
Behind him, a throat cleared. “Edward Long. We finally meet.”
The sound of the unexpected voice chilled him to the bone, but not quite as much as what he saw when he turned around.
He was looking at himself.
Himself with a gun.
And the final piece clicked into place. “Rufus de Burgh.”
“Nicely done,” Rufus said, his voice heavy with the Zarrenburg accent. “I guess you have your girlfriend to thank for that little piece of information.”
“More like a friend of yours. Monique Vass.”
Rufus’s arm tensed all the way down to his trigger finger, giving Edward quick regrets about his decision to name drop. “I suppose she told you all about me.”
“Not so much.” Edward backtracked…albeit honestly. “I gather we’re brothers?” He glanced around the room, though for what, he didn’t know. A bullet could fly faster than he could, even on his best day. And with his arm in a cast and his head pounding, he was far from having that.
Moreover, he was stunned. Rufus’s eyes were as cold and dead as any Edward had ever seen. “Not just brothers,” Rufus said, “but twins.”
“You pretended to be me to get into my apartment.” That explained the odd looks Jake had given him. Truly, the resemblance was striking. Any other day…any other circumstance and he’d find the whole situation fascinating. But not so much with a weapon pointed at him.
Rufus waved the gun. “Sit down. Tell me all about the great life you had after our mother sent you away from the cesspool of poverty in which we lived.”
Edward carried the distinct impression that sharing the details of his suburban American upbringing would not be wise. “I never knew I was adopted. Not until a year ago. I didn’t know you were out there until today.”
“But you were just about to go look for me, right?” His voice was ugly with sarcasm.
It must run in the family.
“Do you know what it was like? Do you?” Rufus didn’t give Edward a chance to answer, but it was just as well. He wouldn’t have enjoyed the response. “When our mother died, I discovered she had thousands and thousands of dollars in a fund. Thousands she saved for you because she felt guilty about giving you up. I had to steal bread from the streets to survive, and it is you who lives like a king. You don’t need her money,” he snarled. “You never wanted for anything, did you?”
Another question Edward thought prudent not to answer.
“She claimed we were royalty. Can you imagine? A beggar in the streets, shameless in her filth, claiming her boy was royalty. She only cared for her missing boy, all while I was right there. Everyone thought she was crazy. Everyone.” Rufus was seconds from becoming unhinged, unless he was already there.
Royalty? Another piece in place. “A descendent of Zara.”
Though Edward had murmured the revelation to himself, the declaration drew Rufus’s sharp attention. “Yes, a descendent of Zara. The rightful heir to the throne of Zarrenburg.”
Edward’s mind couldn’t make sense of everything fast enough. How could Rufus possibly blame him for being sent away as an infant? For being…royalty? “And they denied you?” Edward asked.
“Of course they wouldn’t deny me.” Rufus’s chest puffed with misplaced pride. “They wouldn’t dare. I have proof.”
Edward was feeling none of the instant understanding and camaraderie that was supposed to exist between twins. “Is the gun necessary?”
“Yes.” He spoke with unfettered calm and enough certainty to evoke worry.
“Are you here to invite me to your coronation?” Edward asked mildly, his attention on the weapon.
Rufus’s eyes snapped fury. “You damnable fool. You were born first. You are the heir.”
Edward blinked. He was the heir to the throne of an entire European country? His head spun. It had to be the pain medication. “Look, man. If you want to be the heir—” It was the most ridiculous conversation he’d ever had in his life.
“They’re a bunch of hypocrites, all of them. For years, they denied my mother’s claims—for years, we struggled. And now if I took them the proof, you know what they’d do? They’d throw a party. Open arms, celebration, the whole thing. But it wouldn’t be for me, brother. It would be for you. You, who didn’t grow up in the shadow of that castle. You, who never stood, filthy and hungry and begging for a morsel of food. You who never had to live with the embarrassment of your mother’s claims of royal blood. You, a stranger to the country, who never suffered a day in your life.”
“I suffered plenty when I lost my parents,” Edward said, a raw nerve struck.
“I know,” was the cold reply. “I saw to that.”
“You killed them?” Grief and horror struck him, but it was fury that had him seeing red. In a flash, he knew hatred…and hatred had a face.
His.
Rufus raised the gun, which had drifted below horizontal. “You cost me everything.”
Edward wanted to snap the man’s neck for taking his parents, but he was down by two counts: He only had one arm, and it didn’t hold a gun. “I didn’t even know you existed until today,” he said through his teeth.
“It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. I will never take the throne, and neither will you. I’ll see to that.”
The sound of a key scraped the lock. Sophie.
The slight noise drew Rufus’s attention, and the split second was all Edward needed. He launched. He hit his brother in midair, knocking him to the ground at the same time he grabbed for the gun.
The advantage brought on by the element of surprise didn’t last long. Rufus twisted, almost out of Edward’s grip. Edward held on long enough to slam Rufus’s gun elbow against the hardwood floor. Rufus howled, and the gun flew, skidding out of reach. Edward grabbed the affected arm and twisted it behind Rufus’s back, then pinned him down with one knee at the small of his back. “Move and I’ll snap it,” Edward warned.
He looked up to see Sophie standing in the doorway. She was holding a Tyvek envelope and a paper bag. Her gaze trailed from him to his twin brother, then to the gun on the floor. She picked it up and trained it on Rufus. “How’s it going?” she stammered, her face white.
“Depends” Edward replied, his breathing labored.
“On what?” Her voice shook, but she had the gun and she was okay. That was enough.
He managed a grin. “On whether or not you brought me that donut.”
Chapte
r Seventeen
After the second incident in one day—third if you counted Monique as her own event—Sophie was officially on a first-name basis with half of SFPD, and she didn’t think it much of an exaggeration. It was nearly dawn, and the police had just cleared Edward’s apartment. Rufus was in custody, hopefully locked up tight. She hadn’t had a shower since before the fire, and she wasn’t entirely sure Edward shouldn’t go back to the hospital.
“No way,” he said when she mentioned it. “I’d never live it down.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d kind of just rather you lived, period.”
“I will,” he said softly. “I promise.”
“Adam and Honeysuckle are on a plane back to the States,” she said. “With Monique dead and Willie and Rufus fighting to score the better deal with the prosecutors, I’m guessing my job here is done.”
“Where are you going next?” His tone was serious. Reflective.
She shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. Home, I guess.”
“Why don’t you hang out here a while?”
Such a casual question, though it was anything but. “Here, San Francisco, or here, with you?”
He grinned. “Here with me in San Francisco. I have a spare bedroom, you know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll stay in your spare bedroom and I’ll serve you black coffee and chocolate-covered donuts.”
His brow furrowed. “Sarcasm?”
She shrugged. “You started it. And you just reminded me, those papers are in there. I dropped the envelope behind the boxes before the police arrived. I figured you’d want to keep it quiet for now.”
He shot her a look of utter gratitude. “I want to keep it quiet forever.”
She stood, intent on retrieving the envelope, but stopped. “You should know something.”
“What’s that?” She’d expected wariness. Or something. But he was open. Smiling.
After a steadying breath, she said, “I set up remote access to your desktop. And then I…accessed it.”
Dangerous Illusions (Steel Hawk Book 3) Page 17