One-Click Buy: September 2010 Harlequin Blaze

by Lori Wilde

  Tyler sipped his beer. “Meanwhile, a whole lot of glittery stones are in the wind.”

  “And for more than a month,” Malina said.

  “They’ll never recover them after all that time, will they?” To Malina’s surprise, Carr directed this question to Andrea.

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Andrea said. “I could check around about under-the-table diamond sales.”

  “You can, huh?” Malina asked, her surprise evident.

  Andrea smiled with confidence. “I know some people, who know some people.”

  Malina’s gaze sharpened. “No kidding.”

  “Andrea is an expert art appraiser,” Carr said. “She works for a global insurance company and is often called in to determine the veracity of forgeries in theft cases.”

  Malina had easily determined that Andrea was intelligent and successful within five minutes of meeting her. She could also see the delicate-looking blonde wandering among dusty old art in museums, but it took a great deal of knowledge as well as technical skill and equipment to find fakes. “Are these thieves in jail? We don’t want word leaking about the theft.”

  “They prefer the term alternative architects,” Andrea said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And, no, they’re not.”

  Malina glanced at Carr, who shrugged and drank from his water bottle. “Terrific. Thieves catching thieves.” Surely her sarcasm was clear. “My job would be so much simpler if people either wore black or white.”

  “But it’s the shades of gray that keep life interesting,” Carr pointed out.

  She pointed at him. “Don’t think I don’t realize you own a lot of gray suits.” She let the jets massage her back for a few minutes in silence, then she inclined her head. “Sure. Why not. Ask,” she said to Andrea. “I assume these guys are pros at being discreet.”

  “Definitely. I assume you can get me a list of the carats involved and the specifics of inclusions for each missing stone?”

  “I’ll copy it down for you,” Malina said. “I’m pretty sure the SAC would object to me forwarding official, but secretly nonofficial, government reports.”

  “You could always transfer to the CIA,” Tyler suggested.

  Malina toasted him with her water bottle. “There’s an uplifting thought.”

  “Any way to connect our local yacht captain Simon Ellerby to Australia?” Carr asked.

  As he spoke, he slid his finger down her thigh. Even here, in the middle of crime solving—as unconventional as the setting was—he seemed to feel compelled to remind her of his physical presence.

  As if she could forget.

  Just as the rain overhead held off, the storm seeming to gather its strength before bursting, she sat beside him in a churning, intimate world of repressed need. With his flushed, handsome face close enough to touch, his husky voice sending shivers of anticipation rolling down her spine, she had to fight to concentrate, to hold off until she could find their intimacy again.

  Unfortunately, she had a job to do. One that had never felt a burden until now.

  She cleared her throat self-consciously, certain it had been a while since Carr had asked his question. “Simon Ellerby has several aliases—most of which are linked to minor jewel or art thefts.”

  “Oh, really,” Carr asked, his tone full of innocence. “How did you learn that?”

  Under the water, she grabbed his seeking hand, which had been wandering its way up her leg to her crotch. “I have my sources, too.”

  Tyler held up his hand. “I hate to throw cold water on such a warm night, but a theft in Australia linked to our little island here? What’re the odds?”

  “Really, really long,” Andrea said.

  Seeing as she was the expert, Malina accepted that assumption. But something about this case had her senses tingling—and not just because the object of her personal desire was within easy reach. “We can find no travel to Australia by Ellerby or any of his aliases.”

  “He could have sent an associate,” Tyler said. “The guys you saw with Rafton.”

  “The thief could have sold them to somebody who sold them to Ellerby,” Andrea added. “The farther down the line away from the origin the gems go, the less likelihood of tracing them to their source.”

  “But more people are brought into the fold,” Carr said. “The chances of getting caught rise.”

  “What do your instincts tell you, Malina?”

  Malina glanced across the bubbling water at Tyler as she considered his question. The immeasurable, undetermined, indistinctive evidence of a cop’s gut. Only somebody who’s looked into the eyes of a victim, then sat at their desk and stared at their computer late into the night, drinking bad coffee and praying for a break, could understand the trust and results that an instinct could bring.

  It was drive, experience and desire rolled into one.

  She trusted hers implicitly. “Australia and Palmer’s Island shouldn’t be connected, but I think they are.”

  “What do you want us to do?”

  No hesitation, no question of support, no paperwork or official requests. There were big advantages to a small town that Malina had forgotten in the huge ocean of bureaucracy she’d chosen to wade through.

  “Do you know a gem expert who could evaluate the one Carr and I found?” Going through Bureau channels could take weeks, and there was no way they had that kind of time. The diamonds would be sold soon, if they hadn’t been already. To solve this case, she had to move fast.

  Andrea nodded. “I know a guy in Charleston.”

  “I’ll get you the evidence.” Malina gave her a significant look. “To maintain the chain of evidence, you’ll have to sign a statement, and I’ll have to accompany you on the trip. Will that be a problem?”

  “Nope.” She high-fived her husband. “Back in the game.”

  Just as Malina was wondering if “the game” was a code word for illicit merchandise exchange and wondering how in the world Andrea and Tyler might be involved, Carr leaned over and whispered in her ear, “There’s not a lot to do on this island.”

  “So, they—”

  “They just want to help.”

  Malina shifted her gaze from Carr, to Tyler, then finally Andrea. “You people are strange as hell.”

  “It’s part of our charm,” Carr said.

  Tyler toasted her with his plastic beer cup. “We also throw a great luau.”

  Thunder rolled in the distance, but everyone ignored it.

  Malina was grateful. People—regular, ordinary people who wanted to protect their friends and neighbors—were a valuable commodity for a cop. A rare occurrence. It was almost comical in its honesty.

  There were many who wanted to be “in the know” or to observe or speculate. But to participate in the process was rare.

  “The cooperation isn’t what you’re used to, I guess?” Andrea asked.

  “Not in D.C.,” Malina acknowledged. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel the longing for the city she’d adopted and fought so hard to reach. The Bureau pinnacle. The escape from simple sunny days, mediocrity and obscurity.

  Why couldn’t she remember why that goal was so important?

  She lifted herself out of the bubbling water. Sitting on the side of the tub, leaning back on her elbows, the stormy wind rolled over her, and she craned her neck back to stare at the tumultuous sky overhead.

  Her gut, that infallible sense of right and wrong, was still talking, and she wasn’t sure she was happy with the conversation. “But I understand island community all too well,” she said, still watching the clouds sweep and gather overhead. “My childhood was full of it. I guess I just forgot how good it felt.”

  Warm, wet fingers linked with hers.

  Carr.

  She knew his touch as surely as she did her investigative instincts. That knowledge was both comforting and disturbing. She wasn’t sure whether to clutch him like a lifeline or run as far and as fast as her feet would carry her.

  “We’re going
to get through this,” he said, his voice low and confident. “The case is as good as closed.”

  “My office may seem casual,” Tyler said, “but we’re serious about anybody who messes with us.”

  “As long as we’re on the subject of true confessionals…” This time it was Andrea speaking. “How many calories does shooting burn?”

  “Does that really have a place here?” her husband asked, clearly exasperated.

  “Are you going to deny the power of those abs of hers?” Andrea returned. “Besides, I’m just trying to break the tension.”

  Clearly hearing them, Malina continued to watch the stormy sky. The blues, grays and shades of the blackest night swirled together. She wanted to make sense of it all. She wanted to prove herself more than anything, but not only to the Bureau brass. She wanted to close this case for the people of Palmer’s Island. They wanted nothing more than a safe, happy, quiet life, and yet she knew they’d defend themselves and their neighbors at any sacrifice. They were the community every law enforcement agency wanted to be a reality, the one Malina, for one, had forgotten still existed.

  Squeezing Carr’s hand in silent thanks for giving her this moment, she pushed herself off her elbows and sat up straight. Her gaze moved to Andrea and Tyler. “Welcome to the team.”

  CARR HELD Malina’s hand as they walked on the sand, their bare feet enveloped in rhythm by the rising and retreating Atlantic surf. With the cool air whipped up by the coming storm, he’d put on jeans and a white T-shirt, but she remained in her turquoise bikini, only adding a silky wrap around her waist.

  Her indignation and determination no doubt kept her warm enough.

  “Did you make the calls to Australia or did Sam?” he asked.

  “He did. I’m too low on the bureaucratic pole to have powerful international connections.”

  “But he made the calls because you asked him to.”

  She slowed her stride. “Where is this going?”

  “Just tell me. What led up to the calls?”

  “I didn’t think it was likely this was simply about smuggling diamonds. They’re not illegal. The only reason to smuggle them is to avoid customs fees, like duties and tariffs, and they aren’t large enough to warrant going outside the law. They’re generally considered a cost of business and passed on in the price to brokers and end consumers. Diamonds are a valued commodity, transported with relative ease. Why take the chance of smuggling when you can simply add the cost into your selling price?”

  “Unless you don’t own the diamonds in the first place.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So you started researching diamond mines.”

  “It seemed the most logical place to start.”

  They walked on in silence a few minutes, then she glanced at him. “Your friends are really great.”

  The feeling was apparently mutual, since Andrea’s parting whisper had been the same compliment for Malina. At least he knew for certain now that he wasn’t crazy in noticing how special she was. “All part of the Palmer’s Island package.”

  “You have something rare here.”

  He didn’t think she was talking about herself, but the island. Still, he recognized both were true. “I know.”

  “I really appreciate your help with this case.”

  “You do?” At every opportunity, she’d told him he was interfering.

  “I like to work solo, so I’m doing a lousy job of appreciating your insight. And I’d never understand this island so well without being part of it.”

  “It’s important to understand the island?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged and he found himself distracted by the muscles that contracted at her shoulders. Andrea hadn’t exaggerated—Malina’s physique was lined with lean muscle.

  Which he definitely wanted to get his hands on before the night was out.

  “Basic victimology,” she continued. “Know your victims, understand the guys targeting them.”

  Carr had employed the same tactics once in targeting juries. Life was indeed very ironic. “And what does our island tell you about the thief?”

  “That he wanted somewhere quiet, completely unsuspecting. These gems are seriously hot, and he needed to get them as far away from their source as fast as possible. Also, this isn’t a network of people who’re used to working together.”

  “Jack Rafton.”

  “Exactly. He’s drawn attention to himself. He’s a wild card, one I’m sure Simon Ellerby aka Paul Galbano aka Stuart Costas, is kicking himself in the ass for bringing into the mix.”

  “Even though you gave us the information about violent, organized groups usually involved in jewel thefts, you think Simon is responsible?”

  “I do.”

  “The cop’s gut.”

  “That, plus the victimology I’ve already pointed out. Simon’s a small-time thief who’s branching out.”

  “And completely screwing it up.”

  “I don’t know about that. We’ve got nothing on him yet, including his true identity.”

  “He has a lot of diversity in aliases.”

  “Smart. Most stick to one nationality. He works that silver hair, tan and vaguely European accent to his advantage.” She stopped, staring at the storm clouds overhead. “And he just annoys the hell out of me.”

  “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

  “Seriously.” She turned to face him. “He likes doing all this under the sheriff’s nose. He likes being mysterious. He absolutely loves having the president of the historical society on his yacht, asking him for donations, as if he’s a member of legitimate society. I bought Le Bijou here sight unseen on the recommendation of a colleague,” she mocked, cocking her head from side to side. “A mere whim. What a lot of blowhard crap. He makes me want to shoot something.”

  He winced. “Sorry to be a downer, but I’d rather this didn’t come down to who has the most firepower.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed, visibly bringing her anger under control. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not promising anything.”

  “Speaking of firepower…HRT?”

  For the first time, he saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “Yeah. Not too sexy, I guess.”

  “It is. And yet scary at the same time. You’re not…” He slid his hands down her arms, then gripped her hands. “Is that why you want to go back to D.C.? To be part of HRT?”

  “No way. I want to run the place.” She grinned suddenly. “It’s about time a woman was in charge.”

  “Of the entire Bureau?” His tone climbed in surprise.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  ’Cause that’s too damn far away. “I—” He cleared his throat in the face of that fierce stare. “No reason. I just…if you were HRT, you must be good at working on a team. Don’t you like that?”

  “I was in command most of the time.”

  His heart sank. “Oh.”

  She scowled. “Still, the leadership has to deal with politics as much as procedure. I’m lousy at that part.”

  “True. I can’t imagine you networking at cocktail parties and making under-the-table promises to special-interest groups.” How shameless had he become? Discounting her abilities so she wouldn’t leave him? It was pathetic. “Your strength of character is one of the things I admire most about you,” he added at the urging of the little conscience he had left.

  “Uh-huh.” She slid her hands up his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re not just saying that to get me in bed, are you?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “No way, Counselor. That righteous indignation may impress juries, but I know you too well.”

  With her pressing her nearly naked body against him, Carr found it hard to concentrate, much less lie. A feat he previously considered impossible. And though he’d done some despicable things in the past, he considered trying to lure her and hold her to his side—when he didn’t remotely deserve a hero like her—one of his worst.

  Considering how instinctive
ly she kept pulling away, she must suspect his stellar record in court had come via both fair means and foul. But if she knew everything…if she realized his worst…she’d sprint in the opposite direction.

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Is it so devious to want you with me? To want to spend time with you?”

  “No, and I’m done questioning how right we are together, even though we seem to be on different paths.” When he frowned, she added, “You want to understand why I want to go back to D.C. so badly, and I want to know why you left Manhattan.” He stiffened.

  “Or maybe not so different.” She pressed her lips against his, gently seeking. “Enjoy now. Today. This moment. You never know when you’ll have another chance.”

  How well he knew that truth. Hadn’t the realization of limited time changed his life?

  Repent of selfishness, Sister Mary Katherine was always saying. Wasn’t that his desperate goal? Didn’t he want Malina to have everything she wanted, even if the result came at his expense?

  Yes. But he wasn’t about to give up easily on the dream that he could have it all. Even if he deserved nothing.

  Regardless, he had no chance resisting her touch.

  Her mouth moved over his; her tongue slid past his lips to entice him beyond reason. He cupped the back of her head with one hand, the other gripping her backside, molding every part of her to his neediness.

  His erection pulsed against his jeans. He could hardly believe this beauty, this extraordinary woman, wanted him and allowed him to touch her. And yet, his body overrode any sense his mind might have made of reality.

  Addiction came in all forms, and she was his.

  Her hands moved to the hem of his T-shirt, which she drew over his head. With him naked to the waist, she pressed her cheek briefly to his bare chest. The simple intimacy had him coming unglued on many levels, not the least of which was sexual.

  Then she kicked her heel against his calf.

  They both fell to the sand below with an abrupt thud, and by the time he’d recovered his breath she was already stripping off her bikini top. She leaned down, kissing him again, and her bare breasts teased his chest, sending a shot of acute hunger through his body like a rocket launch.