by Julie Miller
Chad rose to his feet, his irritation obvious. He began snapping books shut and straightening piles atop his desk. “I took over for Daniel when he became more interested in other things.”
“Other things?”
“My cousin had a wonderful head for business, but not the heart for it. He could talk anyone into anything, but then he wouldn’t see the project through. Jericho financed all of Daniel’s whims. He’d give him money and put him on an airplane to pick up something for his collection. Then Daniel would blow it at a craps table.”
And perhaps steal the item when he couldn’t pay? Or hock something in storage to replace the cash? Maybe she should include Daniel Meade on her list of suspected thieves.
“Daniel would rather play with his women or place a bet than take care of responsibilities. His upbringing spoiled him, I think.”
But Chad’s hadn’t? Tori bit her tongue. She crossed to the front of the desk and poured on the ego boost. “But you’re a good businessman, I can tell. Very thorough when it comes to details.”
He paused with a book in hand and smiled across the desk. She’d just scored major brownie points.
“I’m very thorough.”
She pretended she didn’t get his hidden macho message. “So you would know where those paintings and sculptures are stored when they’re not on display.”
Chad set down the book and picked up her glasses. “Down in the catacombs. It’s cool and dark down there, the humidity’s steady. Perfect for storage.”
“What about mice or insects getting in and causing damage?”
“Well, we don’t just lean a Frederic Remington up against a foundation wall. There are rooms that have been specially built for different purposes down there.”
“Such as?”
“Storing wine, records—the phonograph kind, not papers.”
Tori laughed as she was meant to.
Chad circled the desk, eager to share his knowledge. “There’s even a tomb where the original owners of this house were buried back in the 1800s.”
“Wow. What a great place to explore.” And she intended to.
He slipped her glasses over the bridge of her nose and traced the earpieces back behind her ears. Tori gritted her teeth as his hands lingered against her hair.
“You don’t want to go down there. It’s dark and dusty, a maze of support walls and locked rooms. Jericho keeps the keys in his office. Daniel had a set, too, but they disappeared when he did.”
Disappeared? Was a set of keys motive for murder?
“You’re in charge of the art collection.” Tori swallowed her pride and cooed demurely. “Couldn’t I just borrow your keys?”
“You could if he had them.” The throaty whine of a woman’s voice joined them from the doorway. Lana.
Tori quickly backed beyond Chad’s reach and tugged off her glasses. She knew she’d been caught playing to his ego, not his hormones, but a biased observer might not distinguish the difference. Judging by the shards of distrust shining in Lana’s brown eyes, this one was definitely biased.
“Good morning, Lana.”
The blonde raked her gaze across Tori. “Uh-huh.” She closed the file she’d been reading and strolled into the room. “Chad will be running all this one day—with me at his side. But Jericho still makes him ask for the keys to the proverbial castle.” She crossed to her fiancé, handed him the file and proceeded to wrap her arms around his waist and snuggle against him. Chad dropped his arm behind her back and palmed her butt, eating up the attention. “You deserve more respect. You’ve done so much to recoup Daniel’s losses. But your uncle won’t give up control of anything—even a set of keys—until we pry it from his cold, dead hands.”
“Charming sentiment, dear.” But Chad was smiling. “See how she spoils me, Victoria?”
“I’m just lookin’ out for my number-one man.” Lana smoothed her red-tipped fingers—five of them, Tori noted—through his perfect hair and adjusted his tie. “Now go be your charming self, darling, and call London for me. These contracts don’t contain the guarantees we asked for. Tell them that I—that we—” she flashed a dazzling smile to cover the gaffe and traced her finger across Chad’s lips “—will only invest in a sure thing. If they won’t pony up the money, we’ll take our business elsewhere. Got that?”
“Got it.” Chad turned his head to Tori and smiled. “She’s always pushing to make me a better man.”
A richer, more powerful one, at any rate. But Tori didn’t point out the differences between position and character. “I can see that.”
“Duty calls, I’m afraid. If I can be of any further assistance, you will let me know, won’t you?”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Looking handsome as a picture and all too pleased with himself, Chad leaned down to kiss Lana. But she turned her lips to the side and offered him her cheek—maybe so he wouldn’t smear that blood red lipstick she wore. Chad hesitated; his smile flat-lined.
“You don’t want to keep your appointments waiting,” Lana urged.
“I suppose not.” He kissed her cheek with little enthusiasm. “’Til later, darling. Victoria.”
With a nod, and a wink behind Lana’s back, he left.
Tori made a show of checking her watch. “Well, I’d better be going, too. I have a lunch date.”
Despite her paint and peroxide and rarefied airs, Lana moved like a jungle cat, meeting Tori at the door and bracing her arm across the opening to block her path. “Stay away from Chad.”
Making nice with Chad to ferret out information was one thing. He was easy to manipulate. Lana, on the other hand, wouldn’t be fooled. Tori looked down at the shorter woman, respecting her for the enemy that she was. Honesty was easy.
“I have no interest in your fiancé whatsoever.”
Except as a prime suspect in the theft and attempted smuggling of one small, priceless knight. Maybe even Daniel Meade’s murder. He’d certainly had motive, means and opportunity to get Daniel out of the picture. Resentment of the “golden boy.” Taking on the thankless task of cleaning up Daniel’s apparent messes to protect the family’s finances and reputation.
Maybe that was the threat Lana sensed.
“Like I said, I look out for him. You ask an awful lot of questions and do an awful lot of sneaking around.”
And just how did she know that? “Been checking up on me?”
Lana neither confirmed nor denied the challenge. “What are you up to? Is your grandfather trying to take over Jericho’s business? Are you providing him with inside information?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d been accused of being a stooge for her grandfather. But Tori refused to be baited. “I’m just trying to do my job. To document and assess Mr. Meade’s entire collection of art and artifacts. When I don’t get straight answers, I have to find them whatever way I can.”
“I wouldn’t stir things up too much. There are some people in this household who like things just the way they are.”
“Like you.”
Lana smiled. It wasn’t an expression of joy. “I’m glad we understand each other, Miss Westin. Enjoy your lunch.”
Chapter Eight
“Hey, kiddo. It’s me.”
Cole didn’t know which frustrated him more—hearing Jessie’s voice on her answering machine instead of the real thing, or watching Victoria laugh at whatever A.J. had just told her over their sidewalk café table on the Plaza.
His fake mistress and his former partner made a striking couple as they drank their bottled water and waited for the meal they’d ordered. A.J.’s black hair and olive complexion contrasted with Tori’s pale-skinned beauty. And with A.J.’s chameleon-like ability to blend in with any surroundings, he looked right at home in the trendy eatery with the Italian-style architecture and cuisine.
Funny how a suit and tie and the right attitude could change the world’s perception of a man.
Only, admiration didn’t exactly describe the unsettling emotion twisting in
Cole’s gut as A.J. leaned in closer to hear something Tori had said.
He couldn’t be jealous of his best friend. Not over some woman who wasn’t really his.
Realizing he’d left several seconds of silence on the message that would probably alarm his sister needlessly, Cole ducked back inside the toy store across the street and concentrated on the phone. “Sorry. I spaced off. I just wanted to check how you—”
A beep and a breathless voice cut him off. “Cole?” Jessie had turned off the answering machine and picked up. “We were out on the porch eating lunch. You still there?”
“I’m here.” Jessie’s bright, familiar voice should have picked up his spirits. Instead, it triggered a longing for the closeness the two of them had shared growing up. Only eleven months apart in age, Cole and his little sister shared an almost telepathic bond and had always been tuned in to each other’s moods. If she couldn’t cut through this inevitable funk he was spiraling into, nobody could. “Tell me Ma and Dad are okay.”
“They’re fine. No one was hurt. The shop’s a total mess, though. Thankfully, everything can be cleaned up or replaced. Cousin Mitch thinks it’s the same guys who mugged Ma and Alex. They found one of the pictures from her stolen wallet at the scene.”
Definitely a personal attack. Most likely his fault. “Damn. Does Mitch have any leads?”
“Only that they were pros, not kids. There wasn’t a fingerprint left anywhere. No graffiti or gang signs.” Jessie answered his demands in a comforting tone, then turned around and reprimanded him. “You should go see them. When was the last time any of us got a good look at you?”
“I can’t. I’m the bad cop folks love to hate, you know.” He pushed aside the top box in a display of dolls to keep a clear view through the window on the conversation across the street. The waiter was delivering their plates now. Cole followed the young man’s hurried movements, thinking back to the nervous attendant at Kramer’s clinic who had died trying to kill Jericho. The similarities didn’t thrill him.
“I don’t know anything of the kind. We’re a family, Cole. A strong one. You know we can help you with anything if you just ask.” Her soft sigh recaptured his attention. “We can forgive you anything, too. Is that what’s keeping you away?”
Forgiveness? If his suspicions were correct, the Taylors were being targeted because of him. A man didn’t knowingly put the people he loved into harm’s way and expect redemption.
He’d left Jericho resting up at St. Luke’s Hospital, with Aaron standing guard, and had walked the few blocks down to the Plaza shopping and entertainment district to grab some fresh air and a bite of lunch. But then he’d spotted Tori and A.J. being seated at a café. Maybe providing an hour’s worth of secret backup would make him feel a little better about using her as his courier.
The waiter left, and Cole followed him with his eyes back inside the restaurant, scanning the other patrons along the way.
“How’s the Irishman?” he asked. Jessie’s fiancé, Sam O’Rourke, still retained a trace of his parents’ native brogue.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He wasn’t going to. Cole tried to think of something—anything—more pleasant than his failure to protect his family. “You know it’s probably killin’ Ma that you two are living together. When’s he going to make an honest woman out of you?”
“We’ve had this conversation before. I’m not getting married until you can come be part of the ceremony.”
Cole swallowed a little more guilt and returned his focus to the table across the street. Tori frowned as she slowly turned her head, searching the other tables and passersby as if some unseen person had called her name. A.J. was looking now, too. Cole scanned the street, trying to spot whatever had alerted them.
“Don’t put your happiness on hold for me, kiddo.” Tori’s gaze swept past the toy store window, halted, then came back. Damn. Cole spun out of sight behind the display, nearly knocking over an aquarium filled with tiny plastic doll shoes. As he righted the water-filled sculpture, he toppled several of the boxes, capturing the attention of the other customers.
“Cole? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine,” he answered in a tone that indicated things were anything but. He stooped to help the teenage clerk stack the boxes again.
Way to keep a low profile, Taylor. Had she spotted him? He could imagine that flame-haired temper boiling with accusations that he was getting some sort of voyeuristic thrill by spying on her again.
“Cole?”
From this vantage point, though Tori was out of sight, he could see out the window down the street. A dented white pickup drove past, slowing for pedestrians crossing the street. Something about the driver with the shaggy brown hair struck a note of recognition, but Cole racked his brain and came up empty. By the time he stood up to get a better look, the man had put a phone up to his ear, camouflaging his profile. The truck quickly rounded the corner and drove out of sight.
But he was in plain view of Tori’s sharp-eyed gaze. Green eyes met blue, clear across the street. Great. Now instead of getting some honest answers about her cryptic reaction to that kiss this morning, their next conversation would be about not trusting her to handle the job or endangering her cover.
Cole didn’t try to hide. With a quick apology to the clerk, he headed out the door. “Jessie, I’m going to have to call you later. Something’s come up.”
“Blonde or brunette?”
“What?”
That intuitive connection must be broadcasting over the airwaves. “I can tell when there’s a woman on your mind. I think this one’s really gotten under your skin.”
She had no idea.
A.J. had diverted Tori’s attention back to him, and Cole took the opportunity to survey the crowds of tourists and professionals window-shopping, taking pictures and eating lunch. Maybe Tori had only gone on hyper-alert because she sensed him watching her, but he didn’t intend to leave anything to chance. He’d keep her safe from Jericho and Lancelot and anyone else who threatened her.
“She’s a redhead.” Cole smiled, knowing his sister would see through any denial, but refusing to offer any further explanation. “I’ll call you when I can. Tell everyone to be extra careful. Love you. ’Bye.”
He folded up the phone and clipped it onto his belt. The sidewalk radiated heat, but he couldn’t shake the warning chill in his bones. He should walk away right now, and not risk drawing any attention to Tori’s meeting with A.J.
But they already had somebody’s attention. Cole had cheated death and skirted disaster too many times to completely ignore what his instincts were trying to tell him. It was all just a matter of spotting the perp.
“Son of a bitch.”
Chad Meade, a half block away, was strolling down the sidewalk in deep conversation with a short, fair-haired man wearing tiny, frameless glasses. In a matter of seconds, they’d turn the corner by the statue of a bronze boar and the restaurant terrace would be in clear view.
Tori would be in clear view.
Cole quickly shuffled through his options and was already moving before he made his decision. Throwing out his hand to block off oncoming vehicles, he dashed across the intersection and headed straight for Tori and A.J. He let the blare of horns and the jam-up in traffic stop curious pedestrians on the sidewalk to mask his approach and buy himself precious seconds of cover-up time.
Tori saw him coming and shot to her feet. Rosy dots spotted her cheeks in a flush of emotion that could be either fear or anger. “What are you doing here? You can’t be seen with A.J.”
Cole swung his leg over the iron railing and potted plants that separated the terrace from the sidewalk. He pushed her back a step but kept his hand cupped around her elbow to hold her close and provide an obscuring shield of protection. “First-name basis already, huh?” He took note of the maître d’ hurrying to the table and looked into the familiar opaqueness of A.J.’s golden eyes. “Never pegged you for a lady-killer, buddy.” Cole n
odded toward the sidewalk. “Company’s coming. Get out of here.”
A.J. grinned. “Good to see you, too, buddy.”
Tori jerked her arm free, but kept her voice hushed to match the two men’s. “I’m glad we’re all buddy-buddy here, but wasn’t the idea to keep your connection to A.J. secret? You don’t have any faith in me at all, do you.”
“I don’t have faith in anyone right now, sweetheart.” He put up his hand to stop the inevitable protest against the use of endearments. It had just slipped out. “You couldn’t find somewhere more private? This place is crawling with spies.”
“Excuse me, sir. May I be of assistance?” The maître d’s greeting sounded more accusatory than friendly.
Tori intervened before Cole could answer. “We just ran into an old friend.” She looped her arm through the maître d’s and took him aside, charming him out of his suspicions and buying Cole a few moments with the man he’d once known like a brother.
“A white truck’s already circled the block twice,” A.J. whispered, his eyes scanning the streets and restaurant.
Cole nodded. “I can’t place him, but he’s no tourist. And Chad Meade’s about to join you for lunch.”
“Add in the nosy waiter and we’ve got all kinds of potential trouble.”
“You saw him too?” The young man in question rattled the dishes on his tray when he realized both men were watching him. He muttered something unintelligible and darted back inside. “Yep. That’s not suspicious.”
“I’m guessing they’re not Meade’s people?”
Cole shook his head. “Could be part of something she’s working on. Did she tell you she’s FBI?”
“Did you tell her you’re a cop?” A.J. put up one hand, telling Cole he didn’t expect an answer to that one. He adjusted his jacket and patted the pocket. “I’ll get these cards to Mac at the lab. I’m sure we’ve got Daniel Meade’s handwriting on file, and we’ll check for prints.”