“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.” And he took off in the opposite direction to where Mark and Nicola were concealed.
He grinned, watching him race down the path, his camera bouncing along with the fifty extra pounds the guy was carrying on his ass.
Holden was still grinning when he entered the palace.
And then he froze.
She stood there like a goddess and he felt his heart stutter. How could she be so beautiful? He didn’t know what she was looking at, but there was a pensiveness to her expression that made him believe she was a woman rich in secrets and mystery. Her glorious hair was up and a dress of pale-lilac silk gathered simply at one shoulder, hugged her torso and then knotted at the opposite hip to fall to the floor. Her only jewelry was a pair of dangling diamond earrings. Her reflection was multiplied in rows of gilt-edged mirrors, so it appeared as though she had a court of lesser goddesses attending her.
The fancy was so strong that he stood rooted to the spot, then broke his own rule for tonight and quietly lifted his camera.
He got off a quick volley of shots before she startled and turned. “Holden? You’re supposed to be shooting the models.”
“I’m photographing the most beautiful woman here.”
She chuckled. “Half the women here have been in People’s most beautiful people issue. I think I’ve got some competition.”
He came closer to her, wanting quite desperately to kiss her senseless. Knowing she wouldn’t appreciate her makeup and clothing getting mussed, he contented himself with stroking a hand down the undraped shoulder. “You knock me out,” he told her. “I was watching you, thinking you look like a goddess. Only you seemed kind of sad.”
Her eyes were twinkling, all the pensiveness vanished. “I was thinking of poor Marie Antoinette and how happy she must have been here. Before it all ended.”
He took her hand. “This is the Hall of Mirrors. It’s one of the few rooms I remember from when I visited in college.”
“You came to Versailles?”
He told her about the drinking the night before and how he’d almost defaced the queen’s bedchamber with his violent hangover, and she laughed.
As they passed through another doorway, sounds of activity grew closer. While he was shooting models for Kimi’s big fashion issue, she’d be interviewing her new sister’s fiancé. It wasn’t much of a lead—probably no lead at all on what was going on. But as each day passed, each show went off without an attempted theft, the chances rose that this would be the day, that this would be the show.
“You find out what you can about Vladimir’s business, his connection to fashion, anything you can. Try to worm out of him some specifics about his business and travel activities so I can get to work tracing his movements over the past five years.”
She nodded.
“I’ll follow him when he leaves here. See where he goes, what he does. We’ll meet back at your hotel in the morning.”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
“I will. It kills me not to take you home tonight and unwrap you.”
“Some things are better for the wait.”
“And some are better when you simply take them.” And he kissed her, knowing their passion was being reflected a thousand times.
16
“OKAY, SO WHAT’S going on?” Kimi crossed her arms. Morning hadn’t brought them any closer to answering that question. She’d spent a frustrating evening trying to interrogate Vladimir without appearing to. And he wasn’t one who liked to talk about himself, she’d discovered when, under the guise of learning more about her sister, she’d asked him some questions. She knew the name of his company and that he’d been to New York a couple of times. He was vague about the rest of the world. “I travel in Europe, Asia, the Middle East, lots of places. Mostly I see airports and the inside of office buildings. It’s very boring.”
He claimed to know nothing about fashion and certainly his business had nothing to do with clothing.
Holden had been equally frustrated, following the guy back to the town house where Claudia and her father were staying. The father had gone in first, Claudia and Vladimir had exchanged a couple of kisses then she’d followed her father inside.
Vladimir had been driven to a hotel a few blocks away. He went inside and didn’t come out again.
“We know that Claudia’s fiancé was seen talking to one of Simone’s dressers.” She paced the room, her arms still wrapped around her as though she was giving herself a comforting hug. “And Simone’s show is tonight.”
“I’m still waiting to find out what he’s been doing in the Middle East.”
“You think that’s related to fashion?”
“I wish I knew. I wish I knew somebody who knew.”
She paused in her pacing. Drilled him with her blue eyes. “I know somebody who knows everybody in fashion—and, damn it, he owes me a favor.”
“You don’t mean—”
“Brewster Peacock. Holden, he knows everyone. He knows everything. He’s got connections in every fashion house, every restaurant, every hotel, every media outlet, every country—he’ll save us time we don’t have.”
“I don’t trust a man who makes trouble for his friends. And Peacock made plenty of trouble for you.”
“I know. But he also got me a family—” She put up her hands. “I know he didn’t intend to, but he actually did me a favor. However, I don’t plan to let him know that. I’ll play up the ‘you did me wrong, you owe me a favor’ angle.”
“He’s scum.”
“I don’t trust him either, but in the fashion world he is faster, better connected and more efficient than Interpol.” She reached for the phone.
He stretched out a hand and placed it over hers. “I’ll go with you.”
She seemed as though she might argue, then simply nodded and placed the call.
“THIS GUY HAS SEEN too many bad movies,” Holden said as they approached the crumbling warehouse in a seedy part of Montmartre. The neighborhood did look like something out of a European film noir. The smell of garbage and strong cigarettes hung in the air. Two young guys who looked to be up to no good sauntered toward them. As they come closer, he saw them leer at Kimi, and instinctively moved closer to her, giving them the hairy eyeball.
At two in the afternoon, there weren’t many people around.
That was the only non B-movie part of the meeting, that Brewster had chosen afternoon, but then, they all had to be back for the grand extravaganza tonight, where Nicola Pietra’s wedding gown and, if Brewster was to be believed, matching toddler gown, would be unveiled.
They were far from any tourist destinations and the buildings around here were derelict. She withdrew a neatly folded piece of paper from her slacks pocket and checked the address, glancing around and wrinkling her nose. “It should be around here.” She glanced across the street where a boarded up store sported a rusty red awning. Beside it was a dingy café with two Arabic men smoking in the deep recesses.
“There it is,” she said, pointing. “It doesn’t look much outside, but you’d be amazed at where some fashion designers keep their warehouses. They are as concerned about corporate spying as any defense or high-tech company.” She stepped off the broken curb, startling a fat pigeon pecking at a crust of bread, and crossed the worn cobbles. He glanced up and down the deserted streets before jogging after her. He didn’t like the feel of this neighborhood. The sooner they were out of here, the better.
She reached the doorway and pressed the bell next to a dented dull-green metal door. Graffiti was sprayed across it and Holden was just as glad he didn’t understand the French meaning.
“Oui?” A disembodied voice sounded through a grated intercom.
“Brewster?”
“Kimi, darling. Come up. All the way to the top.”
The door buzzed and Holden yanked the heavy metal open for her. Inside, harsh industrial lighting illuminated a stairway that smelled of urine and garlic. An old elevator hovered like a pterodactyl. Without
even considering it, they began climbing the stairs.
These were metal and sturdy. He could see that the locks were top-notch on the door, and the windows well secured. He relaxed slightly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the seedy locale Peacock had chosen had all his instincts on alert.
He knew it was his years as a cop and a P.I., but still, he always listened to his gut.
There were doors opening off a landing, but no names, only numbers. Interesting. The stairs stretched up and he and Kimi followed them to the third level. Brewster must have been listening for them, because he opened one of the three doors when they got to the landing.
“Bonjour, mes enfants,” he said. He was wearing a purple and yellow paisley coat that hurt Holden’s eyes, black jeans and black alligator cowboy boots with gold lacing. All he needed was a cowboy hat and a microphone and he could be a Vegas entertainer.
He and Kimi did the three-cheek-kisses thing popular with the French. Holden wanted to tell Peacock that if he tried to kiss Holden he’d end up with his teeth down his throat, but apparently his glare said it for him. Holden had started out half stunned and half amused by the guy, but now that the peacock had tried to cause trouble for Kimi, Holden had nothing but contempt for him.
He glanced around, but this top-floor warehouse seemed more of a storage area than a secret design studio. A line of industrial sewing machines slouched under a barred window. There were a couple of racks of clothes that didn’t look anything like the couture creations Holden was used to seeing, and a large cutting table with a few bolts of fabric. Some banks of drawers rounded out the furniture. A sewing dummy, or whatever those stuffed things that looked like a woman’s torso were called, watched from the far side of the room. A closed door led, presumably, to an office or washroom.
Kimi looked around, obviously confused. “Why did you want to meet us here? I thought you were doing a story on a secret design studio or something.”
He laughed. “No. But I was here meeting someone else earlier and thought we wanted privacy.”
She nodded, satisfied. “You said you had some information that might help prevent a couture theft.”
“You know me, darling. I always have the inside scoop on everything.” He turned to the full-length wall mirror and adjusted the collar of his pimp coat. Diamonds flashed on his hands and in his ears. Holden swallowed his impatience, but he was getting a feeling that Peacock didn’t know jack and they were here on a wild-goose chase they didn’t have time for.
He was getting ready to open the door at his back and haul Kimi out. He needed to make sure the security was drum tight for tonight’s event, and knowing Kimi, she’d need extra time to dress.
She obviously shared his impatience. “Look, Brewster, you’re not my favorite person right now, so if you have information, you should give it to us. If you don’t, quit wasting my time.”
“I’m hurt. Didn’t I help you reconnect with Daddy Dearest and your precious little sister?”
Holden could have sworn he heard Kimi’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No, you really didn’t. We’ve known all about each other forever.”
He chuckled. “You’re a good spin doctor, my precious, but you and I both know I outed you. Now, come on, let’s all be friends and come and look at the delicious gossip I’ve got for you.”
She crossed her hands under her breasts. “What is it?”
“I have definite information that the most spectacular couture piece in a century is going to be stolen.” He paused for emphasis, his pale eyes gleaming with excitement. “Tonight.”
“Every designer thinks every garment they create is the most spectacular piece of this or any century. You’ll have to do better than that.”
He smirked at her. “You can’t think of one piece this season that is perhaps slightly more special than all the other pretty frocks?”
He watched her face change. Surprise turned to shock. “You don’t mean—”
“Now you’re using your brains.”
“What’s he talking about?” Holden asked.
Brewster deferred to Kimi. “The wedding dress. Pietra’s wedding gown. It’s supposed to be breathtaking. Remember what Marcy said? A bodice covered with flawless diamonds? Even without the cachet of having been designed for the hottest movie-star couple on the planet, the dress itself would be worth a fortune.”
“But with its provenance—” Peacock shrugged his ridiculous purple and yellow shoulders “—the sky’s the limit. Perhaps it will one day be worn by a bride, but I doubt it.” He shook his head. “There are collectors who love that which is so rare as to be unattainable. And this—” he made a grand gesture “—this is the theft not only of the most eagerly awaited couture piece of the season, but it’s a perfect scandal. Oh, what fun we’ll have.”
“There’s more security around that dress than around the Mona Lisa or the crown jewels,” Holden said. “What proof do you have that the wedding gown is the target?”
Again that self-satisfied chuckle. The man had a laugh that was the aural equivalent of too-sweet candy. “Come over here and let me show you.”
Holden hesitated, not liking to leave his position by the door, but the peacock beckoned and there was nobody there but the three of them. And he could take that over-stuffed parrot any day.
“Here’s what I wanted to show you,” Brewster Peacock said.
He reached for a portfolio case that Holden hadn’t noticed leaning against the side of the sewing table and took out a sheaf of glossy photos. “Ohmygod,” squealed Kimi. “Where did you get these? Oh, it’s gorgeous.” She glanced up. “Look, Holden. The wedding gown and matching toddler gown.”
He walked forward, curious to see what kind of wedding dress was worth the fuss this thing was causing. “Hmm,” he said, “looks like something Marie Antoinette would have worn.”
“Exactly, but she’s added an entirely modern sensibility,” Kimi gushed. “The way the silk sweeps, and the clever way she’s used nothing but diamonds so it has a fairy quality.” She touched the photo as though it were the precious dress. “This is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.”
He heard the squeak of a hinge and was immediately alert, swinging his body around to confront—he had no idea what. The door that had been closed opened, and out came Claudia’s fiancé.
“Vladimir?” Kimi cried out. “What are you doing here?”
Holden didn’t bother asking questions, he was already on the balls of his feet ready to pounce.
“I wouldn’t if I were you, Holden,” said Brewster Peacock from behind him, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed his worst fears. They’d been set up. Peacock held a 9mm Glock and had it trained on Kimi.
“Shit,” he said, cursing his own stupidity for blundering into a trap like a rank beginner.
“I don’t understand,” Kimi said, sounding more puzzled than scared. “Brewster, what is going on?”
“I did withhold a little information from you, darling Kimi. It turns out, I’m being paid a fabulous amount of money to steal poor Nicola’s wedding gown. It’s sad to know she’ll have to wear something off the rack, but next to fashion, you know I love money best.”
“But why would you steal couture?”
“I’ve been doing it for years for extra pocket money. But never on this scale. This is my retirement fund. My swan song. My—”
“Your 401K, we get it. Who’s paying you?”
Another chuckle. “He has no subtlety, Kimi. Really, you could do much better. I know you like all that uncivilized brawn, but your usual types are so much more…elegant.” Then he shrugged. “Do pat him down well, Vlad, before you tie them up.”
Only the knowledge that Kimi had a Glock trained on her by a hand that was both steady and clearly practiced caused Holden to stay still while Vladimir patted him down like a pro. He confirmed his earlier guess that the guy was former military. It would be interesting to see what Interpol turned up on the guy based on the latest informa
tion and photos he’d sent his contact there. Holden only hoped they’d move fast.
Of course, Vladimir found the ankle knife, the only weapon Holden carried, and he took the small pocket camera from his jacket.
He snatched out Holden’s wallet, flipped through it and then calmly pocketed it like a small-time crook. Holden wanted to strike out at him so badly he could taste his restraint. From the cold expression in the Russian’s eyes, he’d have welcomed a fight.
But he could hear Kimi behind him, her breathing a little shallow, but not panicked. And because he realized that nothing mattered more than keeping her safe, he forced himself not to fight back.
“If you’re going to ruin our evening, at least tell us who’s paying you,” she said. Good girl.
“Friends of Vlad’s. People with deep pockets and good taste.”
“What about Claudia?” Kimi asked.
The Russian’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker. Again Brewster was the one doing the talking. “Poor little thing. But you can be a good big sister and explain that the marriage would never have worked. Vladimir isn’t the marrying kind.”
Vladimir pulled a chair into the middle of the room. “Sit,” he ordered.
“Don’t be difficult, Holden,” Peacock chided, taking a step closer to Kimi with the gun.
His eyes connected with hers and he realized in that moment that he loved her. Just one of those stupid moments of blinding clarity that come at the most inopportune moments.
Talk about bad timing.
17
HE WAS ALMOST CERTAIN her eyes were telegraphing back the same message. He winked at her and sat.
“Now, we’re going to have to restrain you, I’m afraid. Can’t have you spoiling the fun, but look at these darling zip ties.” He pulled a dozen or so of the plastic ties often used by police departments as temporary handcuffs. “They come in such fun colors. Who says crime has to be dull.”
“I think red for you, Kimi,” he said, fishing out a couple of the ties. “And blue for Holden. He likes his manly blue, I’ve noticed.”
One-Click Buy: April Harlequin Blaze Page 48