“Identifying forgeries isn’t my strong suit. But there’s nothing that jumps out at me as unauthentic. Of course, I haven’t examined it at length, but I didn’t notice anything obvious. The embossing doesn’t appear to have been redone. But like I said, I’m far from an expert on the subject.” She turned the book over gently, lifted it in the cloth and held it closer to her eyes. “Condition is a crucial factor in most values but the fact that there are only a few of these still in existence has to inflate the worth of this one tremendously.”
He shifted closer to her, pulled in a breath infused with a familiar sweet smell. Something floral. Maybe orange blossom. “Have you opened it and looked through the pages.”
“In fact I did, very briefly, but I wore cotton gloves. The oils from your skin can damage the delicate paper.” She raised an eyebrow. “Interesting thing is there are annotations all through the thing, even a couple corrections where the wrong name was used in a passage. I’d guess that adds to the value, as long as those annotations are judged authentic to the period.”
Inhaling sharply, he tried to piece the puzzle together. “Any idea what sort of people would want a book like this? Or should I say, who’d be willing to steal it?”
And kill for it.
She set the volume down, leaned her head against the back of the sofa and blew out a long breath. “Antique book dealers, maybe a Shakespeare buff. Who knows? Some quirky millionaire who wants something none of his friends have. But something this old and rare ought to be in a museum. And I’d lay odds that if the volume is real, it was probably stolen. These books don’t just appear in someone’s garage—or storage unit.”
He thought about asking his parents what they knew about Uncle Percy, then remembered they were on a cruise in the Greek Isles—a thirty-fifth anniversary gift from Jenna and him—and weren’t scheduled to be home until the end of next week.
She let out a yawn. “Excuse me. It’s been a long, difficult day.”
Standing, he offered her a hand up, which surprisingly, she accepted. He didn’t want to let go of her soft, warm skin right away. They stood there, face-to-face, holding hands. Staring at her full lips, he wondered what they’d taste like, what their crimson softness held. When those lips parted a little, he had to stifle his instinct to reach for her and kiss her. Make love to her right here in her living room. His hardening cock pressed against his uniform pants. But this was hardly the time after what she’d been through today.
She pulled her arm away, wrapped it tightly around her body. “I’ll do some research on the internet, see if I can reach Art Stephens, my rare book contact. Maybe he can give me a history on it.”
“How well do you know this guy?” He hoped Kelsey hadn’t inadvertently tipped off an unscrupulous dealer.
Her expression darkened. “Give me a little credit, would you? Art has a stellar reputation. He’d never stoop to stealing a book, let alone committing murder.”
He sincerely doubted she’d know a murderer if she came face-to-face with one, which, of course, she had. “I’m not questioning your judgment, Kelsey. I think caution is a good thing, though. We have to keep the book safe, but it’s way more important that you remain unharmed.”
Her forehead creased and a cloud settled over her features. “You really think I could be in danger?”
“There’s a good chance, yes.” More than anything, he wanted to stay here, not only to protect her, but to be near her. He grasped her shoulders, drew her to him, yet she remained rigid and unyielding. “I hate that I’ve brought this into your life, that my actions may have cost your friend hers.”
She softened against him. “You can’t blame yourself. You had no idea what the book was or what it could bring. And the police might be right. This may have been just a random robbery.” The tender stroke of her eyes slid over his face.
He kissed the top of her head and she stiffened. Stepping back, he released his hold on her before he got lost in his need to touch her. “I ought to take it with me.” He circled around her, folded the fabric over the book and held it against his chest.
She immediately squared her shoulders, scowling. “What do you think you’re doing?” She looked from him to the book and back.
“You’ll be safer if it’s not here. And frankly, so will this.” He patted the cloth cover.
“Who put you in charge?” She set her hands on her waist and leveled an angry stare at him. “Why must you controlling men always…” She froze, jaw tight, fists clenched.
He wondered what she was going to say, but he probably wouldn’t like it. He hated the idea of being crucified for someone else’s sins. But not nearly as much as he despised the notion of a past lover hurting her. “I’m only trying to protect you.” Which wasn’t easy considering she had a giant chip on her shoulder. “I have a very secure spot in mind.”
Her cheeks flushed an angry red and her eyes narrowed to slits. “No, damn it. I didn’t ask for your protection and I don’t want it.” She extended her arms, waiting for him to return the book, but he tucked the treasure securely under his arm and started toward the door.
“Hey! Give it back.” She stomped around him, blocking his exit.
Damn. Her fire turned him on. He stifled his need to kiss her and instead gave her a gentle nudge.
Eyes flaring, she fisted her hands.
His desire to stick around evaporated into the suddenly chilly air. “Lock up.” He hurried out the door and when he heard the bolt engage, blew out the breath he’d been holding.
From behind her door, she muttered, “Arrogant asshole.”
He grinned and blew a kiss in her direction, then strode toward the parking lot. Scanning the area, he relaxed a little. Several floodlights illuminated the building and from his truck he’d be able to eyeball anyone entering or leaving the place. He climbed inside and set the book on the seat beside him.
He’d call in a favor from Callahan tomorrow and ask for periodic patrols of Kelsey’s neighborhood, but for tonight he’d feel better if he stuck close to her himself.
Settling deeper into the seat, he resigned himself to a night in his car. He yawned and stretched. Somehow, he had to stay awake. Tempted as he was to recline the seat and shut his eyes, he couldn’t chance letting a murderer anywhere near her.
He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her because of him.
* * * * *
Kelsey yanked the elastic out of her hair and shook her head to loosen her curls. Kicking off her shoes, she grunted. How dare he take that book from her without her approval? Who the hell died and made him king?
What a control freak. Just like Paul and her father. She grabbed a nightgown out of her bottom drawer and started into the bathroom but the shrill ring of the phone stopped her in her tracks.
If Jason thought an apology would fix this, then…actually, an apology would be nice. She sucked in a calming breath, then hurried to the phone and picked up. “Yes?”
“Kelsey? Is that the way you answer your phone?” Her mother’s admonishing tone instantly provoked a headache.
“I’m sorry, Mother. It’s been a tough day.” She crumpled onto her bed.
“I tried your cell. Three times. Why bother having one if you never answer? If you’d pull your nose out of a book for a minute, you’d realize there are people who care about you and want to hear from you. You do remember you have a mother, don’t you? Honestly, Kelsey, sometimes I wonder.”
Although she usually chose not to answer her mother’s calls, at least this time she had a valid excuse. But she couldn’t summon the strength to argue. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
“I suppose that means you won’t talk to me now, hmm? Well, fine. Mason and I miss you terribly.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d only met the ancient podiatrist her mother had married once—at their wedding. But she had to admit he seemed way nicer than her father. Of course, Attila the Hun would qualify as nicer than her father. “And I
miss you too. Bye, Mother.”
She made a mental note to phone her in the morning. Last time she’d neglected to return her mother’s call, the woman had shown up on her doorstep. With five suitcases and her precious poodle, Baby. She still had the yellow stains on her carpet as a reminder.
Nothing she hated more than having her privacy invaded. Well, that and a pushy man. Her thoughts returned to Jason. Why did he have to be so damn hot?
Didn’t matter. As long as he helped her bring Margaret’s killer to justice, she’d suffer having a sexy man around. Wasn’t as if she had no control over her hormones.
She strode into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. Washing her face with cold water did nothing to quell the heat thoughts of Jason had inspired. She grabbed her nightgown from the hook on the door. As she slipped it on, her nipples hardened as the silky fabric slid over them. Moisture pooled between her legs.
Think about something else.
Margaret. She’d never see Margaret’s warm smile again, or catch her reading erotica novels behind the counter again. Or tell her the white lie that her blue hair flattered her eyes. She was really gone. Poor Margaret.
Kelsey’s eyes watered as she brushed her teeth. After drying her mouth, she headed into the living room and scanned her bookcases. A good historical romance would take her mind off the awful day and help her get to sleep.
Her gaze landed on one of her old favorites, a turn-of-the-century love story titled, After This Moment.
Perfect.
Reading a tried and true novel sometimes felt as good as comfort food. She carried the book into the bedroom and burrowed underneath the covers to indulge.
Skimming through the prologue, she immersed herself in the world of an 1899 ship full of Slovenian immigrants as they sailed toward New York.
Anika and Edvard had fallen in love during the difficult voyage and now, only hours from their arrival at Ellis Island, they learn their families plan to settle so far apart that they will never again see each other. Desperate to be together, they slip away to the cargo hold where their passion trumps restraint.
As she did with so many of her favorite books, Kelsey became the heroine. And this time, it was Jason’s face she imagined as her hero.
Edvard lifted Anika onto a wooden crate and climbed on after. Holding her head in his hands, he kissed her lips, slowly and sweetly.
Desire uncoiled inside her as he skimmed his tongue over hers, exploring the confines of her mouth. He removed the pins from her hair, released her long locks and coaxed out the woman hiding within the girl. When his lips traveled lower, venturing dangerously close to her breasts, she gasped.
He stopped, gazed into her eyes for permission. And she gave it. Never before had she yearned for anything as she did for this, for him.
She lay back on the crate and opened her blouse for him. Slowly, she untied the thin ribbons underneath and revealed her bare breasts, heavy with need. His lusty gaze landed on her naked flesh. Shame started to rise, but she forced the emotion down. Her nipples puckered and hardened under his stare.
“Anika, my love.” Lowering his mouth to her bosom, he drew a taut peak into his mouth, cupped her breast in his hand. Pleasure melted inside her, thick and wet. His hands skimmed her chest, massaged her needy orbs, sending tendrils of delicious heat through her whole body.
He tore at his clothes, had them off in mere moments. She gaped at the sight of him, muscled and firm. And that rigid shaft, the likes of which she’d never imagined.
She knew she ought to stop him as he licked her breasts, but the sweet fire spreading through her proved impossible to resist. He caught the hem of her skirt and pushed the worn fabric up her legs.
Her heart thundered furiously as he pulled at her petticoats. Then his hand was between her thighs and she wantonly opened for him. Liquid fire ignited at her entrance, a fitting invitation to eternal damnation, yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop him.
His fingertips brushed over her swollen folds. She wanted more. Shamelessly, she lifted her hips to entice him further. He slipped a finger inside her heated sex, tearing a licentious moan from her throat.
Arching against his touch, she was powerless to resist. Worse, she craved it all. She yearned to feel the hard length of him inside her. He rubbed at her tender cleft. Pleasure bloomed inside her, a rising swell that threatened to drown her. She shuddered and twisted and moaned as ecstasy like she’d never known dragged her under. And she went willingly.
Kelsey clutched her throat, heart pounding.
For heaven’s sake.
How many times had she read that scene? Yet the words had never before elicited such a visceral response from her.
I never envisioned Jason in the role before, either.
She fanned the book toward her face, diffusing the rising heat. Enough of that.
At least the story had done what she’d hoped. Immersing herself in that world had purged the horrors of the day from her mind.
Tomorrow she’d have to deal with all the ramifications of Margaret’s murder. But for tonight, she’d feast on fantasy. Just a little while longer. She opened the book and continued her tryst.
Chapter Three
Jason stood next to Corporal Ellis Washington in the control room and studied the video screen. One inmate brushed against another in a crowded cell.
“My counterpart at Metro-Dade PD tells me the guy on the right directs his troops on the streets from in here. They’re into money laundering, drug trafficking, home invasions, you name it.” Jason scratched the stubble on his chin and exhaled loudly. He’d lay odds the inmates had passed a kite, one he’d give his left nut to get his hands on. Not only did those tiny scraps of paper contain the names of gang members, they often spelled out plans for various illegal activities in and out of the jail.
“We can yank them from E-cell right now, Sarge.” Ellis lifted a dark eyebrow, waiting. “Your call.”
Jason gave him a resolute nod. “Make sure they don’t ditch whatever they’re holding and cuff them immediately.” Whether they’d passed drugs or a kite, they wouldn’t hesitate to swallow it. “Let me know what you find.”
Washington nodded to the Hispanic officer standing by the control room door. “Go get Watts and Kendall. Can’t hurt to have as much muscle as possible.”
Jason grinned. He’d noticed both men Washington suggested in the staff workout room on numerous occasions. Not only were they bulked up in a major way, but each had an officer presence that told inmates they meant business.
“Let me out, please,” he said to the control desk officer.
The heavy metal door clicked loudly then slid open with an electric hum. He tossed his coffee cup into the trash as he left. The usual jail smells assaulted his senses—urine, disinfectant and body odor. After all these years he should have grow immune to the stench.
As he approached his office, his cell vibrated. Checking the display, he squinted to read it. Private number.
“Jones speaking.”
“You don’t know me.” The woman on the phone spoke in a hushed tone. “But I need your help.”
He stopped and surveyed the hallway. An inmate worker pushing a mop bucket shuffled into a nearby doorway.
“What can I do for you?” The voice didn’t sound familiar, but he wondered if it could be a crank call.
“I understand you’ve acquired a certain collection of Shakespeare plays.”
A chill slithered up his spine. How would she know he had it? He’d tucked the book away in his office, which was only accessible to key jail personnel. “Oh?”
“I’m not sure how much you know, but the book belongs to my family. Unfortunately someone stole it in the early eighties and we thought we’d lost it forever. Imagine our excitement when our book turned up right here in Miami.”
So she was local. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” And what made her believe he was fool enough to buy her story?
She let out a gravelly
laugh that spoke of a long-term smoking habit. “No need to be coy, Sergeant. I merely want what’s rightfully mine.”
“What did you say your name was?” He hurried to his office, swiped his ID card through the reader and went inside.
“I didn’t say.”
Grabbing a pen, he smirked. “Who’s being coy now? You want something you think I have yet you won’t even tell me who you are.” The burger he’d eaten for dinner an hour earlier sat like lead in his stomach.
“I’m willing to pay if I have to, but I will get my hands on that book. One way or another.”
She was really starting to piss him off. “Listen, Miss…”
“Smith.”
“If you say so. Care to tell me why you think I have this book that supposedly belongs to you? While you’re at it, how about sharing exactly how you came upon my name and number.” Phone numbers belonging to officers were unlisted and difficult to find. Unless she had some connection to law enforcement. Only a small number of staff members had access to his office, but now he wondered how safe the book was here. He shot out of his seat and crossed the room to the credenza.
“That’s not important, Sergeant. What should matter to you is how much I’m willing to pay to have my family heirloom back.”
Family heirloom, my ass. Heart racing, he fished in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the cabinet. The cloth-wrapped package was right where he’d left it. He sucked in a relieved breath. “And how much is that?”
“Ah, good. You’re a smart man. I’d hoped you would be reasonable.” She coughed. Yeah, definitely a smoker. Or a former smoker. “It’s not worth anything to anyone else, but I’ll give you a thousand dollars for your trouble. In cash.”
How stupid did she think he was? “How can I make you any kind of deal without at least having your name and number?”
She hesitated.
“You seem to know an awful lot about me yet you won’t even tell me the most basic information about you.” He locked the cabinet, hoped she’d throw him a bone. Anything that might help him track her down.
Tropic of Trouble Page 3