by McKenna Dean
“Well?” His face reminded me of a plastic doll, minus the fixed smile which was still unnerving.
“They just left. If we hurry, we can catch them—”
“They’re long gone by now.” He was as immobile as a statue when I tugged on his arm. “We should be looking for the artifacts, not haring off on your snipe hunt.”
“I think this is about the artifacts.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, go on. Do tell. This will be a good one.”
“Why else would Margo be here? You’ve always believed some secret organization killed your wife when you refused to work for them. Now that we know she’s not dead, it makes sense she was working for them all along—and still works for them today. There wasn’t time to tell you before, but I spoke with Rian Stirling. He admitted an auction is taking place this weekend, and he’s not the only party interested. It beggars belief to think it’s a coincidence Margo would show up here the same weekend there’s a bidding war for stolen technology. She must be involved.”
“You’re going to take the word of some rich guy you just met? Why would he share this with you, anyway?” Knight’s tone could have stripped paint.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second. “I’m pretty sure he’s Ryker’s brother.”
“I see. Well, that explains a lot.” His nostrils flared wide as he inhaled sharply. He blew his breath out in several short bursts, obviously struggling to hang on to his temper. “It’s Redclaw you trust over everyone else.”
“And you,” I snapped. “You convinced me to come here looking for artifacts. Now I have a lead and you don’t want to follow it. Fine.” I held out my hand. “Give me your keys. I’ll go after them myself.”
“I’m just—”
“Wasting my time. If you don’t want to know the truth—”
“That has nothing to do with it. I just don’t see any point in trying to track someone who’s already gone.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I nudged Knight. “That’s Tommy by the bar. Getting a refill on his flask, no doubt.”
As we watched, Tommy brushed back a heavy curl of brown hair that had escaped his thick pomade and handed the bartender some cash. In return, he accepted a bottle of gin with a foolish grin. I pushed Knight toward the door as Tommy headed out. “Come on. We don’t want to lose him.”
Outside, Knight led the way to his car. The night air felt pleasantly cool after the overheated rooms of the club. The moon cast a silver light over parked cars, distorting their paint into shades of purple and gray. Ahead of us, Tommy’s white dinner jacket stood out as though cut from marble. He went to the passenger side of a huge black Daimler and leaned in the open window. When he straightened, his hands were empty. I heard the clear tones of a cheerful whistle as he rounded the back of the car and got in behind the steering wheel.
I said nothing as Knight stalked to his car, but followed in his wake and slipped into the passenger side as he took his own seat. The engine started with a cough and a bang, causing the headlights to dim briefly before the motor caught.
“I don’t suppose you brought anything from Redclaw in your bag of tricks that will help if this car breaks down?”
“Sorry, I left the flying saucer in my other pants.”
Knight’s cutting manner prevented me from responding with a witty comeback. “And your disguise, as well, it would seem.”
“No one can see us now, and I need a break. My head’s killing me.”
His anger had settled into a cold fury. I could work with it.
“Don’t lose them,” I cautioned when Tommy’s car left the parking lot with a spin of gravel.
“I won’t.” Knight followed Tommy out of the parking lot at a sedate pace, not reacting when the Daimler roared up the road. “The young fool will end up in a ditch the way he’s driving. What exactly is your plan when we catch up with them?”
“I’ll let you know when we do.” My voice was as sharp as his and my anger at his refusal to believe me nearly as deep. His fury was fine with me. It would stop me from thinking about that kiss. In the last twenty minutes, Knight had gone from being a grieving widower to being a married man. In my book that made him off-limits. Somehow, we’d have to get those artifacts, and I needed his help. I hadn’t the faintest idea what his reaction would be if he came face-to-face with Margo, but I hope I’d given him enough warning for him to be on guard. I know what my reaction would be to such an ugly betrayal of trust.
The Daimler’s taillights were far ahead, occasionally disappearing as the road dipped and turned. When there’d been no visible sign of the other car for at least ten seconds, Knight anticipated my protest and floored the gas. The clunker leapt forward with a rattle. I didn’t relax until I spotted the small red lights winking in and out of sight like a drunken firefly farther down the road. When the Daimler turned off the main strip, I knew its destination.
“Tommy’s going to his family’s estate. See there—that turning up ahead. Go past those gates and then bring the car around. We’ll sneak in and see what he’s up to.” I twisted in my seat to look back over my shoulder as we passed the entrance to the Stanford property. Beyond the gates, I saw the flash of red taillights as the car hugged the curve of the drive.
Knight turned the car around at the next estate and we drove back along the road. As we came abreast of the entranceway, he pulled off the asphalt and parked the car. “We can hardly drive straight in.”
“Good point. We’ll cut across the drive and—”
Knight’s icy drawl cut me off. “You realize in all probability he’s come here with a little lovemaking in mind? Are you sure you’re not the one who hasn’t gotten over an old flame?”
“Oh, please.” I drew back. “Tommy asked me to marry him and I refused. As if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a drunken lout.” I could have bitten my tongue as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Not that you’re a lout. I mean—”
“I understand your meaning perfectly.” His tone was so chilly I developed frostbite. “Relax. I’m not offering my hand in marriage.”
I was glad the darkness of the car masked how red my face must have been. Tempted as I was to point out that would make him a bigamist, I kept my mouth shut. That easy camaraderie between us had disappeared, as was the back-and-forth volley of wits that had marked our relationship thus far.
It surprised me how much that loss hurt.
When he spoke again, his words came hard and flat. “I’m here to prove you wrong. Once I do, once you realize Margo is dead and you were grossly mistaken, I’m done.”
“Done?” Even though I wasn’t sure what he meant, the word plummeted like a stone in my belly, leaving me a touch queasy.
“Yes. Done. I go back to my life—such as it was—and you and Redclaw leave me alone. For good.”
“Peter—”
He got out of the car without another word and yanked on the door, stopping in mid-slam when I hissed a warning at him. Fine. We’d table this for now.
He followed me as we slipped through the gates and cut across the drive to kneel behind a row of bushes. The driveway in front of the house was empty.
“He must have taken the car around back to the garage,” I whispered. “Come on.”
Knight reserved his complaints until we’d situated ourselves outside the large building that housed the Stanford cars. “Now do you have a plan?”
I was about to inform him that his snarky attitude wasn’t helping when a light clicked on in the garage, creating a rectangular patch of illumination through the window near our position. I grabbed Knight by his sleeve and pulled him back into the shadows.
I needn’t have worried. The door to the garage opened, and the lights inside went off, leaving Knight and me safely hidden in the building’s shadow. A flashlight illuminated the gravel path in front of the two people walking along it, the faint crunch of shoes drifting back to our ears. Knight would have moved to follow, but I stopped him with a grip on his fore
arm. I held him there until the light bobbled out of sight.
“What are you waiting for? We’ll lose them.”
He was so close, the heat from his body was a welcome respite from air that had grown chilly. Goosebumps prickled along my bare arms as the wind fluttered the fresh young leaves of the trees.
“If we follow them now, we’ll be exposed as we cross the lawn. If they look back, there’s nowhere for us to hide.” I nodded at the retreating figures. The moonlight was so bright they didn’t need the flashlight. “I suspect they’re headed to a small pavilion near the headland. There’s an inlet that comes in from the sea, and a river deep enough for a motorboat. If they head out from the pavilion by boat, we won’t be able to keep up with them, anyway. But since that’s the most likely place they’ll go, if we hang back for a moment, we can sneak up on them without risk of being spotted.”
“And you know they’re headed there because?”
An hour ago, his tone would have been arch and amused. Now it could have cut glass.
“It’s not just a pavilion. There’s an underground system of tunnels. Smugglers used the caves during the Revolutionary War, and then during Prohibition, bootleggers enlarged the hold, put in electricity, and shored up the walls. Giordano’s is less than ten miles from here. They ran a speakeasy during the Twenties. It’s a respectable restaurant now. Good food, too.”
“So. Your ex-boyfriend’s father was a bootlegger? Small wonder he can afford such a fancy spread.”
“No. Tommy’s father inherited money, as will Tommy, when his turn comes. My father was the bootlegger. Mr. Stanford pretended to turn a blind eye to the deliveries and took a cut. Come on. The coast should be clear now.”
I started down the path, but Knight caught me by the arm. “Wait. Your father was a whiskey peddler? But I thought he—”
“Gambled away the family fortune? He did. At least, he lost all the money he’d made as a gin runner. As much of my mother’s money he could get his hands on as well. Unfortunately, he didn’t stop there. He also lost money that belonged to some pretty dangerous people. Hence the suicide.” I was grateful the moon, for the moment, had ducked its face behind clouds, leaving mine in shadow. “We ended up liquidating everything we owned to pay off the mob. My mother moved back to Wyoming. It’s debatable which she finds the most unforgivable: the shame of his suicide or the fact we’re broke. As soon as she could, she married another rich man. So you see....” I gently removed my arm from his grip. “I understand betrayal by someone you love.”
Knight was silent for several thunderous beats of my heart.
“And how do you know about Stanford’s special place?” His breath brushed the top of my forehead and ruffled my hair.
“Tommy brings every girl he dates there at least once. It’s about as special as Grand Central.”
Knight offered a subdued snort, but I felt oddly triumphant for having triggered it. His next words dashed any lingering hope we’d mended our fences when he went on in a clear, cool voice. “You’re thinking they’ve hidden the artifacts there. But if Tommy’s love nest is so well-frequented, it would hardly make an ideal hiding place for a cache of—unusual—technology.”
We needed to get moving. If Tommy and Margo were up to something in the pavilion, we might miss them if we didn’t hurry. For some reason, my feet remained frozen in place. “Not a love nest.” I murmured somewhere near Knight’s shoulder. “Just a place Tommy prided himself on knowing about where he could sneak a kiss or two and pretend he was a part of it. Given the pavilion is on private property, it’s probably safe enough.”
My body swayed a little toward Knight, reminding me of the marked differences between the kisses I’d received from Tommy and the one from him this evening. The first had been an amusing, sandy, and somehow disappointing experience. The other made me want to repeat it right there against the side of the garage, complete with ripping clothes off and everything that went with that. Heat bloomed in places that should have been keeping their collective minds on the job at hand.
“Shall we go check out this special place, then?” Knight sounded like a college professor demanding I show proof of my math. It was like a dash of cold water, which I very much needed.
“This way. If you must speak, keep your voice down. Sound carries down here by the water.”
We skirted the walkway until the graveled path curved into a wooded area and gave way to sandy dirt and pine needles. Tall oak trees closed in around us, limbs with newly unfurled leaves swaying in the freshening breeze. Clouds scudded overhead, dappling our progress with rapidly shifting shadows. The moon, when visible, bathed everything in a clear, bright light, throwing the path and the trees into sharp-edged relief that warped and bent with the moving cloud cover. As we went deeper into the wood, there was no sign of anyone ahead. The restless rustle of the branches sounded similar to the distant wash of waves rolling in and out again.
I’d played croquet on Tommy’s lawn and dined alfresco at the pavilion at midnight. I’d dug for clams on the beach below, gotten sunburned, made sandcastles, and drunk bootleg gin straight from the bottle around a bonfire. I’d sailed along this shore in brilliant weather and walked alone in blustery winds as a hurricane rolled in.
It had been one of my favorite places to visit growing up. Had I married Tommy, I could have called it my own. Even so, the price on it came too high.
“We must be careful. The moonlight will work against us as much as it helps. This way.”
“Still waiting to hear what your plan is.”
The air of cool detachment might have suggested to someone else he’d gotten over his anger, but I knew better. There was an acidity to his tone that belied any levity.
“We’ll take a peek in the hold below the pavilion and see if the artifacts are there. If so, I’ll contact Ryker.” My fingers brushed the ladybug pin, assuring me it was still in place. Provided Knight didn’t walk away on the spot, I’d get him to take me back to the club so I could call Ryker, but it was nice to have a backup plan if I needed it. The ray gun’s presence within my clutch provided an additional measure of comfort.
I half-expected Knight to comment on the apparent inadequacies of my plan, but the silence surrounding him was like one of those force fields from War of the Worlds. There was no penetrating it. Despite a moment of softening when he’d learned about my father, it was clear he was still furious with me over suggesting Margo was still alive. When I proved Margo the villainess of the piece, would he blame me as the bearer of bad news?
After the open expanse of lawn, the air in the woods was close, almost as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. They clawed the sky with a slight shift of wind from the sea, like old witches casting spells of doom. Even so, this part of the property still saw a landscaper’s touch. The path continued through the copse of trees in a rich man’s imitation of a forest.
“Where exactly is this pavilion? Who puts a building in the middle of the woods?” Knight encompassed the surrounding stand of trees with an expansive wave of his hand.
I pointed some distance ahead, where the trees opened up to reveal a flat promontory. Moonlight gleamed off white columns that marked the corners of a large roofed structure.
“Somehow, when you said pavilion, I thought you meant something about the size of a gazebo. You could host Glen Miller and his orchestra there.”
His somewhat peeved reaction was both predictable and, in an odd way, soothing.
“I’m sure one time they did.”
“I’m not surprised. It seems like the sort of—” Whatever else he might have said evaporated when all of the sudden he whipped his head around.
I peered into the woods behind us, but saw nothing. “What is it?”
The hair on back of my neck rose when he fished something out of his pocket. As he grabbed my wrist with his left hand, the moon came out from behind the clouds, illuminating the grim, determined look on his face. With a flicking motion of his right hand, he
unfolded a knife. Moonlight glinted off the silver blade.
“Don’t move.” His voice was deep with urgency, and I gasped as he shoved a foot in between mine and kicked my feet into a wider stance. The knife flashed as he drove it down between my thighs into the taut material of my dress. Cloth split with a ragged, tearing sound as he hacked his way down to the bottom edge. When he sawed through the hem, the pieces of my dress fluttered in the breeze and my legs were free to move. It was an oddly liberating sensation.
Knife still in hand, he tugged me along in his wake. “Don’t look back. Run.”
As warnings go, that proved as impossible as the stricture to Lot’s wife. I cast a hasty glance over my shoulder. Light poured down from above like molten silver, delineating the shadows sprinting toward us from behind. Any other time, I would have admired their beauty, the almost mechanical perfection of form, the way their legs moved like pistons as they closed the distance between us. The thudding of paws on the hard-packed soil as they ran through the forest rumbled over the low murmur of the sea.
Wolves.
Chapter Seventeen
The wolves raced through the woods like flames engulfing dry tinder. The pavilion was in sight up ahead, but the gap between us and those snarling teeth began closing with frightening speed. The excited yipping of the pack when they spotted us brought goosebumps to my skin. Their hot breath would be on the back of our necks within seconds.
“Hurry!” I yanked myself free of Knight’s grip and kicked off my pumps. We’d run faster apart than holding hands. Side by side, we dashed toward the break in the trees where the pavilion stood like a little Greek temple in the moonlight. Sanctuary. But only if we got there before the wolves brought us down.
I caught my stockinged foot in a tree root and almost fell flat, but Knight grabbed my arm and pulled me along with a brutal grip. This time, he didn’t let go.
With my muscles burning as we burst from the stand of trees, my breath came in sobs as we reached the headland and ran toward the wide, flat steps leading up onto the raised platform that served as a dance floor and dining area beneath the long roof.
