Brown and de Luca Collection, Volume 1

by Maggie Shayne

  “Well, you did the cooking, Marie,” Marlayna said when the conversation hit a lull. “You have to let me handle cleanup.”

  “I’ll help,” Marie said.

  Josh bolted from the table the minute his mother got up to start clearing, heading upstairs and granting me my wish.

  Wish and it is granted.

  Shut up.

  It was just Mason, Rosie and me now. And though I looked like a jerk for not helping the other women out, I vowed I would make up for it later. I leaned over the table the minute we were alone and whispered to Rosie, “Did you check the gift shop?”

  “Yeah. They got a pile of ’em in a basket on the checkout counter. I bought one for comparison.” He pulled it out of his pocket. It was in a tiny two-inch square zipper bag.

  I nodded. “It’s the same.” Only this one’s blue cut-glass eyes were still sparkling in their sockets where they belonged. “No box?”

  “Nope, they’re loose. I had the clerk check, but she didn’t have a record of selling any in the past few days. Still, it’d be easy enough to swipe one.”

  I shot a look at Mason. A scared look.

  “It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s here,” he said.

  “No? Then why steal it? Why not just buy it, unless he didn’t want anyone to know he’d bought it?”

  Mason’s lips thinned. “How much are they, Rosie?”

  “Three-ninety-nine.”

  Mason sighed and got up. “Rosie, I need to get the pin, the box, entire thing, to headquarters fast. Any ideas?”

  “We could probably get a courier up here first thing in the morning. Seal everything up and have him drive it back.”

  “Think we could get one out here tonight?”

  “You pay him enough, you can get one whenever you want,” Rosie said.

  “How’s five hundred sound?” I asked.

  Rosie looked at me. “That’s a lot of money, Rachel.”

  “I value my life, Rosie. Not to mention my eyeballs.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Talk to Finnegan, Rosie. Maybe one of his security guys would like to earn an extra five Benjamins for a six-hour drive.”

  Rosie nodded. “You guys gonna be safe out here tonight?”

  “I’ll make sure of it,” Mason said. “Keep an eye on my mother. She could be a target, too.”

  “Will do. Anything else?”

  “Nothing more you can do tonight. It’s already late,” Mason said.

  He was tense. I could see it in him all of a sudden. His neck was more corded than usual, the muscles tight, and his back was rigid. His jaw, too.

  “Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna be all right, Mason. We survived the Wraith, we’ll survive this organ thief, too.”

  He met my eyes and nodded as if he agreed, but it was pretty clear to me, because I read people so easily, that he was lying. He wasn’t the least bit convinced that we were going to be all right.

  Marlayna and Marie returned from the kitchen, and I quickly stood and started gathering up the remaining dishes.

  Mason said, “I’ll go get that package I need you to send for me, Rosie,” and headed upstairs.

  And that was it. That was all we could do at the moment, so there I was four hours later, in the clean kitchen, staring into the open fridge because I hadn’t had the appetite to eat my dinner, and feeling like a sitting duck. I had the kind of chills you get up your spine when someone’s standing behind you, or hiding just out of sight and watching you. I’d had them ever since I’d looked at that stupid angel pin.

  “Hey.”

  Mason. His voice smoothed the chill away from my spine like a hot-oil massage. I closed the fridge. “Everyone gone to bed?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been waiting to get a minute alone with you.”

  I turned and leaned back against the refrigerator. “Mason, in case you’re not aware of it, you can have as many minutes alone with me as you want. Just say the word.”

  He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “Yeah, but I still want to have sex with you.”

  He smiled a little bigger, and his cheeks got red. “I’m sorry about before. I honestly don’t want to change you. I like you pretty well just the way you are, in case you didn’t know that.”

  I shrugged. “I know I’m abrasive sometimes. I’m mouthy. I’m cynical. I swear like a Marine. I know.”

  “I know it, too.” He put his hands on the fridge on either side of my head. “I’m still here.”

  Heat flooded my face, and a smile pulled so hard it hurt, until I had to give in to it. Maybe he didn’t have delusions about the real me after all.

  “So?” he asked softly, leaning in a little closer. He brushed a kiss across my mouth.

  “So…my room or yours?”

  * * *

  Mine, as it turned out. It had been more than two months since I’d had this man in my bed, and once I got his clothes off and my own down to bra and panties, I just relaxed there on the mattress, looking at him. He was lying on his back, I was on my side, trailing my fingers over his abs. “You’ve been working out all this time, haven’t you?” Washboard was an understatement.

  “I wanted to be suitably impressive if I ever managed to get you in the sack again.”

  “All this for me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  My fingertips wandered up to his chest, out to his shoulder, then trailed down to his biceps. “Damn, Mason, you are ripped.”

  “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” He reached for me, pulled me over on top of him and nuzzled my neck. He had just enough raspy whiskers to make it delicious, and I shivered right to my toes.

  He unhooked my bra while I was distracted and feasted on my boobs while I straddled him, and I finally managed to pull away enough to kick free of my panties. I was breathless and eager.

  He was, too. I stretched out on top of him, just rubbing my body against his and closing my eyes so I could fully appreciate the sensations. Being sighted was a distraction I didn’t need just then. Yeah, he was beautiful to look at. But he felt even better. He smelled even better, too. And that unidentifiable thing every human being gave off—the thing I could always read to tell their mood, their nature, their intent, their honesty—was beaming a vibe so strong it was louder than an air raid siren and brighter than a beacon. He was as into me as I was into him.

  That description only scratched the surface, but it was as deep as my mind cared to delve just then. Sensual pleasure was my goal tonight, not emotional undercurrents.

  I didn’t want to go there, down into the depths of what this was. I didn’t want to probe and analyze and pick it apart. I just wanted to relish it. Yeah, just like a line from one of my bullshit books. I guessed the bit about living in the moment wasn’t such garbage after all. That was three or four of my crapola platitudes I’d decided were actually valid over the course of this holiday getaway slash serial-killer dodge. Go figure.

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and held tight as he rolled us both over, and we were making out all the way, like teenagers after prom.

  And then there was a loud bang from downstairs, like the front door slamming, and Mason shot out of the bed like he’d been electrocuted.

  He had his pants on before I’d even reached for my robe. No shirt, gun drawn. Shit, where had he been hiding that?

  “Stay here. Lock your bedroom door.”

  “Lock it my ass, I’m going with you.” I threw on my robe and sashed it tight. I skipped my slippers. Slippers were…well, slippery. If I had to run, or kick someone’s face in, I damn well wanted the benefit of bare feet.

  We crept down the stairs, him in front, gun leading, me behind, one hand on his
back, because touching him made me feel better somehow. The house was dark, but there was still some light coming from the fireplace, which was burning low.

  I heard soft sounds, breathing. No. Crying.

  Mason got to the bottom, reached around the corner and turned on the light.

  Marie jumped to her feet from the sofa, startled, her face wet with tears, her hair wet with melting snow. Some flakes still showed, and I looked out the window to see that it was coming down pretty hard in the gleam of the outside light. She swiped at her cheeks with an angry palm. “Mason, you scared the hell out of me.”

  He lowered the gun, breathing again. “I heard the door slam. What happened, Marie? Are you all right?”

  She sniffed, shook her head. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, which must have been really cold on his bare skin. Marie sank back onto the sofa again. She was still wearing her long coat, buttoned all the way from neck to ankles, and her gloves, too. But she’d taken off her boots and was sitting in her sock feet. “I went out,” she said.

  “Scott Douglas?” Mason asked.

  She nodded, sniffed again. “I was supposed to meet him. We were going to have a nightcap together. I bundled up and walked all the way to the lodge, but…he didn’t show.”

  “He stood you up?” Mason sounded like he was actually sympathetic.

  I felt a surge of anger. “That bastard. I oughtta kick him in the balls when I see him again.” Because the poor woman needed a break for once, and also because, by standing her up, Scott had fucked up my little rendezvous as well as his own.

  Marie shook her head at me, and I was reminded that she was still in the heartbreak phase. Nowhere near the anger and vengeance phase, which was really the fun part of any breakup, in my humble opinion. Still, the heartbreak phase didn’t call for threats of violence. It called for soothing. So I reined in my anger and asked myself what my sister would do in this situation. And then it came to me. “I’ll make tea. And check the freezer for Häagen-Dazs.”

  I went to the kitchen, trying to listen as best I could but missing part of the conversation while I ran water and put the kettle on a burner. I hurried to grab cups and teabags. While the water heated, I checked for ice cream, but there wasn’t any, so I found a few leftover brownies and put them on a plate instead. Then I headed back in, tea and brownies in hand, to get the scoop.

  Mason was all the way up to, “Is it true, what Jeremy said? That you were seeing him before you came up here?”

  Sniffling hard, Marie nodded. “I thought I was being so discreet.” I handed her a cup of tea. She set it down without sipping. “I met him a few weeks ago.”

  “How?”

  She lifted her head and looked right into Mason’s eyes. “I’m sorry I lied, Mason. I was afraid you’d suspect him of being the one who attacked me if I told you the truth. I even made him use a fake name. Scott’s his brother’s name. He’s actually Alan Douglas.”

  I frowned, because that name was giving me a little itch. I’d heard it somewhere before.

  “Why would you feel the need to do that, Marie?” Mason frowned. “Has this guy got something to hide? Something in his past you didn’t want us finding out?”

  “Nothing like you’re thinking.” She lowered her head. “I was afraid you’d think it was weird if you knew. He’s—he’s got Eric’s liver.”

  I damn near dropped the plate of brownies and settled for landing it noisily on the coffee table. “You’re shitting me.”

  “That’s how I met him,” Marie went on. “A request came through the Transplant Network. He wanted to meet his donor’s family. I…I said yes.”

  Mason looked at me. I stared back at him. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “And he didn’t show up to meet you tonight?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did you try calling him?” he asked. And I knew what he was thinking. That Marie’s new boyfriend was either lying in his hotel room minus a liver, looking to become the next internet urban legend—just add ice—or he was out stalking other organ recipients. Like me, for example. No, we hadn’t considered that a recipient might also be the organ thief. Yes, we were both considering it now. I could read Mason like a book.

  I came around the table, tea and brownies forgotten, and sat on the couch next to Mason. He was facing Marie, so his back was toward me, but I needed to touch some part of him just then, and his big broad shoulders would do just fine.

  “I called his cell,” Marie said. “He didn’t pick up. I left a voice mail, waited at the bar for over an hour, even tried using the house phone to ring his room, but—”

  Mason swore under his breath and looked at me over his shoulder.

  “We’ve got to tell her,” I said.

  “Tell me what?” Marie stopped crying. She looked both curious and worried now, her eyebrows twisted up like question marks as her eyes darted back and forth between Mason and me in tiny jittery movements.

  Mason swallowed hard and put both his hands on Marie’s shoulders. I noticed how thin she seemed, underneath the coat she was still wearing. “Okay, Marie, don’t panic, but two of Eric’s organ recipients have been murdered.”

  “What?” She shot to her feet so fast his hands fell away. “When? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “I’m telling you now.” He stood up, too. “Rachel’s car accident was no accident. Someone was in the backseat. I think it might have been the same person who attacked you later that day.”

  “What makes you think that?” she asked.

  “The description. The clothing. The needle you said he had.”

  She finally looked at me. “I don’t…”

  I stayed seated, but I could tell she still wasn’t getting the connection. Mason was going too easy, not wanting to give her the gory details, but I had no such compunction. Frankly, I thought we should have told her from the start. “The killer is taking the organs,” I told her. “So far one kidney recipient and the woman who got the pancreas are both dead, and the organs are missing.”

  “Oh, my God.” She wobbled, then hit the floor before Mason could react. Her knees bent, her butt touched down and she just sat there, blinking, stunned.

  “Then I received that Secret Santa gift,” I told her. “An angel, with no eyes.”

  Marie looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear, but at least now she understood. “Because you have Eric’s corneas.”

  I nodded. She knew because Mason had told her a while back. But the boys didn’t know I’d received their father’s eyes, and we’d all agreed it was best not to tell them until they were older, if ever.

  “The…the killer followed us here?” Marie swung her gaze from Mason to me and back again. “He’s here? Oh, my God, what if he got to Alan?”

  Shaking her head slowly, as if she was in some kind of a daze, she said, “We have to find him.”

  * * *

  Mason asked Rachel to walk Marie to her room and check on the kids while she was up there. Marie was already halfway up the stairs, hadn’t even taken off her coat, she was so upset. Rachel grabbed the untouched tea and went up behind her.

  He had calls to make. Rosie picked up on the third ring. “Dude, I am in bed with my woman,” he said.

  “I know. Something’s up.”

  “Was, anyway, till you interrupted.” Rosie laughed soft and deep, and Mason could picture his face. He suspected his partner would have preferred being awakened from a sound sleep.

  He’d had the same sort of interruption himself earlier tonight and regretted it to his toes. And yet look what had happened while he’d allowed himself to be distracted. Marie had managed to slip out without him even knowing. It could just as easily have been the organ thief.

  The idea sent a chill down his spine. “It turns out Marie lied to us about that Scott Douglas guy. His real nam
e’s Alan, and she’s been seeing him for a few weeks. He’s the guy who got Eric’s liver, and he seems to be missing.”

  “Hell. Shit just got real up in here, didn’t it?”

  “Looks like. I need you to check on him. Get a key to his room, get in there. But be careful, ’cause if he’s not dead, he’s a suspect.”

  “According to what logic, pal?”

  Mason said, “He’s the right build for Marie’s attacker, according to her description. And he has a connection to the other victims, as well as to Marie.”

  “It’s thin,” Rosie said.

  “It’s all we got. Check on him.”

  “Will do.”

  “Did you get that package out?” Mason asked.

  “Not yet. Turns out they have a FedEx pickup here every morning at nine. I’ll get it out tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Anything else, Mason?”

  “Yeah. Check on my mother, if you can do it without waking her up and scaring the hell out of her.”

  “Now just how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

  “I don’t know. Use your imagination. I’d come do it myself, but I don’t dare leave everyone here alone.”

  “Mason?” Rachel called.

  “Gotta go,” he said quickly into the phone. “Get back to me, okay?”

  He hung up and headed into the living room. Rachel was trotting down the stairs with a paper bag in her hand, and it was clear by the way she held it what was inside. A bottle.

  She held it up. “I found this on the floor in Jeremy’s room. He’s passed out cold, and he reeks.”

  Mason took the bag from her and pulled a small vodka bottle from it. The thing was more than half empty, and his stomach clenched into a hard knot. “Where the hell did he get this?” He looked inside the bag. A small white receipt lay damp in the bottom, and he fished it out.

  “Winter Thaw?” he read.