by Nora Roberts
“That’s right. Each one’s larger than the last.”
“Are the safes airtight?”
“Yes.”
Ryan’s skin grew cold. “I don’t like it.”
He gave her a calm measuring look. “You don’t have to like it, Ryan, but you don’t have to worry, either.”
She swallowed, knowing it was important to keep her head. “There’s more, too, isn’t there? I know there is, tell me.”
“The last safe has a time lock,” he said flatly. “I’ve done it before.”
“A time lock?” Ice ran down her back. “No, you can’t. It’s just foolish.”
“Hardly foolish,” Pierce returned. “It’s taken me months to work out the mechanics and timing.”
“Timing?”
“I have three minutes of air.”
Three minutes! she thought and struggled not to lose control. “And how long does the escape take?”
“At the moment, just over three minutes.”
“Just over,” Ryan repeated numbly. “Just over. What if something goes wrong?”
“I don’t intend for anything to go wrong. I’ve been over and over it, Ryan.”
She spun away, then whirled back to him. “I’m not going to allow this. It’s out of the question. Use the panther business for the finale, but not this.”
“I’m using the escape, Ryan.” His voice was very calm and very final.
“No!” Panicked, she grabbed his arms. “I’m cutting it. It’s out, Pierce. You can use one of your other illusions or come up with a new one, but this is out.”
“You can’t cut it.” His tone never altered as he looked down at her. “I have final say; read the contract.”
She paled and stepped back from him. “Damn you, I don’t care about the contract. I know what it says. I wrote it!”
“Then you know you can’t cut the escape,” he said quietly.
“I won’t let you do this.” Tears had sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away. “You can’t do it.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“I’ll find a way to scrub the show.” Her breath was heaving with anger and fear and hopelessness. “I can find a way to break the contract.”
“Maybe.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll still do the escape, Ryan, next month in New York.”
“Pierce, God!” Desperately, she clung to his arms. “You could die in there. It’s not worth it. Why do you have to try something like this?”
“Because I can do it. Ryan, understand that this is my work.”
“I understand that I love you. Doesn’t that matter?”
“You know that it does,” he said roughly. “You know how much.”
“No, I don’t know how much.” Frantically, she pushed away from him. “I only know that you’re going to do this no matter how much I beg you not to. You’ll expect me to stand by and watch you risk your life for some applause and a write-up.”
“It has nothing to do with applause or write-ups.” The first hint of anger shot into his eyes. “You should know me better than that.”
“No, no, I don’t know you,” she said desperately. “How can I understand why you insist on doing something like this? It’s not necessary to the show, to your career!”
He struggled to hold his temper in check and answered calmly. “It’s necessary to me.”
“Why?” she demanded furiously. “Why is it necessary to risk your life?”
“That’s your viewpoint, Ryan, not mine. This is part of my work and part of what I am.” He paused but didn’t go to her. “You’ll have to accept that if you accept me.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “I’m sorry.”
Ryan swallowed, fighting back tears. “Where does that leave us?”
He kept his eyes on hers. “That’s up to you.”
“I won’t watch.” She backed to the door. “I won’t! I won’t spend my life waiting for the time you go too far. I can’t.” She fumbled for the lock with trembling fingers. “Damn your magic,” she sobbed as she darted through the door.
Chapter 15
After leaving Pierce, Ryan went straight to her father’s office. For the first time in her life she entered without knocking. Annoyed at the interruption, Swan bit off what he was saying into the phone and scowled up at her. For a moment he stared at her. He’d never seen Ryan like this: pale, trembling, her eyes wide and brilliant with suppressed tears.
“I’ll get back to you,” he muttered and hung up. She still stood by the door, and Swan found himself in the unusual position of not knowing what to say. “What is it?” he demanded, then cleared his throat.
Ryan supported herself against the door until she was sure her legs were steady enough to walk. Struggling for composure, she crossed to her father’s desk. “I need—I want you to cancel the Atkins special.”
“What!” He sprang to his feet and glared at her. “What the hell is this? If you’ve decided to fall apart under the pressure, I’ll get a replacement. Ross can take over. Damn it!” He slammed his hand on the desk. “I should have known better than to put you in charge in the first place.” He was already reaching for the phone.
“Please.” Ryan’s quiet voice stopped him. “I’m asking you to pay off the contract and scrub the show.”
Swan started to swear at her again, took another careful study of her face, then walked to the bar. Saying nothing, he poured a healthy dose of French brandy into a snifter. Blast the girl for making him feel like a clumsy ox. “Here,” he said gruffly as he pushed the snifter into her hands. “Sit down and drink this.” Not certain what to do with a daughter who looked shattered and helpless, he awkwardly patted her shoulder before he went back behind his desk.
“Now.” Settled again, he felt more in control of the situation. “Tell me what this is all about. Trouble at rehearsals?” He gave her what he hoped was an understanding smile. “Now, you’ve been around the business long enough to know that’s part of the game.”
Ryan took a deep breath, then swallowed the brandy. She let it burn through the layers of fear and misery. Her next breath was steadier. She looked at her father again. “Pierce is planning an escape for the finale.”
“I know that,” he said impatiently. “I’ve seen the script.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Swan folded his hands on the desk. This he could handle, he decided. “Ryan, the man’s a pro. He knows what he’s doing.” Swan tilted his wrist slightly so he could see his watch. He could give her about five minutes.
“This is different,” she insisted. To keep from screaming, she gripped the bowl of the snifter tightly. Swan would never listen to hysterics. “Even his own people don’t like it.”
“All right, what’s he planning?”
Unable to form the words, Ryan took another swallow of brandy. “Three safes,” she began. “One within the other. The last one . . .” She paused for a moment to keep her voice even. “The last one has a time lock. He’ll only have three minutes of air once he’s closed inside the first safe. He’s just—he’s just told me that the routine takes more time than that.”
“Three safes,” Swan mused, pursing his lips. “A real show-stopper.”
Ryan slammed down her glass. “Especially if he suffocates. Think what that will do for the ratings! They can give him his Emmy posthumously.”
Swan lowered his brows dangerously. “Calm down, Ryan.”
“I will not calm down.” She sprang up from her chair. “He can’t be allowed to do this. We have to cancel the contract.”
“Can’t do it.” Swan lifted his shoulders to brush off the notion.
“Won’t do it,” Ryan corrected furiously.
“Won’t do it,” Swan agreed, matching her tone. “There’s too much at stake.”
“Everything’s at stake!” Ryan shouted at him. “I’m in love with him.”
He had started to stand and shout back at her,
but her words took him by surprise. Swan stared at her. There were tears of desperation in her eyes now. Again he was at a loss. “Ryan.” He sighed and reached for a cigar. “Sit down.”
“No!” She snatched the cigar from his fingers and flung it across the room. “I will not sit down, I will not calm down. I’m asking for your help. Why won’t you look at me?” she demanded in angry despair. “Really look at me!”
“I am looking at you!” he bellowed in defense. “And I can tell you I’m not pleased. Now you sit down and listen to me.”
“No, I’m through listening to you, trying to please you. I’ve done everything you’ve ever wanted me to do, but it’s never been enough. I can’t be your son, I can’t change that.” She covered her face with her hands and broke down completely. “I’m only your daughter, and I need you to help me.”
The words left him speechless. The tears unmanned him. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen her cry before; certainly she’d never done it this passionately. Getting awkwardly to his feet, he fumbled for his handkerchief. “Here, here now.” He pushed the handkerchief into her hands and wondered what to do next. “I’ve always . . .” He cleared his throat and looked helplessly around the room. “I’ve always been proud of you, Ryan.” When she responded by weeping more desperately, he stuck his hands in his pockets and lapsed into silence.
“It doesn’t matter.” Her voice was muffled behind the handkerchief. She felt a wave of shame for the words and the tears. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I’d help you if I could,” he muttered at length. “I can’t stop him. Even if I could scrub the show and deal with the suits the network and Atkins would bring against Swan Productions, he’d do the damn thing anyway.”
Faced with the bald truth, Ryan turned away from him. “There must be something . . .”
Swan shifted uncomfortably. “Is he in love with you?”
Ryan let out an unsteady breath and dashed the tears away. “It doesn’t matter how he feels about me. I can’t stop him.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Wearily, she shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t do any good. I’m sorry.” She turned back to her father. “I shouldn’t have come here like this. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Looking down, she crumpled the handkerchief into a ball. “I’m sorry I made a scene.”
“Ryan, I’m your father.”
She looked up at him then, but her eyes were expressionless. “Yes.”
He cleared his throat and found he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I don’t want you to apologize for coming to see me.” She only continued to look at him with eyes devoid of emotion. Tentatively, he reached out to touch her arm. “I’ll do what I can to persuade Atkins to drop the routine, if that’s what you want.”
Ryan let out a long sigh before she sat down. “Thank you, but you were right. He’ll do it another time, anyway. He told me so himself. I’m just not able to deal with it.”
“Do you want Ross to take over?”
She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “No, I’ll finish what I started. Hiding won’t change anything, either.”
“Good girl,” he said with a pleased nod. “Now, ah . . .” He hesitated while he sought the correct words. “About you and the magician.” He coughed and fiddled with his tie. “Are you planning—that is, should I talk to him about his intentions?”
Ryan hadn’t thought she could smile. “No, that won’t be necessary.” She saw relief in Swan’s eyes and rose. “I’d appreciate some time off after the taping.”
“Of course, you’ve earned it.”
“I won’t keep you any longer.” She started to turn away, but he put a hand on her shoulder. Ryan glanced at him in surprise.
“Ryan . . .” He couldn’t get a clear hold on what he wanted to say to her. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder. “Come on, I’ll take you to dinner.”
Ryan stared at him. When was the last time, she wondered, she had gone to dinner with her father? An awards banquet? A business party? “Dinner?” she said blankly.
“Yes.” Swan’s voice sharpened as his thoughts followed the same path Ryan’s had. “A man can take his daughter to dinner, can’t he?” He slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the door. How small she was! he realized with a jolt. “Go wash your face,” he muttered. “I’ll wait for you.”
* * *
At ten o’clock the next morning Swan finished reading the Atkins contract a second time. A tricky business, he thought. It wouldn’t be easy to break. But he had no intention of breaking it. That would not only be poor business sense but a useless gesture. He’d just have to deal with Atkins himself. When his buzzer sounded, he turned the contract facedown.
“Mr. Atkins is here, Mr. Swan.”
“Send him in.”
Swan rose as Pierce entered, and as he had done the first time, he walked across the room with his hand extended. “Pierce,” he said jovially. “Thanks for coming up.”
“Mr. Swan.”
“Bennett, please,” he said as he drew Pierce to a chair.
“Bennett,” Pierce agreed, taking a seat.
Swan sat in the chair opposite him and leaned back. “Well, now, are you satisfied with how everything’s going?”
Pierce lifted a brow. “Yes.”
Swan took out a cigar. The man’s too cool, he thought grudgingly. He doesn’t give anything away. Swan decided to approach the subject from the side door. “Coogar tells me the rehearsals are smooth as silk. Worries him.” Swan grinned. “He’s a superstitious bastard, likes plenty of trouble before a taping. He tells me you could almost run the show yourself.”
“He’s a fine director,” Pierce said easily, watching Swan light his cigar.
“The best,” Swan agreed heartily. “We are a bit concerned about your plans for the finale.”
“Oh?”
“This is television, you know,” Swan reminded him with an expansive smile. “Four-ten is a bit long for one routine.”
“It’s necessary.” Pierce let his hands rest on the arms of the chair. “I’m sure Ryan’s told you.”
Swan’s eyes met the direct stare. “Yes, Ryan’s told me. She came up here last night. She was frantic.”
Pierce’s fingers tensed slightly, but he kept his eyes level. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Look, Pierce, we’re reasonable men.” Swan leaned toward him, poking with his cigar. “This routine of yours sounds like a beauty. The time lock business is a real inspiration, but with a little modification—”
“I don’t modify my illusions.”
The cool dismissal had Swan blustering. “No contract’s carved in stone,” he said dangerously.
“You can try to break it,” Pierce agreed. “It’ll be a great deal more trouble for you than for me. And in the end it won’t change anything.”
“Damn it, man, the girl’s beside herself!” Banging his thigh with his fist, Swan flopped back in the chair. “She says she’s in love with you.”
“She is in love with me,” Pierce returned quietly and ignored the twist in his stomach.
“What the hell do you mean to do about it?”
“Are you asking me as her father or as Swan Productions?”
Swan drew his brows together and muttered for a moment. “As her father,” he decided.
“I’m in love with Ryan.” Pierce met Swan’s stare calmly. “If she’s willing to have me, I’ll spend my life with her.”
“And if she’s not?” Swan retorted.
Pierce’s eyes darkened, something flickered, but he said nothing. That was something he’d yet to deal with. In the brief passage of seconds Swan saw what he wanted to know. He pressed his advantage.
