Amber Beach

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “What do you believe?” Honor asked finally.

  “Fuck believing.” Jake’s voice was cold. “I know that I didn’t steal the amber, much less a panel of the Amber Room.”

  She wanted to doubt him.

  She wanted to believe him.

  She was being asked to choose between two people she loved, Kyle and Jake. Her mind could give her a lifetime of reasons to chose Kyle. Her gut simply rebelled at making either choice.

  “If there were another suspect, any other suspect,” Honor asked almost desperately, “would you believe Kyle was innocent?”

  “Hell, yes! I’ve been going through it in my mind since I heard about the theft, looking for another explanation. Any explanation. I thought the charming son of a bitch was my friend.”

  She opened her mouth and thought better of it. Instead of defending her brother, she listened to her one-night, once-in-a-lifetime lover.

  “At first I couldn’t believe Kyle had screwed me like that,” Jake said. “I even thought he might be in trouble and I could help him. Jesus, was I ever a fool.”

  The pain and self-contempt in Jake’s voice made Honor wince. It was an exact echo of how she had felt after Archer told her who her fishing guide really was.

  “I started asking questions,” Jake said, “and Donovan International came down on my head like a hundred-year flood. Next thing I knew people were offering to kill me unless I shut up and got out of town. I kept pushing. The Donovan clan didn’t like it. They had me thrown out of that half of the world.”

  A seething kind of silence closed over the car. After a few miles, Honor broke it. “What about the woman?”

  “Ellen?”

  “No. Mariyoo whatever.”

  Jake looked startled. “Marry you?” Then he understood. “Oh, Marju. What about her?”

  “If Kyle stole anything—and I’m not saying he did—then isn’t there a chance that she knew what was going on?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “She says Kyle used her to get to the Amber Room.”

  “That’s not his style.”

  Jake didn’t reply.

  “Damn it, it’s true!” Honor said. “Kyle wouldn’t do something like that, especially to someone he loved.”

  “Lusted. Not the same thing.”

  “No shit,” she said bitterly.

  Jake felt like pounding on the dashboard. The certainty that Honor was slipping away from him had put a deadly edge on his temper. He told himself all the reasons why she had a right to feel used, took a slow breath, and then another.

  He still felt like hammering on the dashboard.

  “What makes you so sure Marju didn’t use Kyle?” Honor asked.

  “No motive.”

  “How about sixty million bucks?”

  “How about the fact that Marju’s connection to the panel came from the Forest Brotherhood?” Jake countered.

  “So?”

  “She’s a heavy-duty Lithuanian patriot. The Forest Brotherhood is a Lithuanian patriotic organization. She might steal the Amber Room from one love, the Brotherhood, and give it to another love, Kyle, but she wouldn’t steal it from him and the Brotherhood both. No motive. Either way, she already had the damned thing, so why steal it from herself in the first place?”

  “What about Snake Eyes?”

  “If he had the Amber Room, he wouldn’t be hanging around here.”

  “The same could be said of everyone.”

  “Except Kyle,” Jake said evenly. “He isn’t here.”

  “Neither is Archer. Does that mean he stole it?”

  “Makes sense to me. Archer is the one who shut down Russia around my ears.”

  A few more miles went by in tight silence.

  “What if Kyle didn’t steal the panel,” Honor said finally, “but is being blamed for it?”

  “Great. Who stole it?”

  “I don’t know! Maybe they all did it and ganged up on Kyle!”

  “They? As in Russia, Lithuania, the United States, and various international crooks of unknown origin, including me?”

  “Easy for you to ridicule, but I don’t hear you coming up with anything better.”

  “I don’t have to. I already have a suspect who is a dead match for the facts.”

  “Your facts need rearranging.”

  Jake swore wearily. “Any one of a thousand people could have stolen the panel, but that doesn’t explain why Kyle and the shipment went missing together, does it?”

  “But someone could have just slipped the panel in with the rest of the amber when it was loaded. Kyle didn’t have to know anything about it.”

  “I packed every piece of that shipment myself. There was nothing but raw amber. Nothing.”

  Honor’s eyelids flinched. She didn’t say a word.

  “I turned the truck over to Kyle,” Jake continued relentlessly, “to take to the driver he had hired. Before the truck left Kaliningrad, the driver was murdered and dumped by the side of the road. A man matching Kyle’s description was seen driving the truck over the Russian border. The truck hasn’t been seen since. Kyle has. Here. Two weeks ago. Not once in the four weeks he has been missing did he call his loving family to let them know he was all right. Now, tell me again how I’m a coldhearted son of a bitch to think your brother is guilty.”

  Honor’s expression went from stubborn to despairing.

  Jake should have felt better that she finally seemed to be believing him. He didn’t. It was hard to feel good about anything that made Honor look like she had been hit by a truck.

  The silence made the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal seem as loud as a drum roll.

  The unmarked police car was still parked in the small turnout near the cottage.

  “He’s going to rust right into the ground,” Honor said in a harsh voice.

  “Who?”

  “The cop with the radar unit.”

  “He doesn’t give a damn about writing tickets. He’s watching your driveway, not traffic.”

  “Wonderful. What if I flip him off just to let him know I care?”

  “He has an eight-hour shift. He can spend it giving you a hard time or he can sit there and read girlie magazines.”

  Honor kept both hands on the wheel as she turned into the driveway.

  “How long will it take you to pack?” Jake asked.

  “No time at all. I’m not packing.”

  With an effort he managed not to say the first red-hot thing that came to his mind.

  “What do you have against coming to my cabin?” he asked evenly. “My bed is bigger than the one here. You’ll be able to put your whole damned suitcase between us.”

  Ignoring him, Honor got out of the truck.

  Jake opened the glove compartment, grabbed the gun, and caught her before she reached the front door.

  “No,” he said through his teeth. “Let me check the place out first.”

  “I locked it.”

  He gave her a disgusted look. “You’ve got a good brain, buttercup. Use it.”

  She looked at his gun. “I find it hard to believe that I’m a—a target or whatever.”

  “Believe it. You’re the key to the Donovan castle. Someone could grab you and open negotiations for the Amber Room.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “The Donovans do.”

  “Like hell!”

  “Prove it.”

  Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

  “Now you’re catching on,” he said. “You can’t prove a negative. Give me the key.”

  “I thought all you secret agent types carried a lock pick.”

  “Lock pick? Sure thing. I have one right here.” Jake lifted his boot to kick in the door.

  “Never mind,” she said quickly. “Here.”

  “Stay outside until I come back for you.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Amen. Stay here.”

  Divided between anger and a nagging fear, Honor wait
ed. Though it wasn’t long before Jake returned, it felt like an hour to her.

  “Like I said,” she muttered, stepping around him to get through the door, “this is— Damn! I forgot.”

  “I didn’t. Watch your step. Paper can be as slippery as ice.”

  Picking up what she could, Honor threaded her way through the mess the intruder had made. Finally she reached the desk. The answering machine didn’t show a message light.

  “Sure you wouldn’t rather come to my cabin?” Jake asked. “I’m not the world’s neatest housekeeper, but I’m better than this.”

  She didn’t bother to respond.

  “Hell,” he muttered. “I’ll check on the boat, then I’ll be back to help you put this together.”

  Before Jake got his foot out the door, the telephone rang. Sourly he thought that whoever was spying on the cottage had a good communication network. He and Honor hadn’t been back five minutes and already the fun was beginning.

  She grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hello. Who is this?”

  “Honor Donovan. Who are you?”

  “We have not met, but Kyle has talked much about you. My name is Marju. Kyle is my fiancé. May I come and talk with you?”

  18

  “WELL?” HONOR ASKED impatiently, trying to look past Jake’s shoulders. She was eager to see the woman who claimed to be Kyle’s fiancé.

  “She’s alone.”

  He watched Marju get out of a beat-up rental job and pick her way through the mud and puddles toward the front door.

  “Wonder if she and Ellen went to the same school?” Jake asked idly.

  “Spy school?” Honor asked, startled.

  “Locomotion.”

  “What do you-oh, that,” she said, understanding when she saw Marju walking. Even though the black skirt and sweater weren’t particularly stylish, on her they looked like Paris originals. “Whew. I think some women are born walking like that. No practice required.”

  “You ought to know.”

  She gave Jake a sidelong look. “I don’t move anything like that.”

  “You do it better.”

  “Ha. No way do I walk like I have the secret of the universe tucked between my thighs.”

  He made an odd, strangled sound and then laughed out loud. As he turned toward her, the backs of his fingers brushed down her cheek and across her lips. “You’re one of a kind, honey. Whatever happens, I don’t regret meeting you.”

  Honor looked at the laughter and shadows in Jake’s eyes and knew he was telling the truth. Before she could think better of it, she found herself whispering a kiss across his fingers. Whatever his motives for answering her ad, he had protected her as much as he had used her; and he had been a hungry, generous lover who made her feel like the most desirable woman since Eve.

  “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked huskily.

  “It means . . . I don’t know what it means.” But she was afraid she did. It meant she was an idiot. She cleared her throat. “It means we need each other until this mess is cleared up, so we might as well bury the hatchet.”

  “Damned by faint praise again. But I’ll take it. It’s better than the deep freeze and a razor tongue.”

  A knock on the door saved Honor from having to answer. She opened the door and started to say something, then she simply stared. Though Marju was not conventionally beautiful, there was something about her that was electrifying. Charisma, sheer animal presence, whatever—the woman radiated on every band of the sexual spectrum.

  Honor’s stomach sank. She could understand all too well how her brother could have lost his head over this woman.

  “Come in,” Jake said dryly to Marju. “Don’t worry about the silence. Honor will get her tongue back real quick.”

  “Jay? Is it really you?” Marju asked. Her huge, dark eyes opened wide. The flecks of gold that rimmed each black iris exactly matched her burnished blond hair. A small, pale hand closed around Jake’s wrist. “Where is Kyle? Is he well?”

  “Yes, yes, I don’t know, I don’t know.” He led Marju in and closed the door. “Honor Donovan, meet Marju. I’d give you her last name but you would hash the pronunciation so badly there’s no point. Call her Jones. It worked for Kyle. Marju, the awestruck woman is Kyle’s sister.”

  Honor held out her hand. “Hello, Marju. Susa would kill to paint you.”

  Marju shook hands briskly despite looking confused by what Honor had said.

  “Susa is my mother,” Honor explained. “All the kids call her Susa. She paints. Landscapes usually, but she makes exceptions for exceptionally interesting faces.”

  Marju smiled uncertainly. “Oh. This is good?”

  “If you don’t mind holding still for her, it’s great. Come in and sit down. You’ll be my first sister-in-law. As soon as we find Kyle, of course. Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

  Long, natural lashes swept down over Marju’s eyes. Again, she smiled uncertainly.

  Jake sighed and began translating. His Lithuanian was marginal, but his Russian was excellent. So was Marju’s.

  Honor’s Russian was zilch. She waited with increasing impatience.

  “Okay,” Jake said finally, turning to Honor. “Marju speaks four languages, including English, and understands three more. But school talk and real talk aren’t the same. Slang is a problem for her.”

  “Got it,” Honor said. “Er, that is, I understand.”

  “If it would not trouble you,” Marju said, smiling, “a cup of coffee would be welcome.”

  “I’ll get it,” Jake said. “You two get acquainted.”

  “What about you?” Honor asked him.

  “Jones and I already know each other.”

  “Biblically speaking?” Honor muttered before she could stop herself.

  He didn’t answer.

  Marju settled gracefully onto the worn sofa and crossed her elegant legs. Though Honor and Jake had picked up the worst of the mess before Marju arrived, some papers still stuck out from a cushion. Honor snatched up the strays, put them on Kyle’s desk, and pulled a dining chair up opposite the sofa.

  Despite the fact that Marju was inches taller than Honor, she seemed almost fragile as she sat on the little couch. Her pale hands were laced together until the knuckles showed white. Her delicate feet were crossed at the ankles. Her long, elegant neck was bowed with jet lag or simply a lifetime of talking to shorter people.

  “Have you heard from Kyle?” Marju asked anxiously.

  “No. Have you?”

  “Oh, no.” Long lashes blinked rapidly. Tears hovered. “I had hoped,” she whispered. “He loves his family so . . .”

  “Certainly no more than he loves the woman he’s going to marry?”

  Marju smiled wanly. “You are kind, but I have much knowledge of men. They want a woman’s sex greatly but they love very little. Women love greatly and pray to be loved just a little in return for their sex.”

  Honor swallowed and tried not to think of herself and Jake. “Some men are different.”

  “Of course,” Marju said huskily. Tears threatened to spill. “I thought Kyle was such a man, once. He is not, yet I cannot stop my love for him.”

  A box of tissues appeared between the two women. The flowery pink design looked odd in Jake’s big hand.

  “Jones can’t make it through an evening without crying,” he said. “It’s the Lithuanian blood. Drama sucked in with Mama’s milk and all that.”

  Marju gave him a watery smile. “Ah, Jay, you still have not forgiven me for choosing Kyle.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jake said. “I’m down on my knees twice a day thanking my first wife.”

  “For what?” Honor asked sharply.

  “Teaching me that sex wears off about three weeks after the ink on the marriage license is dry. You still like your coffee with a shot of vodka, Jones?”

  “Please, yes.”

  “I’ll see if Kyle has any.”

  Honor tried to hide her reaction. She didn�
��t like vodka under the best of circumstances. In coffee it was unthinkable. But then, Kyle had always been attracted to the exotic. Blonde, dark-eyed, cat—graceful Marju “Jones” was about as exotic as it got.

  “Er, how did you and Kyle meet?” Honor asked.

  “At a beer hall. What the English call a pub. I was there with my cousin, who works in the amber mines. Kyle was there with Jay. Oh, such laughter they had. It was so artless, so confident, so American. I think I fell in love as I stood there.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first,” Honor said dryly. “Kyle has been knocking them dead—er, attracting the opposite sex—since he learned how to smile. Rather like you, I suppose.”

  “Please?”

  “Surely you know how you affect men just by walking into a room?”

  Marju shrugged. “It does not last.”

  “Must be fun while it does,” Honor said wistfully. “So you looked right past Jake to Kyle?”

  “Jake?”

  “Jay.”

  “Ah. He is tres magnifique, very much male, but next to Kyle . . . the comparison is not fair. No man can stand next to my sweet angel Kyle.”

  Honor blinked. “Sweet? Angel? Kyle? Are we talking about the same man who short-sheeted my bed, stuck a turtle down my T-shirt, and put honey in my braids?”

  “It is different for a sister, no?”

  “It is different, yes!”

  Marju laughed softly. “You are very like Kyle. So open. So kind. So . . .”

  “American?” Jake asked from the kitchen. “As in naive?”

  “Yes!” Marju said, clapping her hands. “Naive. It is perfect!”

  Honor eyed her enthusiastic sister-in-law-to-be and told herself that the woman’s grasp of American English wasn’t good enough for her to understand that naive wasn’t exactly a compliment. Puppies, kittens, and kindergartners were naive. Adults with those romping, innocent qualities were often described as stupid.

  “I guess Kyle wasn’t expecting you,” Jake said, handing Marju a cup of coffee. “No vodka.”

  Marju gave him a gentle, sad smile and sipped the coffee. “Ah, that has not changed, has it? You make fine coffee, even without the dear bite of vodka.”