Dark Nights Dangerous Men

by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan

  “Their partnership didn’t last long though. It was nearly a year after the accident before Alan learned Doug was still alive. Another year before Doug was well enough to continue working and approached Alan about using the gallery as a means to import material into the U.S.”

  “Drugs,” Shane said in a knowing voice from across the room.

  Maria glanced his way. “Yes, among other things. Alan wasn’t happy about the change, but Doug was adamant they could use the profits to boost the gallery’s business. And since everyone thought he was dead, it was the perfect cover. Alan felt guilty over the injuries Doug had sustained. In the end, he went along with Doug’s idea.”

  “And made a buttload of money,” Shane muttered.

  “Yes.” Maria’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t agree with Alan’s new business dealings. We…well, we went our separate ways after that. When Rafael approached me about the Furies, however, I contacted him. Neither of us believed Doug would try to go after them now. We both decided he was too weak.”

  Lisa swallowed around the lump in her throat. The man Maria talked about wasn’t the man she’d known. She’d been blind for so long. “You said he wasn’t at the estate today. Where is he now?”

  Maria looked up. “That’s just it. I’m not sure. His sister has been with him for nearly fifteen years, has rarely left his side. The fact she’s alone now, well—”

  “You think he’s dead,” Pete cut in.

  Maria nodded slowly. “If Doug was handling this, he would have waited for you to bring him all three Furies. He wouldn’t have bothered hunting Dr. Maxwell down, following her and Rafael all this time. Swanson, however, was worried you might sell to someone else. She’s edgy, nervous, like she’s unsure what will happen. I sensed it when we spoke last week. I read it in her eyes today.”

  “Do you think she killed him?” Rafe asked cautiously, darting a look at Lisa.

  Maria shook her head. “No. If she’d killed him, she’d be less of a threat. This is a woman who’s hell-bent on revenge. Something set her off.”

  Lisa’s stomach rolled at the implication. “You’re saying this isn’t even about the Furies.”

  Maria met her gaze. “The Furies are one small part. If Doug died of natural causes before they could get them, then she’s got all the more reason to see you suffer. If she finds out you’re still alive, I think it’s safe to say the Furies will be the last thing on her mind.”

  ***

  Rafe tugged the black turtleneck over his head as he ran through steps in his mind. He’d had plenty of time to go through the blueprints, the security setup, the logistics of the evening, and he knew he was prepared. But he felt rushed. For some reason he couldn’t shake the tickle in the back of his throat, the one that said something was going to go wrong.

  “I want to go with you.”

  Startled out of his thoughts, he glanced toward the open bedroom door. Lisa stood just over the threshold. Light from the hall spilled around her. Her face was cast in shadows, but it didn’t hide the circles under her eyes, the lines across her forehead, the scratch high on her cheek.

  She hadn’t slept much the last few days. She had to be exhausted and overwhelmed, but she wasn’t talking to him about any of it. She’d stayed up listening to their plans well into the night and had finally drifted off on the couch. When they’d finished, he’d considered waking her, carrying her up to bed and reminding her just what they’d done in this room before they’d left for the Bahamas, but her weariness had stopped him. Instead he’d sat with her and fallen asleep himself. And when he’d awoken in the early morning hours, cramped and achy from sleeping on the side chair, she’d been gone.

  He was trying to give her the space he knew she needed to work through everything in her head, but her silence cut at him just the same. Somehow he had to hang onto the notion that, once they got Tisiphone back, things would be different. She’d realize she still needed him. She’d want him, as she had before.

  Ignoring her comment and the desire to grab her and never let go, he sat on the leather chair and bent to tie his boots.

  She stepped farther into the room. “I’m not an invalid, Rafe.”

  No, she was the strongest woman he’d ever met, and he wasn’t taking a chance on her life. “Billy’s going with me.”

  “So have Billy stay here.”

  “We’ve been through this,” he said without looking at her. “Billy’s running surveillance from the van. Hailey and Pete are waiting at the gallery for Swanson. You’re staying here with Shane.”

  “This isn’t your fight.”

  Yes, it was. He stood and looked at her. Didn’t she get that? It was his fight because it was about her. He’d do anything for her. Anything to make sure she was safe. And that meant not letting her get within ten feet of Christy Swanson and her twisted sense of revenge.

  “You asked me not to stop you in that cave. I let you do what you had to do, even though it wasn’t what I wanted. Now you gotta let me do my part.” He reached for his denim jacket from the bed. “We made a deal, Querida. I don’t order, and you listen, remember?”

  “A lot’s changed since then.”

  Back to her, he closed his eyes at the brutal honesty in her quiet voice. Nothing had changed for him. If anything, he loved her more, because of the resilience she’d shown time and again.

  He forced his arms into the jacket. Every minute that passed wedged a bigger barrier between them. He had one shot to change it back, to make it right. “Fine. Then I’m ordering.” He grabbed the bag at his feet and pushed past her. “You’re staying.”

  She followed him into the hall and down the curved staircase. Billy waited in the foyer with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his black jeans.

  “Rafe. Wait.”

  Her fingers on his arm stopped him. He turned at the bottom of the staircase, frustrated because he didn’t want to argue with her before he left. More frustrated because what he wanted most was her to believe in him. On a deep breath he looked up.

  She stood two steps up, at eye level. Gardenias drifted toward his nose, reminding him of every second he’d spent in her arms. Did it mean anything to her? He searched her eyes for a flicker of hope, for something to tell him he hadn’t lost her.

  He couldn’t see it. All he saw was his own reflection in those shimmering green gems. “What, Lisa?”

  Her eyes raked his face until every nerve in his body hovered on the edge. He waited for her to reach for him, to kiss him, to give him some indication there was still a chance for them.

  “Be careful,” she said softly.

  He steeled himself against the quick stab of pain in his heart and turned for the door. “I’ll call when we’re done.”

  ***

  Lisa pushed up from the couch where she’d been sitting for the last ten minutes. She couldn’t focus on the book she’d pulled from Lauren’s shelf. Couldn’t listen to more of Shane’s grumbling about the ridiculous crime scene–analysis show he was watching on TV.

  Running a hand through her hair, she headed for the kitchen. She felt like she was in the witness protection program, with a big bad cop watching her every move. She knew he was just looking out for her and that he was worried, but the way he eyed her like she had a tumor growing out of her forehead was grating on her last nerve. And sitting here twiddling her freakin’ thumbs while Rafe was out there doing God knows what wasn’t helping her mood either.

  She pulled the giant refrigerator open and reached for a bottled water. Muffled grunts echoed from the TV in the living room as she uncapped the drink. Frowning, she lifted the water to her lips.

  She should have demanded Rafe take her with him. He was being overprotective and domineering again, and she didn’t like it. Didn’t he realize how that made her feel?

  She took a long swallow and paused.

  He didn’t know, because she hadn’t told him. He was risking his life for nothing more than a piece of rock.

  Her stomach
rolled. She lowered the bottle and pressed a shaking hand against her abdomen. In the long run, what did it really matter if they had all three Furies? If they sold Alecto, he’d have enough money to take care of his mother until the end. Would having the others change the past? Would it change who she was or what she wanted? Would it change what she felt for Rafe?

  She already knew the answer to every question running through her mind. For the first time since she’d heard the news Doug had lived through that crash, she was able to think clearly.

  The Furies meant nothing to her. She wasn’t in this for the prestige or to prove Doug’s theory correct. They were a trophy, one she didn’t need and didn’t even want anymore. The money wasn’t important. Whether Doug was alive or dead didn’t change how she felt. The only thing that really mattered was the man she’d let walk out the door because she’d been too stupid to stop him.

  Heart pounding, she glanced at her watch. She still had time. If she radioed Billy, maybe she could stop Rafe before he went after Tisiphone.

  She slammed the refrigerator door and turned.

  Then stopped cold as ice blue eyes peered back at her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Stone’s Coral Gables estate sat amid a grove of palms just off Biscayne Bay. A sliver of moonlight cast shadows over the grounds. Dark clouds had rolled in from the east, bringing a brisk evening breeze that whistled through the palm fronds and swept over the beach.

  Across the bay, the lights of Key Biscayne twinkled in the dark. Rafe grimaced at how close they’d been to Stone all this time. If Lisa had known Stone was only a few miles away, would she have come to him in the shower? Would she have made her move at all?

  He pushed the thought aside and refocused. He couldn’t think about Lisa now. He needed to concentrate so he could get this job done.

  He’d waited in the shadows until Billy had signaled that Swanson had left the grounds in a green Mercedes. Lights burned in the east wing. A shadow passed in front of a first-floor window. Housekeeper, he knew from his research. Probably watching CSI at this hour. The rest of the sprawling house appeared quiet and dark.

  He shook off the strange feeling of dread that had been dogging him all afternoon and moved silently across the grounds. Staying in the shadows, he reached the corner of the building, turned and pressed his back against the wall. “In position,” he said quietly into the microphone.

  “Gotcha,” Billy replied in his earpiece. “You’re clear until you reach the second-floor balcony. Camera’s perched in the corner just above the door. You’ve got twenty-two seconds once it sweeps away.”

  “Copy.”

  For all Billy’s shortcomings, Rafe was glad he was here. He’d come through for him in the Bahamas, had been nothing but focused when they’d been planning the job, and now he was sitting in the van parked across the street from Stone’s main gate watching Rafe’s back. When something mattered, the kid was a stickler for details. A sense of pride swelled through Rafe.

  He pulled the pack from his back, unzipped the pouch and extracted the rope and attached grappling hook. He tossed the hook over the balcony rail and pulled until he met resistance. After replacing his pack, he looped the rope around one hand and pulled himself up the wall, using his feet for traction.

  He reached the veranda and hauled himself over the edge, then checked his watch. He counted seconds in his head as the camera took a long sweep. The machine clicked and whirred and turned the other direction. Rafe darted around the corner, pressed his body against the side of the building and slithered into the shadows, pausing directly under the camera to extract his tools.

  The glass balcony doors were to his left. A camera scanned the entrance to the house, then swept across the space once more. Rafe hesitated a fraction of a second and said his usual prayer that Pete’s connections would come through for him. Not once in all the years they’d worked together had Pete ever let him down. He hoped this wouldn’t be the first. Fifteen seconds later, he was inside the second-floor office suite, closing the door at his back without a sound.

  He paused to let his eyes adjust to the dark, to tune in to the building. Ventilation fans whirred almost soundlessly in the ceiling. A clock ticked on the wall across the room. If he’d tripped a silent alarm it would only be a matter of seconds before he was discovered. His adrenaline spiked. Familiar excitement prickled his skin.

  “I’m in,” he said into his mike.

  “Third floor,” Billy replied in his ear. “Northwest corner. Stairs are out the hall to your right. Security camera at the base. Another at the top.”

  “Copy.”

  Within minutes he was on the third floor and inside the master suite. A canopied bed sat against the far wall. Gauzy curtains covered the windows looking out across Biscayne Bay. Rafe located the master closet, pulled his penlight from his pocket and flipped it on. The safe was hidden behind a false wall panel in the back of the closet. It took roughly three minutes to locate it, extract his tools and interface his palm-sized computer with it.

  His stomach tightened as the numbers clicked into place. When the last one popped onto the screen, he took a breath and turned the handle. The safe slid open with a soft sigh. Rafe shined his light inside and blinked twice.

  Empty.

  His mind spun with possibilities. Was there another safe they’d missed? Possibly. Would Swanson have taken Tisiphone with her? Not likely. Odds were better she’d left it somewhere else in the house. Somewhere she didn’t think anyone would find it.

  He closed the safe and reset his tools while ideas swirled in his head. “Billy, it’s not here. Be my eyes.” He turned out of the closet and headed for the hall. “Check the blueprints for any space not accounted for.”

  Papers rustled in his earpiece. “Bedroom, bedroom, closet…shit,” Billy said in a tense voice. “I don’t know.”

  Rafe peeked out in the hall. “Calm down and focus. I’m relying on you, here. Don’t let me down.”

  Silence filled the channel, followed by papers rustling again. “Okay, let’s see. Third floor…nothing. There’s a large closet on the second floor. End of the hall.”

  Rafe timed the camera at the top of the steps and headed for the second level.

  “Wait.” Billy’s voice stopped him as he moved out of the way of the second floor camera. “No. Basement. There’s a bonus room, then an exercise room, then it looks like there’s another room, but it’s unmarked. Blueprints show a heavy sliding door, almost like a safe room.”

  Rafe’s blood pulsed. That had to be it. “Tell me how to get there.”

  Billy relayed instructions in his ear. He timed the cameras and within minutes dropped three floors to the basement, where he stood in an exercise room staring at a wall of mirrors.

  He turned a slow circle. “Talk to me, Billy. All I see is my ugly mug staring back at me.”

  “It’s there, I’m telling you. There’s got to be a hidden switch, a release lever, something.”

  Rafe ran his gloved fingers along the smooth glass. The three-panel mirror stopped roughly two feet from the ceiling. He stepped back and let his eyes sweep over the wall from top to bottom.

  It had to be here. He hadn’t come all this way to walk away empty-handed.

  Then he saw it. The smallest imperfection in the glass along the right edge of the third panel. It looked like a shadow, but Rafe guessed there was a sensor was hidden behind the mirror.

  He held his hand over the space and pressed his finger gently against the outside edge of the glass. A small button depressed. The middle panel popped open, swinging outward like a door. Rafe stepped back, grabbed his light and shined it into the small room.

  The blood drained from his face. “Holy mother of God.”

  “You’re in?” Billy asked.

  “I’m in.” Rafe stepped inside the space and glanced around. Hundreds of pictures of Lisa covered the walls, plastered against the bare concrete like a collage. Snapshots of her and Stone together, news clippings of h
er research over the years, digs she’d been on, projects she’d undertaken for her university. Personal photos of her with Shane and her sisters, of her alone in what Rafe guessed was her San Francisco apartment, of the two of them together in Chicago and here in Miami.

  His stomach rolled. Swanson had been following her for years, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  His gaze dropped to the table in the center of the room, a virtual altar to the Furies and Stone’s research. On one side, Tisiphone sat perched against a drape of red velvet. On the other, an urn was surrounded by a wreath of dying flowers. And in the center, photos of Lisa over the last day stared up at him—her tired and worn out as she stepped off his boat at Lauren’s dock, her somber face as she stood at the kitchen windows gazing out at the water, her asleep on the window seat in the living room while he planned to go after Tisiphone.

  Dread swept over Rafe and a tickle lurched in his throat. Swanson knew Lisa was still alive. She’d been watching Lauren’s house, which meant she knew Maria and Billy had been there. She hadn’t left here tonight headed for Odyssey and the other two Furies. She was going after Lisa.

  “Mierda.” Frantic, Rafe reached for his mike and whipped around. “Billy. Goddammit, it’s a setup!”

  ***

  Lisa swallowed a scream. The bottle slipped from her fingers and bounced off the tile floor. Cold water splashed across her feet as she took a cautious step back.

  Christy Swanson narrowed her eyes and lifted the gun at her side. “Surprised to see me?”

  Lisa’s heart thumped erratically against her ribs, but she refused to let her fear show. “I shouldn’t be, should I?”