Cat Got Your Tongue?

by Rae Rivers

  “Your fans really want a piece of you tonight.” Alex turned in her seat to look at the crowd they’d left behind. She winced as she saw her partners and several security guards trying to subdue the excited media, something they often faced in their line of work. They’d handle it, they always did, and it wouldn’t take long for her partners to make a quick getaway to follow the limo. Crowds didn’t frighten either of them; it just annoyed them and made it difficult for their shields.

  Cole clenched his fists, seething with anger, and she reached for his hand. It amazed her how much she’d come to like the feel of him and embraces from him were becoming less terrifying for her.

  “Don’t be such a grouch,” she said with a teasing smile. “The media just wants a little piece of a good looking, charming, and exuberantly wealthy billionaire.”

  “That’s just it,” he grumbled and pulled her closer. “It’s not simply the business side of me they’re interested in but also the personal side of me. It’s almost as though they want the entire blueprint of my life. It gets rather stifling after a while.”

  “They’re interested in you and your personal life. For many people, knowing what the billionaire’s up to provides their evening’s entertainment. We—oh, my God!” she gasped, bolting upright in her seat.

  “Whenever you say that I know trouble’s coming.”

  “That’s just it!”

  “What?”

  Her heart started racing, and she flew to the edge of her seat. “The blueprints.”

  “What blueprints?”

  “The blueprints of your townhouse!” she cried. “Steven Bryson said that Bond has the blueprints of your townhouse and is familiar with the layout. Why has he been studying them in such detail? What’s he after?”

  “My paintings?” Cole offered, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes, I always knew this was about your paintings, but what I couldn’t figure out is why they want you out of the picture because of them.” Her hands gripped the edge of her seat so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. “The fire, the Hummer, the bomb. Maybe they weren’t simply attempts to harm you. Maybe they were attempts to get you out of your house.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  She shuffled in her seat with excitement. “Cole, think about it. Bond has your blueprints and suddenly you’ve had several hits against you, most of them in your townhouse. After each hit, what have we done? We’ve gone straight to the hotel for the night.” She slapped his knee. “That’s what they wanted—for us to be out of your house for an extended period of time, but we keep returning to the house in the morning. I bet there’s something in your house they’re after.”

  “So why not send a cat in to silently retrieve it?”

  “They tried and they failed. What’s in your house they could want that would need more than a single cat?”

  He shrugged. “Hell, Alex, I have several valuable pieces and a safe in my office that contains a significant amount of cash. They could be after either.”

  “Where are the blueprints?” she asked, enjoying the rush of adrenaline that came with the knowledge that she’d possibly started connecting the dots.

  “In the living room. The building contractors were working on them this morning.” The fire, although brief, had caused a fair amount of damage and the repair to his living room was in full swing.

  She smiled. “Let’s go check it out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wednesday night

  She was reaching.

  She knew it, but every instinct inside her screamed that they were on the right track. Alex shed her jacket and smoothed her hands over her skirt as Cole spread the blueprints across the kitchen table.

  “What are we looking for?” he asked, glancing at her.

  “I have no idea.” Alex pointed to the drawing of the main suite on the top floor. “Let’s start up here.”

  “Trust you to go straight for the bedroom.”

  She laughed. “What would you say if I went straight for the kitchen?”

  “That’s normally straight after the bedroom anyway.”

  “Come on, Cole. I need you to concentrate.” She tried using a firm voice, but the smile dancing at the corners of her mouth failed her, and he matched her grin with one of his own before turning his attention back to the drawings.

  They worked swiftly through the drawings, eliminating each room on each floor until they were left with the drawings of the kitchen and the bottom floor of the house. So far, the safe and the paintings were the only red flags.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What’s this?” she asked, pointing to a small square in the corner of the page.

  Cole leaned closer, peering over her shoulder. “It looks like a sign for a trap door or a crawl-through door.”

  Alex regarded the small, roughly drawn square she’d almost missed. “So if it’s a sign for a trap door, where’s the trap door?”

  Cole frowned and straightened, looking around the kitchen. “These drawings aren’t for the kitchen,” he announced, rolling up the blueprints in one swift movement. “They’re for the staff quarters downstairs.”

  They quickly took the last flight of stairs to the bottom level where the staff slept. Like the rest of the house, it was quiet.

  The bottom level consisted of the laundry room, a spacious storage room, three staff bedrooms, and a utility room that housed various tools, cleaning equipment, gas bottles, and other paraphernalia. In the center of the floor was a living area that consisted of two couches and a large table where the staff often had their meals. Despite the fact that the bottom floor was used for storage and staff housing, it was still neat and tastefully decorated.

  Cole headed for the table and spread out the blueprints.

  Alex left him to it and walked into the first room she saw. Her mind raced and her body prickled with anticipation. She turned on the light and looked around. For a storage room, it didn’t contain much storage—several boxes, a large wooden cupboard, and two pieces of unused furniture from the living area upstairs.

  “How did you know the trap door was in here?” Cole asked, appearing in the doorway.

  Her startled gaze shot to his. “I didn’t. It is?”

  “According to the blueprints, it should be right here in this corner.” He walked further into the room and began moving the cupboard.

  When he stood back, Alex edged closer, pointing to the wall. “Cole, look.” The paint on the wall, once white and even, had faded over time, revealing faint tell tale signs of what looked like a small door.

  “What the hell?” Cole rasped his knuckles across the wall and froze when a hollow sound echoed through the room. He tilted his head toward Alex and smiled. “There’s a door here.”

  “It’s been closed and painted over to blend in with the wall.”

  Cole disappeared and returned a moment later, a flashlight and a sledgehammer clutched in his hands. Handing the flashlight to Alex, he started swinging the hammer against the wall.

  Alex gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to see what’s through this door. Something tells me this is the final piece of our puzzle.”

  Alex glanced at the flashlight in her hands. “Why do you get the man tool?”

  He swung the hammer against the door and the wood splintered, chipping away on impact. “It’s heavy.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “Do I look like I can’t do heavy?”

  He laughed and heaved the hammer against the door again. The door gave way an inch and Cole straightened, aimed, and gave a hard kick. The wood shattered and the door broke free from the wall and plunged down a small wooden staircase.

  Cole stood back, admiring his handiwork. He dragged a hand across his forehead and grinned. “I’ve always wanted to kick down a door.”

  She laughed and peered over his shoulder at the hole in front of them. “God, Cole. You’re a genius.”

  Anticipation and adrenaline spurred them on and Cole r
eached for the flashlight, flipped the switch, and shone it down the hole.

  “A staircase.” Alex said. “There’s a whole separate room down there!”

  “It can’t be very big.”

  Alex looked at the creepy staircase. “Well, you be the man and go first.”

  “What?” he asked, feigning surprise. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  Alex straightened her shoulders. “No, but I’m not about to go first either. There could be mummified dead bodies or something down there and if that’s the case, I’d be far more comfortable having you between me and them.”

  Cole chuckled. “Okay, I’ll go first.” But he didn’t move and kept looking at her, a warm smile playing on his lips. Reaching for her hand, he tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. “One of these days I’m going to tell you how I really feel about you.”

  “Stop stalling and be the man. I’m dying to know what’s down there.”

  Cole dipped his head and covered her mouth with his in a soft, firm kiss. When he pulled away, his smiled widened. “You’re incredible, Alexis.”

  He descended the few stairs, Alex on his heels.

  “You were right,” she whispered when they reached the bottom. “The room is tiny.”

  It smelt musty and starved of fresh air and sunshine. Several cobwebs hung in the corners of the room, its occupants long gone. It was a small room with a low ceiling and empty except for a loose sheet scattered on the floor against the far wall.

  “No mummies,” Cole murmured.

  “There’s nothing down here.” Alex sighed, looking around the room. She wasn’t sure what she’d been hoping for but an empty room hadn’t been it.

  Cole shone the torch at the sheet on the floor. He took two steps and yanked at the corner of the material, disturbing several years of settled dust. Coughing, he stood back and waited for the dust to settle.

  Alex peered over his shoulder, holding a hand across her mouth to ward off the dust. “Oh, my God.”

  “What the hell?”

  They stared in stunned silence at the artwork neatly packed on the floor—old, neglected, and undiscovered. Until now.

  “What is this?” Cole knelt to touch the paintings.

  Suddenly, Alex couldn’t breathe. Her heart began its erratic pounding and her breath consisted of short gasps. “Cole!” she croaked, her hand on her heart. “Oh, my God.” She grabbed the flashlight out of his hand and shone it on the paintings. “Look, it’s the Picasso!”

  Cole’s eyes widened and he lifted the dusty painting for a better look. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s the missing paintings from the Taylor Museum.”

  Alex wasn’t sure if she felt faint or elated, but her body was reacting in the strangest of ways to their new discovery. She dragged in a deep breath and couldn’t resist a wide grin. She shone the flashlight at the other paintings scattered on the floor. “There’s the Matisse. They’re all here—all ten of them!”

  He rose, matching her smile. “Hot damn! They’ve been underneath my house all these years?”

  “How on earth did they end up here?”

  Cole shrugged. “It must’ve been the previous owner.”

  Alex gasped, her mind racing. “That’s why you were involved in this whole mess.”

  “You were right.” His smile vanished. “Someone knows they’re down here.”

  “And wanted access to your house. That’s the reason behind the burglaries, the fire, and the bomb. Someone wanted you out of the way—out of the house.”

  Everything fell into place, like a dead bolt slamming home, and they stared at each other in silence.

  “That explains why your visit to the museum disgruntled whoever’s behind this,” Cole said. “They figured that you were onto something and knew it wouldn’t be long before you made the connections.”

  A cold feeling washed over her. “Now that we’ve found these we’re in even more danger.” She whirled toward the small staircase.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To grab my phone in the kitchen,” she replied as she ran up the stairs. “I want to find out when Dan and Bradley will be here. I’d feel far better about this discovery if we weren’t alone.”

  “Alex, wait!” he called but she was already gone.

  Alex rushed up the flight of stairs and ran into the kitchen, charged with an anxiety that frightened her. She grabbed her phone from her bag and punched the speed dial for Dan’s phone.

  “We’re on our way,” he grumbled as he answered the phone.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “We hit a snag, but I’ll explain later.” He hesitated. “Why are you out of breath?”

  “Just get here as fast as you can.”

  “Are the security guards there? Is everything okay?”

  Alex could hear the edge in his voice. “Yes. They’re here and everything’s fine. I’ll explain when you get here. Just hurry.”

  Hanging up, she dialed Sullivan’s number, not surprised when he answered with a grunt. “This better be damn good, Alex, because I was about to sit down to dinner with my wife. She’s already glaring at me from across the table.”

  “Well then you’re going to be in the dog house for sure when you run out on her, Detective. I’ve got information that’ll boost your career a couple of notches.” Grasping the phone against her ear, she walked toward the kitchen door. “But before I give you anything, we have to agree that you don’t get to question my involvement or my sources and you keep my mother’s name out of this. Are we clear?”

  Sullivan fell silent, considering her request. “Deal. But this juice better be worth it. Now spill.”

  “Mike Willis’s murder, the theft of his painting, and all the hits on Cole Anderson. They’re all linked and I’ve connected the dots and you get to take the kudos in bringing it all down. All that I still have to figure out is who the mastermind is behind all that’s happened.” She could almost see his drool. “And I have a bonus for you, a big bonus, that’ll keep me in donuts until the day you die. Can you get down to Cole’s place?”

  “Cole collects properties the way my niece collects Barbie dolls. Which one?”

  Alex didn’t answer, distracted as she heard a commotion at the front door. Without disconnecting the call, she slipped the phone into her pocket and crept along the hallway, scanning the rooms for the source of the noise. As she neared the front door, she spotted one of the security guards sitting in the chair at the entrance hall. A shiver of apprehension trickled down her spine and she crossed the room, gliding toward him. She called his name, frowning when there was no reaction.

  His head hung forward, his chin resting on his chest. With a steady hand and a racing heart, Alex reached forward to feel for a pulse.

  Out cold.

  She whirled around to find the second security guard slumped against the wall in the hallway, his eyes closed. Rushing toward him, she grasped his wrist and breathed a sigh of relief to find him still alive.

  Shock joined her energy rush, a fierce combination brewing within her, and she looked around in horror. Alex focused on another sound coming from the stairs. Heart pounding in her ears, she moved toward the bottom of the staircase, uneasiness settling in her gut. Adrenaline joined the ranks of the other emotions already there and her hand slowly crept to her right leg where she’d strapped her gun.

  A phone was ringing from the floor above and as Alex’s gaze followed the sound, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

  A bald, large, and fierce looking man glared at her with cold, malicious eyes. In one hand, he held a gun, attached with a silencer, and had it pointed down the stairs in her direction. In the other hand, he clasped the ringing phone.

  Alex’s stomach clenched in horror as she recognized the ring tone.

  It was the theme song of the James Bond movies.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alex tried to force down the immediate urge to gag. Or run. Whatever it was, her insides were a mess
.

  Barry Jenson kept his aim steady as he descended the stairs. “Hello, Alex.”

  “You’re James Bond?” she croaked in disbelief, gaping at the man in the black suit.

  “Of course.”

  “Of all the names you could’ve chosen as your alias, you chose Bond?”

  “Humor me, Alex,” he said with a wicked smile. “I’m a big Bond fan.”

  Keeping his gun aimed at her, Barry moved behind her and patted her down. Alex swallowed her sigh of relief when he missed the gun strapped to her upper thigh, the weapon hidden between the folds of her skirt. Satisfied she was unarmed, he eased back and flashed her another smile.

  “So it’s been you all along,” Alex said, trying to calm her racing heartbeat.

  “You wouldn’t back down, would you?” Barry pocketed his phone and scowled at her. “You’ve been the biggest pain in my ass for the past two weeks, Alex.”

  “I was simply doing my job.”

  “Screw that!” he snarled. “You pissed on my game and no matter what I did to throw you off, you kept coming back for more.”

  “You were responsible for everything that’s happened to us?”

  “Yes. Sending in Steven Bryson for the Renoir, the fire, planting the bomb in the office, the entanglement you had with the Hummer—all me.” His words were clipped with fury and frustration. “Either Cole has nine fucking lives or you’re just damn good at what you do as every attempt at getting him out of my way has failed.”

  Cole.

  Steely fingers wrapped around her heart and Alex fought the urge to race down the stairs. God, she hoped that Cole hadn’t … no, she couldn’t think of that possibility. God, no.

  “That’s why you’ve been harassing him to sell!” she said, wondering why she’d never examined his motive in more detail. “You knew all along that the paintings were buried in a secret basement under his townhouse.”

  Barry smiled, evil lurking in his eyes. “Ah, judging by the commotion downstairs, I figured you might have found the hidden room. A recent discovery but yes, I did know. Thought it would be a lot easier if I owned the townhouse. The problem came in when Cole refused to sell.”