by Jo Leigh
“He’d fallen in love with you,” Pepper said.
“Yeah. Of course, I didn’t understand that at first. It’s only hindsight that’s twenty-twenty. What I’m a little worried about is whether Butch still loves me. During the boat ride over here, Happy said something that makes sense. People who are in love do stupid things. And maybe that’s why he’s acting like such an idiot now. He still loves me, and love sometime interferes with brain functions.”
“Tell me about it,” Pepper said.
Irene tightened her grip on Pepper’s hand. “What I’ll tell you is don’t let Cole talk himself into thinking that it’s best for you if he backs out of your life.”
Pepper stared at her. “You think he would?”
Irene tapped a finger on the side of her head. “Love and logic don’t mix. But don’t make the same mistake I did. My advice is to take action before you have to steal a damn Monet twice to convince a stupid, stubborn man he’s wrong.”
Pepper threw her arms around her aunt and gave her a hard hug. Irene felt the prick of tears behind her eyes and was about to blink them away when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Drawing back, she flipped it open.
“You’re good to go,” Cole said.
Irene shot her a wink. “Here comes the easy part.”
COLE POCKETED HIS cell phone just as Happy and Butch joined him in the cluster of trees.
“Where’s Irene?” Butch asked.
“You’ll see in a minute,” Cole said, meeting Butch’s cold, hard eyes. “Where are Atwell and the Frenchman?”
Cole wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Butch’s eyes grew harder and colder. “They’re in my office. Where’s Irene? Is she all right? And what in the hell are we doing hiding in these palm trees?”
“First I need your word that you won’t interfere with what Irene’s trying to do. You could put her in danger.”
Butch grabbed the front of Cole’s T-shirt. “I’m tired of this game. I’m going to ask you one more time. Where is she?”
Cole stood his ground. “Your word. Irene’s and Pepper’s lives may depend on it.”
Five seconds ticked by. Neither man blinked. Then Butch said, “I won’t interfere.”
“There she is.” Happy spoke for the first time. Butch and Cole shifted their gaze to where Happy was pointing and watched Irene swing her leg over the edge of the roof.
“What the hell…?” Butch said.
Cole put a hand on his arm when he would have moved.
“You gave your word. I’m going to hold you to it.” It was all he could do to get out the words as he watched Pepper drop her legs over the edge of the roof. She could do this, he told himself.
“What the hell is going on?” Butch asked.
Happy patted his shoulder. “Irene’s stealing a Monet to prove she’s bad enough for you. Isn’t she something?”
“Yeah,” Cole said, never taking his eyes off Pepper.
“Shit,” Butch said.
WITH HER ARMS braced firmly on the narrow ledge of the abutment, Pepper peered over her shoulder. She purposely didn’t let herself look at the ground. She just wanted to judge the distance to the floor of the penthouse balcony. It wasn’t close. And it was much narrower than the one outside Cole’s suite had appeared. Her stomach pitched.
“Big mistake,” Irene said as she tested the rope she’d tied to one of the steel ventilation pipes that dotted the rooftop. “Never look down—rule number one for any good cat burglar.”
Pepper wrenched her gaze away from the balcony and looked at her aunt. “How can you do this?”
“I love Butch. Always have, always will.”
“I didn’t mean that. How can you rappel down from roofs?” She was thinking of the time that she’d gotten stuck on that roof and Cole had come to rescue her.
Irene shrugged and shot her a grin. “I took up rock climbing shortly after my parents made me break up with Butch. It was my feeble shot at being a rebellious teen.”
Pepper smiled at her. “Been there, done that. But I never did anything more dangerous than cut off my hair or learn to play poker. I wish I’d had the nerve to think of rock climbing. It would have come in handy.”
Irene reached over and tested Pepper’s rope. “It’ll be over before you know it.”
In Pepper’s mind, the possible implications were not quite as comforting as she was sure Irene intended them to be.
“Okay. Now, remember that the end of the rope is knotted around your waist. If you make a mistake, you’ll only fall to the end of the rope.”
“Kind of like a bungee cord, only there’s no bounce at the end.”
“Exactly,” Irene said. “You can watch me go first and then I’ll talk you down. Or we can do it together.”
Though she was tempted by the first choice, Pepper knew that they’d save time with the second. “Together.”
Turning her head, she watched her aunt clasp the rope between her two hands and slowly lower herself off the ledge they were both balanced on. Then holding her breath, she did the same. The resulting surge of adrenaline nearly made her dizzy.
“Now, keeping the rope between your legs, you’re going to make sure your toes are touching the wall.”
“Got it,” Pepper said.
“This is the toughest part. You’re going to do three things at once. Let the rope slide a bit between your hands at the same time that you lean back and plant your feet flat on the wall.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Pepper gave it a whirl. But just as she leaned back, her foot slipped, and the next second, she was dangling from the wall and the rope began to slip between her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Irene’s movement as she walked backward down the wall, but her heart was pounding so hard that she couldn’t hear what Irene was saying. All that she knew was the rope was slipping through her hands. Just as her palms began to sting in earnest, her feet landed hard on something and her knees nearly buckled. Glancing down, she saw that she was on the railing of the balcony.
Fear swamped her, and for one long moment she teetered. Then she tightened her grip on the rope and one hard pull had her tumbling forward onto the balcony floor.
A second later, Irene landed beside her and pushed her down until they were out of sight below the railing.
“Excellent,” her aunt said.
Pepper dragged in a much needed breath, and pressed a hand to her chest because she was afraid that her heart was going to pound right out. “Right. My foot slipped.”
“Who cares?” Irene said. “It’s not like we got a bunch of Olympic judges out there deep-sixing us with low technical scores. In second-story work, form always takes a back seat to efficiency, and you beat me down.” Irene patted her on the shoulder. “You did good.”
“Thanks.” It was over, Pepper told herself as she pried her fingers loose from the rope. Rappelling down from a roof was going on her list of never-to-be-repeated experiences.
“Now for the fun part.” Irene rubbed her hands together and turned her attention to the balcony doors.
Pepper was beginning to think that her aunt had a strange idea of fun. But she had to admire Irene’s skill. In less than three minutes, they were inside, and for a moment neither of them moved. The windows were all shuttered to keep out a direct hit from the morning sun, so the interior of the suite was filled with shadows.
Pepper listened hard. The only sound was the steady tick of a clock. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she made out the tall grandfather clock in the corner.
Letting her gaze sweep the rest of the living room, she saw that it was twice the size of the one in Cole’s suite. If she hadn’t known better, she would have believed that she had been transported back in time to the mansion of a rich plantation owner.
The bungalow had been lovely, and Cole’s suite had been luxurious, but neither could compare to this one. The floors were a honey-colored wood dotted with oriental rugs. And in spite of its size, the room seemed filled with over
stuffed furniture, painted screens and huge potted plants. There was even a grand piano in the far corner.
“The damn place is huge,” Irene whispered. “And I don’t see the Monet.”
Pepper scanned the walls. She counted six paintings, but none of them was the one they were looking for. Now that she was getting her bearings, she could see that even though it was larger, the suite had the same two levels and general layout as Cole’s. The main entrance was down a short hallway to their left. She pointed to the two doors on the upper level to their right. “Let’s try the bedrooms.”
“C’mon.” Irene led the way. “You take the one on the left.”
Pepper crossed her fingers as she entered the bedroom, but a quick glance around told her that the stolen painting wasn’t hanging on the wall. The bed was neatly made and the closet empty. Clearly, Evan and LeBlanc were using the other bedroom.
Turning away from the closet, she scanned the room again, then turned her attention to the bed. They weren’t sleeping in this room, so perhaps…
She looked beneath the bed, then circled it, lifting the mattress until she was sure the painting wasn’t there either. Fisting her hands on her hips, she looked around the room again. Time was slipping past, and the fact that Irene hadn’t appeared in the doorway told her that her aunt’s search was similarly unsuccessful. She felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach and forced herself to ignore it.
What she needed to use were her instincts. Hadn’t Cole told her they were one of her strengths? Moving back to the door of the bedroom, she looked into the main room. Another thing she was good at was imagining herself as someone else.
If she were a master thief and had a priceless painting, where would she hide it?
In her mind, Pepper pictured LeBlanc walking through the front door of the suite with the painting in his suitcase. What would he be feeling? Excitement and perhaps the remnants of an adrenaline rush because he’d just successfully stolen the painting from Irene. But apprehension, too, and caution—because he’d let the Monet slip through his fingers once.
He couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.
Then too, there was the fact that he was about to strike a deal with a man who was an ex-mobster. Would someone like LeBlanc believe that Butch Castellano had reformed? Could he afford to believe that?
No, Pepper thought as she stepped out into the main room of the suite. LeBlanc wouldn’t hang that painting on the wall or hide it under a mattress. There had to be a safe somewhere in the suite.
“Irene?” she called softly. “I have an idea.”
Without waiting for her aunt to join her, Pepper started down the stairs to the living room proper. It was then that she heard the sound.
She stopped short. It hadn’t come from the other bedroom. While she was still trying to identify it, she heard another sound—the door to the suite opening. Her heart leapt into her throat and she dropped to her knees behind the nearest sofa.
Less than a second later, Irene joined her. Not daring to speak, not needing to, they each crawled toward their respective ends of the sofa and peered out. The darkly clad figure at the door wasn’t moving. He was listening, just as she and Irene had when they’d come in through the balcony doors. Even as that thought entered her mind, Pepper registered something else. The figure was too tall for Evan and too broad-shouldered for LeBlanc.
Besides, Cole would surely have called her if their meeting with Butch had broken up.
As if satisfied that the suite was empty, the figure moved purposefully forward, descending the steps into the living room proper and striding toward the fireplace. A moment later, he had removed a painting and was working on opening a wall safe.
Another thief, she thought as anger and fear tangled inside of her. No way! She’d just rappelled down from the roof of a building, and no one was going to get that painting but Irene. A glance over her shoulder told her that her aunt was on the same wavelength. Irene had disappeared.
As Pepper crawled out from behind the sofa, she spotted her aunt moving on her hands and knees from one piece of furniture to the next in a zigzag pattern toward the fireplace. The woman moved like a cat. Pepper prayed that she could do the same.
On instinct she moved toward the door, her only thought being to block the thief’s exit. How was the problem. When she reached one of the potted palms that flanked the three-step flight of stairs, she paused. If she moved up them, she would be in plain sight.
When she glanced toward the fireplace, she saw the thief removing the rolled-up painting from the safe. Things were happening way too fast. In another minute he’d be on his way toward the door. She glanced around for a weapon, something. Anything.
“Put your hands in the air.”
The low deep voice had Pepper jumping. She didn’t recognize that it belonged to Irene until she turned back and saw that her aunt had a bamboo cane poked into the thief’s back.
“Now, just put the painting back in the safe and walk very slowly toward the door.”
For a moment, no one moved. It reminded Pepper of a scene in a movie that was freeze-framed. Then everything happened in a blur as the same scene went into fast-forward.
In one graceful movement, the thief whirled, shoved Irene to the floor and bolted toward the stairs. With adrenaline streaming through her, Pepper rose and pushed with all her might on the large palm tree. For an instant it didn’t move, and then it pitched forward, catching the thief at the knee.
The Monet went flying high into the air. The thief went flying, too, pitching forward over the tree and then skidding across the tiles of the entranceway until his head thwacked hard into a heavy and ornately carved credenza. He uttered one moan, then didn’t move.
Pepper turned back in time to see Irene run forward to catch the Monet as it arced through the air. The scene reminded her of one of those miraculous Hail Mary passes during a tightly contested football game.
“Got it,” Irene said.
16
Saturday, February 14—9:15 a.m.
“WE HAVE TO DO something,” Butch said, taking a step forward.
Cole grabbed one of his arms and Happy grabbed the other. “You gave your word not to interfere.”
“That was before…you don’t understand. One of my men should be in that suite right now taking the Monet out of the safe.”
Cole stared at him. “You’re stealing the Monet? I thought you’d gone straight.”
To Cole’s amazement, Butch flushed. “I have. But…hell, this whole thing with Irene has me…unnerved.”
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Happy said.
Butch shot him one look and then turned back to Cole. “When I got the information on LeBlanc, I decided that stealing it was my best move until I know more about just how he got his hands on the painting.”
Cole’s eyes narrowed. “You know about LeBlanc?”
“Yeah. H finally traced him a few hours ago. It wasn’t easy. The guy’s one slick operator. How’d you get onto him?”
“A colleague of mine—one of Irene’s nephews—traced him through some fingerprints I faxed him.”
Butch studied him with some interest. “You swiped the glass at the poolside café?”
Cole shook his head. “Pepper did. She has good instincts.”
“She’s a lot like her aunt,” Happy said.
Butch pinned him with a look. “You are beginning to annoy me. The only reason that I haven’t punched you before this is because you got Irene here safely. But you’d be well advised to button it.”
For the first time, Cole saw Happy’s ever-present smile waver a bit. “Sure thing. Not a problem.”
“So?” Butch shifted his gaze back to Cole. “We’re just supposed to wait here and let the best thief win?”
Cole’s lips twitched. “Something like that.”
“My money’s on Irene and Pepper,” Happy said.
Butch sent him a glare.
Happy murmured, “Sorry.”
“You’re in good company,” Cole said. “And you’re going to like it even less if the ladies don’t come out on top.”
Butch met his eyes. “Why won’t I? We’ll have the painting. They’ll be safe.”
“If Irene isn’t successful, my guess is that she’ll want to steal it again. She has this idea that she needs to prove she’s bad enough for you.”
“Yeah.” Happy’s smile was at full wattage again. “She’s a real pip.”
A cell phone rang and both Butch and Cole reached into their pockets. Butch flipped his open. “Yeah.”
A second later he swore under his breath. Then he turned to Cole. “Time for Plan B. Atwell and LeBlanc just walked out of the meeting.”
“NICE WORK,” Irene said, gazing down at the prone body of the thief.
Pepper’s heart clutched. “You think I killed him?”
As if on cue, the man moaned again. Pressing a hand to her chest, Pepper felt her heart begin to beat again. “Thank heavens.”
“I wonder who sent him,” Irene said.
“Could we wonder about that later?” Pepper asked. “I have a feeling that we ought to get out of here.” Now that they had the painting, she was getting that same queasy feeling she always got when something was about to go wrong.
Irene, still clutching the rolled-up Monet under one arm, was frowning now and she’d begun to tap one foot. “This guy had a key that got him in, he knew where the painting was, and he did not crack that safe. He had the combination.”
“Yeah,” Pepper said, taking her aunt’s arm and pulling her toward the door. “But we have the painting, and he doesn’t.”
Irene dug in her heels. “What if Butch sent him here to steal it?”
“Butch?” Turning, Pepper stared at her. Even as she opened her mouth to object, she could see the logic of Irene’s suspicion. But there was also another explanation. “It could have been Evan or LeBlanc who sent him.”
“But why would they want to steal it?” Irene asked.
“I don’t know, but we have to get out of here, Irene. This painting seems very popular. As far as I’m concerned this guy on the floor is the last Monet thief I want to run into today.”
