by Cindy Dees
“Done!” Maya announced. “Damn, I’m good.”
“You only worked on one plate.”
“I only have to deface one plate. They can’t print money if both plates aren’t perfect. I messed up the back side of the bill, by the way. I figure most people will examine the front face first and be more familiar with what that looks like, anyway.”
“Good thinking,” he murmured.
He picked up the plate that was the back side of a twenty-dollar bill and peered where she pointed at a long border stripe that she promised was too deep to pick up the right amount of ink now and would make a giant blob on the bill if used. He would have to take her at her word. The plate looked exactly the same to him as it had before.
“I’ll call you when the fakes are ready, pretty boy. Now get out. I gotta go shopping.”
Somehow he suspected she wouldn’t just be shopping for art supplies with the money he’d given her. “I need these fast. Capisce? Everything depends on this, Maya.”
“I told you. One day. I’ll cast them, polish them, and coat the back sides with brass. What joker put those sales award things on the back of the plates?”
Zane shrugged. “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”
Maya laughed and shoved him toward the door.
“Remember, not a word to anyone,” he warned.
“Mum’s the word. Good news for you is I probably won’t remember having done them in a week. That dough of yours is gonna buy me a whole lot of forgetfulness.”
“Don’t get trashed until you finish the plates, okay?” he pleaded. “It’s life or death that I have the replicas right away.”
“All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’ve got you covered.”
He scooped up the now allegedly unusable original plates and hurried back outside. A quick ride back to the bank, another quick visit to his safety deposit box, and the plates were tucked away safe and sound once more. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Now. How to explain his departure from the safe house? He turned over a few possible excuses and decided to go with the simplest, most obvious reason. He needed clothes to replace the ones that had been stolen along with his luggage. He still had several hundred dollars left over from the shoot. It wouldn’t go far in New York, but it would buy him a few decent shirts and pairs of slacks.
He was about finished shopping when his cell phone rang a few hours later.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?” Sebastian demanded. “I told you to stay put.”
“Yeah, well, you forgot that I didn’t have any clothes. As in none. I cashed my check from last night and bought myself some clean underwear. So sue me,” he snapped back.
“You should have asked me or Etienne to get clothes for you. You risked your life by leaving the safe house.” An irritated sigh. “Do you know the address of the penthouse?”
“Yes. I notice these things, you know.”
“Meet me there. I have big news for you.”
Zane glared at his phone. He hated when people were secretive like that. Curiosity was his greatest single downfall, and Sebastian had used it against him to perfection. Now he had to go back and find out what the big news was. Curse Sebastian!
Chapter Sixteen
SEBASTIAN GLARED at his phone. What were the odds Zane had gone to get the damned plates? Surely, he wasn’t that suicidal. He was going to lock Zane in a closet and not let him come out if he didn’t quit running around on his own, though.
He couldn’t wait to share his good news with Zane. Which was weird. He was used to being alone and having nobody to talk with about any aspect of his life. He kind of loved the excitement zinging around in his gut as he anticipated Zane’s reaction to his good news.
Etienne had gotten the license plate number from the vehicle following them last night. The police had found the SUV abandoned this morning, and he’d convinced a friend in the police department to order it dusted for prints. They’d found fresh ones on the steering wheel. In a few hours, his friend in the department should have a name for him.
If they could track down Erebus’s operatives in New York and get them to spill their guts, law enforcement agencies might just stand a chance of cornering and taking out the remnants of the slippery organization once and for all.
And then Zane would be safe, and they’d both be clear of this mess.
How cool was that?
God, he couldn’t wait to get on with his life… which would hopefully include Zane in it for a good, long time.
Wild Cards had been monitoring the police reports in New York for the past forty-eight hours, and no report of shots fired in any alley two nights ago had been filed. The counterfeiter had cleaned up all evidence of the failed handoff. Sebastian supposed he should be grateful for that, since any evidence could have led back to him and to some extremely awkward questions from the police.
While Etienne drove him home from the police station, Sebastian placed several more calls, this time to jewelers. When asked who the best engraver in the tristate area was, all of them unhesitatingly came up with the same name: Matteus Vanderpohl.
Sebastian got a phone number for the guy and called it. A man answered.
“I was told this was the phone number for an engraver, Matteus Vanderpohl,” he said politely. “Have I got the wrong number?”
“No, you’ve got the right one. He just doesn’t like to talk on the phone. What can I do for you?” the man asked.
“I have an engraving job I need done. A small and delicate one. I’m told Mr. Vanderpohl is the best engraver in the city, and I’m hoping he’ll help me out.”
“Of course, I’ll be happy to schedule an appointment for you, Mr.—”
“Gigoni,” he supplied. “Sebastian Gigoni.” Although, as soon as his real name came out of his mouth, he regretted having used it. Not that he still owned any of the fake IDs the Wild Cards had made for him over a decade ago.
“Will tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. be acceptable, Mr. Gigoni?”
“Absolutely. What’s your address?” Sebastian asked. He copied down the street address, which frankly sounded residential rather than commercial. “I’ll see you then.”
He made one last call, and this one made him smile. Sometimes it was awesome to be rich. The most amazing things could be arranged without any notice at all. He hung up just as the armored SUV Etienne was driving him in today pulled into the parking garage below his penthouse.
He was impatient as he rode the elevator up. God, he was besotted with Zane. He couldn’t wait to see the guy.
Zane was there already, soaking in the hot tub on the terrace.
Sebastian strolled over to the hot tub, loving coming home to Zane lounging in it. He seemed more subdued than Sebastian would have expected after last night, though.
Personally, he was on top of the world today. He had never connected with any of his lovers like he’d connected with Zane. Physically—well, physically, they were dynamite together. And they fit together emotionally. He tended to be more serious and grounded, while Zane was dramatic and fun-loving. They balanced each other out.
And the sex had been fantastic. Zane seemed to know what he wanted to do almost before he did. Sebastian smiled. He never had been able to resist a dare. Zane might have pushed him to cut loose physically, but what had really cut loose were his feelings. He’d had no idea he had held them back so hard all these years. Today he felt like he could fly.
“So. What’s your news?” Zane blurted.
Sebastian smiled and added insatiable curiosity to the list of Zane’s lovable qualities. “They got prints from the vehicles that were at the handoff. The police think they’ll be able to arrest the Erebus men there.”
“And?” Zane asked, sounding confused.
“Once they’re in custody, the feds can lean on them. Get them to roll over on their bosses. Expose the remaining Erebus members. If the whole bunch of them end up in jail, you’ll be safe and this mess wi
ll be over.”
“Wow! That’s great! Join in the tub to celebrate?”
Lord, Zane was tempting. Sebastian sighed. “I’ve got a little work to do first. Rain check?”
“You’ve got it. Go make a few million dollars before dinner.”
Sebastian dug through emails in his office while Zane dozed, naked, in a chaise beside the pool. Every few minutes Sebastian looked up, taking in the sight of Zane lounging outside. And to think that handsome man had been all his for the taking. He was counting the hours until he could realistically ask to do it again. He didn’t want to fall on Zane like a starving wolf, but hunger for his lover gnawed at his gut until he could barely stand it.
He was saved by the doorbell. Please let that be the gift I ordered for Zane.
It was. Four young women wheeled in racks of clothing. “Put them over there, by the fireplace.” He stuck his head out the sliding glass door wall and called, “Zane, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
One of Zane’s eyes opened lazily.
“You’ll have to come inside to see it. And there are some women here.”
A towel wrapped around his hips, Zane strolled across the deck, looking every inch like a big cat on the prowl. Sebastian never got tired of watching that slinky catwalk.
When Zane stepped inside, Sebastian gestured at the racks of clothes. “Pick out everything you’d like.”
Zane spied the women and the designer clothing. “Hey, Jill. Katya. Good to see you both. I’m sorry, I don’t know you two.”
The other two design assistants introduced themselves quickly, and Zane flirted with them until they giggled. Then he turned to Sebastian. “Where did all this stuff come from?”
“I asked several designers to send over clothing for you. They all knew your measurements already, as it turns out.”
“I used to get around in this town,” Zane commented wryly.
“Choose. Anything you want,” Sebastian said eagerly.
A frown passed across Zane’s expressive features. Why wasn’t he thrilled? Zane knew high fashion like nobody else Sebastian had ever met. Jeez, if someone had offered him a designer wardrobe when he’d been broke, he’d have been out of his mind with delight.
“Can I speak to you in private for a minute?” Zane murmured.
Confused, Sebastian gestured at his office. They stepped inside, and Zane pushed the door shut.
“Why did you do this?” Zane asked.
“Because you need new clothes after all of yours were stolen. And,” he added, “I thought you would like it.”
“I don’t like feeling bought and paid for,” Zane snapped. “And I told you I already got some more clothes.”
“Bought and paid for? I never meant—”
“Regardless of what you meant, that’s how this makes me feel. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life that I’m not proud of, but I am not a whore. I don’t have sex with rich guys for money or gifts.”
“I never thought you did!” Sebastian exclaimed, aghast that this was where Zane’s thoughts had gone.
“I don’t want your clothes.”
“Zane, please,” he said reasonably. “You need them. You lost everything you owned when your bag was stolen. I want to do this for you. Consider it a thank-you for helping with the investigation.”
“I get what you’re saying. But I can’t accept them.”
He rolled his eyes at that. “Other people can’t have the pleasure of doing something nice for you if you won’t let them. Don’t deprive me of this happiness.”
“That’s a low blow,” Zane declared.
“I never said I fight fair.”
They glared at each other for several stubborn seconds.
“C’mon, Zane. Take the damned clothes as payment for helping out. I’ll even bill Wild Cards, Inc. for all of it if that makes you feel better.”
A long pause. Then, “That would make me feel better.”
“Done. And now that we’re doing this on Pere Cardiff’s dime, please—for me—choose everything out there.”
Zane grinned. “Is the guy loaded?”
“Makes me look middle-class.”
“Got it. Well, in that case, let’s go have a shopping spree.”
No way was he letting Pere foot the bill for this. But what Zane didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He would quietly reimburse Pere for whatever tab Zane ran up. And in the meantime, he would have to figure out a way to get Zane to accept future presents from him. He wanted to shower the guy in beautiful, elegant things.
Watching Zane shop was an experience. He assessed each piece with laser attention to detail, mercilessly discarding the inferior pieces for their poor lines or poor construction. Once he’d winnowed down the selection to only the finest pieces, he then began creating outfits and looks. The design assistants offered suggestions and advice, and he laughed and joked easily with them while they put together collections for various occasions and levels of formality and informality.
And then it was time for Zane to try everything on. He retreated to Sebastian’s bedroom with the first rack of clothes and emerged in a few minutes in a chic black-on-black suit that made him look like a fallen angel. He was so beautiful Sebastian could practically weep at the sight of him.
“Like it?” Zane asked him.
“Love it. Keep it,” Sebastian answered promptly.
“Done.”
Over the next hour, Zane emerged in several dozen ensembles. Sebastian was impressed at how decisive Zane was about the keepers and losers. As the girls hung up and racked the rejected clothes, Sebastian asked, “Have you ever considered designing your own clothes? You have a hell of an eye for fashion.”
“It’s one thing to see good lines. It’s another to create them.”
“Have you ever tried?”
Zane shook his head. “I confess I’ve thought about going to a design school, seeing if maybe I have what it takes. But until recently”—he gave a significant glance in the direction of the busy design assistants—“funds to pursue a formal fashion education were not forthcoming.”
“I think you’d be a natural at it. You’ve got the eye for it and an artistic sensibility,” Sebastian declared. “You should go for it.”
A thoughtful gleam entered Zane’s mint-green eyes. Sebastian would have offered to finance a line of clothing for him then and there if he didn’t think Zane would throw it back in his face. But as it was, he bit his tongue. He could make a few calls, though. Maybe to that Japanese guy who’d hung Zane upside down. Zane seemed to gravitate to clothes with a similar aesthetic to that particular designer.
Another hour was spent picking out socks, shoes, ties, scarves, sunglasses, and even cuff links to go with the new wardrobe. Hilarity ensued as Zane picked out underwear from the selection that had been provided, modeling it over his clothes and, in a few cases, over his head. Who knew men’s bikini briefs were so perfectly proportioned to be earmuffs?
At long last, the girls and their racks vacated the penthouse, leaving him and Zane alone.
“Thank you for going along with that,” Sebastian said quietly.
“Thank you for arranging it.”
“My pleasure.” And he meant that.
Zane moved over to the fourteen-foot-tall glass wall to gaze pensively at the skyline turning rosy with sunset. Although Sebastian would love to know what Zane was thinking about, instead he said, “Would you mind indulging me on one thing if I swear it doesn’t involve taking monetary gifts from me?”
Zane turned around to face him. “What’s that?”
“Have dinner with me on the terrace.”
For an instant Zane’s expression was stubborn. But then he said graciously, “It would be my pleasure. How formal is the attire for this meal?”
Sebastian laughed. “After the education I got today on the nuances of formality in clothing, I leave that entirely to your discretion. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the kitchen now.”
“You’re going
to cook?” Zane exclaimed.
He turned back, frowning. “Well, yes. How else does dinner get prepared?”
“I call for takeout and food fairies make it magically appear at my door.”
Sebastian grinned widely. “Dammit, you busted me. I’m actually a food fairy.”
“Ha. I knew it! Want some help?”
“Do you know anything at all about cooking?” Sebastian asked.
“You saw my entire culinary repertoire when I made fried bacon and scrambled eggs for you. Does that answer your question?”
“Check. No tricky cooking assignments for you. How are you with washing dishes?”
“You can do that?” Zane exclaimed.
They retreated into the kitchen, laughing.
He let Zane chop a head of romaine lettuce for a salad but took the knife from him when Zane nearly amputated his own finger trying to slice a tomato. Sebastian pointed with the tip of the knife at a barstool. “You. Sit there. And don’t get in my way. I’m armed and dangerous, got it?”
“Ooh. The badass commando has a knife.”
Sebastian couldn’t resist showing off. He finished slicing the offending tomato and then flicked his wrist, throwing the knife across the kitchen to stick in the butcher-block backsplash behind the sink.
“Shit!” Zane exclaimed as the knife flashed past his face.
“Never fear. It didn’t come within three feet of you.” Sebastian strolled over to the sink and rocked the knife handle, freeing it from the oak wood, and dropped it in the sink.
“You expect a lot of trust out of the people around you, don’t you?” Zane asked.
He turned. That didn’t sound like light banter. He answered in a similarly serious vein. “Yeah. I guess I do. I live as honorably as I can, and I expect my friends to believe in that. To believe in me.”
Zane nodded slowly at him. “I think I believe in you.”
“Thanks for the ringing vote of confidence. I’m so glad we got that straight after we had sex.”
Zane hopped off the stool and came over to him, wrapping Sebastian in an embrace before he could decide whether or not to dodge it. “I follow my heart, Sebastian. You felt right to me, so I went with the moment. I’m following my heart again now. It’s telling me you don’t mean to be a rich control freak and that you really are trying to be a decent guy.”
