Nights with a Thief

by Marilyn Pappano

  “Told you so. I’ll make you another—”

  “This is fine.” She waved him back and took another sip of the coffee-flavored drink for people who wanted the taste but not the full impact. After her day, she needed the whole big boom. “I want to ask you about something you said.”

  His brow furrowed, his eyes raising to the ceiling as if he was trying to remember all the many things he’d said. She cut him a break and asked outright, “What spirits?”

  “Oh.” He kicked off his shoes and stretched his feet out at a right angle to hers. “Maybe I should have asked how you feel about ghosts before I brought you onto the plane.”

  “Your island is haunted?”

  “From the beginning. The saints were bloodthirsty pirates. People died, and some of them, apparently, didn’t want to go into the light.”

  Marley had told her a few stories of restless spirits wandering the island, souls who couldn’t or wouldn’t settle. It had made sense to Lisette that something remained when a person passed, far more sense than the idea that a person died and everything about him just blinked into nothingness, like the light that simply vanished when a bulb was shut off.

  As a kid, she’d loved the ghost stories, huddling in bed at her mother’s side and pleading for more. As an adult, she’d never given any real thought to ghosts until the first time Marley appeared in her head. At first, she’d thought she was so grief-stricken that she was imagining her mother’s voice, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  Could her father’s spirit remain on the island? He’d died in the ocean but not so far from land that his soul couldn’t have found its way back. Could he have been waiting there all these years, hoping for Marley to return, longing for one look at his baby girl, one last look at his wife?

  Her mother chose to remain silent on the subject. Her spirit was no different from the woman she’d been: wise, worried and more stubborn than any dozen mules.

  Lisette moved from the chair to the end of the sofa opposite Jack. “What kind of things do your ghosts do?”

  “Eh, we hear them sometimes at night, singing. People have seen lights moving through the jungle. A few employees have reported late-night encounters with what they believe are spirits.” Jack turned so they faced each other, two good-sized cushions between them. “The creepiest part is the watching. It doesn’t matter what time of day or night. There are always places where I know someone is watching me. It’s kind of freaky.”

  Lisette had a vague fear that anyone who watched her long enough might get a glimpse of her true selves, every one of them. The idea of ghostly spies in the middle of the day on a sunny, bright, paradise-perfect island raised goose bumps along her arms and neck. “I assume your family organized search parties to make sure no one had taken up residence on that end of the island.”

  “Oh, yeah, more times than anyone counted. They hiked in from the south and anchored small boats off the coast and swam to the rocks. Simon’s dad put the helicopter up, flying at treetop level. I don’t think anyone ever managed to explore all of it because—well, you’ll see. But no one ever found any sign of life besides the creatures that belong there, and the incidents have continued, like I said, for three hundred years.”

  Jack stretched his arm along the back of the couch. If she did the same with hers, their fingers wouldn’t touch, but they’d be close. He could scoot forward...or she could, until they made contact. In fact, if she turned around and kicked off her shoes, she was pretty sure she could slide right over next to him, and he would wrap that arm around her, holding her as close as she wanted to be.

  All the little goose bumps created by otherworldly promise combined into a giant bump of anticipation that made her shiver.

  “You’re not afraid of three-hundred-year-old singing ghosts, are you?”

  Not afraid...though wouldn’t it be incredible if the ghosts could be held responsible for Le Mystère’s disappearance? If she didn’t have to betray him? But it was a long way from their harmless actions to stealing a priceless statue.

  Carefully she eased one ankle-high boot off, then toed off the other and bent her knees, bringing her feet onto the couch. “They can’t possibly be as creepy as Candalaria. Can you imagine him and his guys singing?”

  “Aw, they might surprise you. They could be the world’s oldest boy band.”

  “That’s even scarier,” she said with a laugh.

  A long moment passed, still and quiet. Her brain was engaged in the ongoing process of making real all that had happened, along with the fact that she was on her way to her parents’ ancestral home. Tomorrow she would walk where they’d walked, would see where they met, grew up and fell in love—the place where she was created. The knowledge humbled her, scared her and even, because of her intentions when she got there, repulsed her.

  But she had no choice. As she’d pointed out earlier, her life’s path had been decided before her birth. All she could hope for now was to survive it.

  Chapter 9

  It was 2:00 a.m. Denver time when the helicopter set down a few hundred yards from the Toussaint house. Jack had been holding up pretty well, landing in Santo Domingo and shopping for a tropical wardrobe for the women, but now he was exhausted. The rest of the island had been dark when they’d flown over, making the lights around the house and the landing pad a cluster of brilliance surrounded by velvety black.

  “Wow,” Lisette murmured, and Padma echoed it half a breath later.

  Jack felt that way himself every time he came home. Lush green grass, an abundance of flowers, towering palms and the house itself awed most people. He wondered what it was like seeing them for the very first time and regretted they couldn’t have scheduled their arrival for morning when everything was in its best light.

  Including them. They would make great targets in morning light.

  A small welcome committee waited along the sidewalk: Simon and Toinette, his right hand. Eduardo, who thought he ran the household, and Marisol, who really did, and Ali, the head of security. His sidearm wasn’t as noticeable as the automatic weapons carried by the guards around the landing pad. Everyone was sharp-dressed and alert, as if getting pulled from their beds in the middle of the night was a normal occurrence.

  “Are you ladies as eager to get some sleep as I am?”

  “Actually, I’m pretty much ready to start my day,” Padma replied, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her grin was infectious; sadly, her energy wasn’t.

  “That’s because you slept all the way here.” This time Lisette actually sounded cranky. She’d fallen asleep while they’d talked, so he’d shut off the television, and with a bit more finesse than she’d shown Padma, gotten her stretched out on the couch. After dimming the lights in the rear of the cabin, he’d settled up front to make some phone calls.

  “She’s grouchy when she doesn’t get her eight hours,” Padma teased. “Let’s grab our stuff and get moving.”

  When both of them turned to the helicopter, Jack turned them back toward their host. “The guys will bring your bags. Come meet Simon and the others.”

  Tension streaked through them, evidenced by the tightening of their muscles beneath his fingers. They’d been familiar with him before they’d met him. Had they also Googled his friend and been intimidated by his internet presence?

  The thought made him smile. Simon was a tough businessman and a fierce negotiator who didn’t tolerate incompetence or weakness. As far as business went, yeah, he was a shark and could scare powerful people with nothing more than a scowl. In his personal life, he was far less threatening. Usually.

  “Any problems?” Simon asked.

  “They missed us by about sixty seconds at the airport, but the flight was uneventful.” Except that he’d gotten to kiss Lisette. He didn’t think that would impress Simon, though. He made the introductions, his gaze straying a time o
r two to the lights in the east that marked his house. Marisol would have made sure it was dusted and aired out, the clothing he kept there would have been laundered, and there would be fresh linens on the bed. Incredibly soft sheets. His favorite pillow. The open windows stirring a breeze that would make the gauzy curtains dance.

  Suddenly he was so tired, he could barely focus on the conversation.

  “Lisette, Padma, we’ve prepared rooms for you in the main house,” Toinette said, her words heavily accented thanks to her upbringing in a French and Spanish home. “Let’s get you settled. If you’re hungry, we’re happy to provide you with food. Otherwise, I think what you probably want most is your bed.” Her gaze shifted to Padma, still too energetic by far. “Well, maybe not you. Come along, please, and Marisol and I will show you the way.”

  Padma and Toinette took a few steps, but Lisette hung back, looking at Jack. They hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements on the plane. He would like to think she was hesitant to let him out of her sight because she felt safe with him. More likely she was reluctant to go off with people she’d known two whole minutes without knowing where the only familiar face would be.

  “Where are you staying?” She didn’t sound nervous or insecure or saddened at seeing him go—merely asking for information in that business-as-usual way of hers. So much for his ego.

  “That’s my house over there.” He pointed out the two lights on his front porch, then the curving line of dimmer lights that lit the path between the two houses. “If you need anything, I’m number two on the autodial on the phone system.”

  “Sorry, Jack,” Toinette said. “You’ve been gone a while. You’re number three now. I’m number two.” With a laugh, she swept them along toward the house, gathering Marisol while Eduardo went to supervise the luggage retrieval. Marisol was beaming when they turned the corner out of sight. Nothing made her happier than to fuss over good guests, and Lisette and Padma would be the best.

  “They’ll be calling her Maman by morning.” In the night, Simon sounded hard, stern, as if he’d never smiled in his life. But there was definite affection for the housekeeper who’d mothered them at least as much as their own mothers had. “Are you hungry?”

  “No. Ryne had time to hit the market before we took off.”

  Simon had begun moving, and Jack followed, not realizing until they reached the pool that they were heading for his cottage. “You got a call from a woman named Rory. She said Candalaria thought it incredibly rude of you to stand him up, and he pitched a right little fit. He told his guards to find the girls no matter what and make you sorry for involving them in this. He also promised no good would come to you.”

  Jack was pretty sure Simon could have delivered that news in a tone that made it sound much less menacing. Sometimes Simon thought menace was required to make him take something seriously. Well, he was taking this seriously.

  Mostly. “Do you think that means I’m off his Christmas list?”

  “If you can get in this much trouble when you’re innocent, how the hell do you stay alive when you’re guilty?”

  Jack grinned. “It’s a talent. Honestly, who knew this would be the incident that would drive David over the edge? He’s had so many other chances to go stark raving. I didn’t expect this one to cause it.”

  Simon shrugged. “You never betrayed his friendship before.”

  “We never had a friendship to betray.”

  “No, but you usually treated him well. You didn’t exclude him as obviously as most people did. You were friendly, and he read more into it than there really was. Then you accepted an invitation into his home and stole his treasure.”

  “That he’d stolen in the first place.”

  Simon, several inches taller than Jack, gazed down at him. “Never thought I’d ever say this, but you’re being too logical. Candalaria paid money, and in return he got the painting. It doesn’t matter that he paid a thief and not the owner. In his mind, it’s now his. And you took it. At least, he thinks you did. So you not only stole his newest treasure, but you spat on his hospitality, betrayed his friendship to do it and ruined the opening of his grandest exhibit ever.”

  Jack breathed deeply, inhaling the scents of grass, flowers, salt and sea. He’d been gone too long this time, but the usual peace was starting to seep into his bones despite all the distractions. “You’re probably right.”

  Up ahead, a creature rustled in the bushes, heavy panting breaking the quiet. Tension streaked through Jack, but Simon didn’t seem disturbed by the sound. An instant later, the varmint burst through the bushes and ran to them, a streak of fuzzy yellow.

  “That’s Sneezy.” Simon picked up the puppy and scratched his chin. “The kids named him.”

  “You let them name him Sneezy? Poor little guy.”

  “Hey, I stopped them from calling you Wheezy that time you came running home full-tilt from your last visit to the north side.” Simon set the dog on the path again and murmured, “At least, to your face.”

  “You left me there. You took me out, got me turned around and lost, then left me. In the dark. With the ghosts. Damn right I was wheezing by the time I made it back. I was running for my life!”

  “Five years, and you’re still whining about it.” Simon pulled a set of keys from his pocket, climbed the steps to the veranda and unlocked the front door, leaving the keys in the lock. He shut off the alarm before stepping back outside. “Get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “No one better call me Wheezy.”

  “Nah, I thought we’d concentrate on our real problems, starting with the fact that a sociopathic billionaire is really pissed off at you and may follow you here.”

  “And the other?”

  “You brought the infamous Bella Donna to stay amid our own treasures.”

  Just for an instant, the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck prickled, but just as quickly he shook it off. “Is anything in our collections stolen?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s safe. Lisette only steals back stolen items to return to their legal owners, plus a few bits and bobs to cover their expenses. Nothing’s in danger here.”

  “Except you, her, her friend and everybody on the island.”

  Jack hesitated, then carefully asked, “Do you want me to take them someplace else?”

  “Of course not. I’ll put our people up against Candalaria’s any time.” Simon pushed his hands into his pants pockets and took the steps two at a time. “Go to sleep. You’ve got company to entertain and a problem to start working out tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Despite her late night, Lisette woke up shortly after eight. Her brain was fuzzy, full of memories and dreams half-formed. She would have given a lot to go back to sleep, but the voices inside her had had enough quiet. They had things to do, they shrieked, and they wanted to do them right now.

  She winced, squeezing her eyes tight. Why did all the little voices in her head sound like Padma?

  A wonderful, fresh, steamy aroma floated on the air, drifting straight to Lisette’s nose. Her first breath was curious, the second invigorating. It actually made her mouth water and effortlessly dissipated the fog around her brain. Shoving her hair back, she opened her eyes, saw a large mug of coffee and reached toward it greedily, dimly noticing it was Padma tempting her. Then she let her gaze stray from the mug, noting the size of the room, the three walls of French doors with ocean views and the elegance of the furnishings, and her eyes widened. “Île des Deux Saints!”

  Padma laughed. “It sounds like a curse when you say it that way. Sacré bleu! Île des Deux Saints!”

  Lisette scowled. “I’m still half asleep. Don’t be mean to me.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. I was about to move on to plan G—throw a bucket of water over you. Nothing else has worked.” Padma picked up her own coffee. “Did yo
u know they have their own coffee blends? You’re getting Jack’s this morning. I’m trying Aunt Gloria’s, since she’s my hero. Come on, get out of bed. Put some clothes on and let’s get downstairs. Maman made a special breakfast for us.”

  Wishing for more energy and fewer aches, Lisette managed to get her feet from the mattress to the woven rug on the floor, but it took several more sips of Jack’s bold, stimulating and surprisingly complex coffee to get her to stand and walk to the bathroom. Padma was dressed in one of her new outfits—yellow shorts, a white shirt—and she was already rummaging through Lisette’s closet.

  “Shorts, please,” Lisette requested before she closed the bathroom door. She took care of business, swallowed two headache tablets and was wondering what to do with her hair short of calling for a pair of scissors when Padma came in, hiding behind two hanging garments.

  “Those aren’t shorts. Why do you get extreme comfort and I get a girly outfit in colors bright enough to wake the dead?”

  “When a place is haunted, I doubt it takes much to wake the dead. Besides, every piece of clothing you wear should make Charming want to take it off. This outfit is gorgeous and bright and should pretty much seduce everyone.”

  “I don’t want to seduce everyone.”

  “You want to seduce Simon into giving you access to their art collections. You want to seduce Toinette into being available for help if we need it. You want to seduce Eduardo into telling you everything he knows about the island. You want to seduce Maman into keeping you well-fed.” Padma counted on her fingers while she talked. Now she faked an astonished look. “Oh, look, there’s still one left. Who is it, who is... Oh, yeah, you want to seduce Jack right out of his clothes and into your majorly comfortable bed.

  “Remember what the shop owners said last night? ‘Consider it the price of admission for Jack. He gets to see you in the clothes, and maybe take you out of them, too, eh?’” Laughing, she thrust the clothes at Lisette. “I’ll get my hair stuff so we can do something with yours. Get dressed. My stomach’s growling.”