Brody snorted. “Don’t mind a Fed. Right.” Then, to Claudia, “What you want with me now? And why bring this guy in here? You trying to bully me again and—”
“I think you know what I want.” Claudia sat. “Why didn’t you show up at our meeting, Brody?”
He shrugged. “Changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Not a crime to change my mind, is it?”
“I didn’t say it was, I just asked a simple question.”
“I don’t have to answer any questions. I know my rights.”
“I’m not a cop, remember? I’m not here to charge you with anything. I don’t have the authority for that.”
Brody inclined his head toward Vincent. “He does.”
“But he’s not here investigating you, either. He’s here so that I can be here, asking questions. Not a cop, and not a lawyer, see?” She sighed and leaned across the table toward him, trying to breathe through her mouth. “Brody, like I said the last time, let’s just cut to the chase, okay? You didn’t intend to show up, did you? How much did they pay you to lure me out into the open so they could get a good look at me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The night Little Otis was arrested for assault, you were down by Champion and Stone meeting with the woman who had the box. It wasn’t an accidental encounter at all. Was it a business deal, or were you already planning on setting me up?”
Brody laughed. “That’s some imagination you got. You should write books.”
Claudia glanced at Vincent. “Brody, the women ripping off galleries—you know who they are, and I want you to tell me their names. I already assured you I’m not going to cause you any trouble over this, and Special Agent DeLuca is currently inclined to agree with me. However, these two women have shown a disturbing interest in Mr. DeLuca, and by not talking to me, you’re endangering the safety of a federal law enforcement agent. I guarantee that if anything happens to Mr. DeLuca, the FBI will come after you. Unfortunately for you, I’ll have gotten to you first.”
She sat back, crossing her legs and smiling. “You see, I’m not a cop. What I am is kinda like a mercenary. You know what mercenaries do, right? You’re small-time, Brody. You don’t want to get tangled up in something that involves the FBI. You know the people you work for won’t like that.”
After a furtive glance at Vincent, Brody slumped back in his chair. “Fuck no, that ain’t my kind of trouble. If I talk, you promise you won’t get me arrested for any of this?”
“I promise.”
“And him?” Brody tipped his head toward Vincent.
“If you cooperate, I’m inclined to let it go this time,” he said.
It wasn’t a straight yes-or-no answer, and Claudia watched Brody as he weighed his options. Several minutes passed before he repeated, “Not my kind of trouble. Yeah, I know these girls. I know their names, know what they’re doing, and I know why they’re interested in him.”
“Smart move, Brody,” Claudia said approvingly as she pulled a legal pad from her bag and clicked open her pen. “Let’s start with the basics. Is it just the two of them, or are there more?”
“Just two that I know of.”
“Names?”
“One’s called Shai Lewis. She’s tall, has light hair cut short like a man’s. The other one’s Candy Bartowski.”
“Okay, so we’ve got Shai Lewis and Candy Bartowski. They’re stealing lots of little bits and pieces, mostly from art galleries and antiques stores. What do you know about that?” Claudia asked.
“I know these girls like you know friends of a friend of a friend, that’s all. They asked me to help ’em find buyers if they could provide a steady supply of merchandise. I expressed an interest, as long as they weren’t stupid about it. Part of what I do is to make sure nothing causes trouble for the people who pay me, understand? To move that kind of product, in that market, you have to go through me first.”
“You work for the mob.” Claudia looked up from her notepad. “I know organized crime makes a fortune on stolen art, because that’s my job. Let’s get to why they’re so interested in Mr. DeLuca.”
“Well, first off, they wanted to sell because they needed money for a good lawyer to get Shai’s brother out of jail. They were short on time, since your Mr. DeLuca over there was working on putting the brother, and a couple of his buddies, in prison for ripping off a bunch of antiques in Chicago and selling them here and over in Jersey for twice what they were worth.”
Claudia glanced at Vincent, catching his frown.
“But things didn’t happen fast enough, and the judge sentenced the brother, who’s also Candy’s boyfriend, to twelve up at Rockview,” Brody continued.
“The brother’s name?” Claudia asked, but it was Vincent who answered.
“Johnny Lewis. I remember the case. Straightforward theft and fence. I didn’t even have to testify at the trial.”
“Yeah, petty shit like that ain’t worth your time, right? Too bad for you that Johnny’s sister and his girl don’t see it that way,” Brody retorted.
In the heavy silence that followed, Claudia stared at Vincent. “I knew it,” she said tersely. “I knew it was more serious than some stupid game, Vincent. They want revenge.”
Vincent turned to Brody. “Did you set up a meeting with Ms. Cruz so that Lewis and Bartowski could then identify her?”
Brody shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t like how things were playing out. Too hot for me, and I figured if all of you were mixing it up, nobody would be bothering with me. If they’re stupid enough to fuck with FBI agents, I want none of their business. I mean that.”
“Does this also mean there were no business transactions, as you call them, between the three of you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re sure about that? Because if you’re lying, all promises are off.”
“I’m sure. We’d been talking, negotiating details and all that, but then Johnny got his ass sent up to Rockview, and that was the last I’d heard from them until a few weeks ago.”
“So why didn’t you move anything for them?”
Brody didn’t answer right away. “My associates, they keep me around because I make the business easier for them. I keep out the troublemakers and those who don’t take the work seriously. I shake out the good from the bad. It also has to be worth my time. I wasn’t convinced they were worth my time, but I was willing to give ’em a chance. Just because they were in a hurry don’t mean I was in a hurry. I told ’em to stop fucking around with all that little crap and get me a big sale to work with. The Greek piece, that had potential. Too bad they didn’t go for it earlier.”
“You think selling it would’ve given them enough money to get Mr. Lewis off the hook?”
“Doubt it, but that wasn’t my problem. They had a window of opportunity and blew it. When they told me they were going after the Fed over there, that’s when I knew it was time to cut ’em loose. And that’s it. Nothing more to say.”
Claudia put down her pen. “All right. You answered most of my questions. I don’t suppose you know where they’re keeping their merchandise? Or where they’re staying?”
“No idea. They kept giving me different addresses and phone numbers.” Brody grinned unpleasantly. “I don’t think they trust me.”
“Imagine that,” Claudia drawled. “Okay, how about giving me the addresses they gave you, if you can remember. Phone numbers, too.”
Brody could remember only two hotel names, no room numbers. Claudia knew Vincent would check the leads out, even if they would prove to be of little help.
“I think we’re done here,” she said, standing. “Unless there’s something else burdening your soul that you feel a need to share?”
“After you go, I don’t see you ever again, right? That’s the deal?”
“That’s the deal, Brody. I seriously hope to never see your sorry ass again.”
“That’s a promise? You made a promise.”
She gave a dramatic sigh. “Pinkie-swear, I promise it.”
As she headed for the door, Brody asked, “And you?”
“Me?” Vincent said. “I never made any promises, asshole.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“I don’t like this. At all.” Claudia snapped her seat belt buckle with more force than necessary.
“I know.”
Vincent started the car, its engine rumbling louder in the confines of the ramp where they’d parked, and wished he knew how to make her believe once and for all that she didn’t need to worry. But in all fairness, if their positions were reversed, he knew he’d be acting the same way.
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“For starters, I’m going to make a few calls before everyone heads home for the day.”
He called his office first, relaying the information they’d learned, asking the agent on the other end to pull up whatever she could find on the two women. Then he called his police liaison, Matherson, and repeated everything to voice mail since the detective didn’t answer.
Then he got back on the phone to his office. “Hi, Annie, it’s me again. I forgot to ask if you could call the warden over at Rockview for me. Let him know that I’d like him to get in touch with me at the office tomorrow morning, or as soon as possible, and that I’ll need to have a long talk with an inmate named John Adam Lewis, who began serving his sentence back in April.”
After he’d disconnected, Vincent shifted toward Claudia and wasn’t surprised to find her watching him with a frown.
“That’s it? Vincent, these two women are not—”
“I’ve done my part,” he interrupted, his tone terse. “Now it’s up to the police to do theirs. We have names, and we’ll soon have decent photo IDs. It’s over for them, Claudia. If these women are still in the area, it’s only a matter of time before the cops pick them up. Until then, I promise to be even more cautious than usual. That’s going to have to be good enough for you.”
Her expression, even her body language, reflected the struggle to back off and trust him. “This is hard for me, okay? I don’t usually work with a partner, and we’ve that going here, among other things. And you’re not used to living with this kind of trouble. I don’t mean to imply you’re not strong enough or brave enough, or any of that crap,” she said, staring straight ahead at the concrete wall rather than at him. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do or think.”
Vincent took a deep breath to steady his temper. “Maybe I don’t face high-risk situations on a regular basis, but I am a trained FBI agent, not some car salesman or tax accountant.”
At that, she met his gaze, then reached over hesitantly and brushed her fingers along his face. “It’s just that I want to be here, for you, and it feels like a betrayal to get on that plane again.”
Vincent squeezed her hand, smiling faintly. “Isn’t that laying it on a little thick? It’s not a betrayal, it’s your job. You need to go back to your assignment, and I need to get busy with my own caseload.”
“True.” She looked away again. “People are depending on me . . . not to mention paying me. Still, I’ll feel so much better when those two are locked up.”
Her cell phone chirped, and she pulled it from her pocket, checked the number, and grimaced. “Uh-oh. Sorry, I have to take this one. It’s Ben.”
Vincent had already guessed as much from the flash of alarm in her eyes.
“No, no, Ben, you’re right . . . I’m not in Dallas at the moment. I’ll be there soon.” A pause. “No, soon as in tomorrow. I’m in Philadelphia, and I—”
Vincent frowned. While he couldn’t clearly hear every word, Sheridan’s tone of voice left no doubt about his displeasure. It was bad enough getting chewed out by your boss, even worse when it happened in front of your boyfriend.
Claudia concisely explained why she’d come back, and while it seemed perfectly reasonable to Vincent, Sheridan must’ve felt otherwise.
“It is important information, and now we know—Yes, yes, I agree the locals can handle it from this point, but—”
Sheridan cut her off again, and she glanced at Vincent, frowning. “I’ve already made plans to fly out first thing tomorrow. I have both situations under control. I can take care of me. You just take care of that other problem. Right. I understand.” She glanced at Vincent again. “Yes. Okay. Bye.”
She tossed the phone on the seat beside her. “I hate it when he yells at me. It makes me feel like when I was a little kid and got caught doing something wrong and my mom and dad would look so disappointed. I don’t know how he does that. I mean, he doesn’t even have any kids to practice on! And I have no idea how he knew you were with me. It creeps me out sometimes, that he always knows.”
Not sure what to say, Vincent put the car in gear, backed out of the parking stall, and headed for the exit.
“He told me I’m off the case,” Claudia said once they were on the street, her voice still tight with anger. “It’s the Art Squad’s from here on out.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s right. You’ve been a lot of help to me, but there’s not much you can do from here on out.”
“I know, I know!”
Vincent drove through city traffic, keeping quiet and letting her temper cool. When he thought she looked calmer, he said, “So, where are we going? I could drive around Philly for the rest of the day, but seems to me we could make better use of our time.”
“I’m still really mad. For the record.”
“I see that.”
“I’m mad at me, at Ben, at you, at pretty much everything.” She nodded. “Yessiree, a genuine hissy fit.”
He suppressed the urge to laugh. “And is it making you feel any better?”
“No. All it’s doing is getting me all worked up and frustrated.” She scowled. “Sex might help with that.”
His body eagerly agreed. “Anger sex, huh? Could be fun.”
She smiled ruefully. “No matter what I throw at you, you take it, and somehow turn it around and make it better. You’re way too good for me.”
“That’s debatable.” Vincent switched lanes and headed toward his place. “I heard you say there’s trouble. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“Oh, it’s trouble, all right. You’ll love this.” Claudia turned to him, and he didn’t miss the glint of ironic humor in her dark eyes. “Ben’s in London because von Lahr’s popped up there.”
“London? That’s pretty damn ballsy. What’s von Lahr done now?”
“I didn’t get all the details, but apparently he ran into Will Tiernay, there was something about yelling ‘Bomb!’ in a crowded department store, Tiernay got busted by the locals, and von Lahr slipped away.”
“I’m beginning to understand why you people hate this guy so much.”
“The kicker isn’t so much that he got away—we’ve gotten kinda used to that part—but that he ran off with Vanessa Sharpton. Remember her?”
“The woman you people blew up in Boston four months ago?”
“Guess we didn’t blow her up as much as we thought.”
“That’s not good news?”
“Not sure. Get back with me on that one later.”
Vincent grinned. “Well, it’s good news that Sheridan’s in another country. He’s less likely to call while I’m stripping off your clothes and then getting down to business on your smokin’ hot body.”
Grinning back, she pulled out her cell phone and pointedly turned it off.
The ride home passed in record time. Vincent barely made it inside before he was locking the door with one hand and unbuttoning her shirt with the other. Claudia quickly unbuckled his belt and slid down his zipper while kissing him, hungry and demanding and insistent.
With a groan, he lifted her up, spun, and braced her against his front door. In seconds, he’d sunk himself in her slick, welcoming flesh, shuddering from the near painful pleasure of her inner muscles tightening around him as he started thrusting.
> No control this time. He couldn’t hold back, already poised on the edge of release while she made high, gasping moans of pleasure as his body slammed against hers. He came fast with a low growl of pleasure and felt her follow, leaving them both shuddering. Vincent tightened his grip, keeping her from sliding down the door, and met her gaze.
“If we keep up this kind of pace,” he said, still breathing hard, “I think it’s gonna kill us.”
“Or you’ll need to get a stronger front door.”
He laughed. “Feeling better?”
“Oh, yes.” She licked her lips. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
“How about we . . . try to get to the bed next time?”
“Okay. But just in case, you ever do it on the stairs?”
Lying in his bed with Claudia curled against him, Vincent began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the pleasant, regular sensation of her fingers lightly caressing his chest and the satisfying weight of warm, naked female skin pressed against his own.
“So what do you think they want from you?”
At her soft question, he opened his eyes. It was late, the room dark, and whenever the air conditioner cycled off, he could hear crickets chirping outside and the sound of passing cars.
“I have no idea,” he said at length. “Maybe revenge of some sort, like you said.”
“But in what way? I’m not getting a feel for what they’re trying to accomplish beyond annoying the crap out of you.”
“If that’s the extent of it, they’ve succeeded.” Even dog-tired and distracted by Claudia’s nearness, he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. “If what Brody told us is true, a symbolic ‘fuck you’ was likely part of it. Mostly, they needed to make a lot of money fast and only knew of one way to do that. I bet we’ll find out they learned a few tricks from Johnny Lewis about ripping off art.”
“Maybe they were even involved in some of the thefts he pulled off.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”
“I kinda have to give them credit for the sheer nerve of stealing art to raise enough money to buy a lawyer in order to clear a guy on charges of art theft.”
Her Last Chance Page 21
