by Cassie Miles
“Not like Spectrum.”
“No. Never.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “You’ve got to believe me.”
“Then why? Why, Tasha? Why have you agreed to work with these people?”
She exhaled a ragged sigh. “Don’t you understand? Can’t you guess?”
“You want the rubies,” he said.
“No.” With a violent effort, she wrenched free from his grasp. Her breath heaved in her breast. “You might have read Green’s record, but you have no idea of what it’s like to look into his eyes. He’s the soul of darkness. There’s no light of compassion or humanity. None at all.”
“Then whey are you going along with him?”
“If I don’t cooperate, if I say one word to anyone—the police or Henning or even you—Green will kill me.”
Chapter Nine
Her cheeks colored with two bright spots. Her dark eyes flared with inner fire. As David stared at her, he saw beyond her slender beauty to the passionate rage within, an anger that was fueled by terror. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point.
In so many ways, she was as fine and hard as a diamond, created by intense pressure. Her razor-edged determination could cut through almost any obstacle. And yet, the inner woman was as delicate as a rosebud—easily crushed, thoughtlessly broken, unable to flourish without nurturing. The stone and the flower. She was both.
Despite her wiry defiance, she trembled like petals in the wind.
“Is that what you wanted to hear, David?”
“I wanted the truth.”
“There you have it. If I don’t do everything he says, Green will hurt me in ways I can’t even imagine.”
David cursed himself for not figuring out the simple explanation for her silence. Tasha had to cooperate. If she didn’t, Green would kill her. “You could have told me,” he said. “I would have understood.”
“Would you? It’s still theft. It’s still wrong.” She looked him straight in the eye. “You want to go to the police.”
“That’s right. I don’t see any other way,” he said. “The police can protect you.”
“Get real, David.” She pointed at the photo of Green on her desktop. “Read the record. This monster has gotten away with assault. He’s been a mercenary. He’s tortured and killed. And he’s not in jail.”
“I know, but—”
“Did you hear me? He’s not in jail. He’s out on the street, free as the night. If I went to the cops and told them that Green was plotting a theft, what could they do?”
“Arrest him.”
“For how long? Twenty-four hours? Green has money. He’d have a lawyer. He’d be out on bail. Even if the police could hold him for a week, he’d get out. And he would come after me.”
In the back of his mind, David knew she was right. “I’d protect you.”
“Imagine my relief!” Her sarcasm stung. “You’ll be gone in less than two weeks. Remember? You’re only hired to protect me for two weeks.”
“Okay, suppose we don’t go to the police. Even if you do as Green asks, what’s to prevent him from killing you after they have the rubies?”
“I’ll have a better chance. Cerise might be able to control him.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, David, who am I fooling? I can’t believe a word that Green says. He’s a sadist. A murderer. I’d rather trust a coiled rattlesnake, but what choice do I have?”
“I’ve got another idea.” He picked up the photo of Green and the report from Interpol. Deliberately, he ripped the papers in half, then ripped again and again until they were torn to confetti. He allowed the scraps to drift through his fingers into the wastebasket beside the desk. “Eliminate Green.”
A frightened gasp escaped her lips. “Murder? David, you can’t mean that you’d kill him.”
“No.” Though the idea was tempting, David wasn’t an executioner. “But we can make damned sure that there’s enough evidence to convict him. Have you ever heard of a sting?”
“A setup,” she said. “Where I would play along with Spectrum, do everything they say, and the police would rush in at the last minute and arrest the gang.”
He nodded. “Ill be here in the shop with you during the day. At night, I won’t leave you alone.”
She considered for a moment before shaking her head. “I won’t do this with the police. Spectrum has a lot of money for bribes.”
“Why would they think of bribes? They contacted you.”
“One of the cops could go to them, offer to sell information. Or someone could make a simple mistake, something that would alert Green. It won’t work.”
“But we could—”
“No. If you talk to the cops, I’m gone. I’ll go to the airport and catch the first plane to the farthest location. I’ll have plastic surgery. Change my name. Become a different person. Start over.”
“I could arrange for private cops. Professionals. People we could trust.”
“Like Jenson?”
Jenson was a potbellied bad example and David knew it. But could he do better? They couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. An error could cost Tasha her life.
“Forget it,” she said. “There’s a reason that Green hasn’t been in jail. He’s very good at what he does. He slithers in and out of my life whenever he wants. Like an apparition. A horrible nightmare. Do you know why he broke Jenson’s wrist? To teach me a lesson. So I could hear the snap of bone and imagine what it would feel like. Last night, after you dropped me off, he was waiting in my apartment.”
“The cuts on your legs?”
“He shattered two vases at my feet. The splinters of glass cut me.”
Bastard! If ever a man needed killing, it was Green.
“David, you’ve got to promise me that you won’t go to the police.”
A ragged edge of desperation serrated her voice, and he realized how much courage it had taken for her to trust him. By telling him, she literally placed her life in his hands. “I won’t betray you, Tasha.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze slid away from his face. “Although I wouldn’t blame you if you left right now.”
“Hell, no. I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let you face this alone.”
Her lips parted, but before she could object, he placed his finger crosswise on her mouth. “I’m staying, Tasha. With or without the police. We’re in this together.”
She caught his wrist in her hand. Her grip-was surprisingly strong. “Because it’s your job?”
“I’m here because I care about you.”
“Oh, David.”
The tears she had been fighting welled up behind her eyelids. She was nearly overcome. Finally, someone was on her side for all the right reasons. She had to turn away from him before she started blubbering like a pathetic fool.
David held her shoulders. His touch was exquisitely kind. “What’s next, Tasha?”
Swabbing the mist from her eyes, she checked her wristwatch. “I’m supposed to call Cerise. At exactly six o’clock.”
“Why?”
“I won’t know until I make the call. I expect this will be a meet.”
“I don’t like it. You’re too vulnerable.”
“You’re telling me? Anyway, I have to make the call. I’ve got to do whatever they tell me to do.”
“I’ll follow you,” he said.
“What if they already suspect me? Green might be watching the store right now.”
David nodded. “Here’s what we do. I’ll leave right now. You make the call. Write down your destination on a scrap of paper, crumple it. When you unlock your car door, drop the scrap. I’ll pick it up. If you take your time in reaching the location, I should be there before you.”
“Okay.” As she looked up at him, she felt the most amazing sensation—a glimmer of hope. “That’s very clever.”
“Hey, I’m a pro.”
“But I didn’t think bodyguards did much more than stand around wearing dark glasses and looking tough.”
“A couple of times, I’ve been
called on to protect people who didn’t want to look like they had a bodyguard.”
“Like who? Famous people?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Have I mentioned lately that PEI has a major reputation for discretion?”
She teased him. “Who were they, David? Superstars? Giant celebrities? Supernova celebrities?”
“One was a politician who took an aggressive stance on aid to Latin American countries. He was threatened by both sides, but didn’t want to appear intimidated. Another was the author of a Mafia expose who was zipping across the country on a book tour and didn’t want to diminish his macho image by admitting he needed a bodyguard.”
“That’s why you’re good at disguises,” she deduced.
“It’s always been easy for me to blend in. Standing out in a crowd? Now, that’s hard.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re handsome,” she said. Tasha wasn’t handing out an obligatory compliment, merely stating a fact. “And you’re incredibly sexy. Wherever you go, women will notice you.”
He stuck the goofy teeth in his mouth and pulled on his Oregon Ducks baseball cap. In his squeaky Wally Beamis voice, he said, “Sexy, huh?”
“Even in that goofy getup. Only a man who’s confident in his virility can play the fool.” She stepped toward him. Lightly, she stroked the misshapen line of his mouth. “You’re a wise fool, David.”
“I’m not sure how smart I am. I’d still like to talk to the police.”
“But you promised you wouldn’t.”
“And I will not lie to you.” He caught her hand and squeezed lightly. “I’m going. Be careful, Tasha. Agree to anything they ask. I’ll meet you back at your apartment.”
His shoulders hunched. His chin stuck out. His arms and legs took on an awkward gait as he went to the door of her office. She could hardly believe that Wally Beamis and David Marquis were one and the same. “David?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Huh?”
Tasha smiled seductively and crooked her index finger, summoning him back to her. “I’ve always wanted to kiss a guy with an overbite.”
“You’ll have to keep waiting for that thrill. Fake teeth get in the way.” He removed the dental appliance. “It’s like kissing with braces.”
In two strides, he closed the distance between them. Gazing down, his gray eyes smoldered. Roughly, he pulled her close. With sudden passion, he claimed her with a hard kiss, branding her with the heat of his body, overwhelming her slight resistance with his masculine strength.
She met the challenge, urging his lips apart, plunging her tongue into his mouth. There was no point in resistance. She’d already offered a gift more precious than the Sheikh’s Rubies. She’d trusted David with the truth. And she clung to him desperately, fiercely.
When he ended their kiss, he broke away from her.
“Tonight,” she whispered, “at my apartment.”
“Tonight.” Then, quickly, he was gone.
At precisely six o’clock, Tasha made her phone call to Cerise. The voice that answered was heavily accented with Russian. “Mr. Brown,” she said. “I apologize for the other night. If I had known who you were, I would have come along quietly.”
“My eyes still burn,” he complained.
“I’m sorry.” Maybe, Tasha thought, she could get Brown on her side. In halting Russian, she repeated her apology.
He responded in the native language of her mother’s homeland. “Now, we meet with you. The private room at Cutter’s Lodge. You know the place?”
“West Denver.” She’d been there once. “Near the mountains.”
“Ask for the private room. Go there directly.”
The telephone went dead in her hand.
Tasha made a note on a scrap of paper and wadded it up in her hand. A restaurant? Somehow, it bothered her that the location was at least a half hour away from her shop and her apartment. They were trying to get her out of the way. But why? Her apartment was vacant all day. Her shop was vacant all night. If Spectrum wanted access, they had ample time.
Before leaving the shop, she set the electronic alarm. Though it wasn’t foolproof, the screaming device that connected with the local police might discourage another break-in.
A few blocks away, she paused beside her car. Since she hadn’t bothered to fix the door, she had to enter from the passenger side, and that gave her a chance to take a quick look around. There were a few pedestrians, but she didn’t see David. He was extremely talented at subterfuge, becoming part of the scenery. The man was full of surprises. His Wally Beamis disguise was terrific.
Behind the wheel of her car, she wondered how David would respond to a sudden burst of totally unexpected spontaneity. What would he do if, tonight at her apartment, she didn’t curl up in the bed wearing her practical flannel gown? What would happen if she dressed in that sexy blue peignoir that she’d worn only once before?
Tasha entertained herself with that fantasy as she drove toward a meeting that promised to be dangerous, a confrontation where she would need to keep her wits about her. The mental respite soothed her as she prolonged her journey by driving on Colfax Avenue instead of taking the highway.
Outside Cutter’s Lodge, she took a few more minutes after parking to reapply her lipstick. With any luck, David would have had enough time to get here ahead of her and to situate himself at a table where he could overhear some of their conversation.
That hope was dashed when she entered the restaurant and was shown through swinging, saloon-style doors into a small private dining room. The atmosphere was Old West with heavy beamed ceilings, rough-hewn paneling to suggest a log cabin, and a moss rock fireplace. Deer and elk heads decorated the walls.
Cerise, dressed in a fire engine red suit with black trim, sat at a heavy round oaken table. She gestured to the seat beside her. “Won’t you join me?”
Tasha took her place at the left hand of Cerise. Before she could ask about the whereabouts of the others, Green strode through the swinging doors, brandishing a bottle of red wine.
He appeared to be pleased with himself. “This is the best they’ve got. It’s California merlot, but acceptable.”
“Green is quite the gourmet,” Cerise confided. “And a wine connoisseur.”
Though Tasha would reject any drink he offered, fearing poison, she smiled politely. “And where is Mr. Brown?”
“Playing with his computers, as usual. He’s patched through a dozen systems to find the precise blueprint of Pola and Tweed’s brand-new security system.” She nodded to Green. “We will start without Brown.”
“I already told the waiter that we’re ready for our ap petizer. Escargot.”
Snails, Tasha translated. Not her favorite snack, but she didn’t complain. It was best to appear cooperative. Though she would have felt one hundred times more comfortable if David had been seated at a neighboring table, she took solace in the fact that he was, most likely, nearby.
“I’ve also ordered Rocky Mountain oysters,” Cerise said. Her thin lips arched in an expression too cold to be called a smile. “An amusing local delicacy.”
Somehow, Tasha wasn’t surprised. Cerise was just the sort of woman who would enjoy the concept of Rocky Mountain oysters, which were made of the testicles of large-range animals.
To Green, Cerise said, “I’ll have the wine. And you, Stacey?”
“I’d prefer vodka, straight up. Stolichnaya.”
“Take care of the drinks, Green.”
He lumbered from the private dining room.
“Vodka. How very Russian,” Cerise murmured. “Brown will adore working with you. That is, of course, if you manage to fulfill our expectations, Stacey.”
Tasha chafed at the use of her sister’s name. She wasn’t Stacey. She shouldn’t be here. “What do you mean, Cerise?”
“You were supposed to telephone me last night. But yo
u were all caught up in your silly little drama with that pregnant teenager, weren’t you?”
Silly little drama? Giving birth was silly? A hostile response poised on the tip of her tongue, but Tasha held back. She couldn’t expect Cerise to understand. This scarlet woman with her sculpted eyebrows and beautifully frosted hair and the slash of bloodred lipstick was thoroughly disinterested in human miracles. She was blinded by greed.
“I trust,” Cerise said, “that we won’t have any more interruptions for your personal business.”
“Absolutely not.” Tasha matched the coolness of Cerise’s gaze. “The only thing I care about is the rubies.”
“Good. It would have been annoying to look for someone else with your particular expertise at this late date.”
Green returned with an entire bottle of Stoly and two shot glasses. Brown was with him. The two men together were horribly sinister. Green was huge and robust as an ogre. The skeletal Mr. Brown had an unhealthy paleness to his complexion, as if he never went out in daylight. Silent as a shadow, he took the seat beside Tasha and helped himself to vodka.
Cerise touched Tasha’s arm. “You seem tired. Why?”
“Someone broke into Bloom’s last night and destroyed half of my flower stock. It was a terrible mess to clean up.” She glanced at Cerise. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Actually, I don’t.” Her voice was sharp when she addressed Green. “This wasn’t your doing, was it?”
“No.”
“Mr. Brown?” Cerise questioned. “Was it you?”
“Nyet. Why should I bother with flowers?”
“Inspector Henning,” Tasha concluded. That slimeball! He must have broken into her shop, looking for evidence to use against her. When he found nothing, he took revenge by destroying her property. She would remember to tell David about this violation of her rights and her privacy the next time he suggested going to the law. Vehemently, Tasha said, “It must have been Henning. God, how I despise that filthy toad.”
Cerise glanced toward Green, who was seated on her right. “You see? I told you she hated the inspector.”
