by Diana Duncan
If she mentioned the bomb, her young protégé would come unglued. She’d kept the stalker notes a secret from him for the same reason. “I was…at the hospital. Aubrey’s worse, and Janine had a hard time dealing with it.”
“The poor bébé. But your photographs will earn a great deal of money and she will be well soon.” Etienne’s lips pursed in a very Gallic moue. “Janine, now there is a woman with simple tastes. Why just look at some of her ex-beaus.”
Liam’s strangled cough sounded suspiciously like choked laughter.
“You’re skating perilously close to the line, Duplais.” There was nothing the outrageous Frenchman wouldn’t do or say. A little over a year after she’d set up shop in Paris, he’d sauntered into her studio, literally off the street. In spite of his lack of experience and references, he’d dumbfounded her with his creative vision. She’d hired him on the spot.
Liam’s intent stare tracked Etienne’s athletic frame from leonine mane to pointed-toe boots. “Have an accident, boyo?”
Startled, she studied her assistant. In the chaos, she hadn’t noticed the raw, scraped knuckles on his left hand.
Etienne’s quicksilver eyes narrowed. “Your policeman is observant.”
Deceptively casual, Liam rested his palm on his gun. “A fact you’d do well to remember.”
“Subtle as a chainsaw, Ace.” Surely he didn’t believe Etienne was stalking her. Etienne wouldn’t hurt a fly. Her admin was completely devoted. She sighed. As far as the conscientious cop was concerned, everyone was suspect until proven innocent.
“I wasn’t going for subtle.” Liam hadn’t moved his laser gaze off Etienne.
Etienne shuffled his feet. “I was unpacking the shipment of photographs, and the wooden crate, she attacked. Fell on me.”
Liam nodded. “Anything besides your hand damaged?”
“Thank you for caring, Monsieur Lucky-with-his-charms, mais non.”
“I hate to break up the testosterone patrol, but we have to get the photos arranged.” Now that the crisis had passed, she needed to stay busy. Or she would dwell on the kiss. Would speculate on the implications of the searing connection. Yearn for the crazy sense of rightness, the warm welcome of belonging.
She was having an increasingly rough time wrestling her feelings into submission. It had taken the entire car trip to convince herself her lapse in common sense was simply temporary insanity caused by hormonal brain impairment.
Etienne gifted her with his impish smile. “When you did not appear, I hung all the photographs.”
He extracted a key card from the pocket of his leather pants. “Katherine possesses remarkable talent, monsieur. The instant I saw her brilliant photographs, I could not resist.”
Watching Etienne closely, Liam crossed his arms over his chest, and his tanned biceps bunched. “I heartily agree.”
“A man with much discernment.” Etienne flung apart the doors. “Mon coeur, I think you will be happy with the displ—” Her admin broke off and his mouth dropped open. He blanched.
“Etienne?” Cold apprehension slammed her. “What’s wrong?”
Aghast, he turned to Kate. Tried to speak, and failed. Tried again. “Les photos ont disparu,” he croaked.”
Electric shock crackled over her. “What?”
“Volé!” Etienne whispered.
Kate rushed forward. Her horrified gaze flew inside. She gasped. The room was in chaos, furniture overturned, drapes torn. Except for dangling wires, the walls were bare.
Her photographs were gone!
They’d been stolen!
Chapter 8
7:00 p.m.
Liam said something from behind her, but Kate couldn’t hear over the static buzz. A familiar-looking envelope was taped to the inside of the door. She tore it open with shaking hands.
Liam’s hand cupped the back of her neck as he read the note over her shoulder.
She couldn’t catch her breath. “Heed me, or they burn.”
They watched as the paper blackened, then crumbled to ashes. Though the ibuprofen had dulled her headache, a tsunami of pain roared back, nearly bowling her over.
His fingers kneaded her bowstring-taut muscles, offering solace. “Are you all right?”
“I was merely absent for un petite moment,” Etienne raved. He paced in front of the open doors, babbling a stream of hysterical French she didn’t dare translate.
Liam made a circular hand motion. “Murphy, search.” The dog trotted into the room and began to sniff. Liam snatched his phone from his pocket. “Aidan,” he said into the receiver. “Get the clan to the Venetian…yesterday! The Allete auction. And alert the locals to process a crime scene—grand theft.”
Her vision blurred from the combination of suppressed tears and shock, and she staggered.
“Sit.” Liam eased her onto a love seat, and then sat beside her, one arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get your photos back.”
“How? We don’t even know who this lunatic is.”
“Teamwork.” He gave her a reassuring hug. “My brothers are on the way.” He reached for his phone again and spoke to the head of security. Then he sent the still ranting Etienne for coffee. Coffee sounded good. A snifter of cognac even better. Liam gave her another squeeze. “Everything will be okay.”
“Damn straight. The weirdo only thinks he’s won.” She dialed her cell phone. Puzzled, she listened to the busy signal. It was 4:00 a.m. in Paris. The assistant she’d hired should pick up from the apartment above the studio. Like Vegas, Paris was a twenty-four-hour city, but who would the woman be chatting with at the crack of dawn? Temporarily stymied, she hung up.
“It’s all right to get upset, Kate. Perfectly natural under the circumstances.” Liam rubbed her arms, and she realized she was shivering. “Let it out. I’m the only one here to see.”
“Falling apart won’t bring back my photos.”
“You know, honey, constantly strangling your emotions is a formula for disaster. It’s not good for your mental or physical health.” He cupped her chin. “Everybody has to blow off steam.”
“I’m fine.” Not counting the brain-squeezing migraines.
“Now who’s spouting blarney? You’re a ticking time bomb. Nuclear fallout waiting to happen.” He gently smoothed her hair. “Cry, scream, stomp, break stuff. You’ll feel better.”
“Not my style.” She gave him a forlorn smile. “I leave the hissy fits to the professionals.”
“Kate, if you continue to keep up the brave front, your ulcers will have ulcers.”
A silver-haired man in a black suit hurried into the foyer and introduced himself as Mr. Baron, head of hotel security.
Liam surged to his feet. He displayed his badge and drew the man into a private confab. Speaking rapidly, he pointed at the open doors as Murphy ambled out and sat on his left.
His face grave with concern, Mr. Baron nodded in response. When their conversation was over, he hurried out.
Liam ordered the dog to guard the doors and returned to her side. “Baron is going to check the surveillance tapes.”
She glanced up at the ceiling. After several months in Vegas, one tended to forget that the “eyes in the sky” watched and recorded everything that happened in the casinos.
Etienne bustled in, pushing a wheeled cart laden with a large coffeepot, mugs and a platter of hearty sandwiches. No surprise, Liam had pegged him at first glance. Her admin was calmer when he had purpose. “I fetched sustenance, as ordered.”
Liam poured a mug of steaming coffee and added two sugars and a generous splash of cream. He placed a ham sandwich on a plate and then handed the mug and plate to her. “Eat something.”
She sipped greedily at the brew, relishing the hot caffeine rush. “How on earth do you know exactly how I take my coffee?”
His roguish grin gleamed. “Anybody who drinks frappuccinos likes it smooth and sweet.”
Exactly like his kisses. If you added hot. Against her will, her gaze lingered on his delectable mou
th. He glanced down, caught her ogling and smiled.
Kate cringed. She was coming unhinged…in the middle of a crisis. She concentrated on her sandwich. Before long, three men and two women blasted into the foyer. She recognized the hunkalicious trio from the long ago night in Delany’s Pub. Liam alone was breathtakingly beautiful. En masse, the sexy SWAT brothers delivered enough eye candy to throw a woman into diabetic shock.
Mother Nature’s pheromone arsenal.
“Sainte Marie!” Etienne breathed. He slapped both hands over his heart. She hoped he didn’t faint.
Liam drew Kate to her feet and tucked her against him. Solicitous, or staking a claim? Consideration, she appreciated. Possessive was a whole ’nother deal. “Kate Chabeau, meet Aidan, Con and Grady.” Liam’s brothers were luscious and lethal, and armed to their perfect, white smiles.
She murmured hellos, glad they were on her side. Liam introduced her to Bailey, Con’s wife, the enviable owner of a shiny strawberry blond halo and creamy complexion, and Zoe, Aidan’s wife, a pixie with short, dark curls and wise eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Kate.” Zoe perused her with unabashed interest. “Your work is amazing.”
“Thank you.” Torn between pleasure and annoyance, she glanced sideways at Liam.
“Sorry.” He murmured in her ear. “I had to burn your cover in order to brief them. They won’t break your confidence.”
“Please.” Bailey waved at the love seat. “Sit down, finish your coffee. You’ve suffered a tremendous strain.”
Liam urged her back down. “Where are the locals?”
“En route,” Con said, passing his wife a coffee, and poured one for himself. Bailey set aside hers and dropped into a chair. Con moved behind her and rested proprietary hands on her shoulders. “The heat still bothering you, sweetheart?”
Overprotective DNA apparently ran in the family. Kate couldn’t resist a tiny grin. When heaven was dispensing testosterone, the O’Rourke men had stood in line twice.
“I’m better now that we’re inside.” Bailey caught her eye and smiled. She patted her husband’s arm. “Overwhelming at first, aren’t they? You’ll get used to it.”
Yes, a woman could get used to being cherished. Kate rubbed her aching forehead. Not that she’d have the chance. Or wanted it. She didn’t need a doting man.
Liam’s phone trilled the chorus from Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and he tugged it out. “O’Rourke.” He frowned. “Say what?”
He disconnected. “The surveillance tape shows Elvira stroll past and appear to case the doorway. Then it turns to snow.”
Zoe checked with a sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Elvira? As in, ‘Mistress of the Dark’?”
“Yeah. ‘She’ appears to be a man, complete with Adam’s apple. Apparently, ‘she’ also pitched a tantrum in the lobby, claiming ‘she’ was mugged.” He shook his head. “Only in Vegas.”
Zoe grimaced at Kate. “Are you okay? You’re awfully pale.”
“Just a headache. I’ll be fine.”
Zoe shrugged off the large battered canvas bag hanging over her shoulder. “I have ibuprofen.”
“It’s past that stage. I have prescription meds at home.”
“Okay, gang, listen up.” Liam addressed his family. “Bailey, help Etienne organize things here. Arrange the room to display the photos the instant we get them back.”
Bailey nodded, and Liam continued. “Con, watch the crime scene processing—make sure they don’t miss a speck. Follow up with hotel security. You’re the best man to tightrope the fine line between assisting and overstepping the locals.”
“Done,” Con replied.
“Aidan, continue to run down the suspect list—off the record.” Liam’s implacable gaze briefly touched Kate’s. “I have an addition for you. Call me with the reports, ASAP.”
Kate watched Liam effortlessly take charge. She leaned into the cushions, resigned that he would investigate Etienne. Her Irish charmer was a very thorough man. Thorough with everything. Her stomach fluttered, and she gave herself a mental slap. Stop!
Neither brother balked at accepting orders from their younger sibling. A telling revelation of respect. She couldn’t garner family cooperation for Aubrey’s sake when she begged.
Liam turned to Zoe. “Geraldo, work the international angle using your journalism connections.”
Zoe smirked. “Anything for you, Deputy Dog.”
“Grady.” Liam pointed. “Follow the Elvira lead. Be subtle. Blend. We don’t want to spook the perp into destroying the photos. No pyrotechnics, no bullets and no taking prisoners.”
Grady’s dimples flashed. “Take no prisoners, ten-four.”
“Subtle.” Liam rolled his eyes. “Blend!”
“Sir, yes sir! No extreme measures…” Grady’s grin widened, deepening his dimples. “Unless absolutely necessary.”
As Grady sauntered away, Liam shook his head at Kate in mock exasperation. “That boy is a walking advertisement for judicious birth control.”
She chuckled. The two younger O’Rourkes obviously shared a deep bond, but their relationship was refreshingly irreverent.
Everyone scattered, and Liam again dialed his phone. “Carson? O’Rourke. Send the bomb squad to sweep Ms. Chabeau’s apartment, code three. If you find a device, expect a double antitamper switch.” He covered the receiver. “Address?” He repeated the location to Carson, and then hung up.
Kate gathered her hair off her nape, attempting to relieve the pressure on her head. “Is it wise to go to my apartment?”
“You need your headache meds.” She started to speak and he held up a broad palm. “I swear, if I hear, ‘I’m fine’ pass your delectable lips one more time, I will turn you over my knee.”
She bristled. “Watch it, Ace. I was under the impression that a bomb tech needed all ten fingers.”
He laughed before quickly sobering. “We’ll stay long enough to pack clothes and your valuables. Then I’ll have Alex stash us at a safe house.”
The thought of losing her only two treasures made her sick to her soul. Yet… “I have nothing worth risking our lives.”
“I’m not risking squat. The bomb squad will clean house. That’s what they do. And we have your neighbors to think about.”
It was hard to accept that he would go to so much trouble and put himself in harm’s way for her. Nobody had ever considered her comfort, her desires. It was unsettling. “I would like to get my grandma’s painting…” She stopped short of mentioning “Man in the Shadows.” He didn’t know she associated the photo with him. No use calling attention to it. She set down her empty cup. “They’re only things. I’m not sure we should—”
“Psycho is trying to steal your future. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him steal your past, too.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “That painting means the world to you, like my car does to me. They might be ‘just things,’ but family ties keep you rooted. Give you hope.”
Family ties! Appalled she hadn’t considered it before, she jerked upright. “If the stalker wants to destroy everything I care about, he might go after Aubrey!”
“Already covered. I placed a call earlier when you made yours. Alex sent two teams of FBI agents to the hospital.”
“Thank you.” Having someone take care of her, someone she could count on, was a new experience. She wasn’t sure how she felt. She couldn’t depend on it. When push came to shove, most people moved their own needs to the top of the list, and damn everyone else.
She tried again to contact the temp in Paris. Maybe the woman had taken the phone off the hook when she went to bed.
Liam called Murphy over and fed him a sandwich. The dog’s fangs demolished it in three bites, and she shivered.
The crimson sun blazed low on the horizon as the trio headed for the car. Liam navigated heavy traffic, vigilantly watching his mirrors. Odd. Even with a crazed stalker after her, she felt safer with him than she had in the past three years.
Police cars and a bomb disposal v
an crammed the parking lot of her condo. A chunky robot sat beside the front entrance, looking like an extra from a George Lucas movie. Carson met them on the second floor, at her doorstep. “We located two devices. One decoy and one live. All the neighbors were evacuated, and both devices were disarmed.”
Liam shook his hand. “Thanks, we appreciate it.”
Carson and the bomb squad departed. Kate moved to enter her apartment, but Liam blocked the doorway with his arm. “Hold on.” He tucked her into the sheltered stairwell. “Stay here.” He made the hand motion at Murphy. “Murphy, search.” The K-9 trotted in.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting a second opinion.” He followed the dog inside.
There he went again, putting himself in harm’s way to protect her. She did deep breathing. He’d be fine. The bomb squad had just declared the place clean. She attempted another call to Paris. Got another busy signal.
After endless, anxious minutes, the dynamic duo returned. Liam swept a gallant bow. “Now you may come in.”
She strode to the bathroom, gulped two migraine tablets and then leaned her throbbing forehead against the cool mirror.
“Are you all right?” Liam appeared in the doorway. At her nod, he looked skeptical. “Get packed.”
“Since the bomb squad did their job, we’re safe, right?”
“Not until Stalker Boy’s crazy arse is in lockup.”
Wonderful. She hurried into her bedroom and he followed.
His gaze traveled the Spartan room. She saw it through his eyes: white walls, serviceable nightstand, chest and bed—draped with her one indulgence—a dove-gray silk comforter.
Compared to his homey Craftsman, it looked as bland and impersonal as Motel 6. “Daniel and Janine bring Aubrey to me in Paris when they’re off on one of their junkets. I rented this place after she became so ill and I had to stay in Vegas. I didn’t bother to decorate.”
He smoothed his palm over the comforter, and her breath caught on the mental picture of his tanned, muscled body reclining in her bed. Gorgeous. Naked. Fully aroused. He pursed his lips. “You had to run clear to Europe to escape me?”
