A Breath Away

by Wendy Etherington

  “Boss?” Mo asked quietly from behind her.

  “Stay here, please,” she said, somehow managing to gather her thoughts. She pressed the panic button on her bracelet and seconds later David burst into the room. “The van,” she said, rising. “Go check on Frank in the van.”

  As David rushed out, Garner commented, “I wondered whether you were really the girlfriend or part of the security detail. Johnny Malden’s story of a foxy redhead knocking him to the ground seemed a bit fantastic to me. But it looks like that little mystery is cleared up.”

  Jade grabbed him by his tie and jerked him to his feet. “Where’s Frank, you crazy bastard?”

  He seemed startled by her show of force—and probably her strength. After all the bombshells he’d dropped, she was pleased she’d managed to throw him off stride.

  “Threatening me will do you no good,” he said, his voice strained from the pressure she was putting on his throat. “If I don’t show up at my car in thirty minutes, my driver has instructions to radio my team, and they will kill your colleague.”

  Jade shoved him back in the chair and turned away. She faced Remy, whose fists were clenched at his sides. His eyes were full of fury and hatred as he stared at Garner. “How do we know he’s still alive?”

  “I can arrange for you to talk to him,” Garner said.

  “Do it.” Remy glanced at her. “What do you need from me?”

  “You get your wish.” She swallowed. Her moral code, her sense of what was right and what was wrong, meant nothing against the leverage of Frank’s life. “We’ll get the sculpture—your way.”

  His eyes turned bleak for a moment, then he nodded. When Garner extended a cell phone toward him, he snatched it from his hand, then placed it in hers.

  “Frank?” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm and professional.

  “Hey, J.B. A couple of goons got the jump on the old man. Don’t spread it around, okay?”

  She thought of the way he’d unselfishly volunteered to let himself fall into Garner’s clutches, of the sacrifices he’d made for her almost every day for the last thirteen years. “Hang in there. We’re coming to get you.”

  “Figured you would.”

  “We’ll give Garner what he wants, then we’ll get you. Don’t worry.”

  He laughed weakly. “Yeah, sure.”

  The line went dead, and Jade tossed Garner’s phone back to him. She was afraid to get too close to him, since she was positive she’d strangle him.

  She considered pulling out her pistol and forcing Garner to call his team back. She could bluff him. You kill mine, I’ll kill yours. But she couldn’t take the chance that Garner’s goons would be as loyal to him as she was to Frank. She couldn’t risk losing him.

  “Frank’s gone, J.B.,” David said, panting as he raced into the room.

  “The van and equipment?” she asked.

  “Intact.”

  Well, well, their van Gogh lover wasn’t nearly as clever as he thought. Jade very nearly smiled, and her heart settled back into its proper place in her chest.

  The idiot had no idea that the balance of power had just shifted—unless he planned to have his people kill Frank the moment after she’d talked to him, but she didn’t think so. He liked to stay far above the violence committed in his name.

  And his side of the plan wasn’t foolproof, either. What if Remy couldn’t have cared less about Frank’s life? As ruthless as Garner was, he counted on them to be honorable. It was remarkably flawed reasoning.

  “Let’s hear it, Garner,” she said, glaring at him.

  “When the painting’s in my hand, you’ll get your colleague back. You have three hours. That should give Mr. Tremaine enough time to get into the museum. I don’t care whether you buy it, steal it or bribe your way to it. But I want it back here to make the exchange.”

  Jade shook her head. “Someplace more public. The bar in the lobby of the Marriott Marquis.”

  He was either really crazy or desperate because he nodded. “Fine.”

  But she knew he wasn’t planning to kill her, Remy and her entire team on the spot. He’d be more likely to take his prize painting back to San Francisco, wait a month or two, then pay for a hit on Remy—this time with somebody who knew what they were doing. He would, no doubt, sell his van Gogh and retire anonymously on some tropical island, unconcerned whether Jade sent the cops or Feds chasing after him. He probably had a new identity already set up. The way he’d so boldly confronted them proved he thought he had a foolproof backup plan.

  He didn’t know Jade, though, and she had backup plans of her own. Peter Garner had messed with the wrong chick.

  “Let’s go.” She spun without sparing Garner another glance and stalked from the room, Remy, Mo and David just behind her.

  “I’m suddenly seeing the paranoid wisdom of putting a tracking device on every person on the team,” Remy said as they raced down the stairs.

  “You hired the best,” Jade said simply.

  HIS FATHER wasn’t a thief.

  He was a creator, not a taker.

  The oddest sense of relief washed over Remy as he grabbed Jade’s hand and they strode down the alley beside the museum. “The ventilation system is usually the best way, but let’s check the security of the basement first.”

  “I say we walk up to the guard, hit him with pepper spray, then shoot anybody who comes after him.”

  “You’re awfully aggressive tonight.”

  “I didn’t get to beat the crap out of Garner. I’m edgy.”

  “Me, too, but if one of the guards manages to trip the alarm, the museum’s security system will lock down—with us trapped inside it. I’d rather not chat with the FBI tonight, if you don’t mind.”

  “Picky, picky.”

  They’d returned to the hotel long enough to grab supplies and change clothes. In traditional second-story-man style they’d both dressed in all black.

  The team had scattered, with Charlie and the limo driving around the blocks surrounding the museum, ready to be their getaway car. David and Mo were following Frank’s homing beacon in the van. Jade had instructed them to keep watch and go in after him only if Garner’s hired goons made any homicidal moves.

  They intended to meet him with the painting, after all. They just planned to bring the police—extras that Garner definitely wouldn’t want to see. Between the goons who’d taken Frank, Johnny Malden, the ongoing investigation at the San Francisco PD and the publicity a van Gogh was bound to generate, they were confident a case could finally be brought against Garner.

  If not, Remy and Jade had vowed to dog his steps until he made a mistake they could nail him for.

  The pain he was putting her through, and the choice she’d had to make to save Frank, weighed heavily on his mind.

  “Stop stalling,” Jade said, tugging on his hand.

  Unaware of how much he’d slowed his pace while lost in thought, he shook off the distractions and focused on the area around him.

  Except for their footsteps and the occasional passing of a car on the main road, he heard nothing. Security cameras were pointed toward the front and back entrances, but not in the alley.

  After studying the security layout Jade had retrieved after a desperate phone call to a fellow investigative firm, Remy was nearly positive the tiny basement windows that faced the alley were not wired to the alarm. All the storage areas were locked and wired with motion sensors, and, of course, the door into the main building was wired, as well, so getting into the basement really wouldn’t get them very far.

  Though certainly out of practice, Remy was pretty sure he could handle the doors. It was the cameras and motion detectors in the main exhibition areas that would be the real trick. Their plan was for him to go to the van Gogh display, set off the motion sensor, then turn off the camera. When the guards came to investigate, Jade was going to get the bronze they’d come for. The works in that area weren’t valuable enough to warrant motion detectors.

  It
was primitive, but with the time frame they’d been given, it was all they had.

  Even after all his speeches about right and wrong, Remy had to admit his fingers tingled with excitement. He was back to stealing for a good cause.

  Life was coming full circle indeed.

  He swung the small backpack he’d brought with his tools to the ground beside the window farthest from the street. From the bag, he pulled out his glass cutter. “Here goes.” He started at the top-left corner and ran the device around the edge. “The hardest part is waiting to see if we tripped the silent alarm. Once we cut, we wait. Seven minutes. If the cops aren’t here by then, we’re safe.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  After laying the loose piece of glass on the ground beside him, he glanced back at her. “I think you’re enjoying yourself.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not.”

  “Worried about Frank?”

  “No. David and Mo are keeping watch. They won’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Are you going to hate me forever for pushing you into this?”

  “You didn’t push me into this. Garner did.”

  “But you wouldn’t even know he existed without me.”

  She knelt next to him. Even in the dark, chilly alley her warmth and scented lotion washed over him. The lemons reminded him of last night in Florida, of the closeness they’d shared—if only briefly. “I don’t blame you, Remy.”

  He cupped her cheek, and the words just fell out. “I love you.”

  Her face went white. “What? You love me now?”

  “I’ve known for a while, I just thought you should know now.”

  She sighed. “Your timing is lousy, Tremaine.”

  15

  JADE PULLED BACK from Remy and stood.

  The fact that they were breaking into a revered museum, risking their lives and reputations to take something that didn’t belong to either of them, after which they planned to exchange it for her partner’s life, and hopefully manage to trap a murderer in the meantime, apparently just wasn’t enough excitement for her client.

  He had to throw emotions into the mix.

  “I’m guessing you’re not going to rain kisses all over my face and return the sentiment,” he said.

  “Dammit, Remy.”

  “That would be a no.”

  “Why are we doing this now?”

  “We have seven minutes.”

  She glared at him. “You’re trying to make me laugh. It won’t work.”

  He straightened. “I’m very serious. I realize my timing’s not especially convenient, but neither do I expect to be dismissed.”

  “Oh, hell.” She paced away from him, then back. He drove her crazy. He was amazing. He challenged her. He comforted her. But he also forced her to look deep inside herself, where she didn’t want to go, because it might make her realize her life, as she lived it now, was empty. “I can’t do this now.”

  “Why not?”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I need you, but I don’t want to.”

  “Dammit, Jade.”

  He was hurt and disappointed. Even in the dim light of alley, she could see those emotions cross his face. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she didn’t see how they could be together, either.

  They were both too strong and opinionated. They valued their independence. They’d come together during a tense time. What did they really have to show for it?

  Understanding. Laughter. Passion.

  Completion.

  She wanted to cry but was pretty sure she’d forgotten how. How could she be so sure how to handle each and every professional problem that ever slid across her desk and be so completely lost about one man?

  “Let’s go on our treasure hunt, then we’ll talk,” she said finally.

  “Fine.” He returned to his crouched position beside the window.

  What was she so afraid of? Failure? Losing him? Compromising? Not being able to balance her demanding career with a personal life? Feeling too much? Being a woman and not just a bodyguard?

  All of those. They all squirmed in a nervy ball of anxiety deep in her stomach.

  She was a selfish, demanding person. Though she’d grown up watching her parents love each other, when they were ripped away from her, she’d been convinced she wasn’t meant to have that kind of relationship. And after the NSA, she’d known she couldn’t ever share herself completely with anybody else. She’d traded what might have been for revenge. She did it consciously. Selfishly.

  He’s like you. He knows you.

  Maybe. But she didn’t trust he would beyond the capsule of the week they’d shared.

  I’m better off alone. It’s what I always expected.

  She knew when the seven minutes had expired because he simply held out his hand to her.

  Lying on her belly, she slid feet-first through the small window opening and dropped to the cement floor below. He followed soon after, then they moved silently through a maze of cartons so huge the security staff must have decided there was no point locking them up. Who could ever get them out without front-loading equipment? Certainly not through the tiny window of vulnerability she and Remy had just slithered through.

  They crept up the wooden stairs to the main floor. Jade kept close to Remy’s back. She’d certainly been part of illicit operations before, but she’d always had a cover story and the backing of her government to fuel her. She’d been following orders and working toward a greater purpose.

  Wasn’t she now? To save Frank, she’d tossed every rule she thought she’d never break into the fire. How was what she was doing now so different from the life Remy had led all those years ago?

  It’s easy to stand on morality when you aren’t desperate or furious. Or both.

  No freakin’ kidding.

  Fascinated, she watched Remy pull out several tools, both mechanical and electronic, and work the door that led to the main floor of the museum. When it opened with a quiet click, she wasn’t the least surprised but she was wildly impressed.

  He pressed one finger to his lips, grasped her gloved hand, then led her down a narrow hallway. They followed a series of hallways, which contained offshoots of work rooms, break rooms and offices before reaching the edge of the lobby. There, Remy pointed silently at the camera that swept in an arc from the base of the main staircase to the front desk and back again.

  She nodded, slid her hand to the butt of her pistol and prayed she wouldn’t have to draw it. Reaching out, she squeezed his hand, knowing he was about to risk himself and create a distraction. If the local PD grabbed him, would the NSA protect him or wash their hands of him? Would his boss get the proof he wanted that Remy hadn’t left his criminal past behind?

  The risk he was taking for Frank was humbling.

  They kept still and silent as they watched the eye of the camera move back and forth, then, as the camera moved away, he jerked her into motion. They ran up the stairs, then leaned back against the wall. They did that twice more before they came to the hallway where they had to separate.

  His silver eyes darkened. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulled her close, then kissed her hard. “See you,” he whispered just before he darted down the hall.

  He was furious with her. She’d hurt him, and yet he continued to help and protect her while risking himself. She wouldn’t let him down. She’d nearly assured Frank’s safety, but their mission wasn’t complete. They had to have that statue to close the circle.

  Was it right or ironic that she would make that happen?

  She timed her flight toward the San Francisco artists’ gallery avoiding the arc of the security scan. Pausing outside the open doorway, her gaze locked on the bronze sculpture of Remy’s mother. She lay on her side, clothed in a slip-dress, hardened by the copper color that had immortalized her in youth. Her hair, somehow still glossy, was swept in front of her, dusting the floor.

  She rested in the corner, instead of the center of the room,
where Jade had imagined. But then, it was an insignificant piece in the art world compared with some of the others.

  When she heard the rush of feet along the halls, she drew deep breaths but didn’t move. She had to give the guards time to get to Remy. She had to hope he’d be slippery enough to escape as she snagged the prize.

  When she felt certain the attention was on the other side of the building, she pulled a black ski mask over her face, darted into the room, grabbed the sculpture and stuffed it into the canvas bag she’d brought. It was heavier than she’d anticipated. She felt a weird sort of reverence as she clutched the artwork to her chest.

  Breathing hard, listening for footsteps, she darted back downstairs and wriggled out of the cut-out window.

  Please let him make it, she prayed, yanking off her mask and leaning against the building in the alley.

  Moments later, she saw him race across the basement floor. It seemed to take forever before he was standing on the street beside her, but in essence had to have been only a few moments.

  They clasped hands and raced down the alley and across two blocks, where the limo was waiting. Before Jade had drawn a decent breath, they were rolling through the streets toward the Marriott.

  “Thirty minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch. “We’ll be lucky if we make it.” She picked up her earphones and mic from the seat beside her where she’d left them earlier. “We got it,” she said. “How’s Frank?”

  “On his way,” David said. “Two goons are bringing him in a black SUV.”

  “Don’t go after him until I give you the signal. We want the cops there. I don’t want Garner squirming out of this one.”

  “Ten-four, boss.”

  “The next call won’t be as easy,” she said, turning to Remy, who’d pulled the sculpture out of the bag and was turning it over in his hands.

  The statue was only about a foot and a half wide at the base and about nine inches tall. Though she knew nothing about art, even Jade could tell the detail in the woman’s face and body was amazing. She had no concept of how somebody even began to create such a living-looking sculpture out of metal.

  “Here it is,” Remy said, pointing to a round hole on the bottom.