Falcon's Angel

by Danita Minnis

  Rage is dangerous, he reminded himself. He couldn’t kill her yet. She had to be brought in. The world was waiting for her.

  Falcon forced his hand down to holster the gun. He stepped back.

  Tara sighed and looked down at the sapphire and diamond set in the glass case. The rectangular-shaped sapphire was nearly the size of an egg, bordered by starburst diamonds that were each at least a carat in weight. The sapphire was supported on a twenty-inch loop of diamonds.

  “This set once belonged to the leader of the Maratha Empire. It is invaluable.”

  He followed her gaze. “Amelie’s favorite trio. You’ve done your homework.”

  “She never takes off her engagement sapphire, but the necklace and earrings are reserved for special occasions.” Tara looked up at him. “So, New York was just a job?”

  “It was much more than that. You managed to disappear with half a billion dollars’ worth of paintings. Rembrandt must be rolling in his grave.” When she wouldn’t respond, he asked, “Wasn’t it just a job for you?”

  “Of course not.” Tara closed the distance between them, sliding her hands up his chest, her fingers kneading his black T-shirt. “I had to leave. My mother was dying.” Her lips grazed his. “I went back to California…” Her hands caressed his back now, and inched down toward the glass case. “And I was upset that you didn’t remember me…” When she reached for the gun behind him, he clamped a hand over her wrist.

  “Save it, Tara. I was going to spare you this, but…” He took the handcuffs off his belt buckle and placed them around her slender wrists.

  “Wait, I still love you.” Those big brown eyes began to tear. “We can…”

  “You wound me, my love.” Miles was standing on the other side of the glass case.

  Tara turned off the waterworks, pressing her lips into a firm line of disgust.

  Angel came forward, breathless. “The Stradivarius is missing. And so is my bracelet.”

  “Look in the bag,” Falcon said.

  Angel pulled a black case out of Tara’s satchel. The unique solid gold bangle set with canary yellow diamonds shined like the sun on a bed of velvet. Next to it was her brother Leif’s contribution to the Sacha Collection; a prototype he’d left in the drafting room yesterday, a sparkling tiger’s eye necklace.

  * * * *

  Tara spent the night locked in the poolroom.

  The next day, Falcon brought Tara into Haddon Hall, where she had an audience.

  Darien, who hadn’t been expected for a few days, had flown in that morning, and now sat in the middle of the Cardiff contingent, with one evil-eyed mother from Tuscany.

  Falcon didn’t try to stop them from joining the makeshift interrogation. The Jeweler had touched all of their lives. They all deserved to be there.

  He led Tara to the last, comfortable oversized chair she would ever sit on, facing Darien, and then took the chair next to hers.

  “You are a most sought after young lady, Eliana Natale.” Darien slapped an enlarged University of Southern California identification photo on the low coffee table between them. “Part of your record was expunged until recently, when our mole found and interrogated a member of the faculty. il Dragone in residence.”

  Angel’s gasp pre-empted all others. “But the Maestro did not have any children.”

  Falcon gave her a curt nod. “That’s what the public was led to believe, but il Dragone knew the truth about their brother Giovanni Natale. That’s why they came after Angelina Natale that night at the Naples Conservatory. They thought she was the real thing.” He glanced at Eliana, who was glaring at Darien, tears running down her cheeks.

  Darien’s stoical expression meant this just might be one of those rare times in which the barrister boiled over.

  Falcon refrained from rubbing his hands together in glee. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”

  “How is it that a mathematical whiz who could have been anything she wanted settled for being a common thief?” Darien waved his hand in disgust. He read from the printed report Granger had sent this morning. “She was cracking government codes on her computer by the time she was in high school. She pulled off her first bank job before she graduated and got away with fifty grand.” He whistled.

  Darien whistled?

  As satisfying as it was to witness Darien’s cleansing rage, an emotion Falcon was all too familiar with lately, he decided to take over.

  “Eliana moved her alcoholic mother into an apartment on the beach. She attended classes at Marina Del Rey.”

  “You had everything going for you. Why?” Miles was staring at Tara.

  Tara brushed the tears away with the back of her hand, and put both hands up as if weighing on scales. “Information Sciences or priceless museum pieces?” Her laughter was pained, bitter. “I was good at it, always one step ahead of the law.”

  “She flaunted her prizes in the face of the authorities,” Falcon said. “We planted two Fabergé eggs in California. She took them without triggering the alarms, and put the fake in a trash bin outside the museum with a note attached ‘nice try’ before making off with the genuine article.”

  “If I’d only known it was you, we could have been together much sooner.” Words were Eliana’s only defense now.

  Darien gave a savage snort. “Your father taught you well.”

  “My father?” Eliana sneered. “My father robbed me of my birthright. He’d already been married twenty years when I came along, and he kept me hidden far away from his wife, his fame.” Eliana turned to Angel. “The Maestro was not who the world thought he was.”

  Angel narrowed her eyes. “And that’s how this started, a rebellious outcry for attention?”

  “You can’t imagine how it was to watch him with you, teaching you everything…” There was a catch in Eliana’s voice, and for a moment, it seemed she wouldn’t continue. “…when all he gave us was money to keep quiet.”

  Angel leaned toward Eliana as if she hadn’t heard her clearly. “Y-you were in London?”

  “I always knew where my father was hiding from il Dragone, although after his reconstructive surgery I was forbidden to make contact with him under any circumstances.”

  “When?” Roman was looking at Eliana as if she were an unusual species of insect.

  Eliana never took her eyes off Angel. “Every chance my schedule permitted.”

  “Oh, God,” Angel whispered. “It was you.”

  With elbows on knees, Falcon leaned forward. “What is it, Angel?”

  “The night before I left for Italy I was at the Academy…” Angel began quietly. With her head in her hands, she told them of the night she was locked in the study hall at the Royal Academy of Music, and how the master thief had tried to take the violin. She lifted her head to look up at him. “I … I started screaming … and … the door opened.”

  Falcon nodded slightly so that Angel could see he took her meaning. Blessing or curse, the sleeping witch within had finally been awakened.

  “Ma petite, how could you keep this from us?” her mother asked.

  “Would you have let me go to Italy then?” When her mother didn’t answer, Angel continued. “I thought it was Jonny. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you, so I just sort of … buried it.” She paused, frowning at Eliana. “You were the photographer at the funeral.”

  “I couldn’t get a moment alone with my father’s star pupil.” Eliana’s smile was frigid, promising.

  Falcon’s gun hand flexed, but he’d left his gun in the bedroom for this very reason. He felt like killing her on the spot. He turned to Angel. “When you left for Italy she would not follow, fearing a confrontation with Ruggiero and il Dragone, who she knew was also after the Strad.”

  “So she started working on me.” Miles’s eyes glittered with resentment.

  Eliana swung her head towards him with an intimate smile. “That was the fun part.”

  “Miles,” Falcon stayed him with a hand. Miles sat back down. “Don’
t feel bad. You’re just one among many. Isn’t that right, Eliana?”

  Darien opened a folder and withdrew a report. “That is a matter of fact, thanks to Duke Eduardo Falco’s report.”

  Miles rose from his seat and picked up the report.

  Darien went on. “She got involved with the duke’s son and in no time at all, she had secured the violin. By the way, where is it?”

  “It’s safe. Last night I found the Stradivarius in the trunk of Tara’s car, tucked away in its case.”

  Angel nodded understanding. “You wanted back the only part of your father you could ever really have. The thing he loved most in life. His music.”

  “He’d always wanted the Strad. It was for him,” Eliana whispered. “But he flew into a rage, worried about his reputation. He told me I’d ruined him.”

  Falcon sat back in his chair. “Natale couldn’t expose the daughter he’d kept hidden for twenty years, so he took the violin from you with the intention of selling it. When the deal with Ruggiero went sour, Natale was turned out of il Dragone. Neither you or your mother were safe after that.”

  Eliana shook her head. “He was so angry with Ruggiero that he kept the money. Considered it payment for years of contributions to il Dragone, and for having to leave his beloved homeland forever. He never let the Stradivarius out of his sight.” Tears filled her eyes once more. “It was the only love he ever needed, and if il Dragone found us, well, they’d be doing him a favor if they killed the ex-lover he was paying to keep quiet and her twenty-year-old daughter.”

  “Why did the deal with Ruggiero go sour?” Falcon asked.

  Eliana waved her hand dismissively. “Alfonso Ruggiero would have given the Strad to his son Tomas, a determined student devoid of talent. My father vowed the young fool would never lay hands on the violin. He left Italy to bring the violin to England.”

  Darien crossed the distance between them to bend over Eliana, both hands on the armrests of her chair. “You went back to il Dragone and they didn’t kill you. Why?”

  “She made a deal.” Falcon got up to stand next to Angel, who was looking from him to Eliana. “Her life for Angel’s.”

  Darien pulled Eliana out of the chair and dragged her to the double doors of Haddon Hall. Two armed guards stood on the other side. “Get her out of here.”

  Eliana turned back to Falcon, that dark promise in her eyes.

  “I should escort her back,” Falcon heard himself say.

  Darien turned to him. “On the Cardiff jet?”

  “It can be ready to take her to Rome in a few hours,” Roman offered smoothly.

  “Is that so?” Darien looked from Falcon to Roman. “Well, that will have to wait.” There was something in Darien’s eyes. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no, either.

  Whatever it was, Falcon thought the barrister would soon join in the cause against il Dragone.

  “Half the world’s leaders are waiting to talk to her,” Darien said. “And, besides, aren’t we having a wedding?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “The Jeweler Captured. The Organization Touted For Fine Work In Capturing Master Thief Wanted In Four Countries. The Organization Solves Ten-Year-Old Case Of Priceless Stradivarius.”

  Angel read the headlines in the newspapers, sprawled on top of him. They were in the sole bungalow of a private islet just off Maui, of which they were the only two inhabitants.

  Well, not exactly. The house staff was around somewhere, but only appeared when Angel pulled the red silken rope hanging above their heads and the gong sounded.

  “My Falcon,” she said, running her fingers through his chest hair.

  “They shouldn’t have printed it. It’s just a warning to … everyone we’re looking for.”

  When her fingers stopped their movement, he opened one eye and saw that his tigress had more questions.

  “You know, Falcon—I love calling you that, by the way—you need a good witch on the team.” She went on quickly as he shook his head. “Now that we both remember, you won’t remain unharmed, unscarred. Perfect, against them.”

  “No, Angel. You’re not joining the team. Besides everyone has to die sometime.” Before she would say another word, he put a finger to her lips. “Hey, no discussing business on the honeymoon, remember? I’ve been starving for a week.”

  “You have not.” Angel quirked up her lips. It was almost too much for him mingled with that sexed look on her face.

  “Sì, tesoro, it’s your fault.”

  “Just one question. Where is your next assignment?”

  “Ah, about that…”

  Angel lifted up on her elbows to look into his eyes. “North Korea? Afghanistan?”

  He watched her carefully. “New York. A fraud case.”

  Angel nodded and moved off him. “When do you leave?” She was staring up at the waving red silk hangings draped across the polished bamboo ceiling.

  “I’m not leaving. I turned it down.”

  She sat up. “But who will take care of it? Aren’t you the least bit concerned?”

  He shook his head. “I’m giving up fieldwork to concentrate on special assignments. What’s the matter? I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “No. I want you to be happy. And I’ll be happy as long as you get them before they get you. What will the Organization think?”

  “I am happy, Angel.” He sat up and placed her on his lap. “And I’m not actually leaving it. And the Organization is fine with it.”

  “How can they be fine with it? You’re the best they’ve got.”

  “You think so?”

  “Well, there is Granger and the team.” Angel punched him in the arm. “Stop gloating. Wait!”

  He stopped tickling her to reveal another truth. “I founded the Organization.”

  “You are the Organization?” Angel pushed back to stare at him. “You’re just full of secrets, aren’t you?”

  “Not too many left now. Granger and Darien are my partners. Darien was originally based in Rome, but he had several projects going in New York. We switched places for a while. I was planning to move back permanently and take over operations there before … you.” He kissed her lips.

  “Me.” She nipped his bottom lip. “Mrs. Armand Falcone d’Alessandro.”

  “As it turns out, Darien loves New York, and a certain lawyer he met in court.”

  “So, if you’d gone back to New York I might have ended up with Darien in the alley that night in Naples instead of you?”

  He started tickling her again.

  “Me, a barrister’s wife!” Angel was laughing so hard her eyes began to tear up.

  He was laughing because she thought she was too much of a bad girl to be a barrister’s wife. Her innocence was beautiful.

  “All right, all right! I’ll be good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and started kissing him.

  Whimsical chimes swayed outside on the open bamboo balcony. With hands locked, they gazed past the fluttering red silk curtains to the blanket of blue beyond.

  “So, where do you want to live, Angel?”

  “Well, let me think … I’m sure Todd Forster found New York beautiful in the spring…”

  “So is Paris.”

  “…and Juan Garza must have loved winters in Spain…” Angel cupped his face in her hands, raining kisses all over it.

  “Have you ever skied down the French Alps in the winter?”

  “Ah, a sight that must have warmed Gage Martin’s heart, don’t you agree?”

  He took her by the waist and laid her down on her back. She was enjoying herself with his aliases, but he was hard for her again. “You’re saying you want to live in Rouen, close to your grandparents?”

  “But what would Hugh Delacorte do without the Outback. Australia, God’s country, you know! Hang on!” She ended on a squeal when he burrowed face-first into her breasts.

  He took pity on her and watched the rise and fall of those luscious vanilla globes through the milky valley between them
while she caught her breath.

  “Right, then. Now that we’ve discussed our options and I’ve had some time to think about it, I must say I’ve always wanted to live in a castle.”

  “The Castle it will be. The country is the perfect place for us, Bella. You’ll fit in well because I’m going to keep you barefoot and pregnant.”

  Falcon moved over her once more.

  Epilogue

  Sacha walked along the crumbling hilltop, taking a deep breath when she passed under the olive trees. She loved the smells of this land. Everything was fresh, ripe. Here in Lazio the land ruled, not man.

  The ancient path, which wound up the hillside, was really nothing more than an obscure reference detected every few feet through the soft carpet of grass. She traveled this route from Castel Tivoli to the cliffs every day.

  The castle overlooked the falls of the Aniene River. Once a sentinel for the southern coast of Italy, it had protected villagers against Algerian enemies who entered the Tyrrhenian Sea searching for conquests. The castle was home now, east of Rome in the verdant Monti Tiburtini hills where heaven was nature and the summers long.

  From the moment she’d seen it, she had fallen in love with the medieval castle and its tranquil lake in the old volcanic crater, so different from the hectic sights and sounds of London. There was endurance in the atmosphere that put her in awe of her surroundings.

  Armand was part of it. She felt more of everything with him. She was filled with so much love, creativity and—with Armand’s help—peace, that she shed the fears which had once weighed her down.

  Armand helped her conquer the demons of claustrophobia with his stories of a young Marchese Falco and his love for the Comte d’Avril’s daughter. As her memory grew, he filled in the blanks on il Dragone. After all, she would be better prepared for the future if she knew what may come.

  The old wives’ tales the village women were so proud of were true. Love’s promise had woven their souls through the centuries for an everlasting celebration of life.

  When Captain Cardiff and Jacqueline St. Clair met again in this life, their love brought Margaux back to where the Marchese Falco waited for her. But the most perfect part of love’s design was the gift of knowledge to save them from old enemies, giving them a second chance at happiness.