A corner of Simon’s mouth rose. “Deal.”
A deal with the devil, she realized. What had she done? If it weren’t for that moment in Giovanni’s . . . Her thoughts trailed off as she rubbed her fingers over the lens.
While Elwood and Simon talked airports, she held the crystal up to a window and looked through it. The light caught and fractured brilliantly. Just like it would for anyone. Maybe she’d just imagined the woman in the restaurant. She moved the lens away from the window and scanned the room with it. Maybe there really was nothing special—
Shadows leapt from the artifacts on the shelves with sudden clarity. She inhaled sharply and focused the lens on a Chinese ceremonial cup. Just like in the restaurant, the artisan emerged clearly, working the turquoise with swift, sure strokes. She could see his dark hair and eyes, the hunch of his back, the threads of his tunic.
Destiny, whispered in her mind. This is for you.
The scenery morphed as the cup changed hands several times until finally she recognized one man. Her heart sank. No.
“Jillian?”
She broke from the vision and blinked her eyes to find Simon and Elwood watching her intently. She shook off the past as the present returned and a hundred scattered thoughts ran through her mind at once.
She knew why Franco wanted her. Why they thought she was the key. She was, but how could they know? It wasn’t like she broadcast her gift. Her heart pounded because she knew. She knew. This was no coincidence.
Simon asked, “Problem with the lens?”
She gripped it in her hand. As much as she hated him at this moment, he deserved to know. She wasn’t like him. It would be unforgivable if she endangered anyone’s life in any way. It was the right thing to do. She took a deep breath.
“I think I know why they believe I’m the key.” She lifted her gaze to Simon’s. “I have a gift. A kind of extrasensory vision.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and a muscle tightened in his jaw. “And?”
“I can see ghosts of the past around ancient artifacts. Not clearly, but usually enough to see who the creator was. Or anyone else who may have a strong emotional attachment to the object.”
Elwood said in awe, “I’ll be damned.”
“So you see dead people,” Simon said.
She shot him a glare. “Only in connection with objects.”
“That’s quite a claim,” Simon said to her. He crossed his arms. “Can you prove it?”
Could she prove it? Jillian felt the heat rise in her face. She’d just told him her biggest, most intimate secret, and he didn’t believe her.
“I can tell you that the turquoise cup on that shelf is authentic and was carved by a craftsman in the early 1800s in China. He was about forty years old, wore an ivory linen tunic with a black sash, and worked barefoot.”
Simon shrugged. “Educated guess.”
“And you looted it from a grave.”
Simon didn’t even blink as he watched her. “That’s not a strong emotional attachment.”
“Brutality is the strongest emotion there is,” she said. “You’re a tomb raider.”
“Retired tomb raider,” he said without a hint of shame.
It got really quiet, and she realized that Elwood wasn’t saying a word. She could only assume he knew Simon’s occupation, too. Everyone knew but her. Lovely.
“So what does the lens do for you?” Simon asked.
She opened her hand to look at it. “Normally, my vision is blurred. Fuzzy, like a piece of gauze is between the past and me. And it’s limited to the immediate proximity of the object. Sometimes all I get are the hands or a flash of movement. But not with this crystal. It’s a perfectly focused vision, and I see a lot more detail and a much wider range.”
There was an uncomfortable silence while she waited for them to digest that little tidbit. This lens was made for her. Thousands of years ago. No one else could use it like she could.
Well, she had wanted to handle this one herself. Here she was.
Elwood cleared his throat, and Simon studied her intently. “Does the museum know about your vision?”
“Of course not. I’d be laughed out of the art world.”
Simon’s lips thinned. “Don’t be too sure. A gift like that could be very profitable to certain people. Like Franco.”
Or like you? she thought. Would you use me?
But he was right. Was Franco planning on abducting her to use her gift for some illegal venture out of the country? And for how long? She shuddered. Whatever the reason, this just turned very personal. It also meant the cops were definitely out of the picture. The last thing she needed was publicity about how special she was. No museum would touch her after that.
“Who knows about your vision?” Simon asked.
“Just my family.”
“Friends?” he pressed.
“No.”
“Lovers?”
The word echoed in her ears. Elwood’s face turned red.
“None of your damn business,” she said.
Simon stepped forward and closed the space between them. “It is now. Who did you tell?”
She closed her eyes. Could this get any worse? Couldn’t she at least keep her dignity? “Lance Fairfax. He worked at MOMA. We dated until he moved to Arizona a few years ago to open his own gallery.”
“You dated a guy named Lance?”
She opened her eyes and glared at Simon, who was clearly enjoying her torment. “He was a decent man with a good, honest job.”
That bounced off Simon without any effect. “Is he still in Arizona?”
“I don’t know.” Then she stared at Simon, realizing where he was going with this. “Lance would never tell anyone. He understood how personal this is to me.”
“So you trust Lance.” Simon emphasized the name. “To do the right thing and not use this amazing ability you have for his own selfish gain.”
She raised her chin. “Yes, I do.”
The look on Simon’s face told her he thought she was crazy or stupid. Maybe she was. But married people shouldn’t have secrets between them, and Lance had been more than a lover. They’d been serious. When he brought up the subject of marriage, she’d told him all her secrets. And then he’d left.
“Anyone else?”
“No one.”
They all jumped when the doorbell chimed. For a moment, none of them moved.
Simon turned to Yancy, and ventured, “Expecting company?”
“No.” Yancy jabbed a bony at finger at him. “And if you brought this to my doorstep, you won’t be invited back again.”
Simon winced. “I’ll get my gun.”
“I got it covered.” Yancy walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a shotgun for himself. He gave Simon a handgun. “It’s loaded. Don’t shoot yourself. You take the front door. I’ll head out the back door and cover them from behind.”
“Go to the kitchen,” Simon told Jillian as he checked the gun. He pulled the car keys from his pocket and handed them to her. “If you hear shots, get in the car and leave. Don’t look back. Don’t stop for anything.”
He glanced up to find her eyes narrowed in deep thought.
“What?” he said.
“I thought you didn’t care.”
Christ. “Don’t get any bullet holes in my car.”
He moved to the front door. He pressed himself against the wall and looked through the door’s stained-glass window. Unfortunately, all he could see was a fuzzy outline of a man.
The bell rang again. After he’d given Yancy enough time to get into position, Simon reached over and unlocked and turned the door handle. As the door swung open, he came around the doorjamb, gun first, at the same time that Yancy stepped out from the bushes with the shotgun.
A twentysomething kid wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt and black jeans stood, slack-jawed, on the front steps staring at the gun. His head was shaved, and he weighed all of 150 pounds. He swallowed hard and slowly raised his hands.
; Then he looked at Simon and said, “Is Jillian here?”
“Who else did you call?” Simon asked, standing over her with his hands on his hips and fury in his eyes. Paulie was on the other side of her, dancing from one foot to the other and squinting at Simon like he was ready to rumble, even though Simon outweighed him by fifty pounds. Elwood sat back in his chair, enjoying the show with his hands behind his head and his feet up on his desk.
“I didn’t call him. He called me,” she said, holding her ground. “You were there, remember?”
“Then how did he find us?” Simon asked.
Paulie pointed a finger at him. “Hey, stop talking to her like that.” Then he looked at Jillian. “What is going on? Who is this bozo?”
Jillian closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose where a really nasty headache was forming. “It’s a long story.”
“Okay. Let’s start with, is he a good guy or a bad guy?” Paulie asked.
“I don’t know,” Jillian muttered.
“I save your life, and that’s the thanks I get,” Simon said.
She opened one eye to look at him. “You also kidnapped me.”
“He what?” Paulie said and took a step forward, ready to do battle in her honor. Jillian held him back. “Easy, Paulie.”
“So if you didn’t give him your location, how did he find you?” Simon asked her.
Paulie rolled his eyes. “Integrated GPS receiver in her cell phone. Duh.”
She turned to look at him. “I didn’t know I had a GPS receiver in my phone.”
Paulie shut up and looked suddenly guilty.
Jillian felt the heat rise in her face. “Are you saying Raven gave me a GPS cell phone as a Christmas present so she could track me? Like a dog? And you knew about it?”
“It was just in case of an emergency, because of the, you know, kidnapping last year,” Paulie stammered.
Lovely. Her sister was tracking her. Wait ’til their next conversation.
“What kind of life do you live?” Simon asked her.
She glared at him.
Paulie added, “And I figured this was an emergency, since your apartment was trashed and you weren’t home alone having a nice, quiet weekend.”
Blood began to pound in her ears. “You checked my apartment? I told you I was fine. Didn’t you believe me? You had to see for yourself?”
He winced. “I know it sounds bad when you put it that way, but the GPS put you here when you said you were home, and—”
“And then you followed me,” Jillian said, holding on to every word with all the self-control she had. “As if I’m a child?”
He relented. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I infringed on your privacy, and I promise to deactivate the GPS as soon as possible, but then when I saw you pull into the driveway with this bozo—”
“Watch it,” Simon warned.
“I ran the check on his plates and discovered that he has about fifteen aliases and a bunch of offshore accounts.”
Simon frowned. “How did you get that information?”
Paulie ignored him. “Not to mention some really interesting expenses on his charge cards in every third-world country on the planet.”
“You gained access to my charge cards? What are you, some kind of hacker?” Simon asked.
Paulie continued, “So there was no way I was going to let you get anywhere near him. Raven would kill me.”
“Who’s Raven?” Simon asked.
“My sister,” Jillian answered tightly.
Paulie stood on his toes and stabbed a finger at Simon over Jillian. “Who can kick your ass.”
Jillian put her hand up to Paulie. “She’s doing salvaging with her husband, Dax—”
Paulie interjected, “Former police officer and very tight with NYPD.”
“And my father,” Jillian finished.
“Who’s no one’s fool,” Paulie said, bobbing his head in challenge.
Simon leaned over her. “Tell him to stop doing that or I’m going to kill him.”
Jillian put a hand on each of their chests and pushed them apart and said, “Knock it off!”
Both men took a step back, and the room got real quiet except for the potent mix of humiliation and resentment throbbing in her head. She clenched her fists at her sides and tried to pull herself together from the indignity of it all. Didn’t anyone think she could do anything by herself? Didn’t anyone believe in her?
She took a deep breath. Enough was enough.
She pointed at Paulie. “This is my business. Not yours. Not Raven’s. Not even my father’s. Clear?”
Paulie’s eyes grew huge. “Crystal.”
Then she turned to Simon, who was watching her with surprise on his face. “And you. If you don’t start trusting me a little, I’m going to sic my entire family on you. Because if you think Paulie has skills, you haven’t seen anything.”
Her entire body vibrated with fury as she stood there staring him down. He almost called her “babe” and then decided that he liked living and breathing. So he just grunted agreement.
She glared at them in turn. “Good. Now I’m going to go into the kitchen and find something alcoholic to drink. Then I’m calling in to work so no one else comes looking for me. You two have your differences worked out by the time I get back. If I ever hear the word ‘babysit’, someone’s going to get hurt.” She walked out of the room.
Paulie looked after her. “Jeez. I’ve never seen her like that. She’s usually really cool. What did you do to her?”
“It hasn’t been a good twenty-four hours,” Simon told him.
Paulie eyed him suspiciously. “Feel free to fill me in, because I’m not going anywhere. She wasn’t kidding about her family. You don’t know trouble.”
Oh, yes, I do, Simon thought. Still he could use the kid’s skills. “So, Hacker Boy, how are you at locating old boyfriends and wannabe kidnappers?”
Paulie shrugged. “If I have Internet access, I can get you anything you want.”
Simon slapped Paulie on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it. And we’re leaving for Mexico tomorrow.”
His mouth dropped open. “Mexico? Are you serious?”
Simon glanced at Yancy, who nodded back. “Looks like.”
Paulie rubbed his shaved head. “Crap. Is there a chance I’ll get shot at?”
“Yup.”
Paulie sighed. “I knew it. Her family’s going to kill me one of these days.”
CHAPTER
7
Simon woke to someone grabbing his shoulder. Everything registered in a flash—night, dark, strange house, strange hand. He spun around, wide-awake, and nearly broke Yancy’s face with his fist.
“It’s me,” Yancy said, dodging the swing like a pro.
Simon swore and sat up in the bed. His heart was pounding out of his chest as he took stock of the situation. Moonlight streaming through the second-floor bedroom illuminated Yancy’s gaunt frame. He was still dressed in his day clothes at 3:00 a.m., which meant that the old man had pulled an all-nighter. Well, good for him. Simon needed sleep.
“You have a death wish, Yance?”
He grinned knowingly. “It never goes away, does it? Even after you retire.”
Simon eyed him. “Is there a reason you nearly gave me heart failure, or was this payback for crashing at your place one too many times?”
Yancy hitched his head toward the door. “Your girl is up again.”
Simon gritted his teeth. “She’s not my girl. She’s just trouble.”
The old man nodded a few times. “I can see that. But there’s a lot worse ways for you to go.”
There was a grimness to Yancy’s joke, and Simon waited for bad news.
Finally Yancy coughed it up. “It took me all night, but I found your legend.”
Simon swung his feet to the floor and turned on the nightstand lamp. Yancy handed him a clutch of papers, mostly handwritten scrawl. His mind sharpened as he scanned the pictures and notes.
“Shit,” he sa
id when the full weight of the situation dawned on him.
“My thoughts exactly. This is big, Simon. And as you well know, the bigger it is, the better the chance it’ll kill you.”
No wonder they were ready to murder and kidnap. And no wonder Kesel was hot on the trail. “How much of this do you think they know?”
Yancy shrugged. “Obviously, the lens and the Seer. According to this legend, the Seer is the only one who can figure this out. They can’t find it without Jillian.”
And that was Simon’s only advantage. They knew the legend but not the location.
Yancy said, “My trail ends here, Simon. You and Jillian want answers, you’ll need to see Mancuso.” He stabbed a finger at the notes. “And you better tell Jillian about this.”
Simon rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah.”
“And about Jackson and Celina,” Yancy added. “She deserves to know just how dangerous this little gambit is.”
“I will.” And he would, as soon as he could think of a way to keep her from freaking out.
Yancy exhaled. “Watch your back. Don’t trust anyone. And always make sure you have a plan B. I know that’s your weakness.”
Screw plan B. He needed plans C through Z.
“Especially in Mexico,” Yancy added.
For a split second, it was fifteen years ago. The walls were concrete and stained. The dirt floor was soaked with urine and blood. Screams of fellow prisoners haunted his sleep. Guards joked in Spanish about what they were going to do to them. And every day was a new nightmare.
They sat for a few long minutes before Yancy said, “I won’t be able to help you this time if you have a run-in with the authorities.”
Simon heard the worry in his voice. “I know. I’ll be careful.”
Neither of them looked at each other, but there was a silent understanding. If Simon got thrown in jail again, there would be no one to bail him out.
“Keep an eye on your girl, too. She’s worth saving.”
Simon smirked. “Lots of beautiful women out there worth saving.”
“Not like this one. She’s one in six billion.” He clapped him on the back. “I’m heading to bed. Probably won’t be up until noon. If you need me, you know where to find me.” Then he stood up and made his way to the door.
Out of Time Page 6
