Granted, he’d bought Hagen’s loyalty, but integrity was something that was inherent and he felt confident that Hagen had it.
At least, he was pretty confident….
That was what this Gypsy had done to him. Shaken up his confidence, made him unsure. Unsure about his own abilities to read people. Was he wrong about Hagen? Could the man have been bought? It would explain a lot—
No, damn it, he’d known Hagen for years. He’d known her for hours. And all he knew about her was that she could bypass security systems and bend in ways the good Lord had never intended people to bend. Nothing else. Not much to go on.
And, oh yes, she could make the earth move when she kissed you.
That still didn’t make it much of a résumé, certainly not one that should have caused him to have doubts about more trusted, tried and true employees.
And yet…
He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hand over his face. He was just tired and with that came an indecision, a vacillation he wasn’t accustomed to. What he needed was a good night’s sleep.
Or half a night’s sleep, he amended, glancing at the clock on his nightstand.
Cole dropped facedown on his bed. He was wearing a pair of faded, comfortable and frayed old jeans, his sleeping apparel of choice since he was a teenager. He wore no shirt or pajama top, preferring to allow his skin to breathe.
Shutting his eyes, he concentrated on sleep.
Suddenly, a noise penetrated the silence in the room. Cole jerked his head in the direction of the sound. Screams.
Someone was screaming.
It took him less than a second to bound off his bed and reach the hallway. Once there, he oriented himself to the source of the screams.
They were coming from Elizabeth’s room.
Cole ran to her door, then stopped. He heard it again. “Elizabeth?”
She gave no answer. Cole tried the doorknob, expecting to find it locked.
It gave.
Elizabeth didn’t recognize the place at first. Only that it made her feel small.
Slowly, the realization came to her that it was a nursery. Her nursery.
Vague memories returned. She remembered being here, seeing life from the inside of a crib. Her earliest memories, when she’d attempted to retrace them, had formed at eighteen months.
They’d centered around her mother.
Her mother, looking down at her, smiling that sad smile of hers. Even when she was happy, she was sad, as if there was something weighing heavily on her heart. Something she tried to shield her children from.
Elizabeth felt tears welling up in her throat.
The familiar scent drifted to her, filling her senses. Her mother’s scent. Gardenias.
And then she saw her. Saw her mother. Saw the storm of black hair, the small, trim figure, the gentle hands. She heard the lullaby. The tears went past her throat to her eyes.
Her mother was singing.
Singing to a baby. Her? No, not her, another baby. A different baby. She wasn’t a baby; she was watching all of this. And no one saw her.
Her mother was looking down into a crib. The middle crib.
Slowly, Elizabeth became more and more aware of the surrounding area. There were three cribs lined up end to end against the wall. Her mother was standing at the center crib. Talking to the baby.
“Everything’s going to be all right, my darlings. Nothing and no one will ever harm you, I promise.”
Then, as Elizabeth watched, she saw another woman step out of the shadows. The other woman looked so much like her mother, but it wasn’t. It was someone else. Someone her mother was talking to in another language.
Elizabeth strained to hear. Words floated to her. Foreign words she understood even though she knew she couldn’t.
“Swear to me you will protect them, Magdalena. On our mother’s grave, swear,” she heard her mother plead. “I have no one to trust but you.”
“I swear,” the woman promised.
And then, suddenly, the cribs were empty. The other woman was gone. Her mother was gone.
“Mama?” Elizabeth cried. “Mama, where are you?”
Panic ate away at her.
She wasn’t in the nursery any longer. She was running through the house. She could hear the sound of raised voices. Arguing. The sound escalated, growing louder and louder. It echoed throughout the house.
In her head.
A deep male voice drowned out her mother’s.
“What have you done with them, you bitch?! Where are they?” he demanded over and over again.
There was no answer. Only screams. And then there was darkness all around her.
She was in a closet. The closet Anthony had pushed all of them into. The one he told her and Dani to stay in even as he slipped out.
Except that he wasn’t there.
Dani wasn’t there.
She was alone in the darkness and it was all around her. Frightened, Elizabeth felt around the smooth walls, trying desperately to find the doorknob.
She couldn’t find it.
Couldn’t get out to see what was happening.
And then she started screaming. Surely if she screamed, someone would hear her, someone would come and rescue her and her mommy.
Someone.
But there was only darkness. And no way out.
From the distance, a voice called out to her. Called out her name. She cowered, afraid. But then she realized it wasn’t her father’s voice. The voice belonged to someone else.
It was deep. Comforting.
Was it a trick?
Elizabeth felt someone taking hold of her, closing his arms around her. Her father? Was he going to kill her, too? Kill her as he’d killed her mother?
Panic infused itself through her veins. She balled up her fists and began beating at the arms, trying to break free. It did no good.
“Shh, you’re all right, Elizabeth, you’re all right. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.”
The voice was familiar, safe. But her mind was having trouble making the transition from sleep to wakefulness. Slowly, it dawned on her that she was shaking. And that someone was holding her. Struggling, she tried to pull herself together.
The need for independence triumphed over the need for reassurance.
Pushing him back, she dragged air into her lungs. Once, twice, until she could stop trembling. Only then did she open her eyes to see Cole. Only then did she trust her voice to ask, “What happened?”
“You were screaming. I guess you had a nightmare,” he said. “Want to tell me about it? Sometimes it helps.”
But even as Elizabeth opened her mouth, she could feel everything she’d just seen and felt fading just out of reach. The experience had felt so vivid, been so clear only seconds ago, and now she wasn’t sure what it had been about, or why she’d screamed.
And why the fear hung over her so heavily, as if something dire had happened.
Or would happen.
She looked at him. Did it have to do with Cole? Was something warning her to back off? She didn’t know. The harder she tried to remember what she’d dreamed, the more it eluded her, tearing at her fingers like so many gossamer webs spun by tiny spiders.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I can’t remember.”
“Must have really been bad,” he commented. In her place, he would have wanted to be left alone, so he rose to his feet. “Well, you know where to find me if you remember what you dreamed about, or if you just want to talk….”
He let the statement hang there.
Cole was almost at the door when he heard her. “Don’t go.”
To say that the request surprised him was putting it mildly.
He turned around to look at her. She was still in bed, her hair hanging over her face, wearing an old football jersey. A memento from a past lover? He couldn’t help wondering. She didn’t look like a sexy seductress now. She looked like a young woman who’d been frightened half to death.
>
He felt himself softening again as a protectiveness pushed forward in his chest. Cole crossed back to the bed. “What?”
“I—I don’t want to be alone right now.” Elizabeth raised her eyes to his, a silent entreaty there. “Would you mind?”
“No,” he told her quietly, “I don’t mind.”
Cole shut the door.
Chapter 7
Turning from the door, Cole looked at Elizabeth for a long moment.
And then, because it was safer, he crossed to the chair instead of sitting down on the bed the way he’d done before. Elizabeth looked far too vulnerable and he was feeling things that were far too unstable to be properly harnessed if he was in close proximity to her again.
Common sense, however, didn’t really cut down on the longing.
The silence in the room grew too loud. “You’ve had these nightmares before?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded her head before she could think through the possible consequences of what she was admitting. She was unwittingly giving him an insight into her life.
But she wasn’t thinking clearly yet. The effects of the dream still weighed her down. The horror of the nightmare was far too vivid, even if the dream no longer was.
All she could remember now was that it had something to do with her mother.
She had only distant memories of her mother and a warm feeling whenever she thought of the woman. Certain scents, certain sounds brought her mother back to her. Whenever she detected the fragrance of gardenias, or heard a wild, gypsy song, the kind her mother used to play on the stereo for hours on end, her mind instantly conjured memories of her mother.
But the violent death that had taken her mother from her, from her and Danielle and Anthony, had cast a pall over her dreams.
When she said nothing in response, Cole ventured a guess. “Was the nightmare about getting caught?”
“What?” Elizabeth blinked, coming around. Replaying his question in her mind, she was quick to pull herself out of the vacuum she’d descended into. “Oh, no. I don’t do anything illegal.”
Obviously the woman had a very broad definition of the word illegal. He felt a smile playing on his lips. “What did you call last night at the gallery?”
Good, safe ground. She could handle this far better than she could endure questions about what she’d been dreaming.
“Bending rules, not breaking them. I told you, all I wanted to do was find out if I was right about the statue, nothing more.”
He still wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t dealing with a gorgeous version of a glorified con artist. “And your regular line of business…”
“Keeps me within the law, if only a shade,” she added with what might have been able to pass as a smile. Slowly coming around, Elizabeth dragged her hand through her tangled hair, aware that Cole was watching her every move, making her feel extremely female and very conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything at all beneath her jersey. Her body tingled and she ignored it. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
It was hard keeping his eyes on just her face. Hard to keep his mind on professional expectations and away from private ones.
“I wasn’t asleep.”
Turning her head, Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was past two o’clock. “You keep hours like a bat?”
The comparison amused him. It was far from flattering, but he’d had his fill of people who flattered and pandered to him. He appreciated her genuineness. “When the bat has a lot on its mind, yes.”
“This thing with the statue is really bothering you, isn’t it?” She saw his amused expression. “Dumb question, huh?”
He inclined his head. “Didn’t think you were capable of asking those.”
She shrugged and the neckline of the jersey drooped toward one shoulder. “I’m not at my best half asleep.”
It was time to get going, Cole told himself, before he couldn’t make himself leave. He rose to his feet, his eyes still on hers.
“I have a feeling that you underestimate yourself, Gypsy.”
The moment lingered between them. Elizabeth could feel her heart racing again, far more pleasurably than it had in the middle of the web of dreams she’d just emerged from. Very slowly she took a deep breath, then just as slowly blew it out.
She couldn’t afford to get involved with this man right now, not when her feelings were all scrambled and tossed about, raw from the dream she could no longer reconstruct. She needed to have her wits about her when and if she and Cole were ever going to come together. She needed to come in from a position of strength, not the neediness she felt right now.
“Maybe you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ve kept you long enough. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“Any time.”
After opening the door, Cole slipped out of the room, knowing it was for the best, even if his body was less than happy with the outcome. He found himself wanting her a little too much and that wasn’t good. Not because he hadn’t a clue about who she really was, other than the information she’d volunteered, but because he knew the kind of image he cast. To the public at large, he was a walking dollar sign. And money, to most people, was everything. He had no reason to think that Elizabeth Caldwell was any different from the rest. When they made love—and he knew it was inevitable—the time would be of his choosing. It would be out of desire and curiosity, not need, the way he felt now.
He returned to his room, wondering if there was any point in trying to get in three hours of sleep before he had to get up.
Jeremy Solienti hung up the telephone in his den and shifted in his chair to find Anthony standing in his doorway.
Perfect timing, the man thought.
He leaned back, beckoning Anthony in. After a beat, the latter pushed off the doorframe and came in. He dropped into the chair farthest from the desk and gave every indication that he was ready to regain his feet at any second.
Jeremy was accustomed to Anthony’s ways. Very little caught him by surprise. “You look like someone ran over you twice and then backed up over your body one more time just for good measure. What’s the matter, boy?”
Balancing his chair back on its two hind legs, Anthony Caldwell shoved his hands into his pockets, just barely curtailing a surly response that would have told Jeremy Solienti what he could do with his assessment. Dressed all in black and scowling, Elizabeth’s brother gave the impression of a rogue rain cloud looking for somewhere to cast a scourge.
Jeremy’s voice broke into Anthony’s deep thoughts. “Something wrong with the job?”
“No, the job’s finished. I wrapped it up yesterday.” That was what had prompted him to stop by the house. To tell Jeremy that his client was reunited with the property that had been in questionable hands.
“Good, because I just got another one. Should be a piece of cake for you.” Saying that, Jeremy paused. He had no children of his own, had never seen the need for any. But over the years, changes had occurred. He’d come to think of the three urchins he’d taken under his wing as his children. Even though Dani was now in parts unknown and Elizabeth had decided to take a breather, they were still his “kids” and would always remain that way. “If it’s not the job, what is it?”
“Elizabeth’s gone.” Grinding the words out, Anthony rose to his feet, restless.
“Yes, I know.”
“You know?” Anthony turned on the man, surprised. The blowup between his sister and him had happened several days ago and he’d said nothing, had completed the job himself when she’d abruptly taken herself off it. And all the while, Jeremy had known. The fact irritated him almost beyond belief. “You know where she is?”
Despite his anger over his sister’s position, he’d been trying to connect with Elizabeth to no avail. It wasn’t as if they could read each other’s minds, but if they concentrated, communication of a sort was possible. At the very least, there was a feeling, a connection that allowed each to know what the other was feeling. But all of his e
fforts had yielded nothing, which only made him angrier. And more worried.
He didn’t suffer worry well.
Anthony’s scowl deepened. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”
Jeremy saw the escalating temper. He was quick to set the young man straight before an eruption occurred. “I know Elizabeth’s taken off on a vacation. And that the two of you had it out just before she left. I don’t, however, know where she is at the moment.”
The furrows in Anthony’s forehead deepened. “Then she might not be all right.”
Jeremy shook his head. Anthony was way too overprotective. He’d seen it at the start, that day when they’d met, when Dani had picked his pocket. When he’d caught her hand, Anthony had come out of nowhere, ready to beat him within an inch of his life because he’d come near his sister. Eighteen years later not much had changed.
“She’s not a six-week-old puppy wandering around in the wilderness, Anthony. She’s a thirty-one-year-old woman with one hell of a gift. Don’t worry.” He waved away the concern. “She’s fine.”
“How do you know that?” Anthony demanded hotly, frustration clawing at him. He hated not being in control, hated not knowing. His world had been yanked away from him once, and he wasn’t ever going to allow that to happen again. The only way to prevent it from happening was to maintain strict control over everything that mattered to him. “How do you know that when I don’t know?”
“Maybe you’re too close,” Jeremy pointed out. “And maybe you don’t have enough faith in her.” He looked at the young man with affection that surprised even him at times. “Your problem, Anthony, is that you’ve never learned how to relax, how to let things go. Maybe that’s why Dani left when she did. She couldn’t live life by committee with you being chairman of the board.”
Anthony fisted the hands that were still shoved in his pockets. It wasn’t easy hanging on to his temper, but he was trying.
“Look, old man—”
Jeremy cut him off, his voice gentle but firm. “I am looking. And I’m seeing a great deal more than you are. You can’t always be the big protector, Anthony. Sometimes people have to fall down a few times in order to walk on their own. All Elizabeth wants is to be able to walk on her own.”
Immovable Objects Page 8
