Immovable Objects

by Marie Ferrarella

  Anthony looked at the old man sharply. “She told you?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “She didn’t have to. It’s in my best interest to be able to make the right call while observing people. And I’ve known the two of you for a very long time.”

  Enough about this, Jeremy thought. Nothing would be settled today. Anthony was too pigheaded to concede all at once. Better they should tend to business. Maybe that would even distract Anthony.

  Jeremy handed him a single sheet of paper. He’d written out the details of what their new client wanted done. “This is the new job.”

  Still fuming, Anthony glanced at the sheet. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at Jeremy. “You want me to break into a laboratory and steal disks?”

  “Our client maintains that they’re his disks and that they were stolen from him.”

  Industrial espionage. Some of their best clients revolved in those worlds. “What’s on them?”

  “Data that he collected over the years while conducting some kind of experiments.” Jeremy shrugged carelessly. “He looked a little like a mad scientist when he came to me, but the pay is very, very good.”

  “How good?”

  Instead of telling him, Jeremy wrote the figure down on another sheet of paper, then pushed it across the desk toward Anthony.

  Anthony read the sum and whistled.

  “That good,” he muttered, then raised his eyes back up to Jeremy’s face. He knew the stakes were high when it came to industrial espionage, but judging from the money, this was head and shoulders above even that. “Why so much?”

  “The guy claims it’s his life’s work.” Jeremy shrugged again. “Ours isn’t to ask questions, just to deliver. As long as the price is right,” he added with a smile. Business had been very good lately. Even with Dani gone, his young protégés had exceeded all of his expectations.

  “And you’re sure these disks are his?” Anthony queried.

  Jeremy’s eyes met his for a long moment. “He says they are. That’s enough for us.”

  Rule of thumb was that asking the client too many questions left them wide open to a host of problems and possible legal issues down the line. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” had become their motto. Theirs wasn’t to question, just to get in and out as fast as possible.

  Anthony folded what amounted to a work order and placed the sheet into his back pocket. Vague curiosity prompted him to ask, “So what’s this guy’s name?”

  “Titan.”

  That seemed like an odd name for a person, Anthony thought. It was more like something that belonged to a company logo. “Titan what?”

  Jeremy spread his hands wide. “That’s all he’d tell me. Just Titan.”

  “Titan,” Anthony repeated. Egos were a driving force in their business. Anthony laughed shortly. There was no mirth in the sound. “Like one of the gods?”

  Jeremy nodded. The phone was ringing again. More business? Mentally, he rubbed his hands together. Maybe he’d have to find Elizabeth and get her to cut her vacation short. “He certainly thought he was. Now go.” He waved him out. “Do me proud.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Anthony quipped as he left.

  Elizabeth didn’t sleep very much. Maybe it was fear that kept her from drifting off. Maybe it was the distinct scent of his cologne that insisted on lingering in the room long after Cole had left it.

  Whatever the reason, she got no more rest that night. She gave up all attempts at six o’clock, rose and got ready. There was a full day of work ahead of her and trails to follow before they got cold.

  Through connections and skills that had been honed to a fine point over the years, she began to pull pieces of the puzzle together. Granted her starting point was a theory, but it was a theory she was damn confident of, even if the evidence was circumstantial. Her feeling that MacFarland was behind the theft was unshakable.

  Proceeding from there, she managed to get information about the insurance policy MacFarland carried on his artwork. The most heavily insured piece in his collection was Venus Smiling.

  Big surprise there, she thought as she made her notes.

  “And the thing that you might find interesting,” she told Cole later that day when she came to his office with an update, “is that he’d recently had the amount on that piece raised from one to two million dollars.”

  She’d surprised him, coming into his office with a protesting Ms. Witherspoon in her wake. His secretary didn’t appreciate being ignored or usurped. Gypsy, apparently, wasn’t aware that she was doing either.

  Sitting back in his chair, he’d let her make her case while he played devil’s advocate. “Inflation,” he countered.

  With the courage of her convictions, Elizabeth stubbornly dug in. “Or planning.”

  Cole had to admit, she was making a good case. He’d done a little looking into MacFarland’s history himself and what she’d pointed out was true, the man had been on the board of a great many of the businesses his empire had taken over.

  “Okay, he does stand to gain financially. And let’s say you’re right, MacFarland is out for my reputation—”

  Satisfaction shone in her eyes, making her just that much more attractive. Damn, but she made it hard to keep his mind on his work.

  “The picture of you being led off in cuffs would make a nice little photo for him to carry around in his wallet,” she said with sarcasm.

  The flippant statement brought reality back with a thud. There was no way he was going to be questioned about the statue. He could see the whole drama unfolding. MacFarland would have the statue examined once it was returned. Any appraiser worth his fee would see that it was a fake. Which would point the finger at him. “We need to find the real statue.”

  She nodded. “My guess is that people like MacFarland are creatures of habit. The statue, most likely, is probably where he’s kept it all along. For his private viewing.”

  He thought of MacFarland’s estate. Five acres with a sprawling, ostentatious mansion in the middle. And a great deal of security that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. “The place is like a fortress. Planning on bending your way in?”

  He made her sound as if she were a comic book superhero instead of a resourceful woman. “Maybe eventually. I was thinking of something a little more conventional to start with. Like an invitation to the party he’s having next Saturday night.”

  He wasn’t even aware that MacFarland was having a party. Gaining access to it wouldn’t be an easy matter. He looked at her suspiciously. Had she accidentally allowed something to slip?

  “You know him?”

  She shook her head, sporting a smile that would have done Mona Lisa proud had she thought to wear it first on her lips. “Not yet, but I will after you introduce me to him at your party.”

  Obviously he’d missed something here. “What party?” he wanted to know.

  Spreading her hands on his desk, she leaned over it until her face was close to his. She tried very hard not to draw in the scent of his cologne. It would only scramble her thoughts. Remind her that as far as any kind of intimate interaction went, she was in way over her head.

  “The small, intimate one you’re going to throw tomorrow night. Just him and a few of your closer associates.” Her smile rose into her eyes. It was fascinating to watch. “And me. The woman you can’t take your eyes off.” She laughed. The sound tickled him. “If I’m right about this man, he wants anything you want, just for spite. I get him to invite me to the party and the rest will be easy.”

  “You’re that confident.”

  “Success is built on confidence.” She straightened again, growing practical, concentrating on what she knew. “And preparation. I’ll need the layout of his house.”

  He laughed at her. “Just like that.”

  She heard the doubt and didn’t let it stop her. “Every house has a builder.” And with that, she was in the doorway again, ready to take flight. “Now let me do my work. You start arranging for the party.”

  He had a cur
ve to throw her. “What if he doesn’t come?”

  “Oh, he’ll come, all right,” she told him. There was no doubt in her voice. “He wouldn’t pass up anything in his honor.”

  The two men had entered into a vast merger together, but neither had ever consciously entered the other’s intimate social circles. Given a choice, Cole would rather keep it that way.

  “And why would I—”

  “To thank him for lending you the statue. The irony of it will be too much for him to pass up.” She winked. “Trust me.”

  And then she was gone, leaving the effect of her wink to linger over him. To make his gut tighten and his mind wander.

  Trust me.

  That was exactly what he was doing and Cole couldn’t help wondering if he was going to regret it in the long run.

  Chapter 8

  “So, how do I look?”

  When he turned around in the living room, Cole saw her walking down the stairs toward him. Elizabeth stopped at the bottom of the stairs and twirled before him, a vision in blue. Her dress clung to her curves the way he longed to. It was five minutes to the hour and MacFarland and the other five guests he’d invited were due within the heartbeat.

  Having just poured two glasses of wine, he handed one to her. And discovered that he wanted more than just a moment alone with her.

  “Too beautiful to waste on the likes of Jonathan MacFarland.”

  She smiled that smile at him, the one that could disarm an entire army battalion at fifty paces. “Good, that’s exactly how I wanted to look.”

  He paused, openly studying her. There was so much he didn’t know about her, so many blank spaces that hadn’t been filled.

  “You’ve done this before. Played con games,” he clarified when she looked at him quizzically. “Haven’t you?”

  The doorbell rang just then, saving her.

  Flashing a smile, she patted Cole’s arm. He knew she was dismissing the question. “Just let me do my job,” she whispered as his housekeeper, Cummings, went to answer the door.

  From the very first moment the other man laid eyes on her, Cole could see that Jonathan MacFarland wanted Elizabeth. Wanted her not just because she was the most beautiful woman in the room, but because MacFarland thought that she belonged to him.

  Elizabeth was right, Cole thought. The rivalry that MacFarland perceived between them went deep. And it seemed to be all-consuming for the man.

  Well, they’d set it up this way, hadn’t they? Set it up so that MacFarland would be drawn to her and would act upon that attraction.

  Cole had introduced her to MacFarland and the others simply as Elizabeth, leaving her last name out of it. Creating an aura of mystery about her. When it came his turn to meet her, MacFarland had held Elizabeth’s hand a little longer than was necessary, as if he was already thinking about sampling her.

  Something twisted within Cole’s gut, and it took more effort than he would have thought to keep his calm exterior in place.

  His smile felt a little tight around the edges as he told MacFarland, “I guess I have you to thank for meeting Elizabeth.”

  MacFarland looked at him blankly, his wide, florid face a puzzled roadmap. Shifting his eyes back to her, he directed his question to Elizabeth. “Oh? And how’s that?”

  “We met at the gallery opening the other night. In front of your beautiful sculpture,” she told him. “Venus Smiling. I came expressly to see it.”

  MacFarland’s small, piglike brown eyes devoured her. More guests were arriving behind him. MacFarland took the opportunity to draw her away from the man he considered his rival in everything, his equal in nothing.

  “Are you interested in art?” MacFarland posed seductively.

  It took absolutely no effort to infuse enthusiasm in her voice. “I adore it. Art has always been one of the passions of my life.”

  She saw delight enter the brown orbs. “Then you must come to my home. I’ve a great many pieces of art that just might interest you.” His eyes slid down to her neckline and the hint of cleavage that was detectable there. “I’m a very renowned collector.”

  “Yes, I know,” she murmured, deliberately looking up into his eyes as if he were the only man in the room, or at the very least, the most fascinating.

  From across the room, Cole observed her in action. He had to admit that the web she was spinning around MacFarland was a thing of beauty. He didn’t have to hear the words to know that she was playing the man like a pro. Body language told him what he wanted to know.

  She wasn’t being too eager, just enough to place the bait out in the water and then wait for him to take it. MacFarland, so full of pride, so full of himself, took no notice that there was a hook in his mouth and that he was being reeled in ever so slowly.

  He looked as if he sincerely believed that all the moves being executed were his.

  Cole didn’t waste any energy being sorry for the other man. He was struggling to bank down a completely new sensation before it overtook him.

  Right after dinner, MacFarland focused his attention on Elizabeth to the exclusion of everyone else. He maneuvered her into a corner in order to monopolize her. Each time Cole looked they seemed to be deep in conversation. As he played host to the other guests he’d invited for the evening, he attempted to ignore the sound of Elizabeth’s soft, melodic laughter as it reached him time and again. He told himself that she was only carrying out the plan they’d agreed on.

  Or she had, he amended. Playing up to the over-weight, opinionated billionaire had been strictly her idea.

  As he struggled to keep his mind on the conversation, Cole couldn’t help wondering if it was MacFarland who was the one being played. What if she was actually in on this with him and the two of them were playing Cole instead? Maybe they were leading him down a darkened trail for some purpose that hadn’t yet occurred to him.

  Maybe he was being set up and he didn’t know it.

  He felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. Coming around, he found himself looking into the concerned face of one of his oldest friends, Jeff Jackson. “Cole, are you all right?”

  Cole flushed. He was usually better than this at keeping his thoughts from registering on his face. “Sorry.” He shrugged carelessly. “Just preoccupied.”

  Jeff looked over his shoulder in Elizabeth’s direction.

  “Yes, and I can see why. She is beautiful.” He lowered his voice just a trifle. “Looks like MacFarland wants to add her to his collection.”

  Cole realized that if he didn’t loosen his hold on the stem of his glass, it was going to snap. He took a breath before forcing an easygoing smile he didn’t feel.

  “He can try.”

  Closing the door as the last guest left, Cole turned around. He felt testy and he knew it. Something strange and unsettling was going on inside him. He supposed if he analyzed it closely, he might say that it was jealousy. Never having experienced it before, he wasn’t sure.

  He’d wanted to rip Jonathan MacFarland’s hand off instead of shake it when he’d taken his leave. Especially after the man had raised Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Don’t forget tomorrow,” he’d said to her as if he already owned her, body and soul, but was too well-mannered to say so.

  And for her part, Elizabeth had smiled up into his wide face and promised, “I won’t.”

  “Tomorrow?” Cole finally asked as he came away from the door.

  She saw the odd look on Cole’s face. Like a volcano on the verge of erupting. But why? Wasn’t this what the whole evening had been about? To gain MacFarland’s confidence? “He’s invited me over for dinner. To see his collections,” she added when Cole said nothing.

  His expression darkened. “They used to call it etchings,” he bit off, looking at her. “That was a euphemism for—”

  She cut him off. “I know what it was a euphemism for.” Did he think she was some innocent babe? Damn it, why was he treating her the way Anthony always had? It was the last thing she wanted or
needed. “But I just intend to see as much of his collection as he’ll allow me to. Nothing else,” she underscored. “Except to do a little planting,” she added with a smile.

  Drifting over to the den, she mentally went over her own plan, then said aloud, “I’ll probably need three or four cameras.” She’d seen the schematics of the mansion and in order to penetrate the surveillance system and hack into its monitors, she was going to need to use more than one point of access.

  After pouring himself a whiskey, neat, Cole threw it down, then blew out a breath, trying to harness the impatience, the frustration he felt. Whether she needed three or three hundred cameras didn’t matter. Technology wasn’t the problem. He had easy access to state-of-the-art equipment, some of which was currently housed within his desk.

  No, the problem went far deeper than the need for any electronic device. And it bothered him on a great many levels.

  He debated pouring another whiskey, then decided against it. A fuzzy mind was not the answer.

  Cole set his glass down. “He looked really taken with you.”

  There was an odd tone in his voice, Elizabeth noted, and she struggled to get a handle on it. But Cole Williams was not the easiest man to read.

  “That was the plan, wasn’t it? To get MacFarland ‘taken’ with me.” Elizabeth found that she rather liked the old-fashioned term as she rolled it around on her tongue.

  “Yes,” Cole told her tersely. Because the temptation to numb his thoughts was becoming progressively more urgent, he shoved his hands into his pockets and crossed to the other side of the room.

  She stayed where she was, watching him, trying to untangle the puzzle that was Cole Williams. “Then you should be very happy.”

  “I am,” he snapped at her.

  Since he wouldn’t come to her, she crossed to him. Elizabeth peered up into his face, pretending to examine his expression. “You don’t look like a man who’s very happy.”

  No, he wasn’t, he thought. He was a man who wasn’t comfortable about what he was experiencing. Something that seemed to be out of his control, which made it that much worse because he was determined to be in control always. That way there were no surprises, no sudden upsets. “I just don’t like feeding sheep to lions.”