Immovable Objects

by Marie Ferrarella

  He laughed and kissed her, this time with a little of the feeling that was coursing through his veins. “You really are something else, Gypsy. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”

  And you’re never going to, because I won’t let you. “Sometimes, magic tricks are best left unexplained. Otherwise, the magic fades.”

  “I don’t think any amount of explaining will ever make your magic fade.”

  She smiled then, not grinned, but smiled, and he felt it go straight into his gut, taking him prisoner. “That may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  The temptation to remain with her, to spend the afternoon wrapped up in her, was tremendous. But he had an empire to run and obligations to meet even as he stood here. With effort, he stepped away from her. And felt oddly bereft, as if he’d just lost an opportunity.

  He crossed to the door. “Will I see you tonight?”

  There were things she had to set in motion. And a caterer to see. They had a statue to steal. “Count on it.”

  The house was quiet. Too quiet. He’d once enjoyed the sounds of silence; now it meant that the house was empty. That the children he’d taken in, people in their own right now, were out, either doing his bidding or their own. The end result was the same. Loneliness.

  Funny how old age brings that to you on a tarnished platter. That and a host of feelings that had never mattered when he was a young man.

  Jeremy Solienti sighed. His priorities had changed. Not that he was going to allow the makeshift family of enterprising youths he’d assembled over the years ever to see that.

  He’d summoned Anthony, leaving a message on his voice mail to come see him the moment he got in. So when the door to his study opened after a respectful knock, Jeremy placed the book he was reading on the coffee table and welcomed the sight of one of his favorite people. His blue eyes grew a little brighter.

  The brooding youth reminded him a little of himself at that age.

  “You asked to see me,” Anthony began.

  Jeremy nodded. “Yes, I did. I’ve heard some disturbing things—”

  Anthony instantly honed in on the one topic that hadn’t been far from his mind since the blowup with his sister and her reckless disappearance. The note she’d left telling him not to worry about her hardly covered it. “Elizabeth?”

  Jeremy knew the concern that was there. Knew, too, the origins. There was nothing about any of the young people he took in that he didn’t eventually know. But it was time to move on. Elizabeth had done the healthy thing, struck out to be her own person. She was of more use to him that way.

  “Only in a roundabout way,” Jeremy assured him. “I’ve heard that someone’s been asking questions.”

  Helping himself to a decanter of aged Irish whiskey, Anthony poured two fingers’ worth into a shot glass. “Questions? What kind of questions?”

  The rumblings hadn’t been terribly specific. “Questions about you, about your sisters.”

  Anthony jumped to the only conclusion he could, given the situation. “The police?”

  Jeremy waved a dismissive hand. He’d never really been concerned about the police mentality. There wasn’t a detective he couldn’t outsmart, even half trying. “The cops around here couldn’t find their faces if they were looking in the mirror. No, someone else.”

  Anthony took a chair across from his mentor. “Who?” he pressed.

  “Don’t have a name. At least, not yet.” There was a promise in his tone. A promise that he would find out. “Someone, though, who wants to find out all about you and the girls.”

  “Just us?” That didn’t make any sense. “Or everyone who works for you?”

  “Just you.” With a nod of his head, Jeremy indicated that Anthony pour him a shot as well. Anthony rose to his feet and got another glass. “I never asked you kids anything.” There’d never been a need. His network was extensive. But not infallible. He accepted the shot glass from Anthony, his eyes pinning the younger man. “But I’m asking now. Is there anything I should know? Did you kill anyone?”

  “Hell, no,” Anthony spat, sitting down again. “Although I wanted to. That guy who tried to rape Liz.”

  “Right.” He knew all about that incident, as well as the fact that Anthony had witnessed his mother’s death. “Anyone else?”

  “My father if I ever find him.”

  A lot of anger in that boy, Jeremy thought. Anger that he was going to have to find a way to work out of his system. “Can you think of any reason someone’s asking questions?”

  Anthony shrugged broadly. “Case of mistaken identity’s my guess.” Throwing back the shot, he finished it and got to his feet. He still had a job to see to. “Don’t worry about it,” he advised.

  But Anthony was frowning as he left the room.

  Chapter 12

  “You know, there really ought to be a law,” Cole told her.

  Elizabeth’s eyes met his in the mirror. Cole was standing in her doorway.

  About to leave the room, she’d doubled back to take one last critical look at herself in the full-length mirror, to make sure she looked her best. Obviously, from the tone of his voice, she did.

  Elizabeth turned around and looked at the man who’d brought all this about. Anyway you sliced it, in jeans or a suit, Cole Williams was one fine figure of a man. But he looked exceptionally handsome tonight.

  The kind of handsome that was guaranteed to melt the glue right out from under a woman’s expensive set of acrylic nails.

  He was wearing a black tuxedo, black tie and white shirt, and just the sight of him made her feel weak in the knees. No man had a right to look that good and still be real instead of some wild fantasy.

  Because she was accustomed to pretending, she carried off the act that she was unaffected by his appearance with aplomb. “A law against what?”

  He took a step into the room, not knowing whether he trusted himself to come in any farther—to be alone with her. Tonight was about preserving his reputation, about getting back a stolen statue; it wasn’t supposed to be about wanting a woman so badly his teeth hurt.

  The ache didn’t abate.

  “Against a woman looking that good in a dress.”

  Good was a completely inadequate adjective in this case. So was sensational. The shimmering aqua dress she was wearing came up high at her throat and had long, narrow sleeves that reached her wrists. Only when she turned away did it became apparent that the dress was entirely backless all the way down to her waist. There was only about eighteen inches worth of material from there to the hem, which brushed seductively against her mid-thigh with every step she took and clung to her hips when she was standing still.

  MacFarland was going to eat his tongue, Cole thought. He could feel his blood pressure rising just envisioning the other man’s reaction to her outfit. To her. Maybe there was some other way….

  With her arms out to the side, emphasizing the parts that were bare, Elizabeth slowly turned 360 degrees for his inspection.

  “This is for maximum movement,” she told him when she faced him again.

  It wasn’t only MacFarland who was in danger of swallowing his own tongue, Cole thought. He was having trouble keeping his in place. In an effort to divert his mind, he glanced down at her feet. She was wearing matching aqua sandals with four-inch heels.

  Cole shook his head. “And those? Are they for maximum movement, too?”

  She heard the skepticism in his voice and grinned in response. “You’d be surprised what I can do in a pair of heels.”

  All sorts of things began to suggest themselves to him. Things that had no place in the present situation and had nothing to do with removing a statue from its hiding place.

  “You’ll have to show me after this is over.”

  After this is over. Did he mean tonight, Elizabeth thought, or was he saying that they had a future after today?

  She banked down her thoughts before they could run off in directions that would only interfere with her concentrat
ion. Besides, it was just a throwaway line, she told herself. Nothing to wrap her hopes around, and she was an idiot if she did.

  Still…

  Still nothing. She had a job to do and a fee to earn.

  “Deal,” she murmured. “By the way,” she informed him as she picked up a small clutch purse from the bureau, “you paid for this.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant. “You’re adding it on to the list of expenses?”

  She stopped before him. “No.” As if plucking it right out of thin air, she waved her hand and produced a credit card, then handed it to him. Her grin was as wide as the card. “I believe this is yours.”

  He kept all his credit cards in his wallet. And that was never off his person, except when he was sleeping. He remembered seeing that very card yesterday, when he’d checked for a business card he’d acquired the day before. Surprised, Cole raised his eyes to her face. “How did you…”

  The smile wasn’t so much smug as complacent. “Did you know that they used to refer to a pickpocket as a cut-purse back in Shakespeare’s time? It’s considered one of the oldest professions, right after motherhood and that other one.” Her eyes were dancing.

  Replacing the card in his wallet, Cole shook his head. “So you have pedigree.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  She glanced back at the clock on the nightstand. It was time.

  Just before getting dressed, she’d made sure that the security system within the grotto-like area in the sub-basement wasn’t going to be a problem. She’d done it the old-fashioned way, via the computer rather than on the premises with one of her “gifts.” Anthony was better at that than she was, but she could hold her own if need be. And she was better at engineering things through the computer. She’d used it to loop a visual of the room so that no one watching the monitor would see her entering or leaving.

  But all the ends weren’t tied yet.

  “Who did you get to coordinate with us?” she asked as they left the room. Cole had been very secretive about the matter when she’d asked earlier, telling her only to leave it to him. The rest of their plan had been reviewed ad nauseam until she could do it in her sleep.

  Frustrated by this minor power play, she tried to appease herself by remembering that he was, after all, the boss and thus was paying her for her expertise.

  Of course, he wasn’t going to be the one lifting the statue from its pedestal. But then, he wouldn’t be paying her the sum she’d asked for if he was.

  Cole debated telling her who the third party was, but he wasn’t in the mood for an argument. Once they were there, she couldn’t very well walk out on him.

  He took Elizabeth’s arm, ushering her to the garage. “Why don’t we save that for when we get there?”

  She knew how to read faces and voices. And his were telling her something she didn’t like. “It’s Hagen, isn’t it?”

  Cole opened the door leading into the garage. “He’s the best I have.”

  Hadn’t he been paying attention to her? Why had he hired her if he wasn’t going to take what she said seriously? “Hagen was also the best you had when the statue turned up missing.”

  There was no arguing with that, but there was still his gut instinct. The same instinct that had him trusting her had him trusting the man he’d had in his employ all this time.

  “Hagen knows what’s at stake.” He held the car door open for her. “Anything goes wrong this time and he’s the prime suspect. Even if you are right about him, he’s not stupid. He won’t risk it.”

  She slid into the passenger seat. “Men risk a lot of things if the price is right.”

  He didn’t answer until he’d rounded the hood and got in on the driver’s side. “What about women?”

  “Women, too,” she answered offhandedly. The question got under her skin. He turned on the ignition. The garage door directly behind them opened and he backed the silver sports car out. She’d always felt that the direct path was the best. Turning in her seat, she looked at Cole. “Why, are you having second thoughts about me?”

  His second thoughts were having second thoughts. It had gotten to a point where he felt as if he’d come full circle, twice over. “Just asking.”

  No, he was doing more than asking, she knew. He was doubting, and maybe in the absolute sense, she couldn’t blame him for it. But in the emotional sense, she could and did. “Say the word and I’ll walk away.”

  She couldn’t be serious, he thought. They were on the road. She couldn’t open the door and get out. Just then, the light turned red and he was forced to stop. Was she responsible for that? “From the fee?”

  “From distrust.” Taking advantage of the moment, she released her seat belt and started to open the door.

  Cole grabbed her by the arm, holding her as he bore down on the accelerator again. “Hold on, don’t go off half-cocked.”

  Angry, she redid her seat belt. But it didn’t change the way she felt. “Oh, I am fully cocked, Williams, and loaded for bear.”

  “Then I’d better get out of the way of your barrel.” He spared her a look before turning back to the road. There was just the slightest hint of emotion in his voice as he said, “I trust you, Gypsy. Don’t make me wrong.”

  “Not a chance.” But because he had hurt her, and because she wasn’t a hundred percent certain that he was being honest with her now, Elizabeth added flippantly, “After all, you are the man who signs the check.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  Both hands on the wheel, he made a left turn at the next light. Was that all he was to her? Cole wondered. That was all he was to a lot of people, a walking dollar sign. With her, part of him had hoped it would be different.

  But how could it be? The woman earned her living by her wits. She was an opportunist. With very little effort, he could see the tables being turned, and him her target instead of MacFarland.

  There but for the grace of God…

  No, he wasn’t going to cloud his mind with that now, he thought. There was no quick resolution in the offing. What there was was a statue to return to its rightful place.

  He continued to make his way to MacFarland’s mansion.

  There were a glut of cars queuing up for the valets that MacFarland had hired for the evening. There were so many vehicles of all sizes, shapes and colors that it was more than easy to lose sight of just one.

  It was what Cole was counting on. With Elizabeth as his lookout, he carefully backed his silver sports car up until he found himself at the other end of the mansion. At the rear entrance.

  Cole looked around until he found who he was looking for. “Hey,” he called out to one of the servers for the benefit of anyone else who might be listening. “What’s the shortest way to the front?”

  The balding man waved him over to the side, out of the way, then leaned in over the passenger side.

  “Best way is to go back the way you came and make a right,” he answered. His eyes remaining on Cole, he stealthily accepted from Elizabeth what appeared to be a large loaf of French bread wrapped in butcher paper. His expression gave no indication that he was actually holding a statue instead of food.

  Withdrawing from the car, Hagen melded in with the other servers who were rushing around, all involved in trying to deliver a perfect party for an exacting taskmaster.

  Elizabeth sank back in her seat, watching Hagen disappear into the house. “I really hope you’re right about him,” she murmured as Cole pulled away again.

  She had created just enough doubt to make him a little uneasy. “Yeah,” he agreed. “And I really hope you’re wrong.”

  As he slowly retraced his path back to the front of the estate, Cole was aware that she had stopped talking. Was that her way of showing that she was annoyed he’d gone with his instincts and used Hagen as the inside man? Or was she just being petulant because he didn’t treat everything she said as gospel?

  “Gypsy?”

  The line in front of him was going particularly slowl
y, despite the fact that there were at least seven valets in play at all times. Easing his foot onto the brake again, Cole turned to look at her.

  And saw that she had gone deathly pale.

  “Gypsy?” She made no response. “Elizabeth, what’s the matter?”

  The urgent note in his voice echoed within the deep abyss she’d descended into, cracking the walls and letting in the light. She struggled to pull herself together. Tiny beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead. The horror of what she’d seen inside her head hung over her like a shroud.

  Elizabeth took a deep breath. Her pulse was far from steady. She wasn’t a clairvoyant by any means, wasn’t given to visions or even premonitions most of the time, but just for a moment, through her mind’s eye, she’d had a very clear picture of Jeremy, on the floor while men stood over him. Strange men who meant to do him harm. Were doing him harm.

  There was blood.

  Cole pulled over to the side, out of the long, curling line of cars. Losing his place. But he was more concerned with Elizabeth than getting his car properly attended to.

  He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. There was definitely something wrong. Was she afraid of going through with this? After what he’d seen that first evening at his gallery, he would have said she wasn’t afraid of anything, but she was a far more complex creature than he’d first thought.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  With effort, Elizabeth shook off the feeling of impending doom. She tried to force a smile to her lips, but was far from successful.

  “Yes, why?”

  He didn’t like being shut out this way. There was obviously something wrong and he wanted to know what. “Because I didn’t think that a human being could turn that shade of white and still be alive. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  It was far too complicated to begin to explain now. He knew nothing about Jeremy, nothing about who and what she actually was. This wasn’t the time to go into it. She shrugged, looking straight ahead. “I just…had a bad feeling.”

  That wasn’t good enough. “About tonight?” Cole pressed.