Too Wicked to Keep

by Julie Leto

  “This is about your grandson?”

  “Charles Harris Love, the fourth. He has a brilliant mind, but he can’t stay out of trouble. Five boarding schools,” he complained, his voice rising with indignation. “Not that I should be surprised. His father got kicked out of seven before he went wildcatting in Texas and ended up dying in a rig explosion just a couple of months after the boy was born.”

  Danny winced. Though he hadn’t had any family ties until recently, he was starting to understand the power they possessed.

  “I don’t get it,” Danny said. “The ring never belonged to your family. Why would you want it now?”

  “It’s the symbol of our greatest error, our greatest shame. It set in motion generations of men who have struggled to succeed at leading good, decent lives. My grandson is already on that path to destruction. Ramon believed that ring had properties—the ability to keep his progeny on the straight and narrow. I want it for my grandson and you’re going to get it for me.”

  Danny resisted any urge to look down at his hand, flex his fingers.

  “It’s just a hunk of metal and stones.”

  “Maybe,” Harris said, his voice wavering slightly, as if he knew he sounded more than a little mad. “But there is power in symbolism.”

  “Maybe, but you’ve gone to a lot of trouble for symbolism,” Danny challenged.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes for my family,” Liebe said evenly. “Just like your lady love. She’s invited you back into her life to save her family from scandal. I’m no different.”

  Danny had hoped the conversation would lead back to the portrait, but he’d had no idea it would take such a circuitous route.

  “You can have it,” Liebe said dismissively.

  “The painting? Just like that?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “An exchange, just as I wanted before. This time, the painting for the ring.”

  Danny pushed aside all his anger over the man’s scheming and focused on the situation at hand. His arrest, after all, had netted him contact with Abby again, and for that, Danny couldn’t help but be weirdly grateful. Still, he wasn’t going to promise something that wasn’t his to give. Not even for Abby.

  “You should be talking to Michael, then.”

  Liebe raised his eyebrows. “He’s an FBI. I doubt he’ll negotiate.”

  “But I will?”

  “Won’t you? Your sense of right and wrong isn’t nearly as…well formed. And you, my friend, have a weakness.”

  Abby.

  “I talked about her in Mexico?”

  “You rambled on about nothing else. For the price of a couple of bottles of booze, I learned that you didn’t give a crap about your family history. I knew then that you put no sentimental value on the ring, which works in my favor. But as the black sheep of the family, they weren’t exactly going to hand the thing over to you, either. My trip was nearly wasted, but then you confessed what you’d done to Ms. Albertini—about your regrets. About your promise to get the painting back for her, whatever it took. That’s when I started looking for it, hoping I might use it to manipulate you into helping me. Unfortunately, it was not easy to find. After Ramon’s death, I decided to orchestrate your arrest to get you to help me.”

  “I couldn’t do much from a jail cell.”

  “But you improvised well. Using your adopted sister? A nice touch.”

  “But she didn’t get the ring back.”

  “She succumbed to the infamous Murrieta charm, which I confess, wasn’t unexpected. I met Lucienne, you know. Under another of my aliases. To her, I was one of Ramon’s many reliable clients. She played her role very well, but I had the opportunity to see her and Alejandro together during a pre-auction meeting. They tried to fight their shared attraction, but even I could see what would happen if they were left alone long enough. That’s when I employed Mr. Rim to do what she obviously couldn’t.”

  Danny pulled off the knit cap he’d worn that was now making his skull hot and itchy. He’d been here a hell of a lot longer than he’d intended. Abby had to be going out of her mind.

  “But Alex stopped Jimmy,” Danny said, prouder at that moment than he had been previously. Now that he knew Alex, he realized that tangling with armed thugs was no more his specialty than it was Danny’s. But he’d risked his life to keep Lucy safe from the danger Danny had put her in—and for that, he’d be eternally grateful.

  “He did, and then, he passed the ring on to Michael. A smart move. Stealing from an FBI agent isn’t child’s play. And since Lucy influenced your brothers to help you get out of jail, I’d lost my leverage over you. That’s when I doubled my efforts to retrieve Ms. Albertini’s painting…and here we are.”

  For the first time since the lights had flashed on and his plan to retrieve the painting quick and easy had evaporated, anger bloomed in Danny’s chest. The crazy talk about the ring’s powers, the manipulation that had landed him in jail and the way this stranger had invaded the lives of just about everyone tied to the Murrieta family were nothing compared to Harris dragging Abby into this madness.

  “You did all that just to get your hands on a ring?”

  “On a legacy.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.”

  “Now, you hardly know me,” Harris replied, unperturbed. “I hardly think you’re in any position to judge the state of my sanity.”

  Danny rubbed his hand down his face, certain the time had come for him to get the hell out of here. The man had finished off half his drink, but his gun hand, unfortunately, remained steady. Danny might never make it across the room without getting shot. And as he had broken into the guy’s house with the intention of stealing his property, the police would call it self-defense and the matter would be over. He’d either be dead or in a hell of a lot of pain and looking at jail time. Abby wouldn’t get her painting and Harris would continue to harass his family until he had what he wanted.

  A couple of months ago, Danny wouldn’t have cared. He might have destroyed the ring himself if he’d had the chance, just to break the last bond tying him to the father he’d never known. But things had changed drastically since Ramon’s death. Alejandro had saved him from prison. Michael, albeit reluctantly, had trusted him enough to allow him to help on a case. Add to the fact that Lucy, his best friend, was marrying his older brother, and like it or not, his connection to the Murrieta family was now indestructible.

  Then there was Abby. She’d been drawn into this mess because some nut-job wanted a hunk of gold and scratched stones to keep his grandson on the straight and narrow. The man was insane—but he was also holding a gun and, metaphorically, all the cards.

  He glanced at the portrait. There was no denying that Abby’s grandmother had been a stunning beauty in her youth. Danny stood, and with a silent gesture, received permission to examine the painting more closely. As he neared, he realized how deeply Abby resembled the woman in the painting. The same sweet curves. The same irresistible lips. And since he’d come back into her life, the same bold, irreverent expression.

  But despite how much he wanted to bring the painting back to her, he couldn’t just turn over the ring. Even if it came off—which he wasn’t sure it would—it wasn’t his to relinquish. The ring didn’t belong just to him. It belonged to Alex and Michael, too.

  Danny turned. “What’s your timetable?”

  “I’m already spending obscene amounts of money on the masquerade. Bring it to me then and I’ll give Ms. Albertini the portrait before anyone sees it.”

  “What will you tell your guests?”

  Harris laughed. “I’ll tell them to drink another round of Cristal. I don’t care about the party. I want the ring. Do you understand?”

  The gun notwithstanding, Danny understood that the man was serious. He might be averse to chopping off the body parts of people who stood in his way, but he’d find other means to make people suffer if Danny didn’t come through.

  “Fine,” he said. “It’s a deal.”

 
; Harris lowered his gun and flicked on the safety.

  “You’re going to believe me, just like that?”

  Liebe grinned. “I trust that you will not betray Ms. Albertini again. But I suppose I won’t know for sure until the party. That’s fine. I may be old, but I still enjoy a challenge.”

  Danny stalked to the door. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do about the ring, but he knew he wouldn’t figure it out here—and he wouldn’t figure it out without Abby.

  15

  ABBY JUMPED AT THE SOUND of the soft knock on her door. Without checking the peephole, she flung it open and this time was greeted by the face she’d been waiting hours for. No more surprises. She couldn’t take any more surprises.

  Danny’s grin nearly melted her insides. “I’m like a bad habit, Abby. Hard to get rid of.”

  With a burst of laughter, she slapped him on the shoulder, then locked her hands on either side of his face and kissed him soundly. Though he chuckled underneath her passionate assault, she could feel the tension in his muscles and in the rigid grasp of his hands on her waist. Something had gone wrong. He had not retrieved the painting.

  And she didn’t care. He was back. He was safe. And he could now deal with the unexpected visitors who’d shown up at her apartment an hour ago and turned her and Danny’s private plan into a family affair.

  “Come inside,” she said, glancing up and down the hall. He was still wearing his work clothes—an all-black ensemble of pants, turtleneck and leather jacket. He hadn’t even taken off his gloves, though he had at least stored the other tools of his felonious trade in a dark shoulder bag. “There are people here to see you.”

  “People?”

  Not just any people.

  His family.

  Though it was nearly midnight, Abby’s living room was more crowded than it had been since she moved in. Alejandro Aguilar, the oldest Murrieta brother, stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Chicago skyscrapers outside looking miniscule compared to his proud stance and intense stare. Abby had mingled with more than a few corporate giants in her life, but she’d been unprepared for this living, breathing brick wall. Add the Spanish accent to the mix and she’d had no defenses when he’d invited himself, his fiancé, Lucienne, his youngest brother, Michael, and his girlfriend, Claire Lécuyer, into her apartment and demanded information about Danny’s location.

  Erica, who’d come home with her to make sure she didn’t wear a hole in the floor pacing until Danny returned, had kept the unexpected invasion cocktail-party polite. She’d moderated the volley of introductions, sent Abby into the kitchen for drinks—which was really just a chance for her to get her head together—and then asked all the right questions to discover that Lucienne had been the one to alert the family that Danny might be in trouble. Michael, who’d been an FBI special agent until he’d taken an indefinite leave of absence, had tracked their wayward brother to Chicago with the help of Claire, a private investigator from New Orleans.

  Concerned, they’d descended onto the city like any family should—though from the stunned look on Danny’s face, he neither expected nor appreciated their presence. Without saying a word to any of them, he pulled Abby into the hall and rudely shut the door.

  “Danny, you can’t do that,” Abby objected, every bone in her body screaming at the sheer rudeness of him abandoning his family after they’d come so far to check up on him.

  “Did you call them?”

  “What? No. How would I know how to reach them? Until Alejandro convinced my doorman to escort them upstairs personally, all I knew about your brothers was what you told me—which wasn’t much. You don’t even have the same last names.”

  “Then why are they here?”

  “Lucienne said you called her a couple of days ago and asked her some questions that made her believe you were here and you were in trouble. After you contacted Michael to ask for access to the auction-house safes, they decided that they needed to help.”

  He snickered. “Help? One of my brothers is FBI. The other is the poster boy for good citizenship. They are going to go insane if they find out I came to Chicago to steal your painting.”

  Abby pressed her lips together tightly.

  “They already know,” she muttered.

  “What? I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about the painting or your family history or anything.”

  “I didn’t, but I also didn’t want to lie to them. They’re your family. And besides, I need to get used to the idea that the secrets are going to get out. I told them everything. Alex was really sympathetic.”

  Danny looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Alex? My brother Alex. Alejandro Aguilar of the House of Aguilar was sympathetic to the fact that you asked me to break into someone’s house and take back a painting that would reveal to the public at large that your grandmother cheated on your grandfather with an unknown artist who immortalized their indiscretion in oil on canvas?”

  Abby frowned. When he put it that way, maybe his brother hadn’t been so much sympathetic as pitying. “Okay, maybe sympathize isn’t the right word. But his mother’s family is a lot like mine. He told me how they survived her marriage to your father and all the scandal when Ramon left without a word. After some things Erica said tonight at dinner, I realized that maybe my family can weather whatever pain the painting dredges up.”

  “Maybe, but you’re not taking into consideration that the Aguilars erased Ramon from their lives. Alex doesn’t even have the Murrieta name. His situation is entirely different from yours.”

  “But he dropped everything in his life to go to San Francisco when Michael called. And even though you are an international art thief who makes no apologies for his career, he still hired you a really great lawyer when you were set up for attempted murder. His belief in family was stronger than any scandal. And you know what? My family survived my grandmother’s affair, and to be honest, we survived mine. If the public has to know all about it now, so be it. Life can’t always be perfect. It’s an impossible standard.”

  Danny scanned her face for any sign that she was overstating her courage. But she wasn’t. Between her conversation about mobsters and bootlegging with Erica and her confessional with Danny’s family, Abby had decided that it was time to stop running from the sins of her past. Her grandmother, always a free spirit caged by the Albertinis’ quest for respectability, had to be spinning in her grave to see her granddaughter sacrificing so much to avoid something as insignificant as a scandal. Abby had to believe that even Marshall, who’d spent the four years of their marriage convincing her that he’d forgiven her transgression, would be disappointed in her hiding from her true self.

  Abby no longer cared what other people thought—she just wanted to be happy.

  She deserved to be.

  But she was no fool. Happiness wasn’t something gifted on a person from someone else. If she wanted happiness, she was going to have to take it, and if the struggle resulted in some pain and bruising, she’d survive. And in the end, thrive.

  After a long minute, Danny’s mouth curved into a grin. His intense gaze softened around the edges in a way that made her want to drag him into her bedroom and have her way with him.

  “If this is what you want,” he said. “Because I didn’t get the painting.”

  “I figured,” she said, patting his clearly portrait-less shoulder bag. “Besides, you said if you got it, you’d leave right away. And you’re here. And damn it, Danny, I’m glad.”

  This time when she kissed him, the act didn’t feel as desperate. The press of their mouths was comforting and calm, a complete contrast to the emotions ricocheting through her. Just because he agreed to stay long enough to help her weather the upcoming storm didn’t mean he’d stay forever. In fact, she wasn’t sure he’d stay long enough to deal with his family.

  “Ready to go inside?” she asked.

  “It’s going to be a bloodbath,” he joked.

  Despite his dire warning, he reentered th
e apartment with a grin on his face. He stored his shoulder bag beside the door and Abby tried not to read too much into it, though she couldn’t help but wonder if he was preparing for a getaway. She couldn’t blame him. They both had some serious issues to work through—with their families and with each other—before they could have any kind of future together. A future she now knew she desperately wanted.

  But the big questions would have to wait.

  “So what is this, a Murrieta intervention?” Danny asked once back inside.

  “Nah, bro,” Michael said, turning from his relaxed position on the couch. “We just thought we’d fly halfway across the country to make sure we didn’t have to bail you out of jail again. Alex has better things to spend his money on, and frankly, I’m tired of picking up after your messes.”

  Danny sputtered and released Abby, who shut the door behind them and engaged the locks. She wished Erica hadn’t already left on the optimistic assumption that since everyone there had come together to help Danny—and by extension, Abby—she was in the way. She might have made a good referee.

  “You? Picking up after me?” Danny asked. “I’ll take that from Alex, but wasn’t it just last week that my expertise helped save your girlfriend here from a serial rapist?”

  Claire stood and gave Danny a hug—a move he was entirely unprepared for. Abby’s heart twanged with jealousy as the exotic beauty, a masterpiece of milk-and-coffee skin, thick dark hair and muted green eyes, wrapped her arms around Danny’s waist and pressed close to his chest.

  “Don’t listen to your brother, Danny,” Claire said, her southern Louisiana accent tipping her over from stunning to irresistible. “He’s just trying to piss you off, which apparently is what brothers do.”

  “Then we must have been born experts at being brothers, despite the fact that we’ve only just met,” Alex assessed.

  Danny unfolded himself from Claire’s embrace.

  “Okay, then,” he said. “Now that we’ve established that we’re all one happy family and that you cared enough to ride to my rescue, you can leave. I’m fine and I don’t need your help.”