"Mr. Mullens," I said, reading his name tag. "I'm looking forward to the symposium."
He extended his hand and nodded ever so slightly at me, obviously trying to reclaim his sense of professionalism.
I could feel eyes on my back, and I knew they were Scottie's. Whatever clump of rage had tightened my stomach had turned it into a rictus band of fear. But I was in for a penny now, time to peel off my pound of flesh and hope the circumstances would land later.
I reached for the curator's hand and used the contact to pull him toward me as I slid in close the way I'd seen Maddox's date do. I leaned in, whispering into the man's ear before he could recover his sense of surprise that a stranger would cuddle in so close.
"She's not for sale," I said, and he went tense beside me as he realized I wasn't coming on to him at all.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, angling his mouth toward my ear.
There was no time to be delicate or lengthy. I could feel Scottie moving in. The girl hovered beside me, obviously uncertain and too scared to move. I wished she'd back up some. She was making this more awkward than it already was.
"I have video, I said to the curator. "Don't ask what it has on it because you know. I want ten minutes in the basement. Alone. That's all."
He swung his eyes to mine. They were incredible to look at. I couldn't imagine him having to purchase company at all, except for the age he preferred and the sort of things I knew he did to them. I doubted any woman would deny him anything with that skin, those lips, but he made me sick with anger as all those images flooded my mind.
The man was taking entirely too long, and I felt Scottie beside me, pressing closer. His aftershave spun all sorts of memories around me and my heart beat faster. I was a rabbit in a snare, waiting for him to pluck me free of the wire. My heart hammered in my ears. I stared at the curator from the side of my eye, willing him to make the right decision.
Let me through. Just let me through.
"Ten," I clipped out. "And that man has to leave."
I ran my fingers along the back of his neck suggestively, wrapping my fingers around his throat the way I'd seen him do to a young girl. "Do it and I won't show anyone the Goldilocks and big bad bear show."
His gaze stabbed into mine and I had to work at not losing my nerve beneath the hatred in the gaze. My knees felt like they would require scaffolding to keep them up, but I smiled as though nothing unusual was happening. Just the way Scottie had taught me. Scottie who was already so close I could hear his breathing. I wavered on my feet. He'd know. He'd know me. I needed to bolt.
But I stayed rooted to my spot. I had to.
I knew the curator was memorizing every detail of my face and clothes that he could before he nodded. Two slight bobs of his head that almost made me let go a hissing breath of relief.
I knew when he spoke, the words weren't for me, but the well dressed and groomed bull on my left.
"Your ticket," he said and held out his hand toward where I knew Scottie stood. "The doorman tells me it's fake."
I had to resist turning to face Scottie because I knew exactly what his face would look like and it was an expression that still haunted my nightmares. Handsome though it was, in fury, it held an equal amount of awe.
Something in my chest tightened with fear that he might have made me as he stood there so close, but I knew that if he had, he'd have plucked at my elbow with the same possessive authority he was used to with me.
I almost didn't breathe as I heard him complain that his ticket was as genuine as any other.
I kept my eye on the curator. "Am I good to go?" I prodded because he still hadn't nodded me through and I was as pinned to my spot as a moth to a board.
"Go," the curator said. "But someone comes in after you in 10:01."
I spun on my heel, feeling as though I'd narrowly missed getting struck by a double-decker bus.
I'd done it. Not two feet from Scottie and he hadn't made me. Not ten minutes more and I could be out of here, in the clear altogether.
I didn't take another breath until I could make out the individual beads in the curtain that separated the foyer from the exhibit room. Beyond that, the stairwell to the basement.
I was nearly there. The doorman lifted his walkie talkie to his mouth, nodded at me as drew near. I pulled out my smartphone and tapped the timer.
I might have made it inside if someone hadn't grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me around so hard I nearly stumbled in my high heels.
Scottie. Minus the girl who clung to the side of the foyer door with wide eyes staring at the curator as though he were great mastodons about to stampede toward her. Maybe he was.
"Sis," Scottie said. "You look stunning."
CHAPTER 8
I tried not to look at him, tried to see past him to the curator to see what the heck had happened. I didn't need to think to long to know that somehow Scottie's trump card was higher than mine. No. What I wanted to know was something more basic.
"How did you know it was me?" I asked him.
A long line of smirk threaded onto his mouth. "Your birthmark."
I lifted my chin spitefully even as I mentally walked myself back through selecting the dress with the scooped back all the way to the crest of my buttocks.
"I don't have a birthmark," I said.
I knew exactly what mark he was talking about and I hadn't thought about it when I chose the dress because I'd been thinking about effect more than Scottie. I hadn't thought about that one small half moon scar between my shoulder blades where he'd branded me after I'd run off with a bunch of girls to a downtown bar. It was an innocent outing, but I'd not told him I was going. The overindulgence of booze did nothing to dampen the memory.
He leaned in close, letting his lips rest against my earlobe the way I had the curator. My heart tried to chisel its way free of my ribcage and I could swear he heard it and used it to bolster his ego.
"You were born for me the moment you were given to me," he whispered. "So whether it was natural or not, it is your birthmark."
I wanted to protest that I'd never been given. I chose him freely at first, thinking him dangerous and sexy. The girl in me had no idea what those things meant. The woman knew and she was still afraid.
I felt dizzy and if he hadn't still been holding onto my elbow and wrapped his arm around my waist, I might have staggered and lost my footing. I fleeted a look at the curator who had already moved from his spot toward the girl.
"How did you get him to let you stay?" I said, knowing it was futile to think my deal with the curator might still be good.
The doorman was already funneling people toward the curtain. A second guard headed straight through without hesitating. I had the feeling he'd pause at the door to the stairwell.
Scottie tugged me ever so gently away from the entry way as a crowd of people, eager to see the goodies, pressed closer.
I clutched at the beads behind me, knowing the opportunity was gone but not wanting to let go. All that work. Evaporated. And now I was in a worse spot than just losing the heist.
I should have left when I had the chance.
"You wear the dress well, Sis," he said pulling me against him. "I couldn't have picked it out for you better."
"You didn't answer my question," I said, laying a palm against his chest to keep from being pulled too close to him. His pecs felt like steel beneath his expensive suit and they tremored as my hand touched him.
He took my hand in his and pulled it down next to his thigh.
He thought I was checking for a gun and he didn't want me to find it. I nearly laughed out loud.
"Digital video is so easy to fake," he said then ran the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. "And fingers are so difficult to replicate. Which would you elect to go with if it were you?"
The arm around my waist slid down and his hand sat low on my back so that it rested in the warm spot just above my buttocks. My whole body went clammy.
"You told h
im I was bluffing," I guessed.
"I told him we were having a lover's quarrel."
He shrugged and let a finger slip beneath my dress into the crevice where my cheeks joined, and I had to resist stomping on his foot because the last thing I wanted was to get tied now to whatever he was up to. Best I find a way to extricate myself without too much notice.
Scottie seemed oblivious to my temper and went on as though I hadn't gone rigid in his arms.
"He knew a lover's spat when he saw it," he said. "Lucky for me women can be so vindictive." He let go a restraining sigh. "No one wants to put up with that."
"Bastard," I said, fury doing its best to claw its way up my throat and dispel the sick taste of fear.
His eyebrow lifted delicately as though he'd heard the insult too many times to be bothered by it.
"You've met my mother," he said. "She wouldn't be pleased to hear you say that."
I needed a paper bag. I was either going to heave or pass out from hyperventilating. The pent-up frustration and adrenaline release was making me nauseated.
He tried to steer me toward the exhibit as though we were a couple who had come together, and I did my best to twist free. I could care less about the exhibit now, except for what he wanted from it. Or rather, what he planned to use that girl for.
"Stop wriggling," he commanded. "You'll cause a scene."
I caught sight of Maddox and his date eddying closer and remembered the little ruddy fellow who had obviously slipped in along with the scene they'd created. I wondered where he'd got to.
Maddox caught my eye and canted his head in a way that made me think he might share Scottie's thoughts about vindictive women.
I instantly stopped moving, and Scottie obviously thought it was the years of his careful conditioning.
"Better," he said and aimed me toward the door.
"What are you here for?" I said under my breath.
Scottie leaned close and nuzzled my cheek with his. "You, Sis. Why else?"
"Impossible," I said.
"Not so impossible. What's impossible is you thinking you have connections that I don't."
"You're saying you baited me here."
He shrugged. "I'm saying the job you think you're here for is a dud. There is no uncatalogued cache." He chuckled. "But it's the kind of thing you love, and I knew it would bring you out into the open."
"Bastard," I said again, eying Maddox and his date as they showed their tickets to the doorman and were ushered in along with several dusty seniors who wore the distinct look of money the way most people wore expression.
I hadn't been overly curious about Maddox's presence at first, the same as Scottie's because both of them had connections and interests the same way I did. I'd taken for granted that they wanted something, that their presence was not coincidence, even if it made things more difficult for me.
But Maddox was from the other world too. He'd told me he dealt in only the rarest of things. Not your grandmother's pearls, he'd said to me once.
Suspicion crept its way up my spine. I looked at Scottie a bit closer. His sandy colored hair was greased back, all the better to show his square jawline. He looked shorter than his normal height in a suit that bulged out across his shoulders. He could afford a better fitting suit than that, and I knew it. No doubt he had on a second, more suitable for running, outfit on underneath.
"How did you get away from Finn?" I said.
He squeezed me tight to him at the same moment Maddox and his date stepped through the curtain and he threw a look back at me. I tried not to wilt under the scrutiny.
"Finn?" Scottie said. "Who's Finn?"
He shuffled me along with him as the doorman held his walkie talkie to his mouth and spoke into it. A crackle of sound came through and he nodded at Scottie.
"Oh my God," I said as we pushed through the curtain without so much s showing a ticket. "He's in on it too." I imagined what those two rogues would do with the girl once the party was over. "That poor girl."
Scottie sighed. "What are you talking about?" he said. "I paid him well, so we might as well enjoy ourselves don't you think?"
I tried to pull my arm from his grip and he glared down at me as we crossed the threshold.
The room was more expansive than I realized, but it was already filled with people. Every part of the exhibit was cordoned off by velvet ropes several feet away. Small and large alike, they sent the message that the artifacts were not to be touched.
Perhaps most of the company wouldn't notice the small lasers installed on the poles that held the ropes, but I noticed them. Scottie tightened his grip on my back as we passed by a tall white pillar shaped very much like a human woman. Crystals embedded in the stone winked in the light that caught the curves.
The chandeliers that lined the center of the room had been dimmed and a champagne fountain on the other end made sure to beckon the suited and gowned patrons toward the lecture podium.
I heard Kerri groan out loud when she saw that the lecture would be given to a standing crowd.
"So," I pressed. "How did you manage to slip away from him?"
"Who?" he said, distracted as we drew close to a plinth with a single artifact light from every side. A coin of some sort, I thought, faced with what looked like electrum. "You mean that guy I sold those ridiculous mosaic tiles to?"
My heart lurched. Sold. Finn had refused to pay me for mine.
Scottie chuckled. "What an idiot. Took him for everything he had. I knew the things were valuable, but he acted like they were priceless."
"So you grifted him," I said, but I suspected differently. The Finn I'd met would have just killed them all and be done with it. I'd banked on it, in fact. If Scottie was hale and hearty and believed he'd made a small fortune, then no doubt Finn had done something magical to his memory.
Lucky for Scottie, he'd been left alive to believe he'd scored big-time. Unlucky for me.
At that, Scottie leaned toward the electrum coin, pulling me with him. "Beautiful isn't it?" he said under his breath.
I peered at the plush cushion the coin sat on. "Look all you want," I said. "There's no way you can steal it now."
He chortled. "Oh, Sis," he said. "Still the small-time heist mind." He adjusted his sleeve cuffs beneath his jacket.
"You have no interest in it?" I said. "Honestly."
Those lips I'd once believed sensual thinned out as he smiled lazily. "You're the treasure I came for, Sis. Give me ten minutes and I'll prove it to you."
Ten minutes. With my own job already in the toilet, and his clutch on me so tight, I knew whatever freedom I had was on a short leash. I needed to abort and abort now.
"I need to find the loo," I said. "Before the curator takes the podium. I don't want to miss the lecture."
"No worries," he said. "There won't be a lecture."
"Well, I need to go."
"What's the rush, Sis?" He squeezed me into his side, where I felt the gun he'd thought I'd been searching for earlier. It poked into my ribcage. A Ruger by the feel of it.
With the heels I was about his height and I knew that would make him feel off. He was used to looking down on me. I pasted a coy smile on my face.
"A gal has some modesties," I said.
He wasn't to be fooled.
"Take care of it later in the hotel."
The tone was brusque, and I knew there was no way he was letting me go. He nodded to two men who flanked the doorway and their eyes fell on me. One of them grinned at me. Alvin. The muscle who had bought me a latte all those weeks ago.
He strolled amiably toward the other end of the hall where a second door no doubt led out into other exhibits and then out a back door.
Effectively cutting off both of my retreats.
I started to panic.
Then the lights went completely out, and everything went deadly black. I jumped and knocked my head into Scottie's. I tasted blood.
And the panic really bloomed then, right on the heels of a sudden fruitle
ss thought that the dark could afford me cover to run.
Except a flash of light beside me, small, but unmistakable, bit into the dark and took a chunk out of my thigh. The sound of the electrical jolt came second, along with that of my dress tearing.
The next sound was a scream.
CHAPTER 9
I was surprised to hear the scream was my own, and that it was being punctuated by a room full of equally panicked shrieks filled with pain and surprise. Lights flashed all over the room, igniting the faces of scared women for a brief second before going dark and finding another. Strobes, I realized. They made each movement seem disjointed and dizzying. But they couldn't account for the shocks that struck every now and then, eliciting startled yelps.
The tension in the room was as electric as those shocks. I could hear what I assumed were guards mobilizing at the door.
I ran the back of my forearm across my mouth, thinking to clear it of the blood I must have spilled when I'd bit my tongue. I felt nothing.
"What are you doing?" I asked Scottie, feeling him next to me in the dark. "And how are you doing it?"
He grabbed my hand, obviously thinking correctly that given the chance, I'd bolt.
"What am I doing?" he growled. "Not a goddamn thing."
I felt his agitation. It was far more palpable than the electricity surging through the room in bite-sized pieces and in between blackouts. Whatever was happening, he wasn't at the heart of it, and it was no doubt ruining his own plans.
"This isn't you," I said and even as the words came out, I knew who was to blame.
Maddox.
"Not me," he said, and he sounded about as pissed as I'd ever heard him. "And not you either, I'm guessing."
I squeaked as I felt someone brush against me, a little too close and unexpected.
Scottie wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, protectively to the casual observer who might catch sight of it during the brief flashes of light.
I knew better. What often seemed protective was most usually possessive.
"You're smothering me," I complained into his chest and ran my hands up along his ribcage. The gun was there somewhere. I just needed to get my hands on it.
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