by Jacie Floyd
Yep, he’d follow the car that contained Gabe and Molly, notifying the cops when they got where they were going, but he’d call someone else along the way.
“Hello, Sierra?” he said. “Who we got available? I found the office equipment and need as many people as you can get together to go pick it up as soon as they can get there.”
He followed the gray sedan out 465 to the east edge of town. He then drove on by as the car turned into the driveway of an old farmhouse. Pulling off onto a picnic area on the side of the road, he got out of the car and edged up to the house.
Chapter Sixteen
For all his skepticism on the subject, Gabe wished he possessed even an ounce of Sierra’s psychic ability. If he did, he’d be communicating his ass off with Molly, Sierra, Granddad, the police, and anyone else who would listen.
Gabe figured he and Molly were safe enough until morning when it was time for them to retrieve the pieces of the Sleeping Lotus. Then, all bets were off. He couldn’t decide how deeply Harold was involved in this scheme or if he was in over his head. If push came to shove, whose side would he land on?
The car turned up the driveway of an old farmhouse. It didn’t look like much, but at least it had a roof. He hoped these bozos would leave them alone for the night, and they could figure out a way to escape
Harold grabbed Gabe’s elbow and pulled him toward the house. Muscle Man went for Molly, pulling her along more roughly than Gabe thought necessary. She stumbled once and almost pulled Muscle Man down with her, but he righted himself like a weeble.
Inside, they were taken to the kitchen. Two rickety chairs were lined up back to back and Molly and Gabe were forced to sit. Harold tied Gabe’s hands and feet to the chair, and Muscle Man got the privilege of tying up Molly. Gabe had never been a particularly violent man, but he wanted to kill the bozo for causing her emotional or physical distress. He turned his anger against his uncle.
“Good job, Harold. How’re you going to get out of this one? This trick puts an end to Contract Communications, and you won’t get any more help from me or Granddad.” Gabe sneered at Blackie and Muscle Man. “Your cohorts don’t look all that trustworthy either. They’ll probably cut you out of whatever your share of this scam is.”
“Shut up,” Harold said. “You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know you must owe somebody big-time, and you’re trying to pay off.”
“Yeah, but once that’s done, I’ll have plenty of money to pay you off, too. The Sleeping Lotus should have been mine, not yours to begin with.”
“Funny you think so. I think it should belong to all the Shaw family, not just you.”
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea. These guys came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What was the offer, Harold? How much did it take to get you to sell us out?”
“It’s a sweet deal.” Harold’s eyes darted right and left to see if the other guys were listening. “I help them get the jade, and I get two-hundred-thousand. They take out what I owe Tony’s boss from my share, and I get the remainder. I was going to split it with you.”
“Generous.”
“Who gets the Sleeping Lotus?” Molly asked.
“Some European collector with a lot of ancient Chinese erotica and a lot of money. The appraiser from the show came up with the buyer. The collector’s paying that expert twice what the rest of us are getting.”
“You talk too much, Harold,” Blackie said, again with the knife. “They don’t need to know any of this.” He bent to tie the legs of Molly and Gabe’s chairs together. “We’re leaving you here tonight. We’ll be back in the morning to take you to get the two jades.”
“Jiminy,” Molly said. “You could have let me use the bathroom before you tied us up.”
Just then the backdoor burst open and a quartet of police officers arrived with Gabe’s Granddad bringing up the rear.
Hours later, a dispirited Gabe returned to the office. While the police had questioned him, Molly had left the building. He hadn’t been able to talk privately with her since she’d shown up at the warehouse, scaring the holy crap out of him. Granddad had told him to come by the office before going home, but he’d gone by Molly’s house first. She hadn’t been home.
Without a better destination in mind, he’d turned the Harley toward the office. Not expecting to like what he saw, he pushed open the door and stopped short. Instead of the empty tomb he’d pictured, music, chatting, and laughter came from the other room. It sounded like a party in progress. Puzzled, he crossed the lobby and peered through the doorway to the computer room.
Yep, a party.
A party populated with furniture and computers, and overflowing with people. A party with music, food, and drink, for cripe’s sake. All they needed to make it a real celebration were streamers and confetti.
There was Terry, dressed like a coed in a pleated skirt and sweater set, performing a jitterbug with his tiny girlfriend Vera, who was wearing an almost identical outfit. There was Sierra. And Chloe.
An assorted group clustered around empty pizza boxes, laughing and chatting like old friends. Granddad held court in the middle of another group, apparently relating one of his tall tales. Dominic slouched in a chair nearby with headphones covering his ears and his fingers flying over a game on his phone. Lenny made balloon animals for Chloe and anyone else who would take one.
It looked almost like full-staff. Like the office looked on any busy day, but no one was working. And everyone looked happy.
Happy?
After he leaned against the door scratching his head for several seconds, people stopped talking and looked his way. Did he know how to suck all the fun out of a party, or what?
“Gabe, great! You’re here,” Granddad said.
Chloe skipped over and held her arms out to him. He swung her up and perched her on his hip. “How you doing there, pumpkin?”
“Look, Uncle Gabe.” She planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “We have furniture again.”
“I see that.”
“It’s better for cartwheels and somersaults without it,” she told him. “But Granddad says I’ll get all my toys back.”
“Yep,” Granddad said. “All your stuff back, too, Gabe.”
“Files and all.” Sierra rolled to a stop beside him.
Relief gushed through him and he staggered backward. He lowered Chloe to Sierra’s lap before he dropped her. “My stuff? You mean our stuff, don’t you?”
Sierra thought about it before answering. “Yeah, that’s what we mean.”
He pushed away from the door and moved forward to clap the old man on the back. “Granddad, you’re a wizard. I never doubted this would happen, but tell me how you did it.”
“I have my ways.” The old man preened just a bit. “And I was afraid the police would keep it as evidence, so I had it removed from the old warehouse before they could confiscate it.”
Bunch of bent rules there. Just like Granddad. If the police didn’t ask Gabe about the furniture, he wasn’t about to mention it. However, he couldn’t help frowning as he considered how to explain Harold’s involvement to Granddad. At the police station, he’d been told Harold was released on his own recognizance, which meant his uncle was probably half the way to St. Louis by now. “Is Harold here? I’d like to have a word with him.”
“He’d like to have a few words with you too.”
The irony was not lost on him. “I’ll bet.”
“No kidding,” Granddad assured him. “Harold was working with the police on this one.”
“Did he tell you that whopper? And you believed him?”
“It’s the truth.” Harold stepped in from the other room. “I met the pointy-eared guy at one of the casinos last week. He tried to talk me into getting the Sleeping Lotus for him. When I told him no, he involved Tony, the muscle man for a loan shark I owed money to. They called in their debt and wormed their way into the Sleeping Lotus deal. I’d looked all over Dad’s house already. We
decided if it was hidden here, it would be easier to search if they took everything to a separate location.”
Gabe had his doubts. “You couldn’t have figured out another way? Like having the cops catch them in the act? Or wearing a wire? Or coming to me?”
“It was a stupid plan, and caused you a lot of trouble, but it was kind of fun, too.” Gabe knew Harold well enough to know that he liked the drama of it.
Granddad clapped Gabe on the back. “He had on a wire today. That’s how the police knew where you were before I called them.” Gabe scratched his head. Could it be true? Was he an idiot to consider it? He would for Granddad’s sake. “Thanks, Harold, I owe you one.”
“No, son, we owe you.” Harold put on his sincere face. “Dad and I’ve been talking it over, and we know how much you do for us every day.”
Sierra threw in her two cents. “Harold’s a pain sometimes, but he’s not the only one. We want you to know how much we appreciate you sticking with us.
Granddad offered the final say. “We’re all going to be more help to you from now on. You’ll see. You won’t be the only one hell-bent on making this operation a success.”
Wow, that was quite a speech. Granddad didn’t get all sentimental and sincere over every little thing. And his family didn’t admit to their faults very often either. He choked up a bit to know they appreciated his efforts and were ready to dedicate themselves to the project also. About bloody time.
Except something about their cooperation took the wind from his sails. Because they acted like they were doing this for him. And all along he’d thought he was doing it for them.
He cleared his throat. “We will be a success one day soon. I appreciate all of you and the confidence you’ve shown in me.”
Just then, Molly stepped in from the other room, loaded down with an ice bucket and a tray of spring rolls. She stopped at the sight of him and offered a tentative smile. Definitely a day of surprises.
Gabe made his way toward her through the crowd, accepting high fives and congratulations as he went. Sierra gave him a hug.
“You’re here,” he said to Molly. “Come with me.” He took the spring rolls from her and passed them to Sierra. Setting the ice bucket on a table, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his office. Inside, he leaned into her, wrapped her in his arms, and took a deep breath as the day’s tensions flowed out of him.
Whoa, sensory confusion. He looked at her again. Yep, it was Molly. Soft and sweet as ever.
And she smelled like strawberries?
When did that happen? Where was the Molly that smelled like oranges?
But who was he kidding? He didn’t care if she smelled like oranges, strawberries, pumpkin or broccoli. “What happened to the oranges?”
“Oranges?” She scrunched her face in confusion. “Oh, my body lotion and shower gel. I ran out of orange and switched to strawberry. Don’t you like it?”
He nuzzled her neck, breathing her in. “It’s my new favorite.”
He moved from her neck to her mouth, nibbling her lips. The kiss quickly deepened. Her tongue met his in a torrid dance that made him ache with need. He pulled her close, closer, as close as he could get her. So close she’d be there beside him, inside him, always.
Always.
To his knowledge, Shaws didn’t think in terms of always. Most of the time, thinking in terms of tomorrow threw him for a loop. Today had turned out fine, after all, but there was always another catastrophe looming, just waiting to get the drop on him.
He slammed on the brakes and pulled away, but the bemused expression on her face reeled him back in. Kissing Molly with careful exploration put his patience and attention to detail to good use, lingering over every texture and nuance.
“My heart about stopped when you came into that warehouse today.” His hands stroked along her sides, cupping her bottom, and pulling her hips against his erection.
“When I saw Harold and that big guy force you in there, I had to do something.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But don’t ever do anything like that again.” His thumb teased her nipple, and a moan passed from Molly’s mouth into his.
“Knock, knock,” an amused voice said from right behind him. “Earth to Gabe.”
And yet another public display.
With an effort, he broke contact with Molly’s mouth, but held her in his arms when she tried to move away. “What?” he barked, looking around at Sierra.
“Sorry to interrupt.” She smiled at him, looking not a bit sorry. “But Granddad sent me to get you.”
“And you couldn’t see that I’m busy?”
She nodded. “Sure, I can see that, but since your office doesn’t have a door, and Chloe’s running around loose…” She backed her chair out of his office. As she turned away, she said, “I thought a dose of reality might be appropriate.”
He pushed his fingers through his hair and expelled a deep breath. “You’re right. Tell Granddad I’ll be right with him.”
“Sure thing, bro, but I’ll be back in about one minute if you don’t show up.” Sierra gave him a long look of understanding and glided away.
Gabe lifted Molly’s chin from where she’d buried it in his shoulder. “That did get a little out of hand, but you have that effect on me.”
“Me, too,” Molly admitted, shrugging. “You.”
“It sounds like there’s some business the family needs to take care of, but I’d like to see you later tonight if you’re free.” To pick up where they’d left off in a more private setting, but he’d settle for anything away from this three-ring circus. “Do you want to go to that movie we keep talking about?”
“Or we could stay in and watch one on Netflix.” Twinkling eyes accompanied her mischievous smile. “Why don’t you come over for dinner? About eight?”
“Perfect.” Dinner would be great, if that’s all she was offering. But he hoped for dinner and a whole lot more. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”
Ellen Webber bent forward, weeding the flowerbed in front of the porch. The ground was nice and soft from the rain they’d had earlier. And the simple task gave her something to do. Molly had been after her to keep busy and not sit around the house moping.
Her flowers were suffering from a sad lack of attention. She noticed that the jonquils and tulips especially were getting leggy. She took out her shears to cut them back, sorry to lose all that bright, happy color. Next week, she’d put something in their place for the rest of the spring.
The slam of a car door brought her head up. She turned toward the driveway where the shiny Jaguar Donald had given himself on his fifty-fourth birthday sat in flashy testimony to his midlife dissatisfaction.
Like a car would make him younger.
As if he needed to be.
He’d aged like fine wine, like Pierce Brosnan, getting better each year. Still drop-dead gorgeous. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him after thirty years of marriage. She had to work to keep up with him in the looks department.
He made his way to the house, strolling along confidently as he always did. He had on khakis and a pale yellow golf shirt, setting off the tan he’d picked up on the links in the last few days.
Anyone who didn’t know him as well as she did would fail to notice the challenge in his eye. Oh, Lord, what now? Her heart sank. That look probably meant he needed to ask her for something he didn’t think she’d want to give him. Like the patio furniture, or the big screen television from the family room. Or a divorce.
Honestly, she didn’t know how much more she could take. Or give. “Hello.” She worked hard to keep her tone neutral and not worry about her grubby appearance. She looked more like a field hand than the lady of the house.
“Hello, yourself.” He studied her for a moment, then nodded toward her weeding. “Looks like hard work. Want to take a break?”
“No.” If he was here to tell her to get an attorney, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him by offering drinks in the family room. Maybe if she kept
busy, she could stave off the bad news a little while longer. “I’m not quite done here.”
“I’ll help then.” The cartilage in his knees popped as he dropped down on his haunches and pulled at a clump of crabgrass.
“Don’t be silly.” She scooted along the walk a few inches, to avoid... What? His solid capable hands? His scent? Brushing up against him? Touching him? To avoid all of the above and whatever plan he had up his sleeve. “You’ll get your pants dirty and there are stickers that will eat up your hands. I’ll get the extra pair of gloves for you.”
“Stay there.” He touched her elbow briefly, but she jerked it away immediately. “I can manage without them.”
She cut him a look from the corner of her eyes as he tore into the task of weeding. His hair fell over his forehead in the front. It had grown long on his collar, too. Longer than he’d worn it in a while.
Inside her gardening gloves, her fingers itched to reach out and touch it. But she didn’t need to. She knew the texture so well. Not just from years of trimming it when they were first married, but from messaging his temples when he had a headache... Running her fingers through it when they made love. Determinedly, he attacked the next weed, but she stopped him as he started to yank up a vinca vine.
“Don’t. That’s one of the good guys.”
“Sorry.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “I guess I’m not much good at this.”
She shrugged. “All it takes to be good at gardening is an interest in it.”
“And patience,” he added. “Two of your strong suits. You were always good at envisioning your efforts three or four months down the road, or even three or four years.”
“I like watching things take root and grow.”
“I know.” She felt him watching her work for several long moments, while she pondered her next step, and his next move.
She tried to stay focused, digging out the occasional stubborn root with her trowel, ignoring the impulse to wipe the perspiration off her forehead, or check a mirror for smudges. The tension built around them as they worked in silence, her heart in her throat. “Why are you here?”
