Stealing the Moon & Stars

by Sally J. Smith

  “So Shetland’s just a greedy bastard.” She swallowed. “Do you think he was behind the hit on Emmett Sullivan?” A sudden thought chilled her. “Emmett said they were afraid I was getting too close. Maybe he wasn’t the target.”

  “Emmett was the target.”

  “You think?” She didn’t like the way her voice quivered.

  “Those kind of men don’t mistake their target. Emmett was obviously expendable. Maybe they knew he was going to talk to you and hoped to get to him before he spilled his guts. Maybe they were just done with him.”

  “What about Tanner?” she asked.

  “I figure Tanner was sloppy and it got him killed.”

  “Jeez.”

  He rubbed his hand over his face. His eyes were flat. “These people have a history of dealing with inconveniences this way.”

  Ray Tanner was an inconvenience and Emmett Sullivan too. She sent a silent prayer that she wouldn’t wind up in the same category then shook it off. “All we have so far are a lot of possible motives and the word of a dead man. How do we prove anything?”

  He walked around, picked up her dishes and stacked them on his. “We go after Wachowski. Figure out a way to make him talk.”

  He went to the dishwasher and loaded the plates, silverware, and glasses. Damn. Even that was sexy.

  She sighed. “Okay. Let’s make a plan, but first we have to go see the Brenners and tell them what Sullivan said. They need to be on the lookout for a massive hit coming at them in the next few days.”

  He pouted. “Guess that means no nap.”

  “Mmm,” she stretched lazily, “but a quick shower is in order.”

  Eddie joined her in the shower, which wound up taking longer than expected.

  CHAPTER 33

  The four met in Nick Brenner’s opulent office.

  Nick and Connie sat in stunned silence as Jordan and Eddie laid it all before them.

  After at least a minute, Nick shook his head. “I can’t believe they’re coming at us again. We should just call the police.”

  “We don’t have anything solid yet. This is based on what we suspect and what Emmett Sullivan told me. Emmett’s gone,” Jordan swallowed, “and there’s no one to corroborate—”

  “Poor Emmett,” Connie murmured.

  “—except Owen Shetland or Milo himself.”

  Eddie leaned forward to emphasize his words. “Jordan and I agree it’s in your best interest to protect yourselves. If Sullivan was right, the scam is already in motion and none of us can be sure what to expect.” He looked at Jordan.

  Jordan drew a deep breath. “We’re recommending you freeze all foundation accounts, if possible, for seventy-two hours. We should be able to pull the case together by then.”

  She waited.

  Connie shook her head. “Freeze the accounts? We can’t. It could cause all kinds of problems.”

  “As many problems as a few million disappearing? It’s the safest move.” Eddie was insistent, and as far as Jordan was concerned, right on the money.

  Nick had obviously been reviewing their options. “I agree with them, Connie. We can’t stand a hit that big. Millions? It would end our efforts here. We’ll just have to think of a way to mitigate the damage.”

  Jordan relaxed. Eddie leaned back.

  Connie was still frowning. “How?”

  Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s get the legal team on it. They’re paid to mitigate any damage this kind of action could cost us.”

  Jordan and Eddie exchanged a glance of relief. She stood. “We’ll leave the details to you then.”

  Eddie followed her lead. “I’m glad you understand.”

  “Just get the goods on these people so the foundation can go back to doing the work it was intended to do.” Nick shook both their hands.

  Jordan was surprised when Connie stood and hugged her. “Thank you, Jordan.”

  From the expression on Eddie’s face, he was caught off guard when she hugged him too.

  “And you, too, Mr. Marino. Thank you.”

  Jordan crossed the parking lot. Her boot heels thumped purposefully on the pavement. She was energized, feeling optimistic about their prospects for bringing Wachowski and Owen Shetland to justice.

  Behind her, Eddie’s phone sounded, the theme from The Godfather.

  Hmm, wonder whose theme song that is. Anthony Vercelli came to mind, and she suffered a moment of intense curiosity.

  Twenty-five or thirty feet from her Jeep, Jordan engaged the unlock on her remote. The two beeps sounded. She took one more step as the Cherokee exploded into a ball of fire and hundreds of pieces.

  Jordan was lifted off her feet as if by a giant hand. She yelled in surprise as she was thrown backward through the air. The pavement came up to meet her; she slammed onto it and skidded several feet. The wind that blew from her lungs might have been yanked out. She tried to suck it back in; nothing happened. Her wheezing and whimpering sounded distant, as if coming from someone else.

  Garbled voices grew louder then softer, and images of people shimmered like blurry ghosts.

  One voice very close to her ear gave her something to focus on. “Breathe, baby. Slow. Easy. Control it. Slow. In. Out. In.” The voice was familiar, the face above her too. She wanted to touch it. “Good girl. Oh, God.”

  The frightening vacuum in her lungs eased. She was aware of being covered with something soft.

  The wail of sirens in the distance gave her comfort. She went away to someplace calmer, quieter, and watched the show as people moved in and out of her line of sight. Eddie … there’s Eddie. Nick’s here too.

  Firm hands lifted her and moved her onto a hard, narrow surface. She moaned. Hands prodded her body then poked her arm. The sharp prick of the needle delivered a kind of clarity. She turned her head and met Eddie’s worried frown.

  “Welcome back, sunshine.” His voice was shaky and husky. “So glad they didn’t have to scrape you off the pavement.”

  “Eddie. What? Was it a terrorist attack?”

  “Yeah, baby. Kind of.”

  “Marino?” The muffled voice came from a man wearing heavy bomb gear and moving like a spaceman.

  “Hey, Fisher. What do you know? Anything?”

  “Pretty early to tell much, but it looks like they were sloppy or stupid. Maybe both.” The spaceman turned back in the direction of the blast. “We’re thinking it was wired wrong. It somehow bypassed the ignition and responded to the remote. Lucky break.”

  Eddie ground out, “Lucky, my ass.”

  Jordan, trying very hard to follow along with the conversation, giggled. “Lucky ass. I should go buy a lottery ticket.”

  The two men stopped talking and stared at her.

  The paramedic unwrapped the cuff from her arm, and with a buff, good-looking fireman on either side, the gurney began rolling. She was lifted into the confined space of the ambulance. Scared. Beyond scared.

  “Eddie?” then louder. “Eddie?!”

  “I’m here.” There he was. Inside with her, right beside her.

  “All set.” The paramedic yelled to the driver.

  The siren kicked up, and they began to move.

  CHAPTER 34

  He said his name was Chen, Dr. Kwan Chen. It must have been true. The ID tag clipped onto his white jacket verified it. He shined a penlight in her right eye, dropped it away and raised it back. Same with her left eye.

  “Now follow the light with your eyes. Don’t move your head.”

  Jordan concentrated on the bright spot moving across her field of vision.

  “Good. When’s your birthday?”

  “Valentine’s Day.”

  He tapped a small hammer against her knee and looked up at her answer. “No. Your birthday.”

  “February fourteenth. It sucks. The only worse day is Christmas.”

  “Where were you born? Can you stand?”

  She managed to get to her feet, stiffness and aches setting in. “Chicago, Illinois.”

 
“Can you stand on one leg?”

  She did, but wobbled so badly she was certain she failed whatever test this was.

  “Hold your hands out in front of you.”

  She raised her arms. He bumped palms with her. “Resist me.”

  She did. No problem resisting him; he had the personality of a tree stump.

  The doc patted the table and she sat down again.

  “Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy? Nauseated?”

  “Headache.”

  Dr. Chen jotted notes on her chart. “Did you lose consciousness?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “All right, Miss Welsh.” He looked at her X-rays. “I don’t feel as if you’ve suffered a concussion. I can send you home as long as you have someone to stay with you and you promise to take it very easy for a few days.”

  “I can do that.”

  The ER doctor swept back the privacy curtain and Eddie joined them in the confined space. Jordan held out her hand and he helped her off the hospital bed. Her legs shook.

  “Are you her husband?”

  “We’re together.” Eddie simplified their relationship.

  “You should watch for signs of memory loss, difficulty communicating, severe headache, balancing issues. If any of these symptoms develop, bring her back. Can you make sure someone stays with her overnight to watch her?”

  Eddie’s eyes locked with hers, brimmed with a variety of emotions—pain, concern, relief, anger and something more, something true and shining.

  No. Surely it wasn’t what it appeared to be. She couldn’t deal with that particular something just yet.

  “Sure thing, Doc.” His nod declared his commitment. “She’s got someone to watch over her.”

  Mary Welsh was a basket case when she met them at the front door. Her hand flew to her heart at the sight of Jordan. “Oh, God, I wasn’t prepared for this!”

  Jordan hissed at Eddie. “I can’t believe you called my mother.” Her knees gave out and he picked her up.

  Mary took the lead. “Let’s get her into the bedroom, Mr. Marino, and then you will tell me everything.”

  He held her close as he carefully made his way through the house behind Mary. He whispered, “Your mother reminds me of my old drill sergeant.”

  “You have no idea.” She sighed.

  As Mary eased the ripped and scraped boots off her feet, Jordan traveled back to her seventh birthday, the sprained elbow and skinned knee courtesy of the shiny new bike.

  Mary had been just as efficient and gentle then as she was now. The efficiency was no surprise. Jordan’s mother was a born organizer and handler. These attributes came into play getting Jordan stripped down and wrapped in a soft robe while warm water filled the tub. She eased her daughter onto the vanity stool to wait then turned her attention to the bath.

  Efficiency, yes—just a matter of taking it one step at a time.

  The gentleness, however, was a rare and wondrous thing.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  Mary O’Connell Welsh, heiress to the multimillion-dollar O’Connell Paper Products fortune, was on her knees by the jetted spa, shaking lavender scented bath salts into the tub as it filled. She stopped and looked around. It was painful to see the redness of her mother’s eyes, the tremble of her mouth.

  Mary cleared her throat and sniffed, “I love you too, Jordan.”

  “I’m okay.” Jordan started to cry.

  Mary swirled the water with her hand, mixing in the salts. She took a moment to lay her head against her forearm on the edge of the tub, took a slow, deep breath then got to her feet and held out her hand.

  “Come on, young lady. Get your skinned-up ass in the tub.”

  Jordan smiled through her tears. Mary was back in control. “Yes, Mother.”

  The water was divine. Jordan lingered in it so long she had to keep adding hot water.

  Outside the closed bathroom door, Eddie sounded very much like a truant school child relating his explanation of the day’s events.

  “Hmm. I see.” Mary’s tone was judgmental.

  Jordan had a perfect picture in her mind of Mary’s most disapproving, looking-down-her-nose glare. Poor Eddie.

  The next shrill inquiry came through the bathroom door. “How are you doing in there, Jordan dear?”

  “Better, Mother. Thank you.” In truth, she was; the drugs had kicked in. The headache eased. The warm water relaxed her aching muscles.

  “By the way, Mr. Marino, I believe I need to talk to you about bugs.”

  “Please call me Eddie. Bugs?”

  “Well, Eddie ….” Mary’s tone became more feminine and placating.

  Uh-oh. Here we go. Watch out, Marino.

  “Jordan has bugs.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Bugs. I’m sure of it.”

  “Mrs. W—” Eddie corrected himself, “Mary, Jordan’s told me more than once Hannah is the most meticulous person she’s ever known. I doubt there are bugs, but I suppose I could call an exterminator. Why not?”

  “Oh, is that what you call them?”

  “Who?” Even with the door closed, the tired exasperation in Eddie’s voice came through.

  “The person who gets rid of bugs, of course,” Mary said.

  “Where did you see these bugs?”

  “I didn’t see them. I heard them on the phone when I called Ben to update him on Jordan’s condition and tell him I’d be spending the night. There was clicking and strange noises and such.”

  “The phone?”

  “Yes. The phone.” Now the impatience came through in Mary’s voice.

  “Oh.”

  Jordan wished she could be standing outside the bathroom door with them. There had to be a light bulb over Eddie’s head, so bright was his sudden insight.

  “Bugs!”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Where did you learn about bugs?”

  “The usual places.” Mary sounded quite pleased with herself. “I read, go to the movies, watch TV. You could be on TV. You’re quite handsome.”

  Jordan interrupted, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears. “Mother, stop flirting with Eddie.”

  “Spoil sport.”

  She couldn’t see her, but Jordan assumed her mother was pouting.

  “Eddie?” Jordan called.

  “What?” There was renewed worry in his voice. “What do you need?”

  “Get rid of them. The bugs. Get the goddamn things out of my house.”

  “I’m calling an ex-military friend of mine right now, babe. If anyone can sweep a house, it’s Cordell Roberts.”

  Cordell arrived an hour later in a fire engine red Hummer. At five-seven maximum and two hundred fifty pounds minimum, to say he wasn’t exactly what Jordan was expecting was probably the understatement of the decade. His skin was the rich color of coffee and his scalp as smooth and bald as a baby’s backside. He wore a bright blue jogging suit and yellow leather sports shoes.

  In Jordan’s drugged, euphoric state, she expected him to break into a CeeLo Green song any second.

  “Cordell,” Eddie began the introductions, “this is Jordan.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, darlin’.” His eyes seemed to measure her sorry condition. A frown knit his brows, while his smile bared beautiful, whiter than white teeth. He looked at Eddie, and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on passed between them.

  “This is Mary, Jordan’s mother.”

  Cordell grinned, and it was like someone turned on halogen headlights. “Oh, Mary, goodness gracious.” He lifted Mary’s hand and kissed it. “Lovely. Are you married?”

  “Oh, my.” Mary actually blushed. “Shame on you, young man. I’m old enough to be your mother’s younger sister.”

  “You are a fine woman.” Cordell rubbed his hand over his head.

  “Well ….” Mary preened.

  Jordan giggled then sobered when her mother shot her a look.

  “I’m so gla
d to make your acquaintance, Mr. Roberts. We truly do need your help. We seem to have bugs.”

  “So I hear.” He flashed the teeth again. “Consider me your surveillance geek on a white charger.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Jordan spent Thursday night in hell.

  Even Eddie lying in her bed wouldn’t have brought her comfort. Her body burned and ached all over. No position was remotely comfortable. The medication dulled the medium-grade headache but didn’t eliminate it.

  Whenever she managed to nod off, sounds and sensations from the explosion or thoughts of the creepy violation of the even-dozen surveillance devices Cordell discovered in every room of the house and outside areas as well invaded her thoughts. By then she was wide-awake and experiencing the palpitations, cold sweats, and shortness of breath accompanying the panic attack.

  Tank or one of the crew was probably keeping vigil outside her house. That thought allowed her to drift off.

  Another obstacle to a decent night’s sleep was Mary. Her mother must have come in to check on her every half hour, or so it seemed. If Jordan managed to doze, she soon awoke to Mary’s hand on her forehead, Mary straightening the covers, or Mary just standing over her with a sad and worried look several times during the long night.

  There was one good thing about Thursday night. Once during a brief period of REM sleep, she dreamed Eddie came into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He kissed her on the lips, and his hand caressed her cheek. Even if it was just a dream, it calmed her and made her feel safe. She snuggled under the covers and welcomed more of the lovely dream.

  Friday morning, when she rolled over and tried to sit up, she was bothered most by the discomfort in her arms and shoulders.

  “I heard you moving around.” Mary came in with an offering of Percocet.

  Jordan popped it down and swallowed some water. “Thank you, God, for pharmaceuticals.”