by Jax Abbey
“I’m pretty sure nobody wants anything to do with that rust bucket, anyway.”
“Hey!” Stella said, punching Finn’s arm.
Finn stopped short and quickly became serious. He brought his mouth close to Stella’s ear, and she became dizzy, hyperaware of the lack of space between them. “Okay, there’s the stall. Remember, you say nothing at all.”
He released her and continued down the aisle. Stella was mad at herself for being disappointed.
“Hey, Rodolfo, my man!” Finn exclaimed, clapping his hand on the shoulder of a short Latino man who stood in front of a stall containing lots of silver and gold vessels. Rodolfo eyed Finn warily and glanced at Stella, who stood a few feet away. She gave him a quick smile and wave.
She watched as Finn bent forward to murmur in Rodolfo’s ear. When he was done, he leaned back and grasped one of Rodolfo’s hands in both of his. Rodolfo glanced down at the solitary ring on Finn’s pinkie, then nodded before disappearing into his stall. Finn put both hands in his pockets and casually glanced around. Stella looked around as well; no one in the market was paying them any attention. Finn made eye contact with her, winked, and turned back toward the stall.
The business exchange between Finn and Rodolfo was a lot more mundane than what Stella had expected. Growing bored of standing in the same spot, she wandered into the other aisle and perused a stall selling wooden masks and brightly colored woodcarvings before moving on to one that sold silver jewelry. She fingered a pair of chandelier earrings with filigree flowers and silver dangles.
“Those are beautiful,” Finn said, his face appearing over her shoulder without warning.
Stella gasped and dropped the earrings. “Jesus, you scared me!”
“Sorry.” His tone indicated he was anything but. He picked up the earrings. “Those probably came from Taxco, the silver capital in Mexico. You want them?”
Stella shook her head and looked pointedly at the flimsy plastic bag dangling from Finn’s hand. “Got what you came for?”
“Yep. Let’s blow this joint.” Finn began leading Stella back toward the entrance of the market. “You absolutely positive you don’t want one of those armadillos?”
“One hundred percent positive,” Stella declared. “But I wouldn’t say no to an empanada.”
Finn bought them both empanadas, and they continued back to the car. “Now that we’ve got this, we can focus on locating Billy and getting your sister back. I know he would never do anything to hurt her. It really wasn’t supposed to go down like this, but I should have figured with Billy involved, things would go south.”
It was a good thing Stella had lost her appetite when Finn started talking about finding Phoebe, because as they approached the Beetle, she noticed the tire on the front driver’s side was flat. She dropped the rest of the empanada and knelt next to the tire. She lifted her face and hands to the sky and shook her fists. “Are you kidding me?” she shouted.
Finn raised both of his fists, lifted his face to the sky, closed his eyes and screamed, “Stellaaaaa!” He opened his eyes and looked back at Stella’s scowling face. “What? I thought we were having a dramatic moment.”
Stella opened her mouth to tell him off, but his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and answered before the ringtone could launch into another rendition of the song’s chorus.
“Julian,” he mouthed. He listened to the low voice murmuring over the phone for a moment. “Well, Boss, we would, but it looks like we’ve got a flat tire… Trust me, I’m aware… Okay, we’ll see you soon.”
Finn hung up the phone, and Stella looked up at him expectantly from her seat on the ground. “How are we supposed to see anyone when we have a flat?” she asked.
“He’s sending a car to take us to his San Antonio base. He’ll send a tow truck for Josie.”
“This man has a ‘San Antonio base’?” Stella asked, incredulous.
“No need for the air quotations; the San Antonio base really does exist,” Finn said, extending his free hand to Stella. He helped her up from the ground and she brushed off her knees.
“Who is this guy?” Stella asked as she leaned against the Beetle. “I’m starting to think you work for Santa Claus.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Finn said with a smirk.
Finn and Stella waited in tense silence. Phoebe was missing, she was stuck with Finn, who was a total jerk, and now Josie had a flat. What else could possibly go wrong?
Several tedious minutes later, Finn pointed to the far end of the parking lot where a black Lincoln Town Car glided in their direction. “I’m pretty sure that’s our ride.”
Finn and Stella watched the Town Car coast to a stop in front of them. The driver got out and hurried to open the rear door.
“After you,” Finn said.
Stella hesitated, but Finn nodded and gave a smile she assumed was supposed to be reassuring. Stella stepped into the car, grateful for the air conditioning, but apprehensive of what she might find. Finn entered after her and the driver shut the door, climbed back behind the wheel, and pulled out of the parking lot.
FINN, 3:19 P.M.
The driver opened the door to the luxury high-rise where Julian’s apartment was located.
“Thanks, Davis,” Finn said as he looked over his shoulder, making sure Stella was still close behind. He strode up to the large front desk in the building’s lobby. “Finley Emerald here to see Mr. Diamond.”
He predicted the look on Stella’s face would be an equal mixture of ridicule and skepticism. He glanced over his shoulder while the desk concierge called up to Julian. Yep, he’d guessed correctly.
“Finley Emerald? Mr. Diamond? Really? Anybody would conclude those are fake names,” Stella whispered. “And seriously, how many aliases do you have?”
Over the last couple of days Finn had learned which battles to fight with Stella, so he let these comments slide. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the counter as he twirled the bag with his hard-earned treasure in his right. Stella sighed as the desk concierge nodded to a uniformed man stationed by the elevators. “Please follow James to your destination.”
Finn and Stella walked over to the uniformed man and followed him into an elevator. He hit the button for the seventh floor.
Stella leaned into Finn’s shoulder and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “No penthouse?”
“Too obvious,” Finn replied. “Can you cut it with the barbs for just an hour? Julian may be the key to finding your sister.”
Stella sobered up quickly and mimed zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key. As the elevator car slowly approached the seventh floor, Finn grew tense. He hoped Stella would behave herself, and he hoped Julian wouldn’t rip him a new one in front of her.
The elevator stopped. Finn and Stella followed James to a nondescript door. He gestured at the door. Finn knocked, and the three of them waited in silent anticipation. When the door finally opened, Finn was greeted with a warm hug from Yvonne.
“I heard you got yourself into a pickle,” she said, unwrapping him from her embrace. Yvonne turned to Stella with curious eyes. “And who is this?”
“This is my friend Stella,” Finn said. “She lent me her car and kept me company on my trip.”
“Well, hello, Stella,” Yvonne said. Her tone was friendly enough, but her face remained wary. “Oh dear, where are my manners? Please, come to the living room.” When she opened the door wider, Finn and Stella moved into the foyer of the apartment.
Julian had carried his simple, masculine lodge aesthetic into his San Antonio home. Mahogany furniture, leather, and brass filled the space.
“You sit here. Julian will be with you in just a moment. Stella, would you like any tea, water, juice, or soda?” Yvonne asked. “Finn always has a Coke.”
“Water, please,” Stella requested. As soon as Yvonne left the room, Stella turned to Finn. “I’m starting to find you predictable…which is rather unfortunate when you consider that at the beginnin
g of this, I was held at gunpoint and forced to take you to my house.”
Finn flushed. He crossed his legs, holding the bag from the flea market securely in his lap. “Keep talking and the gun may reappear.”
Yvonne came back into the living room with a tray full of drinks, chocolate chip cookies, and mini quiches. “Jacob, behave!”
“I always behave!” Finn declared, grabbing a cookie.
“Ha!” Yvonne finished emptying the tray onto a low wood coffee table and returned to the kitchen.
Stella crossed and uncrossed her legs. She jiggled her knee for a few moments before crossing her legs again. Then she started playing with her hair.
Finn leaned over and pulled Stella’s hand away from her face. “Can you stop with the fidgeting? You’re worse than Billy!”
“Jacob!” Julian entered the room clad in his usual jeans and knit sweater with suede elbow patches. Finn wondered how the man wasn’t dripping with sweat in this heat. He got up off the couch and gave Julian a quick hug.
“And you are…Stella Carstens, sister of Phoebe, I presume?” Julian asked, extending a hand.
Stella nodded and stood for a handshake. “Thank you so much for your help, Mr.…”
“Please, call me Julian.” He seated himself in a large plaid armchair that matched the couch and crossed his legs. “Really, Ms. Carstens, I should be thanking you for not bringing the authorities into this matter. I can assure you we will find my wayward son and your sister as soon as possible.”
Finn scooted forward to the edge of the couch. “You mentioned on the phone that Billy’s working with von Rothschild?” he asked. He couldn’t believe the immature, selfish, reckless little shit was able to pull off a double-crossing act of this magnitude.
Julian leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Billy has been feeding Christoph information about our client list, acquisitions, and contacts. I’m not sure for exactly how long. I called him after I received your phone call this morning.”
Finn could practically feel Stella’s laser-like gaze boring into his face. He kept his eyes on Julian. It’s not like he had actually known if Phoebe was in any trouble…hell, he didn’t know what was going on. If anything, he merely omitted the fact he hadn’t been able to speak with Billy or Phoebe in a while.
“Why’d he go over to von Rothschild’s side?” Finn asked.
Julian sighed. “He muttered some nonsense about Christoph treating him like an equal, and how Christoph ‘sees his potential.’” Julian hesitated before speaking again; it was the first time Finn had ever seen him do so. “He seemed to harbor a lot of anger and jealousy toward you.”
Finn sat back and massaged his temples. “Jealous of me? That’s a laugh. He had everything he could ever want growing up. And now he’s a spoiled, overgrown kid…no offense.”
Julian tapped his bottom lip. This is bad, Finn thought. No, this is catastrophically bad. Julian never exhibited signs of stress or anxiety.
Julian’s phone chimed on the table. He picked it up and regarded the screen for a moment. “According to this text message, Christoph will be calling in fifteen minutes.”
A knock sounded at the apartment door.
“Ah, excellent timing,” Julian declared as he stood. Finn shot him a questioning look. Julian ignored it and followed Yvonne to the door.
Finn glanced at Stella, who sat curled in a corner of the couch, a blank expression on her face.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” she said. “How is this supposed to get my sister back?”
“Shit’s getting real,” Finn said. “Don’t worry, Julian’s got this.”
“You can have a seat in here,” Julian told the newcomer as they rounded the corner of the foyer into the living room.
“YOU!” Finn shouted, jumping from the couch.
“DEREK?” Stella exclaimed, leaping to her feet.
Stella stood with her mouth agape as her ex-fiancé followed Julian into the room. Derek gave her a wave that was both sheepish and awkward.
At that moment Finn understood what people meant when they said they felt their blood pressure rise. “What the hell is going on? I decked this guy on the mini-golf course the other day!”
Julian crossed his arms. “Good thing he didn’t hold it against you.”
“Oh my God, Derek. Did you track me here somehow?” Stella asked in disbelief. She glanced at Finn. “Dammit! We forgot to take the tracking device off the Beetle!” She turned back to Derek. “I told you on the golf course we were done. What are you still doing here?”
Derek and Julian exchanged a look but didn’t say anything. That made Finn even angrier. First that ass had tracked Stella across the Southwest; now he was buddy-buddy with Julian? Julian glanced at Finn and Stella.
“Derek is a member of the FBI’s Art Crime Team,” he said.
Finn’s mouth dropped open.
“No, he’s not,” Stella said slowly. “He’s a business consultant.”
Julian looked at Derek and sat back in his armchair. Derek carefully removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. “Actually, Stella, Mr. Beckham is correct. I work for the FBI.”
Finn sank to the couch, mouth still open.
Stella put her hands to her cheeks, eyes wide. “No way! Unless…you’ve been lying to me for the last year and a half?”
“Sorry, but I wasn’t allowed to tell you what my job really entailed. Actually…you shouldn’t even know now, but I had no idea you were mixed up in all of this. Why didn’t you tell me?” Derek asked, his face long.
Finn watched Stella to see how she was taking the news. She looked as if she were about to crumple to the ground. He wanted to go over and give her a hug…and then beat the shit out of Derek.
“But all of the business trips? The working late? And working on weekends?”
Derek shrugged helplessly. “I never lied about any of that stuff…it was just for a different job.”
Finn couldn’t hold in his fury any longer. He stood up and flung his hands into the air. “Can we save this Maury relationship bullshit for later? What the hell is this guy doing here?”
“Let’s all just sit down calmly and discuss this,” Julian said, extending his arms in a placating manner.
Finn sat back on the couch and put his head in his hands. He looked up at Julian, who in turn looked at Derek. Derek seated himself in the armchair opposite Julian and cleared his throat. Yvonne reappeared from the kitchen with a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. He took a sip and began again.
“Like Mr. von Rothschild said before…I’m a member of the FBI’s Art Crime Team. I’m based in the Las Vegas area, but work the larger Southwestern region.”
“So, I repeat, why is he sitting here?” Finn asked, focused solely on Julian.
Julian positioned himself regally in his chair and crossed his legs. “Derek approached me about four months ago after I returned from a business trip in Ecuador. His team has had their eyes on our transactions, as well as those of Christoph’s Barony. Derek approached me with a deal, Jacob, and I found it in our best interest to accept.”
BILLY, 3:31 P.M.
Billy bounced his knee up and down before standing and pacing the hardwood floors of von Rothschild’s sitting room. Exasperated, Christoph put down his Wall Street Journal and sighed loudly.
“Be still, William!” he said in his upper-crust accent. “The die has been cast.”
Claudia rose from her seat at the antique secretary desk in the corner of the room and stretched. “Telling Billy to stop fidgeting will net you the same result as telling Mother to go easy on the Botox. They stop, then go back at it with a vengeance as soon as you turn your head.”
Billy sat back down on the vintage tufted sofa opposite Christoph and struggled to remain still. He lasted for less than a minute before his knee resumed its frantic bouncing. He’d been dreaming of the day when he could stand up to his father and tell him what he really thought. And he’d finally don
e it. But his father’s business was almost another child to him, and Billy had admitted to sabotaging it. That was something he didn’t think their relationship could recover from.
“It’s time to call Julian. Keep quiet. I’ll do the talking,” Christoph said. “Marc, please retrieve our guest.”
Claudia came over and perched on the arm of the loveseat next to her father as he dialed Julian’s number. She winked at Billy and he turned away, his face coloring. Christoph placed the ringing phone in the center of the coffee table and readjusted his injured leg.
“Christoph,” Julian answered the phone, his voice devoid of warmth.
Billy swallowed hard and hoped for the fiftieth time today that he’d made the right choice. Marc entered the room holding a struggling Phoebe’s upper arm in a vice-like grip. Her wrists were tied behind her back and there was a strip of duct tape over her mouth.
Thank God, Billy thought. He really couldn’t wait to be rid of the girl. He rubbed the bare patches above his eyes.
Christoph gestured for Marc to place Phoebe on the sofa next to Billy. She glared at him and continued to struggle.
“Why, Julian,” Christoph said. “How are you faring? The weather these last few days has been sweltering.”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we, Christoph? We both know this isn’t a social call. Is William with you now?”
“Always straight to business.” Christoph clucked his tongue. “It’s no wonder your clients have been fleeing in droves. But yes, he is.”
“And the girl? Where is she?”
“Oh, you mean Phoebe?” Christoph let out a mirthless chuckle. Such a spitfire. She’s being shown the utmost hospitality, even as we speak. You know I always make my guests feel at home.”
Christoph nodded at Marc. He ripped the tape from Phoebe’s mouth.
“Ouch!” she shrieked, giving him a dirty look before shouting toward the phone. “Hello? Hello? Can anybody help me? I’m stuck—”
