by Rebecca Deel
“So, what do you suggest then? Go back to your cabin? We could always hole up in your safe room if either side tracks us down again.”
He spotted the interstate on-ramp he needed. “My father has a friend from his Marine days with a place about an hour from here. The Coles are in Florida until April. They spend every winter with their grandkids. We’ll be off the grid, yet in a centralized location with easy access to a hospital and stores for whatever we need. You game?”
“They won’t mind us borrowing their house?” Sophie sounded skeptical.
Micah grinned. “I have a key. Jase lets me stay there when I have some downtime and need an escape from the Winter women. Mom and Nicole can be overbearing during the holidays. When I was in country and could shake loose from D.C., Dad, David and I used to tell the women we were going ice fishing.”
“Let me guess. The Winter men fished ice out of tea glasses at the Cole place.”
“We all shared the cooking, though my contribution was limited to a frozen pizza tossed in the oven. It was great. Mom and Nicole never figured out what we saw in fishing through holes cut in the ice since we never caught anything.” His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Dad and I couldn’t do it this year, not without David.”
“I know what you mean. I didn’t decorate my house for Christmas this year. It just wasn’t right to do it this first Christmas without Sierra.” Sophie’s hand settled on her stomach. “Next year, I’ll do the decorations for the baby.”
“We’ll do it together, okay? You’re not having our son alone, Sophie. I’ll help you through this.”
“Much as I like that idea, Micah, you can’t promise you’ll be around next year, especially if you keep your Secret Service position. You could be out of the country during the holidays.”
Not if he could help it. “One problem at a time, babe. First hurdle of the day is the grocery store. Why don’t you make a list of food we need to buy? The Coles have a fully stocked pantry, but we’ll need perishables. Your choice. Remember I don’t do green for breakfast.”
As he hoped, Sophie laughed as she dug through her purse for paper and pen. While she worked on the food supply list, Micah placed a call to Winterhaven, Florida. Though Jase had extended an open invitation, this time circumstances were more dicey. If one side or the other followed him and Sophie to the Cole place, Micah would use any firepower necessary to protect Sophie and his son. Might be a good idea to find out how much weaponry Jase kept on hand.
After getting a rundown of the arms stashed around Jase’s home, Micah felt even better about hiding Sophie there. Jase’s weapons stash surpassed his own, including some illegal C-4 since, by his reasoning, some things just needed blowing up. Jase’s explanation dragged a laugh out of him despite the serious nature of their discussion. Best of all, the nearest neighbor was three miles away. Less chance of collateral damage. Adding innocent blood to his already stained hands left his gut churning.
“Look, Sarge, forget I had this conversation with you. Dad’s taking the family out of the country for a while until I take care of this. I don’t want you and Elaine in danger because of me.”
“No worries, Micah. We’ll be ready, but I doubt they’ll bother with us. Use whatever you want. I have an account at the Army Surplus place in town. Cal will add what you need to the account and keep his lips zipped. No amount of intimidation will get him to spill his guts. That man is more paranoid than any vet I ever worked with, including your old man. You and I can settle when I return to town. One more thing. If you need some backup, call me. I’ve got some friends nearby who were Marine Recon and Army Rangers. These guys haven’t lost a step. They’re tougher than any gangbanger ever thought of being. They eat punks like that for breakfast.”
Micah chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. Appreciate it, Sarge. I’ll be in touch.”
Sophie twisted in her seat to face him. “Is he as tough he sounds?”
“He’s a teddy bear.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute, not with that list of weapons he just spewed out. Your friend sounds like he could take on the Kings all by himself.”
“They wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Jase was a Marine sniper. Ice water runs through his veins.”
“Too bad we can’t turn him and his friends loose on them.”
Micah shot her a quick glance. “If the Kings unearth your connection to me, we might be forced to call them in.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Did you leave anything green in the produce section?”
Sophie grinned over her shoulder at a scowling Micah and resumed stocking the refrigerator. “You wanted me to take care of the baby. He needs fresh fruits and vegetables.” And so did the baby’s father though she didn’t plan on telling Micah her secondary motive for stocking a mini-market in the crisper. He needed to rebuild his stamina. Fresh food would help him heal faster than his normal preservative-laden diet.
He trudged outside to bring in the rest of their belongings from the SUV. Sophie surveyed the interior of the kitchen cabinets and drawers and found a treasure trove of herbal teas. More investigation unearthed a white ceramic tea kettle.
After filling the tea kettle and setting it on a burner to heat, she grabbed the bag with her toiletries and carried it to the bathroom. Blue ceramic tile and silver fixtures gleamed in the light. In the corner, a white garden tub with jets drew her attention. Her bath tonight would be relaxing. After the baby was born, maybe she could have one installed in her home bathroom.
Micah stopped in the bathroom doorway, her bags in hand. “The journals are on the kitchen table. What should I do with the paintings?”
“Dining room. We need to uncrate them. I had an idea how we might figure out what Sierra stole.”
“Let me finish unloading the SUV and we’ll talk.”
“I’m heating water for hot tea. Would you like some?”
“Nothing that smells like a girl would drink it.”
She blinked. What kind of tea smelled like that? “Deal.” She hoped female-favored tea had an obvious scent.
He limped down the hall while Sophie returned to the kitchen and the whistling kettle. She selected a robust black tea for Micah and a rooibos blend for herself. Her mouth curved. Black tea with bits of caramel shouldn’t smell girly to her macho bodyguard. Leaving the tea to steep, Sophie opened boxes containing Sierra’s journals and withdrew each book. She glanced at the beginning dates of each and arranged them in chronological order. If Sierra followed her earlier patterns, she photographed each portrait completed.
The earliest journals should contain jewels Sophie had already returned. Just in case, though, she better scan the photographs and check the jewelry she didn’t recognize. One good thing. Sierra never stole jewels a second time. She wrinkled her nose. Sierra hadn’t found it exciting enough to steal something she’d already lifted once.
Micah opened the door, cold air rushing past him into the warm kitchen, ushering in the scent of pine and snow. Arms full with a portrait crate, he shivered and shut the door with a shoulder nudge. “This is the last one.” He carried the container into the dining room. “It’s colder outside. I wouldn’t be surprised if more snow falls this afternoon.”
“I’m glad we bought groceries. Milk and bread will be gone by noon.”
Micah shoved gloves into his pockets and shrugged out of his coat. He dropped into the nearest chair, a slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes the only clue he hurt. Macho, indeed, to suffer in silence. As if a little pain reliever would hurt his image. Without commenting, Sophie grabbed her purse and dug out the Valerian. She shook a couple into her palm. “Take these.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mother.” He downed the pills with a tea chaser. His brows rose. “Not bad, Sophie. Doesn’t carry the same punch as coffee, but it’s pretty good. What kind of tea is this?”
“Black English Caramel. Robust with a hint of sweet.” Just like Micah. Sophie’s cheeks heated.
“A
nything I can do to help?” he asked.
Did kissing her count as help? “Uncrate Sierra’s paintings. Line them along the walls in the dining room. If I don’t learn anything else, I can identify the owners of the paintings by the corresponding information in Sierra’s journals. The people who commissioned paintings must want them.”
Her customers would have been told by Sierra to pay on delivery of the portraits. At $5,000 a painting, Junior would have a start to his college fund. Of course, by the time he actually enrolled in college eighteen years in the future, the money Sophie collected might pay for one semester.
While Micah worked in the dining room, Sophie skimmed the journals, oldest to newest. Like she’d anticipated, all the jewels in the earlier books were ones she recognized and had returned. Only the latest journal contained five pieces of jewelry she didn’t remember confiscating from her sister.
“Finished,” Micah called from the other room.
She rose, noticed his unfinished tea on the table, and grabbed it along with the journal and walked to the dining room. Portraits lined the far wall, seven total. As always, Sierra’s talent left her breathless for a few seconds. The vibrant colors and masterful strokes almost leaped off the canvas and into real life. Ache followed on the heels of appreciation. For all the trouble and heartache Sierra had caused, Sophie missed her twin.
“Sophie? You okay?”
She handed him the tea. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
His gaze caught hers, sympathy glittering in their depths. “The art world will feel the loss of her talent for years to come. I know you miss her as much as I miss David. Here.” He led her to a chair facing the paintings. “Do you recognize the portraits?”
Sophie examined each portrait before she opened Sierra’s last journal. “The woman with the hawk nose is Beatrice Chandler, an 80-year-old livewire. I returned her ruby brooch almost a year ago. The woman with the poodle hair is Lois James. Her 3-carat emerald ring reappeared in her safe a couple weeks before the accident. The Goth woman is Keri North. Her preferred jewelry is black pearls. Fritz, her Doberman Pincher, was a little too friendly, so I had to drop the pearls into Keri’s underwear drawer. I bent the clasp a little to help with the illusion that it fell into her lingerie.”
Micah turned, a scowl on his handsome features. Yeah, well, Fritz hadn’t made her night, either. He’d been a new addition to the household and forced her to climb out a third story window to escape his sharp teeth.
“The Marilyn Monroe lookalike is Cissy Walters and she, too, believes diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Her necklace and earrings were hidden behind some papers in the safe.”
“What about the other three?”
Sophie shut Sierra’s journal. “There’s nothing in her journal about those portraits.” She pinched her bottom lip, studied each picture in turn.
“Did we miss a journal?”
“Doubt it. Sierra was pretty obsessive about not leaving any blank pages. There are ten empty pages in this last one.”
Micah studied the remaining pictures. “Any idea who these women are?”
“The Margaret Thatcher clone is Nelda Graham. She owns a truly spectacular sapphire and diamond necklace, a 10-carat work of art. “
“Why isn’t there a picture in that journal, then?”
Sophie shrugged. “I returned it last year and Sierra had painted several portraits since.”
“Huh.” Micah dropped into a nearby chair. “Ever return something more than once?”
“No thrill in that for Sierra.”
Micah sipped his tea in silence for a while. “I have contacts who specialize in unusual jewelry and art thefts.”
She studied his expression. “Cops?”
He grinned. “Not necessarily.”
Her brows rose. “Shady connections?”
“I prefer to label them gray.”
“Right. I have some of those contacts, too, and they are pitch black. And before you say it, yes, they are family connections. Fences, relatives, all manner of unsavory characters.” Her fist clenched.
“I tap all types of people for information in the course of my work. Some of them are pitch black, too.”
“Sorry. Instinctive reaction.”
“What about the other two portraits? Recognize those women?”
Sierra’s second painting highlighted a trio of exquisite square-cut rubies. The blood red rubies were at least three carats each, surrounded by diamonds, set in an elegant gold design.
“I don’t know the brunette with the rubies, but the necklace is very distinctive. Shouldn’t be hard to track down.”
Shifting her attention to the last portrait, Sophie studied the twisted strands of pearls around the neck of the red head. Her breath caught. The Twisted Sisters. Three strands of perfectly matched pearls rumored to have taken 30 years to create.
“You recognize the last woman?”
Her gaze flicked up to the woman’s face. “Danielle Ross. The Twisted Sisters are very rare, expensive pearls.”
“You know her?”
“No love lost between her and the Valeros. Sierra made a play for Dani’s husband, Gabe.”
“And?”
Sophie’s mouth twisted. “The challenge was in the catch.”
“Ah. She threw him back into the pond. Did Danielle find out?”
“I don’t run in those circles, but I can’t imagine Dani asking Sierra to paint another portrait if she knew my sister stole her jewels and her husband. And before you ask, the affair happened before Sierra met David. I know you don’t think much of my twin, but she loved your brother.”
Micah’s shadowed gaze studied her a moment. “How do you want to proceed?”
Business, then. Couldn’t blame him for not wanting to revisit the old, painful subject. What could be said, after all? With her death, Sierra’s moral character remained frozen in time. In the future, Micah might forgive her sister. The question that plagued her the most? Would Micah always consider Sophie’s character the same as Sierra’s?
A question for another time. She dragged her attention to the portraits, considered them again. “I need Internet access and my phone. If the jewels are missing, someone will know.”
“If they filed an insurance claim.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“For some people, it’s not about only the money. It’s about ownership of something unique. They’ll take the theft personally.”
“A personal insult or power play?”
“Exactly.” Micah rose, extending his hand to her. “These are people who hire men to find their missing property and retrieve it by any means necessary, including murder.”
Sophie stilled, her gaze locked with Micah’s, her hand nestled in his. Who did Sierra cross? Would her sister’s quick fingers cost Sophie’s baby his life? She clenched her jaw. Not while she drew breath. No one was going to hurt her son.
#
Micah led Sophie to the living room recliner and gave her his laptop, a mug of tea within reach. He retraced his steps to Sierra’s portraits, pulled out his cell phone and snapped pictures.
He keyed an email address to one of his favorite people and sent the digital pictures into the Ethernet. A smile quirked his lips. He wished Adam had chosen a legitimate line of work.
A minute later, Micah’s sat phone chirped. “Been a while, Adam.”
Silence, then, “Micah. Heard you were laid up.”
That was one way of putting it. “Still on medical leave. I should be back in action soon.” What kind of action remained a question although returning to the Secret Service seemed less likely than ever. With his father’s prime example of how to parent foremost in his thoughts, Micah’s heart rebelled at the idea of another man in Sophie’s life raising his son, maybe called “Dad.” No way.
Stomach knotting, he faced the hard truth growing more concrete by the hour. Micah didn’t want another man in Sophie’s life, period. He wanted to be the only man in her life from now until
one of them passed from this life.
How ironic was that? A federal cop and a cat burglar. Never thought he’d fall this hard and fast for Sophia Valero. Didn’t make sense, though he supposed falling in love defied logic.
Now he understood David’s choices in the last four years of his life. The heated phone conversations they’d exchanged burned in his memory. A thick lump formed in his throat. Micah hoped his brother had understood the words stemmed from love. What he wouldn’t give for one more conversation, one more slug on the arm. David would have razzed him hard about falling for Sophie. Yeah, Micah grasped the Valero mystique now.
The real problem? Convincing Sophie he wanted the feisty cat burglar for herself, not just as a means to get his son.
“What do you need?”
Adam’s voice recalled his attention to the present task. “Anything on these women. Deep background. No tracks.” Neither of them needed to show up on cyber radar for law enforcement or the Kings to track.
Keys clicked over the cell connection. Micah smiled. Nothing made Adam happier than hacking into forbidden sites on legitimate business. Adam Siler thrived on these searches. He also made a very comfortable living off his computer skills.
“Timeline?”
“Yesterday.”
“Rush jobs are extra. Bill it to SS?”
“This one is personal.” Very personal. “Only you, Adam. No flunkies, no matter how talented. A woman’s life depends on it.”
A pause in the typing. Micah waited for the comment or question. None came. Typing resumed.
“Where do I send the information?”
After giving him the email address he maintained through Brent’s security company, Micah slid the phone back in its holder. He swiveled toward the living room when his cell chirped again.
He checked the digital display. Brent. “What have you got?”
“More of the same. Abbott’s still nosing around, finding zip. It’s making our boy very frustrated. Same for the Kings, though their hacker is a lot more skilled than MNPD’s computer geeks. I called to check on Sophie, see how she’s doing.”
