by Jayne Castle
"The killer came and went from underground." Cruz angled the razor for another stroke. "I assume the vault was opened?"
"Yes. But here's the weird part. My friend in the Frequency PD says that the gallery employees did an inventory and told him that nothing was missing."
"The killer took the relic. It wouldn't have been on any inventory list."
HALF AN HOUR LATER, CRUZ WALKED OUT OF THE BEDROOM wearing a fresh shirt and trousers from the selection of clothing he kept at the cottage. He headed toward the kitchen, thinking of Lyra and coffee, in that order.
Jeff appeared in his path. "Bad news. We have what you might call a situation."
"What?"
"Big Jake arrived by boat while you were in the shower."
"Should have known he'd find out what happened last night. Now that he's supposed to be retired, he's got way too much time on his hands, and he likes to meddle."
"That's probably what he's doing as we speak. He grabbed Lyra."
"Grabbed her?"
"Okay, maybe that's a little over-the-top," Jeff conceded. "Here's the deal. After Lyra got out of the shower, she decided to take the path down to the cove. Big Jake came here as soon as he got off the boat. He wanted to know where she was. Someone told him. He went looking for her."
Cruz headed for the front door. "You're right. We've got a situation."
Chapter 26
VINCENT WAS ENCHANTED WITH THE COVE. HE DARTED and frolicked about, red beret flapping. Lyra smiled as he chased waves, investigated stray bits of seaweed, and played with seashells. Dust bunnies could teach people a lot about the art of enjoying life, she thought. As far as they were concerned, almost anything could be turned into a game.
She was watching Vincent dip a paw into a tide pool in an effort to capture a tiny crab when she felt the tingle of awareness that told her she was no longer alone. She turned and saw a man coming toward her.
He was a lot older than Cruz, his hair gray and thinning. A pair of wraparound sunglasses concealed his eyes, but she knew who he was. The family connection was obvious in the hard profile and the prowling, specter-cat way he moved, even though he used a cane. She would know that well-dressed-assassin look anywhere.
Big Jake Sweetwater.
He reached the bottom of the path and started toward her. She was glad that she was wearing sunglasses, too. He couldn't see her eyes any better than she could see his.
Vincent paused long enough to give the newcomer a cursory glance, but he lost interest immediately and went back to his fishing.
Jake came to a halt in front of her. "So, you're Lyra Dore."
"Good morning, Mr. Sweetwater. Fancy meeting you here."
"I own this island," he said gruffly.
"Oh, right, I forgot. Did you come down here to ask me to leave? I wouldn't want to get arrested for trespassing. I'm still trying to pay off the lawyer I used to try to sue your company. I can't afford another attorney."
His jaw turned to granite, but he rose above the taunt. Lyra was impressed.
"They tell me you saved my grandson's life last night," he growled.
"Between you and me, I think he would have pulled through on his own. He's a very strong talent, as I'm sure you're well aware, and amazingly stubborn. Can't imagine where he got that, but there you have it. Those are useful traits when it comes to dealing with psi trauma."
"You think?"
"Yes. But I'm going along with the story that I saved his life, because I like the idea of having a Sweetwater in my debt."
"I talked to the med tech on the scene. She said Cruz might have survived, but he sure as hell wouldn't have made it through with his senses intact without some outside intervention. She thinks it was the energy you were generating through physical contact that was the deciding factor. It stabilized his aura until he could recover from the trauma."
"Guess we'll never know for sure, will we?"
"I'm sure," Jake said. "So is the med tech and everyone else who knows what happened. Like I said, you saved his life."
"His senses, maybe."
"Amounts to pretty much the same thing as far as a Sweetwater is concerned."
"Whatever. It's nice to know the Sweetwaters owe me."
Jake grunted. "If you care about Cruz enough to save his life, why in the hell did you have to go and break his heart?"
She nearly choked on her outrage. "Let's get something straight here. What I did for Cruz last night I would have done for anyone, if I thought just holding my hand would save a life. As for the heartbreak part, geez. Don't even try to convince me that you actually fell for that crazy talk."
"What's crazy about it?"
"You're Big Jake Sweetwater, for Pete's sake. I can understand some of the younger, more impressionable members of your family like Jeff buying into that romantic nonsense, but not you. Never you."
"Or you?" he asked, the words barely audible above the crash of the waves.
"Of course not. Look, I don't know who started that story about me breaking Cruz's heart, but I'm sure it was intended originally as a joke."
"We don't joke about true love in this family. We take it seriously. You broke my grandson's heart, and that really pisses me off."
"Yeah, well he stole that amethyst chamber from me. If it hadn't been for him and Amber Inc. I'd have been rich by now."
"You'd have been plenty rich if you'd just taken the damned settlement our lawyers offered you."
"That money came with way too many strings attached."
"What strings, damn it?" Jake's voice rose to a roar.
Vincent abruptly responded to the escalating tension in the atmosphere. He didn't go all sleek and predatory, but he abandoned his fishing and fluttered across the rocks toward Lyra. She picked him up and tucked him under her arm, grateful, as usual, for the comfort of his furry little body.
"If I had taken the money, I would have had to give up my claim on the chamber," she said.
Jake whacked a nearby rock with his cane. "That was the general idea."
"I'll never do that. As far as I'm concerned, that ruin was my discovery, and it belongs to me. In addition to giving up my claim, your lawyers actually demanded that I sign a nondisclosure clause and stop doing interviews with the media. I wasn't about to agree to that, either. Bad press was the only weapon I had to use against you."
"Why the devil did you care so much about that ruin in the first place?"
"Ask Cruz."
"He gave me some ghost crap about you probably being worried that the amethyst relics inside the chamber might prove to be weapons. Said you didn't trust Amber Inc. or the Guilds with them."
She nodded once. "You've got that right. And now your lab has gone and lost one of the artifacts. Which only goes to prove that my concerns were justified."
"And you claim you're not a romantic. Only a romantic fool would turn down the kind of money we offered you just to keep those relics out of what you thought were the wrong hands."
"That wasn't a romantic act," she shot back. "It was my insider knowledge of how things operate at Amber Inc. that made me do it."
"Next you're going to tell me you got that so-called insider knowledge from your grandfather."
She raised her chin. "That's right."
Jake studied her in silence for a moment. Then he exhaled heavily.
"Arthur Dore raised you on poison," he said. "He was the one who challenged me to that game of poker. We each owned claims. Both deeds went into the pot. Winner take all."
"He was drunk. You took advantage of him."
"He'd had a few drinks, but he knew what he was doing." Jake's voice softened a little. "But I'm willing to allow that his memory of events wasn't real clear."
"Cruz told me that there was a woman involved," she said.
"There was. Madeline. My wife. Dore challenged me to that game because he had some crazy notion that if he won and wound up owning both mines, Madeline would marry him instead of me. But that was never even a remote po
ssibility."
"What makes you so sure of that? Oh, wait." She held up a hand, palm out. "Cruz said that when it comes to love, you Sweetwaters have some kind of special intuition."
"It's part of our talent. The first time I met Madeline, I knew she was the one. She and your grandfather had been seeing each other, but there was nothing serious on either side. At least not until Dore realized that Madeline was going out with me. He was furious but only because it was just one more thing he had lost to me, not because his heart was broken."
"You're sure of that, are you?"
"Damn sure. I knew your grandfather better than you did, at least back in those days. Hell, you weren't even born yet. I'm damn sorry you lost your parents, and I'm glad you had Arthur Dore to take you in, but it sounds like he gave you a somewhat revised version of history."
She gave him a bright, shiny smile. "Well, one thing's for sure, there's no way to prove his version now, is there? History is written by the winners, and you were the winner."
"What the hell did you expect me to do? Give him back the deed to the mine?"
"Yes," she said. "That would have been the right thing to do."
Big Jake's hard face darkened with outrage. "Like hell. I won that claim off Dore fair and square. He knew it, and I knew it. If I'd turned around and tried to give it back to him, he would have refused it."
"Why would he have done that?"
"For the same reason you wouldn't take the settlement money Cruz offered you as compensation for that amethyst ruin. Pride. Arthur Dore would have seen any attempt to return the deed as an act of pity."
She felt the familiar shiver of awareness and turned to look at the path that led up the bluff. Cruz was making his way down to the cove, moving with his characteristic sure-footedness. Dark glasses veiled his eyes, but even from here she could see the grim set of his jaw.
She switched her attention back to Jake.
"You know, I never gave it much thought, because there wasn't any point to imagining how things might have been different," she said. "But you're right. Granddad would have turned down your offer."
"I did not cheat him out of that claim," Jake said quietly. "And even if I had, it still wouldn't give you the right to break my grandson's heart. If you had a problem with me, you should have come to me about it."
"Ah, but I didn't have a problem with you," she said politely. "I was doing just fine without any Sweetwaters in my life. My problem is with Cruz. And if anyone calls me a heartbreaker one more time, I swear I'm going to swim back to the mainland."
The corner of his mouth edged upward slightly. "That would be a very long swim," he said.
"So, I'll steal one of your boats. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to the house for breakfast."
"I'm hungry, too. I'll come with you."
"Your island. Suit yourself."
"Thanks, I'll do that." He fell into step beside her, driving his cane into the sand with each step. He looked toward the path. "Looks like the rescue mission has arrived."
"I don't need rescuing from you."
"Nope, you sure as hell don't. You can take care of yourself. So what's with the dust bunny?"
"His name is Vincent."
"I hear they bite."
"Oh, yeah."
Jake chuckled. "Like you."
It was not a question, so Lyra saw no need to respond.
Cruz came to a halt in front of them.
His dark glasses glinted in the sun. He looked at Lyra and then at Jake.
"Is there a problem here?" he asked in his dangerously neutral voice.
"Yes," Jake said. "But I'm told the problem is with you, not me, so we're going to have breakfast. You can join us if you like."
Cruz smiled at Lyra. "Thanks, I'll do that."
Chapter 27
THEY ATE BREAKFAST OUTDOORS ON THE VERANDA THAT overlooked the spectacular cove. The cook came down from what everyone on the island referred to as the Big House, a large, airy mansion about a mile from Cruz's cottage. There were platters of succulent fruits and berries, fluffy cheese-and-vegetable omelets, and endless piles of toast and pots of coffee.
Vincent went into full cute mode and charmed the cook into providing him with his own plate heaped with samples of everything on the table. He crouched on the foot-wide railing with his hoard and, like every other male in the vicinity, went to work on his breakfast with gusto.
"Here's what we've got," Cruz said, forking up a bite of omelet. "Valentine Fairstead was murdered last night, and the murder is probably linked to the missing relic, which we know was in his vault as of yesterday afternoon."
"How do we know the relic was in his vault?" Jake demanded.
"Because Lyra was there with a client who wanted her opinion on a special piece of amethyst," Cruz said. "They were escorted to a private room by Fairstead, and the vault was opened. She didn't get a chance to see the relic because I walked into the room at that moment, and Fairstead immediately closed and locked the vault. But she had time to sense it."
Jake eyed Lyra. "You're sure that relic was in Fairstead's vault?" he demanded.
"Yes," she said. She picked up her coffee cup. "I'm good with amethyst, remember? And I know those relics. I spent a lot of time with them before AI stole the ruin from me. They resonate on some very unusual and distinctive wavelengths."
Jake's eyes narrowed. "We did not steal that damn ruin."
"Moving right along," Cruz said smoothly. "Since nothing else was stolen out of the vault, it's clear that whoever killed Fairstead was after the relic. That means he knew it was there in the first place. I'm betting the list of suspects is a short one."
"With Lyra's client at the top?" Jake asked.
"It's a possibility," Cruz conceded. "But on the whole I'm inclined to doubt it."
"Who the hell is this client, anyway?" Jake demanded.
There was a short silence. Jeff concentrated on some toast. Cruz ate his omelet.
Lyra smiled, drank some coffee, and lowered the cup. "Wilson Revere."
Stunned outrage flashed across Jake's face. "What the hell? You're consulting for Revere?"
"Past tense, I'm afraid." She sighed. "Cruz made a scene. I was humiliated. I burst into tears and managed to create a spectacle of myself in front of a very large group of the most important amber collectors in Frequency. I think it's safe to say that I won't be getting any more high-end clients like Revere for a while."
"Revere is our biggest competitor," Jake roared. "He's a complete and total son of a bitch. You can't trust him any farther than you can walk without amber in the tunnels."
"Really?" She gave him a quizzical look. "I never had any problem with him."
Evidently sensing that he wasn't going to get far with her, Jake rounded on Cruz.
"Did you know she was working for Revere?" he demanded.
"Yes," Cruz said patiently. "That's why I went along. But as Lyra said, the situation became somewhat untenable, so we left. The bottom line is that we were able to determine that the relic was in Fairstead's vault. That's why I set up surveillance on the gallery."
Jeff leaned back in his chair. "We think the killer came and went via the catacombs, and that's where we are now."
Jake grunted, clearly unsatisfied. But he picked up his coffee. "You're going to take a look?"
"I've got the plane standing by," Cruz said. "Jeff and I will leave right after breakfast."
Lyra lowered her cup. "What about me?"
Cruz looked at her across the table. "You're staying here."
She pretended she had not heard the command.
"What, exactly, are you going to be looking at?" she asked instead.
It was Jeff who answered. "The Frequency PD won't let us into the crime scene. They're still working it, and they can be kind of territorial. But no one can stop us from going into the catacombs beneath the gallery. The boss and I are going down to see if we can pick up any traces of the killer."
"Right," Lyra said. She crumpl
ed her napkin and got to her feet. "You'll be needing me, then."
Cruz gave her a hard look. "And why is that?"
"Even if you do manage to track the killer through the catacombs, that doesn't mean you'll be able to find the relic. But if it is anywhere in the vicinity, I'll be able to sense it."
"Huh," Jake said and looked at Cruz. "She's a Dore. She knows what she's doing when it comes to amber."
Chapter 28
CRUZ JACKED UP HIS SENSES AND STUDIED THE JAGGED tear in the glowing green quartz wall. At once the whispers of violence—hot, ravenous, haunting and, yes, darkly thrilling—lifted the hair on the nape of his neck and sent a shot of adrenaline through him. The dirty little secret of every man in the family was that it felt good, really, really good. Until he had met Lyra, the sensations of the hunt had always ranked as the most enthralling rush he had ever experienced. Now it was the second most enthralling rush.
Vincent, perched on his shoulder, made a low, rumbling sound. He was still fully fluffed, but he seemed to understand that they were engaged in some kind of hunting game. He was having a good time, too. What's more, he obviously did not feel the need to try to appear politically correct about it.
"The killer came this way, all right," Cruz said. "And he used the same route out."
He moved through the ripped quartz into the dense darkness of the underground cavern. Jeff followed. They both used their flashlights.
"Hot when he arrived," Jeff said. "He was planning the kill. Hotter when he left."
Jeff was doing his best to hide the effect the spoor of violence was having on him. His voice was so unnaturally level and uninflected he sounded as if he were making an observation on the weather.
They were both fully rezzed, fighting the same battle to maintain a facade of cool control, not only because control of one's talent was considered priority number one in the Sweetwater family, but also because of Lyra. She was strong and she was gutsy, but even strong, gutsy women had been known to run screaming in the opposite direction when they found themselves in the presence of men whose talents predisposed them to be stirred and deeply aroused by violence. Couldn't blame the ladies, Cruz thought dourly. Just the old survival instinct kicking in.
