The Persuasion

by Iris Johansen

  “I knew it would upset you. She’s very determined. I handled it.”

  “So she told me. Evidently not very well. I could tell you hurt her pretty badly.”

  “She wouldn’t give up. She was new to the persuasion. I had to show her there were consequences for taking what you want.” He smiled faintly. “Or what I wanted. It became a little confusing. It was much better I take care of it. I had to monitor that she wouldn’t pay you a visit.” He shook his head. “And you appear to be a little confused, too, Jane. You’re furious and indignant with her and yet you’re angry with me for being too hard on her. You can’t have it both ways.”

  “I can have it any way I want it.” She turned away and headed for the door. “I just wish I didn’t have to deal with either one of you. I have enough to worry about with Michael.”

  “In this case, you only had to deal with the aftereffects. I made sure nothing she had in mind took place. Not from her.” He added, “Not from me. I didn’t break my promise.”

  Yet.

  The word was unspoken, and she wanted to leave it like that; the air was too volatile between them at the moment. Even the dimness of this hot, stuffy tent seemed vaguely erotic. Her shirt was brushing against her taut nipples with every breath she took.

  And she was aware Caleb knew it. He might be keeping his promise not to use anything but the natural sexual chemistry between them, but that was enough.

  He was suddenly tense, catlike, muscles clenched, waiting for her to make the first move. As she had done so often in the past when that searing need had been too strong to resist, she thought. She remembered flying across the room to him and then her legs frantically clasping his hips as he lifted her and pulled her into—

  Don’t think of it.

  But it was too late to tell herself that. The memory was too vivid. The movement. The plunge. The way he knew every way that pleased her, the frantic panic she felt that he might stop and leave her body. The way his fingers dug into her buttocks as he rubbed back and forth—

  “Come on,” he coaxed softly. “We need it. We have time. Michael won’t be back up here for another hour or so, and Lisa is with him.”

  Michael. That thought jarred her into partial sanity. “Lisa,” Jane repeated. “Yes, I’m certain that she’d keep an eye on him. After all, she goes to extreme lengths to fulfill family obligations.” She threw open the door. “Let me know when you hear from Palik again.”

  She left him in the tent and escaped out into the sunlight.

  * * *

  Don’t follow her.

  Caleb’s hands closed into fists at his sides and he stood very still in the tent where Jane had left him. Following her would be the wrong thing to do. He’d been able so far to crush down that temptation to reach out and take. He could still hold on and keep himself under control.

  The hell he could. He was hurting. It was tearing him apart. He needed her. No one would expect anything else from him, he thought recklessly. He was the savage who had trained himself to have no regrets, and the code he had gathered for himself was flimsy at best. He was the shark in the darkness even for Jane. Why not?

  Because it was Jane.

  What difference did that make? He could make her feel anything he wanted her to feel. Only a little effort and he could have—

  Don’t follow her.

  Think of something else.

  He needed a hunt. He needed the thrill of the chase. He needed the feel of his heart pounding as he ran down the prey.

  Stefano Luca.

  He reached for his phone. Three minutes later MacDuff picked up his call. “I sent you a name and a face,” he said curtly. “Hasn’t Tovarth come up with anything? What the hell good are you, MacDuff?”

  “Evidently considerably better than you, Caleb,” MacDuff said sourly. “You’re in a nasty mood. Might I point out that the only thing you’ve managed to send me are photos of blood and mayhem? Not that I’m surprised when I examine the source.”

  “Scotland Yard,” Caleb said. “Tovarth. What did he find out about Stefano Luca?”

  “That he’s a very elusive son of a bitch. It was difficult for Tovarth to track him down. Luca doesn’t have an extensive record for violence that he can find. Tovarth finally managed to trace him through the Art Thefts Division. The bastard does like his masterpieces, and he’s very good at stealing them. He’s been dancing around the world appropriating fine art from private owners and galleries for the past ten or twelve years. He’s very selective and doesn’t hit any country or area too often. Probably to avoid an intensive police search. And he’s careful about whom his sales are targeted toward. The art just disappears into some wealthy collector’s private stash. Judging by the canny way he’s handling his career, I’d say he’s probably a very rich man by now.”

  “The blood?” Caleb prompted.

  “Not a visible signature in his early jobs. He wasn’t shy about killing guards or anyone else who got in his way, but using the blood didn’t appear until the last three jobs he did, in Munich, Istanbul, and Copenhagen.” He added grimly, “And here at MacDuff’s Run. But he also appears to be constantly evolving. The Fiona theft had another puzzling difference. It was valuable, but nothing like the multimillion-dollar masterpieces he’d stolen before. Hardly worth his time or effort. And the bloodletting was deliberate and excessive.” He paused. “Almost as if it was a taunt. Which puts us back to square one, doesn’t it?”

  “So he likes his art,” Caleb said. “What else did Tovarth find out? He wasn’t hatched from an egg. Give me something personal. Was he born near Fiero?”

  “No, Florence, Italy. His father worked as a janitor at the Uffizi Gallery, and his mother was a whore who deserted both of them when Luca was eight. Luca was very intelligent but showed signs of instability and psychosis from early childhood. His father was an alcoholic and often dragged him to work with him at the museums when his mother was doing tricks. Luca became obsessed with Renaissance art and history and spent every spare moment trailing through every museum in Florence. He became particularly interested in the Medici Palace. His teachers said he knew every fact available about the Medici family from the time he was a small child. When he was sixteen, his father was found at the bottom of a staircase at the gallery with a broken neck. Their flat had been ransacked for anything of value, and Luca had disappeared from Florence. Shortly afterward, the art thefts started.”

  “Any contacts? Friends?”

  “No friends, just business acquaintances, and very few of them. He changed them after every few jobs and then they just disappeared from view. It makes one wonder how and where. Perhaps that psychosis was coming into violent play even during that period.”

  “A primary reason you might not have been able to find out much about his career,” Caleb said. “You’re right, he appears to be smart. But I don’t know where he’s going with this. He may be a bit psycho, but everything you’ve told me points only to an addictive dedication to Renaissance arts. I don’t see any connection to cult activities. Was there any mention of it before that crucifix in the cave?”

  “Not in Tovarth’s report.”

  “Then this doesn’t make sense to me. There have to be missing pieces. Cult members tend to be fanatics and driven by bloodlust. Luca displayed iron control most of his career, and any signs of bloodlust have only recently appeared on the scene.” He frowned. “If he does even have the bloodlust, then he was probably assuaging it by killing his criminal associates instead of guards or any other innocents. Much less likely to arouse a public outcry.”

  “If he has the bloodlust?” MacDuff asked. “It seems clear that he does.”

  “As I said, sometimes bloodlust dominates and can’t be controlled. But he did control it until those last four thefts and the deaths in the cave. Either he had another outlet or the blood was just a setup for what happened at MacDuff’s Run.”

  “Well, heaven forbid I argue. You should know about bloodlust.”

  “Yes, I
should. And also about controlling it. Do you know anything else?”

  “Tovarth’s still working on it. I think he did a damn good job so far. How is Jane?”

  “Stubborn. Worried more about Michael than herself. Handling it. Let me know if you find out anything more.”

  “You’re supposed to be the one handling this. I don’t want her involved. Do what I told you to do.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he said sarcastically. “By all means, my lord.” He cut the connection.

  As if he could keep Jane out of it when Luca was zeroing in on her with every action he took, he thought in frustration. Did MacDuff think he wouldn’t find a way to break free and go after the son of a bitch if he saw his way clear? And what MacDuff had just told him about Luca had given him an even stronger sense of urgency. He flipped open his phone again and glanced down at the wall of photos from the Villa Silvano. The care, the time, he had taken with each photo…It was clear Luca wasn’t one of those bloodthirsty cult crazies Caleb had dealt with after his sister’s death. He was intelligent and patient, and he had his own agenda that might not be what Caleb had first thought. Yes, he was almost certainly involved with a cult, and undoubtedly a bit psycho, but the reasons and motivations could be entirely different.

  And different could prove even more deadly.

  Chapter

  7

  Are you still mad at me?” Lisa handed Jane a cup of coffee before dropping down beside her in front of the fire. “I was honest with you, and you like honesty. And I’ve been very good, haven’t I? Didn’t you enjoy your dinner?” She glanced across the fire where Michael was playing cards with Caleb. “And I fought off Michael inviting the entire camp up here. I told him you still needed to rest.”

  “I’m fine. I didn’t need to rest.”

  “You were supposed to take it easy and you worked a full day. And I guarantee you would have needed it after we were run over by all of Michael’s friends in the dig. He seems to know everyone and they’re all his best buddies.”

  “That’s Michael,” Jane said simply.

  “Yeah, that’s Michael,” Lisa said. “So are you still mad at me?”

  Lord, she was persistent. “You sound like Michael. I had a similar discussion with him recently. But you’re not ten and you shouldn’t do things that require that degree of forgiveness.”

  “I agree and I’ve said I won’t do it again.” She was silent. “But I saw you go up to the tent with Caleb, and it worried me. After you came back I noticed he was watching you. He always watches you, but this was different.” Her gaze was searching Jane’s face. “He didn’t want me to talk to you about it at all. Did you give him hell? He wasn’t responsible.”

  “And you want to protect him from my wrath,” Jane said dryly. “Very righteous wrath, by the way. But he knows that I leveled it at you and not him. I even said you’d apologized. Though I did throw in my frustration that I was involved with either one of you and wanted my life back.”

  “But that sounds like you’ve cooled down a little,” Lisa said, relieved. “I can work with that. I’ll just continue doing penance until I find something that will completely clear the slate. Is there anything I can do now? More coffee?”

  Jane gazed at her eager expression and ruefully shook her head. “I can wait on myself, Lisa. The last thing I want is to have you hovering over me. You’re right, it’s been a long day and all I want is to stay here by the fire and relax and then get to bed. Why don’t you go talk to Caleb and Michael?” She saw her start to frown and said quickly, “And I’m annoyed with what you were intending to do, but you’re right, I’ve cooled down. As long as you don’t even think about doing anything like that again, we can start over.”

  “Great!” Lisa’s face lit with radiance. “A new beginning. I won’t screw up, I promise.” She jumped to her feet. “And I won’t hover. But if you need anything, just tell me and I’ll—”

  “You’re hovering.”

  “Yes.” She grinned as she moved around the fire toward Caleb and Michael. “It’s hard to dismiss my first plan of attack and go your way. Give me a little time to become accustomed to it.” Then she was dropping down beside Michael and looking at his cards.

  And Jane could relax and forget about them for a moment or two. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Lisa it had been a long day for her. She needed time to absorb all the information from Palik and MacDuff that Caleb had been shooting at her, as well as to fend off the emotional shocks she’d undergone today. If she could make peace with Lisa, it would eliminate some of that trauma. Besides, she hated holding grudges, and clearing the decks would keep Lisa from launching an annoying all-out attack to get back in her good graces.

  Forget about it. Just look into the red-blue flames of the fire and let it take her away.

  He’s always watching you.

  But Caleb wasn’t watching her now. He was smiling at Michael and listening to Lisa’s chatter. It was nice to see him with his guard down and letting—

  Her phone rang and she glanced down at it. Eve’s ID.

  Busted.

  She’d have to tell her what had happened. She’d been planning on calling her anyway and it would be a relief not to have anything hidden from her.

  “Hi, how did the inauguration go?”

  “I really wouldn’t know.” It was a deep, male voice with just the hint of an accent. “Well, I hope, Jane. I’m afraid I arranged for one of my men with a technical background to hijack this number so that you’d take my call. I figured it was time for us to come together.”

  “Hijack?” She went still. “What do you mean? Who is this? Is this some kind of—”

  “Stefano Luca,” he interrupted. “And what I mean is that now that I’ve let you gather enough information about me to make you feel comfortable, it’s necessary that we get to know each other. Did you like your photos? I worked very hard on them. Of course, I’m not a superb artist like you. I only play at photography.”

  She couldn’t speak. She was frozen in shock. Luca?

  “You didn’t answer me. I want to hear your voice.” He added softly, “I want to hear you say my name. I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

  Don’t just sit here, she told herself dazedly. Do something. Say something. Record the damn call so it can be traced.

  Her hand was shaking as she pressed the RECORD button. “Why should I speak to you? You’re a bloodthirsty killer and a thief.”

  “True. But I’m also exceptionally clever and I’ll find a way to make you overlook those other minor faults.” He chuckled. “And you must not mind the blood since you took Seth Caleb as a lover. His presence in your life has always intrigued me. That’s one of the reasons I decided to bring the blood into my plan for you. It’s his specialty, and I had to show you that I can beat Caleb in his own arena.”

  “Caleb?” Panic seared through her. “You’re insane. Why would you even think about that? We’re no longer even together.”

  “Of course you are. I saw you at MacDuff’s Run. I don’t know what game the two of you are playing, but you’re still lovers.” He paused. “Until I change that dynamic. I’m a determined man, Jane. All my life I’ve decided on a course and then gone after it. I started out in the slums of Florence with a whore for a mother and a drunken janitor for a father who showed me all I didn’t want to be. My mother was without class or intelligence, my father had no power and thought beating me would give it to him. They set me an excellent example, and after I got rid of them, I was on my way. The day my father obligingly fell down that staircase, I even made a list of my goals. Power. Wealth. Class. Intelligence. All very important, but I had far more goals than those on my list.”

  “Which you clearly failed to achieve. So instead you decided to go for being just a mindless killer.”

  Silence. “I’ll ignore that, Jane. I understand I’ve taken you off-guard and you’re upset. No, I’ve gained almost everything I put on that list. I went for wealth first, because that cont
ributes to power. Thanks to the work of several Old Masters I liberated from unappreciative owners, I’ve almost fulfilled that ambition. Though not entirely. I wish to be fantastically wealthy, not just moderately comfortable. I deserve it. My plans require it. I was very bitter about having to give up those paintings. I would have preferred to keep them for myself, as I have a passion for art. That’s one of the reasons you caught my attention all those years ago.”

  Her hand tightened on the phone. “Years ago?”

  “Quite a few years actually,” he said softly. “Do you believe in destiny? I do, Jane. Some people are destined for greatness and only need effort and determination to make that final push. I was lucky enough to recognize all the qualities of Cosimo de Medici, the great patron, in myself quite early, so I was ready to accept you when you came into my life.”

  “Cosimo de Medici? You must have been hallucinating. And I’ve certainly never met you before.”

  “Well, I guess it was more of an encounter. But I had the opportunity to see several of your sketches and even a few of your paintings at the time. You were just starting your career when we were all thrown together that summer in Atlanta, but I could see your brilliance, the technique, the passion. I’d just started to acquire those Old Masters that were going to make me my fortune, so I took your arrival in my life as a sign and decided to wait and watch you.”

  That summer in Atlanta? she thought in bewilderment. What he was saying made no sense. Or did it? Could she find something in those words that would help them find him? “I believe we make our own destinies by hard work and not by depending on signs.” She paused. “And who was thrown together in Atlanta? As I said, encounter or not, I’m sure I’ve never seen you before.”

  “Because I chose to remain in the shadows. My business there with Kevin Jelak was finished, but he was surrounded by an interesting cast of characters and I wanted to see how it was going to play out. You were my principal interest, but Eve Duncan and Joe Quinn were involved, and then there was Seth Caleb. My client, Jelak, was particularly interested in him. Though he was a little afraid because Caleb had certain skills he was wary of going up against.”