Читать книгу Christmas Male - Cara Summers - Страница 10

D.C. FELT THE PRESENCE of the other person before he saw or heard a thing. And he sensed danger. Neither surprised him. Combat experience honed a man’s perceptions. He didn’t glance up from the notes he was taking and didn’t slow the movement of his pen, but all his other senses went on full alert.

He was pretty sure that it wasn’t the man who’d taken a shot at him. Private Hemmings’s assailant had been too intent on escape. D.C. couldn’t hear anything other than the still-approaching sirens and the music from the ice rink. Still he felt the threat increase with each passing second. He’d only felt this way one other time. It had been in Baghdad. And he’d learned later that he’d been in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle.

He let his gaze slide to his gun, which he’d set on the ground. His cane lay next to it. Either one would prove a useful weapon…if he could get to them in time.

“Don’t even think about it.”

D.C. let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The voice was husky, authoritative and definitely female. It also meant business.

“D.C. police. Raise your hands and keep them where I can see them.”

D.C. did as he was told. As he lifted his gaze, the first thing he saw was the shoes. Cops were wearing interesting footwear these days. Hers were expensive-looking with killer heels and they were moving purposefully toward him. They should have slowed her down, but they didn’t. A black coat that flared out as she moved revealed a short red dress and legs that made his gaze want to linger. But the gun she held professionally in both hands was a bit distracting, especially since it was aimed at his most vital organ.

The moment he saw her face, recognition slammed into him like a bare-fisted punch. It was her. His mystery woman. Her face was as striking as he remembered. Delicate features and porcelain-colored skin contrasted sharply with a stubborn chin and a slash of cheekbones that suggested strength. A cop’s strength?

Finally, he met her eyes head-on. He registered their color—aged whiskey. Then his cataloging slammed to a halt as he experienced the same raw, primitive desire he’d experienced earlier.

Evidently, lightning could strike twice. His eyes narrowed as she stopped in front of him. He was pretty sure that the danger he’d sensed earlier had nothing to do with the gun and everything to do with the woman.

Who the hell was she?

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP.” Fiona was happy to see that her weapon was steady. Because she wasn’t steady at all. From the first moment she’d spotted him kneeling next to the body, she’d recognized him. And she’d experienced the same intense, impulsive urge to go to him that she’d felt earlier. Instead, she’d halted in her tracks and taken a moment to gather herself before she’d moved toward him.

The 911 caller had identified himself as being in the military police and had promised to stay on the scene. The gun on the ground next to him and the way he was scribbling in that notebook suggested he was a cop. Still, she’d have to make sure. That was when he’d glanced up and met her eyes. She’d very nearly stopped dead in her tracks again.

Who the hell was he? And how could he have this kind of effect on her?

“Mind if I use my cane?”

“Just give the gun a wide berth.”

“I called this in. The victim here is a woman. She’s taken a blow to the back of the head and she may have hit her forehead on the edge of the sculpture when she fell. She’s unconscious. Her breathing and pulse are steady.”

As he spoke, he rose in a smooth series of movements that told Fiona he’d practiced it often. She noticed more details than she had in their earlier encounter. He was larger than she remembered, well over six feet with broad shoulders and a swimmer’s body that went well with his lean face. But it was his eyes that grabbed her attention.

Again.

They were the darkest gray she’d ever seen. His gaze was direct and very intense. Not much slipped by those eyes, she could tell. And staring into them was a mistake. The pull he seemed to effortlessly exert on her tightened, and she barely kept herself from walking into his arms.

Impatience bubbled up. She had a job to do, and she would think of how he affected her…later. Better still, she wouldn’t think of him at all. “You want to tell me the rest of what you know, Sergeant?”

“It’s Captain D. C. Campbell.” He moved a hand toward his pocket, then paused. “I have ID.”

Which she should have asked for already. “Go ahead.”

As she inspected it, he continued, “I’m currently stationed at Fort McNair running the military police unit. It’s my day off, and I’m here on an outing with my mother and sister. They’re skating.”

Fiona thought of the two women she’d seen with him in the exhibition and recalled her impression that they’d been related.

Narrowing her eyes, she slipped her revolver into her evening bag. “You want to get to the good part?”

“Sure thing.” Humor flashed in his eyes.

Even as she knelt beside the body to verify the pulse, the sirens stopped. D. C. Campbell kept his report on the altercation between the two people he’d observed detailed, yet concise. One person had mugged another person on the National Mall.

“Did her attacker get away with anything?”

“No. He took one shot at me, then seemed to lose his nerve.”

The woman was lying half on her side, her face in profile, and something tugged at the edge of Fiona’s mind. She located a wallet and was about to check the victim’s ID when he said, “I know her.”

She glanced up at him. “Who is she?”

“She’s my general’s administrative assistant—Private Amanda Hemmings.”

A memory clicked into place in Fiona’s mind. She remembered the young blonde woman in uniform who’d stepped into her office, bubbling with enthusiasm, so eager to help with the toy drive. Fiona frowned down, first at the ID and then at the woman. She still looked young and very defenseless. Something tightened around her heart. “I know her, too. I only met her once. She’s one of the volunteers helping with the D.C. Police Department’s toy drive. That’s the reason she’s wearing the Santa hat. The hats were her idea. All my volunteers are wearing them.”

“The man who attacked her was wearing one, too.”

Spotting two uniforms hurrying toward them, Fiona frowned, then rose, pulled out her ID and held it out to them. But she never took her eyes off of D.C. “He was wearing a hat, too? That’s odd. I wonder what was behind the attack.”

“I have a clue.”

When he pulled the necklace out of his pocket, she stared. Even in the dim light, the large blue diamond in the pendant glowed. Without thinking, she cupped her hands and held them out. “It’s the Rubinov, isn’t it?”

“That would be my guess.”

As he placed it in her hands, his fingers brushed against her palm. It was a momentary contact—accidental, casual. But Fiona felt the impact—a stirring mix of heat, pleasure and promise—right down to her toes. Closing her fingers over the necklace, twin impulses grabbed her. One to step forward, the other to turn and run.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two medics hurrying toward them with a stretcher. But before she turned to deal with them, she met D. C. Campbell’s eyes again. There was a heat in them that nearly matched the fiery glow in the center of the diamond. There was no physical contact between them anymore, but her skin still burned where his fingers had brushed against it. Neither of them moved.

“Interesting,” he said, letting his gaze drop briefly to the stone, which she still held in her outstretched palm. “You’re aware of the legend.”

“I am.” She had to push the words through a very dry throat, and the effort had her lifting her chin. “I believe in legends about as much as I believe in Santa Claus.”

“It will be interesting to see where this leads.”

Nowhere, Fiona thought as she fought a pump of panic. But she didn’t say the word aloud. Instead she turned her attention to the medics. She’d handle D. C. Campbell later.

OH, IT WOULD DEFINITELY lead somewhere, D.C. thought. Two people didn’t experience the kind of connection they’d just felt and walk away from it.

D.C. stepped away from Amanda Hemmings, giving the medics room to check her over. The older of the two, a plump woman in glasses, glanced at him. “You find her?”

“I saw it happen,” D.C. said. “She was struck on the head from behind with a gun and fell down hard. Looks like she hit her head on the edge of the sculpture. She’s been out ever since.”

“Good to know.” The woman went back to her job.

D.C. glanced over at the ice rink. From his position, he could see that some of the skaters had lined up along the edge, their curiosity aroused by the sirens and the flashing lights. One of the uniforms was taping off the scene while two others were keeping those still strolling along the Mall from entering at the other side of the garden. He couldn’t see either his mother or his sister, although he would soon, he suspected. Once they spotted him in the middle of this, they’d be right over.

Taking out his cell, he punched in the number of his general, Myra Eddinger. While he filled her in on what he knew so far, he kept his gaze on the mystery woman who’d taken charge of the crime scene. She radiated competence the way she radiated sensuality. Even at a distance of twenty or so feet, the intensity of the pull he’d felt when he’d first seen her still hummed and sizzled like an electric current in his blood.

“You’re sure the necklace is the Rubinov?” General Eddinger asked.

“Either that or an excellent copy.”

“Best guess,” Eddinger demanded.

“It’s the real McCoy.” His gaze never wavered from his mystery woman because it was what he was feeling for her that was fueling his certainty. He wasn’t totally sure he bought into the legend, either. But something was definitely happening between them. If the necklace hadn’t been involved, he might have chalked what he was experiencing—what they were experiencing—up to some really excellent chemistry.

But he could have sworn that the blue stone had brightened when he’d placed it in her hand—just as it had brightened in the display case when he’d first seen her.

And when his fingers had brushed briefly against her palm, what he’d experienced had gone beyond desire to something that bordered on recognition.

She shot a look his way, and the moment their eyes met, everything else faded. General Eddinger’s voice became a hum in his ear. The faces of those standing on the edges of the scene blurred. And the light dimmed as if he were on a stage set. In that instant, there was only her.

He was only released from the spell when she turned away and put her cell phone to her ear.

“Are you still there, Captain Campbell?”

“Yes. Our connection faded just for a moment,” he lied.

“If you’re right on this, then Private Hemmings has played some role in the attempted theft of the century. Everything I know about her tells me she wouldn’t have done anything purposely to steal that diamond. I want to know just how it ended up in her pocket. So I’m going to make a few phone calls and arrange for you to work along with the Washington police on this case. I’ll expect you to get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, sir.” And that’s what he should be focusing on. But for a moment his thoughts were directed on the woman he would now be working with. Knowledge was always power.

She wasn’t as tall as he’d first thought. Maybe five foot four without the killer heels. And then there were those legs. Looking at them for more than a few seconds was enough to stimulate some very interesting fantasies. The current one was generating enough heat to keep him toasty warm.

D.C. gave himself a mental shake. She was still distracting him from more important things—such as following General Eddinger’s orders. If what he suspected was true, the Rubinov diamond must have been stolen from its display case shortly after the exhibition had closed at 5:00 p.m. He and his family had been in the last group to view the necklace.

It must have been almost five as they’d followed crowds toward the exit doors. He searched his mind for the details of what he’d seen as they made their way out. The one thing he did recall was a tall woman with straight blond hair having a heated conversation with an older woman and a group of youngsters. As they’d passed by, his mother had frowned. When he’d asked her about her reaction, she’d said that the blonde was acting like a bully. Some of the kids had needed to use the bathrooms, but the woman had been adamant that the restrooms were closed.

D.C. smiled as he recalled the incident. Nancy Campbell had strong ideas about how children should be treated.

Afterward, they’d come directly to the sculpture garden and his mother and Darcy had gone in to get skates. No alarm had sounded.

D.C. shifted his gaze to Amanda Hemmings as she was being carried away to a waiting ambulance. How in the world had she ended up with the Rubinov diamond in her pocket?

“Lieutenant?” It was a seasoned-looking man in a uniform who called out, and D.C.’s mystery woman strode toward him. The man had to have at least fifteen years on his lieutenant, and though D.C. couldn’t catch what they were saying, there was an ease in the way they communicated that suggested respect on each side.

So she was a lieutenant. And he didn’t even know her name. Amusement moved through him. He was definitely slipping. Putting all his years of investigative training to use, D.C. managed to extract not only her name, but a little background information, as well, from one of the uniformed men taping off the area.

Her name was Fiona Gallagher. She’d been working in Washington for five years, she was well respected, and she had a reputation for doing everything by the book. Before that, she’d worked in Atlanta. She’d been transferred to Washington specifically to work in the high-profile crime unit. D.C. stored the information away, then shifted his position so that he could lean against one of the sculptures. His leg deserved a little TLC after his abortive run after the armed man. But the initial pain he’d felt was already easing.

Finally, he refocused his mind back on the diamond. Of course, the necklace that he’d taken from Amanda Hemmings’s pocket could be a fake. His gut instinct aside, its authenticity would have to be checked out—the sooner the better.

He knew someone who might be able to help with that—an insurance investigator who just happened to make his home in Georgetown. It had been five years ago when he and Chance Mitchell had worked together to close down a highly efficient art theft ring in Baghdad, and he’d been meaning to look the man up.

And he needed to know more about Amanda Hemmings. Since he was going to be stuck in the sculpture garden for a while, D.C. decided that he’d put his brother to work. He’d learned from experience just how efficient the men at Campbell and Angelis Security were at running background checks.

As he punched in a number, D.C. cast another long look at Lieutenant Fiona Gallagher’s long legs.

“YOU SAID YOUR ETA was twenty minutes,” Natalie said. “That was almost an hour ago.”

Fiona swore silently as she glanced at her watch. “Sorry, I should have called sooner.”

The fact that her captain’s voice was threaded with concern rather than annoyance had Fiona mentally kicking herself. She hurried to give Natalie a detailed report on what had delayed her.

What she didn’t relay was why she hadn’t wound things up at the crime scene as quickly as she should have. Captain D. C. Campbell was distracting her. Each and every time she’d scanned the area or the faces of the curiosity junkies who’d gathered along the crime scene tape, her eyes had returned to him. Once she’d even caught him gazing back at her, and she’d felt that same mind-numbing flash of heat. That fact alone was enough to tempt her to look at him again—just to see if his effect on her was diminishing.

So far it wasn’t.

“So let me summarize,” Natalie said. “One of our toy drive volunteers was the victim of a mugging at the National Mall. We don’t know who her assailant was except that he, too, was wearing a Santa hat. Nor do we know who his two pals in the van were. And it looks like the four of them may have tried to pull off the heist of the century by stealing the Rubinov diamond right out of the National Gallery.”

Fiona frowned. “The question is how?”

“Chance will be all over the how part.”

“I’m betting they had inside help. How else could anyone get a well-guarded diamond out of the National Gallery without setting off an alarm? Maybe Amanda and/or her assailant were just supposed to bring it out of the gallery. Who would suspect a toy drive volunteer?”

“And Hemmings decided at the last minute to take the diamond and run?” Natalie asked.

“Or she had a change of heart?” In her mind, Fiona could almost see Natalie in the middle of a party at the Blue Pepper, jotting the possibilities down in her notebook. In the background she could hear chatter and Christmas music.

“I need to talk to her,” Fiona said. “The medics weren’t able to bring her around before they transported her.”

“Hemmings’s involvement could cause some public relations problems for the army,” Natalie murmured.

“Yes.”

“I have to say I’m a bit jealous. If I weren’t so close to my due date, I’d be tempted to work at your side on this one.” She paused. “So, what do you think of your Captain Campbell? Is he good?”

“Yeah,” Fiona said. She had to give him that much. She scanned the area again, playing back the scene D.C. had described. If what had happened here was some kind of a falling-out among thieves, it was thanks to him that they had the diamond.

But she could see the direction Natalie was heading in. “I don’t need a partner.”

“The army is going to want in on this,” Natalie said briskly. “First, we’ll have to make sure what you have is the real Rubinov.” There was a beat of silence. “Hold on. I’ve got a call coming in from the commissioner. It never ceases to amaze me how fast news travels in our nation’s Capitol.”

Politics. Fiona bet she knew exactly what the call from the commissioner was about—and that her boss had seen it coming. The army was going to want in on the investigation. They had a right, Fiona supposed.

Whirling, she narrowed her gaze on D. C. Campbell. He’d evidently been a busy boy while she’d been directing traffic and gathering information. In less than an hour, he’d reported to someone who’d gotten the commissioner’s ear. Not an easy feat to pull in the last few days before Christmas.

He was standing over near the ice rink, and he’d been joined by the same two women she’d seen with him earlier in the exhibition room. Both were tall and striking-looking and bore a strong family resemblance to Campbell. As if they had a will of their own, Fiona’s eyes strayed to D. C. Campbell. Even now when he wasn’t gazing directly at her, there was still that little skip of her pulse to deal with.

“Fiona, are you still there?”

Dammit! Disgusted with herself, Fiona turned away and refocused her attention on Natalie. “I’m here.”

“The commissioner got a call from a General Eddinger at Fort McNair. The bad and the good news, depending on your perspective, is that you’re going to be working this case with Captain Campbell.”

“Figures.” It was logical that they work together. And Fiona didn’t like to waste time fighting logic.

“The army does have a right to run their own investigation,” Natalie said.

“But it would be more efficient if we worked together.”

“Exactly. I can hear the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, but I learned during the few times I’ve worked with Chance that two heads are often better than one.”

“You’ve worked with Chance?” It was common knowledge around the department that Natalie and her sisters were daughters of a professional thief. But Natalie had never before mentioned that she and Chance had worked together.

“Ancient history—back when we first met. We were paired up for the first time on a high-profile case for the department. After that, I worked undercover with him on a case on my own time. Our mission was to steal back a diamond. We fell in love on the job.”

Another pump of panic had Fiona placing a hand against her chest just where she’d tucked the Rubinov away for safe keeping. She had to get a grip.

“Now—” Natalie’s tone turned brisk “—I want you to bring the diamond and your Captain Campbell to the Blue Pepper.”

Fiona frowned. “I was going to go to the hospital and check on Private Hemmings.”

“I’ll send a couple of uniforms over there to keep us updated. By the time you get here, Chance will locate someone who can authenticate the Rubinov.”

When Natalie disconnected, Fiona frowned down at the phone. She could tell that D. C. Campbell was looking at her by the tingle of awareness that moved through her. The nip in the night air contrasted sharply with the heat that shot through her veins. It was as if his mere presence heightened all of her senses. And she was stalling. Logic was one thing. Her reaction to D. C. Campbell was another.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like men. She did. In the right time and place. So far, she’d been able to keep them on the fringes of her life. Enjoyable, but not essential. And she wanted to keep it that way.

Gut instinct warned her that Captain Campbell was not a man kept easily in his place. Already, he’d slipped into her mind and was staging an assault on her senses.

Not that she was going to admit it had anything to do with the Rubinov or its legend. What she was feeling was just a trick of chemistry. There’d been a time in her life when she’d had stars in her eyes and she’d believed in wishes and dreams. It had been Christmas time then, too. There was something about the season that made her lose track of reality. But she could handle this…situation. She would handle it and D. C. Campbell, as well.

Straightening her shoulders, she raised her gaze to meet his and strode forward.