Читать книгу Risking It All: The Proposition / The Dare / The Favour / The P.I. / The Cop / The Defender - Cara Summers - Страница 23

CARLO WAS MORE FURIOUS than he had ever been in his life. The headache raging behind his eyes only intensified when he walked into his gallery with Lisa and two security guards and saw the scattered clothes and the open window. After striding toward it, he glanced at the ground below.

“They’re not here.” He spoke into the microphone that connected him with his security chief. “Secure the grounds. No one is to leave this estate until they’re found.”

He turned to Lisa and the two security men who’d followed him into the room. “Check the Venetian room and see if they’re there.”

When Lisa didn’t follow the guards, he said, “Go back to the salon. I need you there.”

“What is going on?’ she asked.

“I intend to find out. Go.”

He followed her to the door and locked it behind her.

Then with a sliver of fear skipping up his spine, he went to the column and removed the bronze sundial. His fingers shook as he opened the safe. When he saw the red velvet pouch, his frown deepened. They hadn’t broken into the safe. Otherwise, surely the diamond would be gone. Unless…had they had time to open the safe and discover that the diamond inside was a fake?

Clamping down tightly on his anger, Carlo focused as he surveyed the room again. They’d convinced his security staff that they’d come in here for sex. And the room smelled of it. So why had they exited through the window? Why not put their costumes back on and rejoin the party?

Or had they simply decided to take their lovemaking to a more private place?

Carlo studied the room. Clothes had been tossed everywhere. Trousers covered the security camera, one shirt hung over the back of a Louis XIV chair, another draped a Chinese vase a few feet from where he was standing. Next to it was the undergarment that had given Oliver Hardy his added girth.

Squatting down, Carlo turned the garment over. No padding. Whatever had been inside was something they’d taken with them. A new costume? Safecracking tools?

Had they come in here merely to throw him off and give themselves extra time to break into his office safe?

His gaze shifted to the window. Once they’d dropped into the garden, they’d only have to circle the house to reach the entrance to his private wing.

As Carlo strode toward the door, his mouth curved in an appreciative smile. Clever, he thought as he replayed in his mind every scene, every impression that he’d taken in since Steven Bradford and Calli had arrived on his estate. They were a couple who couldn’t bear to be parted for very long, who couldn’t keep their hands off one another. And they’d managed to create the illusion that there was more between them than sex.

No one, not his chief of security, and not even he had been overly suspicious when they’d sneaked into his gallery for a “quickie.”

Oh, yes, they were much more clever than he’d anticipated. One of them must indeed be Chance Mitchell. It had been a long time since he’d had to pit himself against such a worthy opponent.

A new thought occurred to him. Could he be wrong about Aldiri? Had this “Chance” arranged for the shooting this morning just to throw him off? If so, he or she was very clever indeed. As he exited the room and relocked the door, Carlo spoke into the microphone that connected him to his chief of security. “Meet me at my office.”

But Chance wasn’t clever enough. The safe in his office wouldn’t be as easy to open as the one in the gallery. It was a new model, and he’d had to practice on it for hours before he’d become sensitized to the fall of the tumblers.

IT’S TAKING TOO LONG. Natalie tried to ignore the nagging little voice in the back of her head as seconds ticked away. The muggy night air defeated the air-conditioning in the small room. She’d taken off her mask, and still she could feel sweat trickle down the back of her neck.

If her fingers slipped at this point… Very carefully, she lifted them from the lock and wiped them on her costume.

“Here,” Chance whispered as he handed her a handkerchief.

“Thanks,” she said. Where was Carlo right now, she wondered as she wiped her fingertips. He’d had plenty of time to go into his gallery, open his safe and see that the false diamond was still there. If the real diamond was here in his office suite, he’d check on it. He could be on his way.

The sound of static drifted in through the French doors, and her heart skipped a beat. Someone was trying to contact the guard she’d stunned. Time was running out.

She closed her fingers over the lock again. She had three parts of the combination. And she’d only had to try once for the last number. All she needed was for one more tumbler to slip into place. Just one more tiny click.

Chance said nothing, but she could feel him shift behind her so that his back was to hers. That way he could face both doors. Time was just about up.

She began to turn the lock very slowly. Seconds stretched into minutes, but she heard nothing. An icy sliver of fear slid up her spine, and she lifted her hand again. “I think I missed it. I must have missed it. I have the first three numbers. Maybe you’d better give it a try.”

Chance placed a hand on her shoulder. “Start over if you have to. I fixed the lock so they’ll have to force the door. There’s still time.”

But there wasn’t. They both knew that. Natalie drew in a shaky breath and let it out. “I—”

Chance squeezed her shoulder. “You can do it, Nat.”

Natalie went perfectly still. Later she would wonder whether it was Chance’s belief in her that did it. Or perhaps it was his hand on her shoulder—that simple physical connection. Whatever it was, she could feel her self-doubt drain away as swiftly as if someone had pulled a plug. Suddenly, her mind was crystal-clear and her fingers felt each and every groove on the lock.

The same thing had happened the first time that she’d opened a safe. From the time she was little, her father had let her play with the one he’d kept in his office. She couldn’t have been more than seven or eight the first time she’d cracked it.

Opening locks had been a game then, something she’d done in the precious time that her father had spent alone with her. With Rory he’d played cards. With Sierra he’d read books. But during the time he’d spent with her, they’d worked on locks. Even that first time, the last number had given her trouble. She recalled how he’d put a hand on her shoulder and said, “You can do it, Nat. Trust in your talents. You can do anything you want.”

And she could. After drawing in a deep breath, she held it and focused all her attention on the connection between her mind and her fingers. The only sound in the room was the soft whir of the overhead fan. But even that faded when she felt the tiny click.

Someone pounded on the door.

With steady hands, she opened the door of the safe, grabbed the black velvet bag, and checked the contents. In it lay a diamond, the twin to the one they’d found in the gallery safe. There was no time for the jeweler’s loop this time. Chance barely had time to replace it with the fake diamond they’d brought with them before the wood frame of the door began to splinter.

Together they closed the safe and replaced the painting.

The noise at the door grew louder, and wood splintered again.

Chance grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the French doors. Shouts came from beyond the patio wall.

They were trapped. For one moment they stood frozen in the frame of the open French doors. Shouts beyond the patio were getting closer, louder. The door to the office was about to give. Chance stripped off his mask and threw it toward the patio wall. Then he shoved her behind a floor-to-ceiling drape at the side of the door. A second later, Natalie felt her breath go out on a whoosh as he flattened her against the wall. Heart hammering, she waited.

The door gave first and there was the sound of guards rushing forward. Then the darkness fled as someone flipped on the lights.

“Get out of the way.”

Natalie recognized Carlo’s voice even when he slipped into Italian and swore viciously. He must have seen the guard lying on the patio.

There was a rush of wind to her left as guards entered through the French doors. For one long second, the drape covering them puffed out. Natalie could have sworn that her heart skipped three beats until it settled around them again.

“Tell me you’ve got them,” Carlo said.

His voice was close now—inches away. Chance had gone still as a statue, but she could feel every muscle in his body tense.

“No, sir. There’s no sign of them. All we got is this.”

Carlo swore again. And again, the curtain shifted with the breeze. This time, out of the corner of her eye, Natalie caught a quick glimpse of Carlo standing in the doorway, taking something from the guard. If he turned right now, he would see them.

It came to her in a flash that Chance would be the one Carlo would catch sight of first. Chance would be the one that Carlo would shoot. She felt her heart stop and then the drape settled around them in slow motion.

“They can’t be far. Cover the beach and the woods. I want them caught. Bring them to me alive, if possible.”

In some part of her mind, Natalie knew that the guards had left and Carlo had moved away. The room had become silent except for the sound of the overhead fan whirring. Then she heard a scraping sound. Her heart skipped a beat. Carlo must be removing the painting so that he could check the safe.

Seconds ticked away. Natalie had to remind herself to breathe slowly, silently. What would happen if he discovered that the diamond in the pouch was a fake?

“Lisa?” Carlo had to be talking to Lisa on his cell phone.

“Everything is under control. I have the diamond right here in my hand. No. I don’t have them yet. But I’ve issued orders that no one is allowed to leave the estate.”

Chance shifted slightly. For one long moment, Natalie wondered if he would step from behind the curtain to confront his old enemy. The urge to do just that must be tearing him apart. She found his hand and gripped it tightly in hers.

“Tell Aldiri and the others that the auction will take place in an hour.”

Carlo’s voice was firm now, without a trace of the temper and anger that had filled it when he’d come into the room.

“You worry too much. I’m bringing the diamond with me. Tell them one hour from now in the gallery.”

Natalie counted off ten beats as she listened to the sounds of Carlo closing the safe, replacing the painting and leaving the room. It was ten beats more before Chance stepped away from her and drew her from behind the drape.

She threw her arms around him then and held tight. A flood of emotions swept through her. He was safe. They both were for the moment, and she didn’t want to let him go. Natalie wasn’t sure how long they both stood like that before Chance drew away. “We have to go.”

“I thought you were going to step out and confront him,” she said.

Chance met her eyes steadily. “I was.”

“But you didn’t. Why not?”

“Because I knew my partner would follow right behind. Besides, I came up with a plan.” He took a piece of paper from Carlo’s desk and wrote one word. “Gianni.”

Natalie understood exactly what he was doing. She thought of the young boy betrayed by his friend and sent to jail for something he hadn’t done. Then she let herself imagine Carlo finding and reading that note—after the auction.

Meeting Chance’s eyes, she said, “He thinks he still has the real diamond.”

Chance smiled at her. “Ego. He didn’t think that we could pull it off, and he found a diamond in each safe. So he didn’t bother to check.” He placed the note in the middle of Carlo’s desk.

“And he won’t find it until after the auction.”

“Oh, I think the fake will be discovered before that,” Chance said. “I can’t imagine any of those prospective buyers parting with a cent until they authenticate the diamond.”

“They won’t be too happy with Carlo when they realize it’s a fake,” Natalie said. “And I don’t think I’d want any of those characters unhappy with me.”

“Hopefully, the fear of retribution will keep Carlo here on his estate until I can get Interpol to send someone to arrest him,” Chance said.

She threw her arms around Chance and gave him a quick kiss. “I wish I’d known you when you were Gianni.”

FOR A MOMENT, Chance said nothing. He simply looked at her. Her words and the simple gesture of affection unlocked something deep inside of him and released a flood of emotions. A thousand pImages** flashed into his mind—a kaleidoscope of everything that had happened in the short time since they had begun this crazy adventure together.

She was the most amazing woman he’d ever known. And the most complicated. There were so many facets to her. In the moonlight that poured into the room, he saw that her eyes were bright with excitement and triumph. He’d seen those eyes so many ways. Filled with a cool, steady courage. Lighted with laughter. And darkened by passion.

And he’d seen the intensity in those eyes when she was thinking only of him, feeling only him. He wanted to tell her. He needed to—

A crack split the still night air, and Chance dragged his thoughts back to the present. “C’mon.”

“Was that gunfire?” Natalie asked as they raced into the courtyard.

“Tracker’s version of misdirection. One of his men is presently escaping in the inflatable boat we were supposed to use.”

“Supposed to use?” Natalie asked.

Chance leaned down, scooped up the guard’s weapon, and tossed it to her. “That’s one of the reasons I don’t have much use for plans. They usually have to be changed.”

To what? But Natalie didn’t ask the question as she stuffed the gun into her waistband. Chance had already moved to the wall and was cupping his hands. By the time he’d boosted her to the top and joined her, they could hear running footsteps beyond the trees that grew along the wall and farther away came the rapid cough of automatic fire.

Together, they dropped to the ground.

“Where to?” Natalie asked. But Chance was already drawing her in the opposite direction from which they’d come. As they edged their way between the trees and the wall of the villa, Natalie realized one amazing thing. She was almost getting used to Chance’s habit of improvising plans on the spur of the moment. Almost, she reminded herself when she realized they’d made a complete circle of the villa. By the time they reached the iron gate that closed off the kitchen wing, she could hear the music from the ballroom once more.

Then Chance stopped and drew out the cell phone he always used to communicate with Tracker. Holding it to his ear, he said one word, “Now.”

A few moments later, the iron gate to the kitchen wing swung open and a white van moved forward. Natalie barely had time to read the words, “At Your Service,” on the paneling before a large woman in a tight-fitting white uniform climbed out and said in a husky voice, “Catering to your every need.”

Natalie was reaching for the gun at her waist when Chance grabbed her wrist. “It’s Tracker. C’mon.”

He drew her with him as the “woman” opened the back doors to the van. Natalie had a hard time recognizing Tracker McBride. He was wearing a blond wig, and unless she’d known, she wouldn’t have guessed that the snug-fitting uniform hid the tough, athletic body that she knew he possessed.

“The security is tight here. The guard searched the back of the van when I came in because I wasn’t on his list from the catering company.”

“Do I want to know how you convinced him to let you in?” Chance asked, amusement clear in his voice as he climbed into the back of the van and held out a hand to Natalie.

Tracker patted the blond wig he was wearing and wiggled his hips. “My charm, of course. We developed quite a rapport.”

“It’ll be tougher this time,” Chance warned. “Carlo has instructed the guards that no one is allowed to leave.”

“I love a challenge,” Tracker said with a grin before he shut the doors.

“He seems confident,” Natalie murmured.

“If anyone can get us out, he can,” Chance assured her.

“He’ll want to search the van.” Tracker spoke from behind the wheel at the front of the van this time. “Think you can handle it?”

“No problem,” Chance said. “I’ve got my partner with me.”

Partner. The sound of the word warmed Natalie and eased the jumping nerves in her stomach. Neither she nor Chance spoke as the van moved forward and eventually pulled to a stop at the gate.

“Lots of excitement,” Tracker said to the guard, using his husky almost falsetto voice.

“Mr. Brancotti is a stickler when it comes to security, and there was a problem earlier today. I can’t let anyone leave.”

Tracker laughed. “Do I look like I pose any threat to Mr. Brancotti? And you checked me out earlier.”

There was a pause, and Natalie wondered just what Tracker was up to.

“Be a sport,” Tracker continued. “I’ve delivered the extra food they needed, and I have a date tonight. You can check the back of the van.”

There was another silence, but Natalie could hear the guard and Tracker walking along the side of the van. It was dark and she could barely see Chance, but they moved in unison, flattening themselves into the corners on either side of the doors.

A moment later the doors opened and the guard, flashlight in one hand and gun in the other, stepped up into the van. Natalie slipped her foot out, and when he stumbled, Chance clipped him hard on the back of his neck. The man fell like a stone.

“Nice going,” Tracker said as Chance leaned down to tie the guard’s hands behind his back. “You guys make a great team.”

Natalie turned to Tracker. “How did you convince him to take a look?”

Tracker shot her a grin. “Money. Sometimes, it works a lot faster than my charm—” he smoothed his hands over his hips “—though I can’t imagine why.”

NATALIE DRIFTED awake as if she were surfacing from a long dive. The scent of coffee was the first thing that her conscious mind identified. Then everything came back to her in a rush. She and Chance had stolen the Ferrante diamond from Carlo Brancotti, and they’d left a fake one behind. Mission accomplished!

Once they’d taken care of the guard at the gate, their escape with Tracker in the van had gone without a hitch. Carlo’s security team had been focused on the beach area. For a moment, she allowed her mind to linger on those few charged moments in the van when she and Chance had been so in tune about how to take out the guard. They might have been working together for years.

The events after that had been less clear. At some point after they’d boarded Steven Bradford’s plane, the adrenaline rush she’d been riding on all day had faded, and she’d fallen asleep. She vaguely remembered that Chance had carried her into the bedroom. Then nothing.

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was still in the bedroom on the plane. And Chance was gone. But he’d been here. At some point, she’d felt him lying beside her, holding her. The pillow next to hers still bore the indentation from his head. As she ran her hand over it, she realized that the plane was stopped.

Just when had they landed? Throwing the covers off, she noted that she was still wearing her Cat Woman costume. She checked the bathroom first, but it too was empty. After taking a moment to brush her teeth and run her fingers through her hair, she moved quickly to the door.

But it was Tracker and not Chance that she saw sitting at a table, tapping at the keys of his laptop. He glanced up immediately. “Good morning. Want some coffee?”

“Where’s Chance?” A funny little feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach the moment she’d seen that the airplane door stood open.

Tracker handed her a mug of steaming coffee. “I was under orders to let you sleep.”

“Where’s Chance?” Natalie repeated.

Tracker shot her a smile. “Promise not to kill the messenger?”

At any other time, she might have been charmed. Hell, she might even have been amused. But the funny little feeling was making her stomach roll and her throat tighten. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Tracker sighed. “Yeah. I told him he should wake you, but he had to get the diamond back to the London office. He tried to get out of it, but there’s some red tape he has to take care of in person.”

In some part of her mind, Natalie listened to Tracker’s explanation. It was logical, perfectly understandable. Chance’s part of the job wasn’t over. So he’d had to fly off to London to tie up loose ends. A sickening sense of déjà vu filled her.

“Chance has to move quickly,” Tracker said. “He hoped you’d understand.”

Natalie thought she understood very well. The adventure was over, and a man like Chance—a man so like her father—would want to be on to the next one as soon as possible.

“Yes,” she said. She did understand. She’d signed on for the job, and now it was over. She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes, and she blinked—but it was too late. The first drop slid down her cheek.

“Shit,” Tracker said as he pushed the laptop away and rose. “Natalie, don’t.” He drew her against him and held her. “I told him to wake you and explain it himself. But he—”

Natalie held herself stiff. She had to stop crying. There was no sense to it. She never cried. She hadn’t, not once, since her father had left.

“He’s coming back, Natalie. He told me to tell you—”

Tracker broke off when suddenly she used all of her strength to push away.

“What is it?” he asked.

She scrubbed tears away with the heel of her hand. “You called me Natalie.”

For a second a puzzled expression crossed his face. “Yes…oh, shit. Shit. Shit.”

“If you know I’m not Rachel Cade, then—” As Tracker continued to swear, Natalie remembered the moment when she’d been trying to hear the last part of the combination to Carlo’s safe. Chance had used her father’s exact words. “You can do it, Nat.”

He’d called her Nat. The sharp band of pain tightening around her heart had her rubbing her chest with her fist.

“He’s known all along, hasn’t he? That I’m Natalie, not Rachel Cade?”

“He…I….” It was pure panic that she saw on Tracker’s face now. Later, much later, she was going to remember that with some amusement. She promised herself that. But right now, there were too many other emotions spiking through her. One of them was anger, the cold, icy kind. That was the one she latched on to.

He’d known who she was from the beginning. And he’d played along with her because he liked the game. It had all been a game.

“He wanted to stay and explain—”

Holding up a hand, she said, “Enough. You don’t have to explain. I get it.” Then she held out her hand palm up. “Since I had to leave the Brancotti estate without packing, I’ll require cab fare to my apartment.”