Glass Houses (29 page)

If Lemon returned, he was probably dead meat. He prayed no unsuspecting civilian wandered by and got curious.

Seconds passed.

Water kept splashing in there.

Only inches from the box spring, he edged toward the foot of the bed. What the hell was keeping Hill?

Chris calculated what it would take to close the door behind him but discarded the idea as too dangerous.

“Chris?” Aiden’s whisper was hoarse. “He’s armed. And for some reason, he doesn’t want Fish and Moody to see him.”

“He’s not going to have the piece in his hand,” Chris replied. “I hope.” He wanted any small advantage he could get. Hill might be quick, but the moments it took to draw might be all Chris needed.

The water poured on.

Small hairs rose on the back of Chris’s neck, then on his spine.

In the distance, he heard a cry. A female cry.

So much for trusting a civilian woman to keep her cool under pressure.

The shout came again and this time, “Chris!” was real clear, dammit.

“Olivia,” Aiden whispered.

“Okay, you fuckers, let’s keep it down, shall we?” Chris didn't have to look to know he was hearing Detective Ryan Hill behind him. The guy must have left the bathroom b
y a window and circled back. “
I’ll shoot if I have to. Put the piece on the floor, Talon—slowly and carefully. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Cursing silently, Chris followed instructions.

“Good,” Hill said once Chris withdrew his hands from the vicinity of his gun. “I didn’t expect your chicken-shit expartner to show up, Flynn, but did you think I wouldn’t notice
blood on the sheets and the phone? You think I didn’t figure out how you used your time while Fats was screwing Kitty?” Hill had entered the room and taken up a position where he could keep Aiden and Chris in his sights—and the open door.

“Fortunately I don’t need your help now, do I? That’s her out there, isn’t it, Talon? All we have to hope for is that she’s dumb and gutsy enough to try to help.
Help.”
He laughed. “Oh, come to me, baby, and help.”

“She won’t walk in here,” Aiden said. “By now she’s calling the police.”

“Is she? You’re fugitives, and I’m bringing you in. If I hear sirens or see a light I don’t like, I'm gonna have to kill you for resisting arrest.”

As always, Hill was too in love with the sound of his own voice. It had been known to distract him.

“It’s great to have you with us again, Ryan,” Aiden said, and Chris kept his grin facing the floor. “Since we know we’re going to end up dead before this is over. Why not tell us all about it? What the hell have you been up to?”

“Stuff it,” Ryan said.

Dread drove Aiden onward. “Whatever it is, it’s damn clever. Geez, you were always slick. Come on, at least give us a chance to enjoy it, too.”

Ryan’s attention wavered just the smallest bit. His eyes flickered before he concentrated harder on staring Aiden down and keeping a self-satisfied sneer in place.

“C’mon, Ryan,” Aiden said. “Share. I didn’t think you'd seen the blood.”

Ryan sniffed and said, “Get up. Talon. And I want to see each muscle you move.”

“This art theft I’m supposed to be involved with,” Aiden continued. “You’re in on something big there. Am I right? Listen, we could work something out and—”

“Shut it, or I may forget I care about making noise.”

“There’s going to be noise at any moment,” Chris said. “Once Olivia brings the local heat our way.”

“She won’t,” Ryan said, his voice icy. “I corresponded with her for two weeks before you decided to horn in, Flynn. She’s no fool. She won’t risk jeopardizing the two of you.” Aiden let the comment about meddling go. His greatest fear was that Ryan was at least partly right and that Olivia was hatching some plot that would only kill them all.

Chris figured it was now or never, now while Aiden had Hill all riled up and focused on him.

There couldn’t be more than a yard between Hill’s feet and where Chris was stretched out on the moldy-smelling carpet.

“How did you get Olivia to trust you so much that she’d get on a plane?” Aiden asked,

“Trust?” Ryan said. “Hell, she was out of choices. Ripe for the picking.”

“How did you find her in the first place? Someone must have given you her name and said she’d taken the photos. But I don’t get
why
you wanted her here.”

“Forget it, asshole,” Ryan said. “You read the posts. You don’t need a PhD to figure out I didn’t want her. I wanted those photos here, and in my loving care.”

Aiden sniggered. “You and those two jokers who are supposed to be antique dealers wanted the same thing.”

“They’re also cracked. You like rats, Flynn? Fish is a rat lover. Likes to keep rats in his pockets. Maybe I can arrange for him to send some along to keep you company.”

“How will you do that?” Aiden said. “You don’t want him to know you’re here.”

Hill braced his elbow. His lips parted, and his eyes moved away. Aiden knew he’d gotten too close to something Hill wanted kept very quiet. “I’m losing patience,” he said at last. “You’ve got one chance. I get the photos—all of them—and you can leave.”

“I don’t have the photos to give you,” Aiden said, with the kind of innocence guaranteed to infuriate.

“I don’t have time to get mad,” Hill said. “Where are they? How’s she transporting them? They are with her, aren’t they?”

“Hey,” Aiden said. “Hey, Ryan, I’ve got a deal for you. You tell us what’s in those shots and we’ll consider letting you have them.”

Chris figured Aiden was trying to give him time to make a move, but the smallest mistake could cost Detective Flynn his head.

“Tell me what you’re driving, Talon. I’ll have Fats go get what I need and I’ll tell him not to touch the woman. If he lets me know he’s got the photos, I’ll walk out of here and you’ll never see me again.”

“
Don’t believe him, Chris,” Aiden said. “The way I figure, he’s really running out of time and what he can’t afford is to have Fish and Moody find out he’s here. Isn’t that right, Ryan? They want the photos. You want the photos. Your life depends on getting them and getting away. Isn’t that the way it goes?”

“You don’t know anything and won’t.” Hill’s voice grated with anger. “You’re expendable and your time’s about up.”

Chris pulled in his elbows and shot himself toward Ryan, rolling rapidly over to collide with the man’s ankles. Ryan hollered as his knees buckled and he came down on top of Chris.

“I can’t do anything,” Aiden yelled. “These damn cuffs.”

Chris didn’t have time to answer. He lunged upward toward the hand that held the gun, but Ryan raised that hand high and, at the same time, kicked at Chris’s head, landing a solid one on the side of his jaw. Chris crawled up him like Jack on his beanstalk. He grappled with the guy’s clothes and let loose a flurry of short jabs. A punch to the crotch sent the guy mad. He struck out at Chris, using the hand that held the gun, dragging in sobbing breaths as his arm rose and fell.

Chris needed the keys to Aiden’s cuffs. Attacking Ryan again, he landed the two of them across the bed, on top of Aiden.

Ryan rolled away and Chris made to follow.

“Uh-uh,” Ryan said, leering. He held the muzzle of his gun to Aiden’s head. “Games are over. I want answers and
quickly. Where are the photographs? Exact location? Inside what?
”

“Photographs?” Chris said. He stood on the opposite side of the bed from Ryan, the side where his own weapon rested on the floor near the bed.
“
Aiden was only stringing you along. We don’t know anything about any photographs.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Ryan said. “You know the photographs I’m talking about. Olivia took them at a house in Notting Hill in London. She fobbed some useless stuff off on Fish and Moody, accepted a bunch of money from them, and took off. All I’m trying to do is get their property back.”

Chris didn’t answer.

“Okay,” Ryan said. “Help me get those pictures and I’ll take you somewhere and let you go. It’ll be a long way from civilization, but you’ll make your way back.”

Aiden waited for Chris’s reaction. When he didn’t say anything, Aiden stepped in. “That’s an interesting proposition. Of course, it would have to be carefully drawn up.”

“I’m not negotiating,” Ryan said. “I’m telling you how it’s going to be. And the FitzDurham woman is too much of a loose cannon to leave around. Get her to give up the shots, and you won’t have to worry about what happens to her. I’ll take care of that.”

Aiden’s gut felt like it was braided. “Sounds like a great idea.” He was itching to strangle the bastard.

There was no warning.

Boss came through the door in midair and flattened Ryan Hill. Hill swore and struggled. “He should be dead,” he shouted. “Call him off! Fats is coming back. He won’t ask questions. He’ll kill you two as soon as look at you. He hates you, Flynn.”

Aiden didn’t care who hated him. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out how to get the keys to the cuffs.

Through it all, Hill held his piece in a death grip. He was working the muzzle in the direction of the dog who stood over him, snarling, showing his metal fangs and a whole lot of gum.

Chris grabbed up his weapon and aimed it at Ryan. “Give it up,” he said simply. “You just lost.”

“Aiden?” Olivia said in a tiny voice and walked through the door.

Chris groaned. “Step back out, would you please, Olivia?” he said, trying to sound like a Sunday school teacher directing kids into church. “Go wait by the bike.”

“We meet at last, Olivia,” Ryan said, and Chris didn’t like the sound of his voice. “You’re not as ugly as I expected. Don’t move, okay? Just tell me where the photographs are.”

“Um,” Olivia said, her eyes wide open. “What—”

“Don’t
jerk me around. You know what photographs.”

Olivia’s mouth formed an O, then she said, “Oh, I see what you mean. They’re probably in Seattle. I put them in my grip and checked it through. Then we couldn’t catch the plane from New York, you know. It was awful. Lots of running around, and—”

“My gun is trained on you, Olivia,” Ryan interrupted. “Tell your lady friend
I
don’t have a sense of humor, Aiden. Tell her I run down little old ladies who accidentally step off crosswalks.”

“I wasn’t being funny,” she said. “I decided it was safest to pack them. They’ll be fine. I’ll get them later, I expect.”

Aiden said, “Please step outside, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Chris heard the “sweetheart.” So did Ryan, who said, “I guess you two didn’t waste your time alone, huh?” he said.
“
Well, the face is Miss Next Door, but the body’s got possibilities. Nice breasts, Olivia. Am I right, Aiden?”

Olivia’s face flamed, but her mouth set in a firm line and whatever flashed in her eyes, it wasn’t submission.

“Shut it, Ryan,” Aiden said when he trusted himself not to goad the bastard into action. “Olivia. Out.”

“
Right,” she said.
“
Out I go. Come on, Boswell, pet. Come with Olivia.”

At first Chris missed her intention, but when Boss tramped across Ryan, he got it.

Aiden beat Chris to it. Cuffs and all, he launched himself like a stunt diver and landed on top of Ryan.

Rather than leave, Olivia shut and locked the door and ran to Ryan. She knelt and grabbed handfuls of his hair. Then she thumped his head on the floor.

“The gun!” Chris yelled. Boss had ruined Ryan’s view for some seconds, but the guy could see again now and the instant he managed to remove Aiden’s knees from his shoulders, he’d start shooting.

Olivia shuffled to Ryan’s right side and grabbed his wrist. This she banged up and down with even more enthusiasm than she’d used on his head.

A roar escaped Ryan. Rage contorted his face and he surged upward. Aiden was thrown aside. Olivia landed against a wall and her skull made a sound like someone punching a melon. She sat where she was. Boss sat near her, his ears cocked and twitching, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Okay,” Ryan shouted, on his feet again, his stance wide. “Come and get me, Talon.”

The guy was all muscle. His white-blond crewcut and Teutonic features had earned him the nickname of Fuhrer. The weirdest things about him were his eyes, very pale, and a mouth that came together in a tight gash with almost no lips.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he taunted, the palm of his free hand turned up, the fingers beckoning. His gun was aimed at Olivia. “Shoot me, Talon. You three will fry for it because you’ll never get around my groundwork. It’s too good.”

Chris couldn’t risk holding back. This might be the best, and last, chance. He sprang on Hill and landed a punch guaranteed to wind the guy.

“Fuck you,” Hill gasped, but came back fighting. He ducked a shoulder and rammed Chris who jammed the back of a knee against the bed and fell.

Hill bombed down on Chris, whose gun sailed from his hand and slid against the baseboard near the door.