Robin in the Hood (Robbin' Hearts Series Book 1) (27 page)

Creek got on his knees and began banging the planks with his fist. “None of them move, Robin. I don’t think it’s actually the same floor.”

Horrified, I kneeled down beside Creek in shock. He was right—upon closer inspection, I could tell this wasn’t the same floor at all. My dad’s parquet floor had been fashioned from rare woods. When I pressed my hand against the surface, I realized it was cold and made of
s
t
o
n
e
.

Panicked, I felt my own body heat rise to my forehead, and my pulse throbbed in my ears.

“Creek, what are we going to do?” I howled. “We only have a few more minutes!”

Creek grabbed me by the shoulders.

“You
s
a
w
her. You told me you did. You have the gift, and you can find her now—”

“What?” I shook my head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“The feather!” Creek’s gaze met mine with a laser-like focus that rocked me to my bones. He pulled one of Brandi’s high heels off my foot and held it up. “Before you put on your shoes at the dry cleaners, I slipped a feather inside here, in case we needed it.”

“Those feathers aren’t magic, Creek!” I said, flabbergasted. “We’re not in the boondocks right now. Granny’s voodoo doesn’t work here.”

Creek glared at me, his stare so cold I felt like he’d frozen my heart into place.

“Maybe the magic
d
o
e
s
work here,” he challenged, “If we let it. There doesn’t have to be a difference between the deep woods and this humidor. What matters is what we feel in our hearts. We don’t have anything left to lose, Robin—except for Brandi’s life.”

Leave it to Creek to say the one, piercing thing that could totally knock the wind out of me.

He was right.

“Okay-okay,” I folded my arms in a huff and closed my eyes. I felt incredibly silly in a sparkling ball gown like some over-the-top New Age chick hoping to channel a spirit, but it’s not like we had a whole lot of options left. I cracked one eye open just long enough to yank the feather from Creek’s hand, and then I waved it in the air and tried to focus.

“M-Mom,” I said haltingly—I’d never called anyone that out loud before. “I need your help right now. I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. But I need your spirit to show me how to find Dad’s box.”

I felt Creek’s warm hands cover mine, but other than that, nothing came.

No images of Alessia’s beautiful face. No hearing her penetrating words in a dream-like moment. My mind was a total blank.

“M-Mommy,” I whispered. My teeth clenched together as I allowed myself to go deep inside, to that tiny but very golden place where I dared to believe—in spite of all of the odds—that there might actually be a mother who existed for me somewhere. One who really cared. And it left me feeling totally vulnerable and exposed. I licked a tear that had slipped onto my lips and pressed on. “We don’t want to lose Brandi,” I blurted in a pleading tone. “All it takes is money. Stupid money! Please, Mom,
p
l
e
a
s
e
help us—”

And that’s when I noticed it. Not all at once, but gradually, as though embracing me like a mysterious hug. A fragrance began to envelop us, similar to lavender, with a touch of wild grasses from warm, sunny fields. The smell started to permeate the humidor, dominating the husky, leathery scent of cigars. And then I heard a thump that scared the freaking daylights out of me—

A plain wooden box had fallen to the floor, jolting my eyes open.

Creek and I stared at each other, spooked. We glanced down, noticing that cigars had spilled from inside the box, along with a small feather.

And two cards.

L
a
F
o
r
t
u
n
a
and
A
m
o
r
e
—

The Wheel of Fortune and The Lovers.

I began trembling.

“It-it’s a sign,” I stuttered, my fingers quivering as I picked up the cards.

Creek gently lifted up the box and ran his hand along the bottom of the inside, giving it a hard knock. Sure enough, it sounded hollow. Before I knew it, he’d smashed the box against the stone floor.

There they were—a sheet with the Swiss bank account numbers typed on it and old newspaper clippings. I seized them, my whole body shaking now. On a yellowed article stared back at me, in faded black and white, the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. And I recognized her—she was the same woman from my dreams. The caption below the photo read:
A
l
e
s
s
i
a
d
e
B
a
r
g
o
n
a
,
t
h
e
m
o
s
t
s
t
r
i
k
i
n
g
y
o
u
n
g
w
o
m
a
n
t
o
g
r
a
c
e
t
h
e
C
i
n
c
i
n
n
a
t
i
s
o
c
i
a
l
r
e
g
i
s
t
e
r
i
n
d
e
c
a
d
e
s
.

“It’s her, Creek!” I gasped. “The contractors must’ve found this box when they replaced the floor and put it on the shelf. Her picture’s so beautiful. This must be what my dad meant when he said he keeps Alessia here.”

“No it’s not,” Creek replied.

He held out his hand and opened his palm. In it was an enormous ruby, the size of a golf ball, cut and faceted to resemble the shape of an exquisite heart.

“
T
h
i
s
is Alessia.”

I sat utterly stunned. The ruby was spectacular—a deep, vibrant red that seemed to radiate all the way through with crimson light. Creek picked up another old article that had been lying inside the box.

“The priceless de Bargona ruby has been in this aristrocratic Italian family for generations, but recently was reported missing by the Count before he departed from Cincinnati.”

Creek pointed to the date on the article. It was written sixteen years ago.

“Did my dad steal it?” I shuddered.

Creek shook his head.

“No, Alessia gave it to him before her father shipped her back to Italy. I heard rumors about it in Turtle Shores, but no one ever saw the ruby, so I thought it was a tall tale. Lorraine claimed Alessia’s dad made her walk up to Doyle on the day she was scheduled to leave and declare that she never loved him. But when she did, she slipped this heart-shaped ruby into his hand.”

“So he’d know she was lying,” I breathed. “And she’d love him forever and ever—”

“You got it,” Creek smiled a little. “This
i
s
Alessia. To Doyle, anyway. It’s her heart.”

I scrambled to my feet. “Okay, we gotta get out of here.” I picked up the pieces of the box and shoved them to the back of a shelf. “Put those tarot cards in your pocket,” I said, grabbing the Swiss bank account sheet from the floor and the ruby in his hand. “And those news clippings of Alessia.”

Creek stuffed them into his tux. I folded the account page and slipped it inside the bust of my dress and gripped the ruby firmly in my hand. But when we opened the door to walk out the humidor, our eyes met a very disapproving figure.

Not Tweedle, which was no surprise since we’d hadn’t been there for half an hour yet. It was a tall, older woman with gray hair pulled back into a severe bun and wearing a matronly, white gown that stretched awkwardly over her thick middle, making her look like an upright refrigerator. She had a long forehead and a hooked nose, and she held a gnarled, mahogany cane in her hand. As soon as her raven-black eyes rested upon mine, I knew . . .

“M-Mother Superior?” I faltered.

She smiled in that chilling way she always had that could stop even the liveliest girl’s heart.

“Robin,” She trilled. “I thought I spotted you on the dance floor tonight. You look ravishing, my dear. Especially with that new red hair. Now surely you intend to pay your debts, am I correct?”

“What?”

“Your tuition. The thirty thousand dollars your father still owes Pinnacle.” She pointed her gnarled cane at me. “You
d
o
realize that’s the reason for the fundraiser this evening. Your old Alma Mater?”

I gasped like a fish.

I had no idea Mother Superior ever stepped out of her nun’s habit, let alone for a benefit. And it wasn’t like I had the chance to read the fine print on that poster at that bank.

“Certainly,” I piped up, trying to buy time and choking down the urge to take a swing at her. But I knew the woman outweighed me, so I scanned for a way to make a run for the door.

“Then hand over that lovely gem in your palm,” she insisted.

I stole a glance at Creek. For the first time ever, I saw him look at me in total shock.

H
o
w
did Mother Superior know about the ruby?

At that moment, Tweedle appeared at the door.

Mother Superior simply gazed at me and smiled.

“Never mind him. I want that stone.” The grin on her lips faded to a thin, tight line. “All of Cincinnati knows about the de Bargona ruby that went missing years ago. And obviously, you’ve found it. Give it to me—”

“What? You
k
n
e
w
Alessia de Bargona was my mother all along?” My cheeks flushed with rage.

“Let’s just say, I suspected as much. Little details—the birth certificate and social security number that didn’t quite match. And your olive complexion and curly hair do make you look just like her, you know. Alessia was the talk of society once. Her father even enrolled her at Pinnacle. He never dreamed she’d be a little whore on her home visits and get pregnant with that white trash boy. Fortunately, at Pinnacle we’re paid to keep these kinds of secrets. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a day of reckoning.”

She gripped her mahogany cane in both hands and gave me a fierce whack upside the head, then reached out for my hand. The woman was built like a Sumo wrestler, so I didn’t have a chance—

Except for the fact that Creek made a dive and knocked her over like the tower of Pisa, throwing aside her cane. In an instant, Tweedle was on top of him, drilling him with punches. Creek gave him a hard left hook, sending him sprawling across the Cigar Room floor.

He bolted to his feet and grabbed my hand, yanking me upright.

I was still holding my head, which throbbed like a jackhammer had been cracking at it.

“Do you trust me?” Creek cried.

I shook my head, confused. “What? Why would I be here if I didn’t—”

Tweedle moaned and began to stir.

Creek gripped my shoulders and shook me so hard it hurt.

“Do you really,
r
e
a
l
l
y
trust me?” The urgency in his eyes made me shiver.

I saw Mother Superior stumble to her feet along with Tweedle. They both blocked the door of the Cigar Room, so it looked like we were goners.

“Then hold on, no matter what,” Creek said. “Hear me, Robin? Just hold on!”

With that, he jerked at my hand and we made a mad dash for the windows that faced the front lawn—

A huge crash echoed in my ears.

For a brief moment in time, we were weightless . . . floating . . .

And I saw little specks of glass sparkle all around us like gems as we fell—fell—fell into the beams of the floodlights below.

I still had a white-knuckled grip on the ruby as Creek raced down a country road at over a hundred miles an hour, taxing poor Sadie’s engine to the max.

But near as I could tell, we’d gotten away scott free!

As long as I didn’t count my royal headache and the smeared blood that had ruined my beautiful gown. The shards of window glass we’d broken through had cut us both all to hell. Even my forehead was dripping, and I could taste the weird iron flavor of blood that trickled down to my lips. After falling from the window, we’d landed in a thick hedge that Creek had been smart enough to notice surrounded the entire house, just in case we needed an emergency escape.

I didn’t even want to know how often he’d used
t
h
a
t
exit strategy.

I just felt lucky we were alive—and safe. Bleeding and scratched up like nobody’s business, maybe, but nothing Granny’s bandages couldn’t fix.

Swiveling around in my seat, I peered through the limo’s rear window. No headlights followed us, and we were almost home.

A part of me couldn’t believe I’d just thought of it that way.

Home used to be my term for the mansion we’d left. Now, it was a humble tree stand in the middle of fricking nowhere. But the difference was that Turtle Shores was filled with people who truly cared about me, and Indian Hill wasn’t.

“Creek,” I said, fretting about Brandi now that we’d had a chance to catch our breaths. “How long do you think it will take us to get money out of the Swiss bank accounts?”

Creek glanced over at me. He hadn’t dared to turn on the headlights, so I could only see his face in the silvery moonlight that filtered through the windshield. His forehead was streaked with blood.

“Hard to say for sure—maybe a week or two.” He wiped some blood off with his tuxedo sleeve. “Nick of time for Brandi, I reckon. As long as we provide proof that we can pay, the chemo center won’t expect the balance for another month.” He nodded. “I think everything’s gonna be okay.”