“Possibly.”
“And Halloway and Bertrand?” she said. “They were what, working together now? That doesn’t gel.”
“Or passing information back and forth on unsolved cases. For whatever reason, neither of these guys were out of the picture even though they weren’t on the payrolls anymore.”
“So it’s possible Halloway tipped Bertrand off about my phone call.”
“Looks that way.”
“And Bertrand killed him? To get to me?”
“Not to get to you, Kat. To get to Minyawi.”
Kat thought back to the scene in the park with Bertrand.
How many more you got, Minyawi? We can do this all night. But I guarantee I’ll kill the girl myself before I’ll give her to you!
No, Pete was right. Bertrand hadn’t wanted her. He’d wanted revenge on the man who’d murdered his wife.
She stared at the cream-colored leather seat in front of her as a heavy weight pressed down on her chest. This whole nightmare was bigger than even she’d imagined. How on earth could she ever expect to clear her name and keep Pete out of it in the process with what they were facing?
“So what now?” she asked into the silence that settled between them.
“Now we go get your necklace back.”
Kat looked his way. “Where?”
“New York City.”
Her brows drew together. “We were just there.”
“Yeah.”
And that was when she realized just who his friend was who had her pendant. “Oh.”
The sickness she’d been fighting came roaring back as the plane dipped to the left and cut through the inky darkness. She gripped the armrest of her chair, closed her eyes and fought to clear her mind of terrorists and corrupt politicians and a faction that didn’t care about anything but seeing her dead.
And she did. Because, as trivial as it was considering everything they’d just been through, the only thing she could think about right now was the fact she was heading right into the piranha’s waters.
Hailey Roarke peered into the dark windows of Lauren Kauffman’s fancy house on Key Biscayne. No lights shone
in the entry or front rooms, but that didn’t mean Lauren wasn’t home. It also didn’t mean she was.
Hailey knocked again and waited, and when there was no answer, pulled the key Pete had told her to pick up from his office at Odyssey from her pocket and slipped it in the lock.
The door gave with a pop, and Hailey stepped in, went to the alarm and punched in the code. When the light flashed green she kicked the door closed and stood in the dimly lit entryway, listening for any sound inside the house. “Lauren?”
The last thing Pete had asked Hailey to do was to swing by Lauren’s place and make sure his sister wasn’t home. And if she was, to talk her into disappearing for a while. At least until things cooled off for him. He didn’t put it past the ELA to go after his sister to get to him and Kat, and neither did Hailey.
When there was no response, Hailey wove through the downstairs and checked rooms for any sign Lauren had been home from her most recent photo shoot. She had a habit of popping in and out of Miami unannounced, which was what concerned Pete most.
The kitchen was sparkling clean, as were the rest of the rooms downstairs. No tossed jackets, no shoes lying askew. None of the ten thousand bags Lauren generally traveled with littering the floor.
Feeling more at ease by the second, Hailey jogged upstairs to check Lauren’s office to see if she’d left her calendar laying about, possibly indicating when she might be back or where she was scheduled to be now. Pete hadn’t had a clue where his sister was but wanted her found, and considering tracking down the supermodel was a lot more fun than dealing with her father’s stuffy secretary, Hailey’d jumped at the chance to help.
Besides, Hailey liked Lauren. Sure, Lauren could be a prima donna, but she had spunk. And any woman who
could put Peter Kauffman in his place was a friend in Hailey’s book.
She pushed open the office door, flipped on the light and skimmed the calendar on Lauren’s fancy glass desk. The phone rang as she was sitting in the plush leather chair, flipping pages in Lauren’s datebook. Her hand stilled as the call went to the answering machine.
“Lauren, it’s Blake. I know you’re home. Pick up the phone.”
Home? Hailey glanced up.
“Look, baby,” Blake said. “We need to talk. Lauren? Can you hear me? Dammit. I know you’re there.” He let out a long sigh. “Just call me back, okay?”
The call ended with a beep before Hailey could pick up the receiver. She recognized the name. Lauren’s life was often splashed all over the tabloids, and Blake Warner was her newest boy-toy. Something had obviously happened between the two of them. Good ol’ Blake had sounded pissed. And a little desperate.
“Man trouble,” Hailey mumbled, glancing back at the datebook in front of her. “Nice to know I’m not the only one.” A frown cut across Hailey’s face as she scanned the page, and her mind wandered to her own version of man trouble.
Which really wasn’t much trouble at all because you had to
have
a man to have man trouble, which Hailey definitely didn’t. The last guy she’d even been remotely interested in—a homicide detective from Chicago who she
thought
she’d forged a connection with at Rafe and Lisa’s wedding just a few weeks ago—had stood her up the following morning where they’d made plans to meet for breakfast. And wasn’t that just her damn luck? Her track record with men sucked. So much for that outlook improving.
The phone in her pocket beeped, and she pulled it out, looked at the text from her friend Jill at INTERPOL and
smiled. She immediately forwarded the message to Pete and hoped he had his phone turned on.
Refusing to think any more about Shane Maxwell and those sexy and mysterious eyes of his, Hailey flipped the datebook closed, slipped her phone back in her pocket and stood. Considering Blake’s message, it was possible Lauren was on her way home right this minute.
A car door slammed outside, the sound easily discernible through the quiet evening air. Hailey lifted her head and listened. Footsteps echoed from somewhere near the front of the house.
Bingo.
She hit the light switch and jogged back down the steps, wanting to intercept Lauren before the poor girl got the scare of her life and realized the front door was unlocked.
Hailey reached the entryway and jerked the heavy mahogany door open. Then stopped short.
The man staring back at her wasn’t the blond supermodel she’d expected. This guy was easily six-foot-three, with a mane of dark hair, a full beard and black, soulless eyes. A thin scar ran down the left side of his face and gave the impression of badass to the core.
And when he smiled, his slow and evil grin sent a shiver of foreboding down Hailey’s spine. She knew the face, because she’d just looked at it on her phone moments before.
“Hello, Miss Kauffman,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “Your presence is honorably requested by an associate of mine.”
Oh, Fuck.
Minyawi.
Hailey slammed the door closed with all her strength, but Minyawi snaked a hand and foot inside and grabbed her by the hair before she got two steps away. More good luck for her. She’d left her Browning in the glove box of her car.
In a flash she was on her stomach, face pressed into those gleaming tiles she’d walked across earlier, a knee shoved hard into her back. Her phone went skidding across the floor to land behind a large potted plant. The air whooshed out of her lungs as something sharp was jabbed into her arm.
The last thought she had was Pete’s teasing that she’d never been a very good cop.
No shit, Sherlock.
“That was a wonderful dinner.”
Maria Gotsi lifted her wineglass and took a sip as she regarded the man seated across from her at Per Se overlooking Central Park West. Candlelight illuminated his round features, pudgy face and dark eyes. Though she wouldn’t consider him a personal friend, the fact a man of his standing had called and invited her dinner had intrigued her. So she’d accepted.
“I do have to say, though,” she said as she set her glass on the white linen tablecloth, “it was a bit of a surprise.”
“As much as a surprise for me,” Omar Kamil said in a thick Middle Eastern accent as he leaned forward in his seat. “Not only was I stunned to find out you were in New York, but also that you were free this evening.”
Maria smiled one of her coy half grins and fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. She’d learned the game early on. Give the men in this industry what they expected. That meant flirt, tease, pay attention to what they did and said around you and never ever let them figure out how smart you really were.
Then strike when they least expected it.
It was how she’d built the Art Institute of Athens from a fledgling scientific laboratory into one of the premier archaeometry centers in the world. It was also how she’d become a major player in a male-dominated field.
“Well,” she said, leaning forward just enough so her black fitted jacket pushed her cleavage together in a move that clearly caught his attention, “as it turns out, I recently had a change in plans. I was due back in Athens this evening, but a situation at my warehouse here in New York forced me to rethink my plans.”
“Situation?” Omar’s gaze flicked from Maria’s exposed breasts up to her face. His beady eyes took on an amused gleam. “What type of situation?”
Oh, yes. She’d been right. There was something going on here. A man like Kalim didn’t simply phone for dinner and show up out of the blue unless he wanted something.
The question was, what could he possibly want from her?
“Nothing more than a personnel issue.” She smiled again, ran her finger around the stem of her wineglass. “And how are your preparations at the Met?”
He waved a hand and eased back in his seat. “Fine, fine. Between you and me, my assistant could have handled the transfer and overseen the setup, but it was a good excuse for me to get out of the heat. And besides, it gave me the opportunity to dine with you.”
“Hm,” Maria said, not buying a line of his bull. “It definitely did.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but her cell phone chiming cut him off.
“I’m sorry,” she said, retrieving the RAZR from her sleek handbag. “With all the commotion at the warehouse, I should take this.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Dr. Gotsi.”
“It’s Pete.”
Surprise hit her. She hadn’t heard from Peter since the auction and didn’t plan to talk to him anytime soon. She looked across the table at Omar, who was studying her with unreadable eyes. “You are the last person I expected to hear from tonight.”
“I know. Listen, Maria, about what happened at the auction—”
“Forgotten,” she said quickly. She didn’t want to get into a discussion regarding Peter’s auction with Omar watching her so closely, and frankly, she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about what had happened between them. Though she enjoyed Peter’s company, and he had—contrary to her better judgment—become a friend over the years, she wasn’t interested in a relationship in any way, shape or form. Of course, when she was out with a man for the evening, she wasn’t interested in being second fiddle either. If she wasn’t enough to hold his attention, then there was no sense in seeing him again, friend or not.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Peter said in a clearly relieved voice. “Because I need a favor.”
Something in his tone hit her as slightly anxious, and it piqued her interest because Peter Kauffman was never anything but cool and completely composed.
“Just what did you have in mind?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’ll discuss it with you tonight, if you’re available. I should be in New York within the hour. I’d like to come by your building, if that’s all right.”
He was coming to New York? Something was definitely going on. She glanced at her watch. “Yes, that should be fine.”
“Great. I really appreciate this, Maria.”
“Hm,” was all she said. She still had no idea just what she’d agreed to.
She flipped her phone closed and smiled at Omar. “Sorry for the interruption.”
He lifted his glass and took a long swallow of wine. “Boyfriend?”
With a humorless laugh she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No. Nothing like that.” Whatever Peter needed from her most definitely wasn’t of the romantic nature. It never had been. “Just a friend.”
The waiter stepped up to the table. “Can I interest either of you in dessert?”
Maria shook her head. “No, I think just the check.”
“Oh, come now, Maria,” Omar said as he lifted the dessert menu and shot her a wicked grin he’d developed over the last few minutes. “You have time for a little sinful pleasure, don’t you?”
Something in his eyes warned her not to brush him off so quickly. And though Maria had no idea why, she complied. Peter could wait for her. After the way he’d treated her at the auction, he could just go on waiting.
Pete leaned forward in the seat as the cab pulled to a stop in front of Maria’s building. Outside, rain pummeled the street in sheets, and water ran off the eaves to pour onto the sidewalk below. He handed the cabbie a wad of cash and opened the door.
With Kat’s backpack in one hand, he hunched his shoulders and reached down to help her out of the taxi. The snow that had covered the sidewalk days before had long since washed away, and the gutters were steadily filling with water and overflowing onto the street. At this hour, in this weather, there wasn’t another soul around.
He grasped her hand tight as they jogged toward the covered entrance. When they got there, they both shook the water from their hair.
Kat shot a worried glance toward the alley. Water dripped from her short hair down across her temple.
“What is it?” Pete asked, reaching up to wipe the droplet from her cheek before he thought better of it.
“I…” Her head lifted, and in her eyes he saw what looked like worry and regret and…something else he couldn’t quite read. “Never mind.” She stepped past him and into the building where the doorman held the door.
She’d been unusually quiet ever since he’d announced they were headed back to New York, and on the drive from the airport she’d avoided all small talk like the plague. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was ticked about being here.
He chanced a glance at her as they stood at the elevator waiting for the car, watched her jaw clench and unclench as she stared at the shiny doors. Her hair was damp from the rain and tousled from her fingers. Her cheeks were the slightest bit rosy—a combination of the November chill outside and a good dose of temper. His gaze ran lower, to her open jacket, to the vee of her T-shirt. To the St. Jude medal resting against her chest.
And standing there, studying her, a vision hit him. Of her above him, straddling him, smiling down into his eyes. Of that medal falling against his chest, grazing his skin as she moved. Of her leaning down and kissing him, long and slow and sumptuous until he couldn’t get enough of her.
His chest tightened as Ann Latham’s words ran though his head.
It’s not being wise. It’s facing the loss of something you didn’t realize you couldn’t live without that makes you reevaluate your priorities.
He swallowed hard as the elevator door opened with a ping. A slightly balding, dark-skinned man wearing a long wool trench coat stepped out and pushed between them as he headed for the door. His shoulder smacked into Pete’s already sore one, nearly knocking Pete off balance. Pain shot up his arm.
“ ‘scuse,” the man mumbled in a heavy accent as he rushed by.
Pete stepped into the elevator after Kat and turned to look back. “Excuse you,” he muttered.
The man hesitated, and just as the elevator doors were closing, pivoted to look their way.
Pete turned the knob on the wall panel and punched the intercom for the penthouse suite with more force than necessary. “All kinds in this city,” he mumbled. When Kat didn’t respond, he glanced her way and was pretty sure he could see steam coming out of her ears.
Definitely not happy. Well, that made two of them. Bringing her here wasn’t his first choice either, but they were out of options as far as he could see.
Maria’s housekeeper answered the page, and Pete announced himself. Two seconds later the elevator began moving. “We’ll only be a few minutes. Long enough to get the pendant and go.”
“You could have left me in the car,” Kat said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t need to come up here.”
“And leave you out there alone? Between you ditching me and guns going off, I don’t think so.”
The look she shot him said she’d rather take her chance with a loaded gun over him any day.
Okay, definitely ticked. And why the hell did that bug him so bad?
The elevator opened, and they both stepped out into the vestibule. Since Maria’s penthouse occupied the entire floor, there was only one double door directly ahead. Kat tensed. Pete moved forward and knocked.
A young woman Pete didn’t recognize but who had to be Maria’s new housekeeper opened the door.
He waited for Kat to step in first, then followed. Maria appeared on the curved staircase that led to the second floor. Dark hair flowed down around her shoulders. She wore loose-fitting black silk pants and a long-sleeved charcoal tunic, looking just as perfect as she always did, even in lounging attire.
“You’re later than I expected, Peter,” she said as she descended the last few steps. Her black mules clicked on
the marble floor when she reached the first level, and her eyes ran over him from head to toe. “And you look like hell.”
From the corner of his eye, Pete watched Kat’s shoulders stiffen, but to her credit, she didn’t cross her arms or scowl or show any other outward sign she was upset. Pete had to hand it to her. If the roles were reversed and she’d brought him to see Slade, he’d have already decked the guy.
“Weather’s pretty nasty outside. Took us longer than we expected.”
“Hm.” Maria shifted her gaze to Kat and extended her hand. “I’m Maria Gotsi.”
Kat hesitated, then took Maria’s offered hand. “Katherine Meyer.”
“She’s an old friend,” Pete interjected.
“Hm,” Maria said again as her eyes narrowed on Kat.
Tension swirled in the room between the two women. The scene in the limo the night of the auction flashed in Pete’s brain. At that moment, a fifty-foot drop into a boiling ocean looked more appealing than being trapped between these two.
He opened his mouth to ease the tension, but Maria cut him off.
“I recognize you from the auction,” she said, dropping Kat’s hand. “Black washes out your coloring.” She transferred her attention back to Pete. “Now, what exactly did you want from me, Peter, that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
Same old Maria. Blunt and to the point, especially when a situation wasn’t in her control. The barb didn’t go unnoticed by Kat. From the corner of his eye, Pete watched a muscle in Kat’s jaw twitch, but she still didn’t utter a sound, and she didn’t once take her eyes off Maria.
“We came to get the necklace I gave you a few weeks ago,” Pete said. “The gold crouching pharaoh.”
Maria looked between them. “Why, exactly, do you need it back?”
Pete glanced toward Kat and lifted his brow. This was her deal, really. He figured whatever she wanted to share with Maria was up to her.
Kat lifted her chin. “Because he didn’t have the right to give it to you. It’s mine.”
Silence.
“I see,” Maria finally said, brushing a finger down her neck. “However, we’re in America. And possession is nine-tenths of the law in this country. So why don’t you both stop dancing around the facts and tell me just what’s so important about
this
necklace that has you both running here when it’s very obvious my home is the last place either of you wants to be?”
Kat looked his way, and he saw the indecision in her chocolate eyes. He nodded, silently telling her unless they cooperated, they probably weren’t getting diddly squat from Maria.
Kat shifted back toward Maria, and in her eyes Pete saw strength and certainty and a woman who would do just about anything to get what she wanted. Something familiar turned over in his chest. She wasn’t the timid girl he’d fallen in love with all those years before. She was a thousand times sexier and a million times more intriguing. And so damn focused he wanted to kiss her senseless and drag her off to bed like a caveman and let her tame him in any way she wanted. Which was nuts considering everything she’d put him through in the last two days.
“I sent it to him,” Kat said. “There’s something inside that could be crucial to an international investigation.” She shrugged in indifference. “Of course, it’s your choice whether to keep it or give it to us. But if you keep it, the Feds could charge you with impeding an investigation. Or even collusion.”
Doubt colored Maria’s features. She swung her gaze
back his way. “An international investigation,” she said blankly. “Involving one or both of you. Recently?”
Pete shook his head. “Long time ago.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this than that?”
Because there was. And because she was a smart woman. Pete didn’t answer.
Neither did Kat.
Maria’s mules clicked as she crossed to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of wine. She took a long swallow and looked toward Pete again. “I’m afraid it’s not here.”
“Where is it?” Kat asked quickly.
Maria shrugged as if she could care less about Kat’s question, in the same way Kat had shrugged moments before. “In storage.”
“Here in New York City?”
“Possibly. I’ve had several shipments sent back to Athens in the last few days. It’s
possible
it was in one of those.”