The Collector (49 page)

“There'd be blood on your hands.”

“No.” She jerked straight, eyes wide. “I wouldn't do anything. I'm
just . . . I'm with Ash. She hurt me. I don't want to live closed up in the loft anymore. No offense, but I don't want to live the way you do, Mr. Vasin, where we can't go out and have fun and see people, go places. You'd have what you want, Ash would have what he needs. We'd all just . . . be happy.”

“If I agreed, how would you do it?”

Ash looked down at his hands—strong, artist's hands—then back into Vasin's eyes, the implication clear. Lila immediately looked away.

“Please, I don't want to know. Ash promised we'd never have to talk about it again after this. I just want to put it all out of my mind.”

“Bloodlines,” Ash said simply. “What would you do to the men who killed your ancestors if you had the chance?”

“I'd kill them, as brutally as they did mine. I'd kill their families, their friends.”

“I'm just interested in one. I don't care about her family, if she has one. Just her. Yes or no, Vasin. Time's running out. Once it does, neither of us gets what we want.”

“You propose an exchange. Value for value. When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Such an interesting proposition.” He reached under the arm of the chair. In seconds the door opened to Carlyle.

“Sir?”

“Have Jai brought in.”

“Right away.”

“Oh.” Lila cringed back in her chair.

“She won't touch you,” Ash promised.

“You have my word on it. A guest must never be harmed in the host's home. It's not only bad manners, but bad luck. I will tell you, if this deal is struck and you, like your brother, aren't true to your word, Ms. Emerson will be more than harmed.”

Ash bared his teeth. “Threaten my woman, Vasin, and you'll never fill your trophy case.”

“Terms, not threats. You should understand what happens to those who renege on a deal, or provide unsatisfactory service. Come,” he said at the brisk knock on the door.

Jai wore black—snug pants, fitted shirt, tailored jacket. Her eyes gleamed at Lila. “How interesting to see you here. Both of you. Mr. Vasin told me you were visiting today. Should I show them . . . out, sir?”

“We haven't quite finished. I'm told you and Ms. Emerson have met.”

“A brief encounter in the market.” Jai skimmed her gaze down. “You're wearing better shoes today.”

“And again, another encounter you didn't include in your report. Where was this, Ms. Emerson?”

Lila only shook her head, stared at the floor.

“In Chelsea,” Ash said. “A couple of blocks from the gallery that shows my work. You held her at knifepoint.”

“She exaggerates.”

“You failed to mention this encounter to me.”

“It was so inconsequential.”

“I hit you. I punched you in the face.” Lila let the show of bravery dissolve as Jai stared at her. “Ash.”

“I count on details, Jai.”

“My apologies, sir. An oversight.”

“Yes, an oversight. As your phone call to Ms. Emerson was, I'm sure, an oversight. Mr. Archer and I have reached an agreement as regards my property. Your assignment in this regard has concluded.”

“As you wish, Mr. Vasin.”

“You failed to do as I wished, Jai. This is very disappointing.”

He drew out the Taser. Her reaction was swift, the weapon under her jacket nearly in her hand. But the shock hit, and shuddering with it, she fell. From his seat, he gave her a second jolt, then with absolute calm pressed under the chair arm again.

Carlyle opened the door. Her gaze flicked down to Jai, rose again impassively. “Have her taken out and secured. Be certain she's relieved of all weapons.”

“Of course.”

“I'll show our guests out. Ms. Emerson, Mr. Archer.” Lila's legs wobbled. She felt as if she was walking over a layer of mud as they crossed the pristine floor, descended the graceful curve of stairs.

“Tonight would be best,” Vasin said conversationally. “We'll say two
A.M
. A quiet spot, don't you agree? Considering Jai's skills, the sooner the exchange is made, the better for all.”

“Your time, my place. My representatives meet yours, two
A.M
., Bryant Park.”

“Considering the value, it's best if you make the exchange personally. The temptation for a hireling to walk away with the prize would be great.”

“Maddok's of equal value to me. Will you bring her, personally?”

“Her only use to me now is your desire for her.”

“The egg's only use to me is yours for it,” Ash countered. “It's down to business, nothing more. Once I have what I want, I intend to forget you and the egg exist. You'd be wise to do the same about me and mine.” Ash checked his watch again. “You're cutting it close, Vasin.”

“Two
A.M
., Bryant Park. My representative will contact me at two-oh-five. If the egg isn't delivered, as agreed, it won't go well for you. Or yours.”

“Bring Maddok, and it's done.”

He took Lila's arm, walked out. One of the security guards stood beside his car. He handed Lila her purse, opened the passenger door and remained silent as Lila got in.

She didn't speak, barely breathed, until they were through the gates and speeding along the road beside the high wall.

“You need to make that call, and I . . . Could you pull over for a minute? I feel a little sick.”

When he veered to the shoulder, she shoved the door open, stumbled out. She bent over, closed her eyes as her head spun—and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Take it easy.”

“Just need some air.” Something fresh, something clean. “He's worse than she is. I didn't think there could be anything worse, but he is. I don't think I could've stood another five minutes in that room, in that place. It was like suffocating.”

“You could've fooled me.” But he could see it now that she'd let down her guard. The light tremors running through her body, the pallor of her face when she lifted it.

“He would have killed her himself, right there, right in front of us, if it would've gotten him the egg. And he could've walked away, snapped a finger for some servant to clean up the mess.”

“She's the least of my worries.”

“We would never have walked out of there if you didn't have what he wants. I know that. I know that.”

“He'll keep his word. For now.”

“For now,” she agreed. “Did you see his face when you showed him the pictures? He might've been looking at God.”

“It's one of his.”

She let herself lean against him, closed her eyes again. “You're right. He's not crazy, not the way I imagined, anyway. He believes everything he said, about the Romanovs and bloodlines. All those beautiful things, placed so precisely behind glass. Just for him. Just to own. Like the house, his castle, where he can be tsar, surrounded by people who'll do whatever he tells them to do. Any one of those pretty boxes means more to him than the people who do his bidding. And the eggs, they matter most of all.”

“We'll finish it, and he'll have nothing.”

“That would be worse than death for him. I'm glad. I'm glad it'll be worse for him. When he put on those stupid gloves, I wanted to lean
over and sneeze in his face, just to get a reaction. Except I was afraid someone would come in and shoot me.”

“You're feeling better.”

“Much.”

“I'm going to call Alexi, just in case the cops didn't get the transmission.”

“Okay, I'm going to check my purse, the car. They had plenty of time to install a bug or a LoJack.”

She found the tiny listening device inside the glove compartment, showed it to Ash.

Saying nothing, he took it, dropped it, crushed it under his heel.

“Oh! I wanted to play with it.”

“I'll buy you another.”

“Not the same,” she muttered, then dug a mirror out of her purse. She crouched beside the car, angled the mirror. “If I trusted absolutely no one, and someone had one of my gods, I'd . . . and there it is.”

“There what is?”

“The tracker. A LoJack. I just need to . . . I told Julie white's not practical.” She stripped off the jacket, tossed it inside the car. “Have you got a blanket in the trunk? I really like this dress.”

Fascinated, he got the old bath sheet he kept in the trunk for emergencies, watched her spread it, then, armed with her multi-tool, scoot under the car.

“Seriously?”

“I'm just going to disable it. They won't be sure what happened, right? Later, I can take it off, see how it works. It looks like a really good one to me. They work differently—or have different ones for classic cars like this. I'd say Vasin's security team's ready for anything.”

“You want to change the oil while you're at it?”

“Some other time. There, that did it.”

She scooted out again, sat up, looked at him. “He thinks we're stupid.”

“We're not only not stupid, but I'm smart enough to have a woman with her own tools who knows how to use them.” Taking her hand, he pulled her to her feet. “Marry me.”

She started to laugh, then revisited the head spinning when she realized he was serious. “Oh, God.”

“Think about it.” He caught her face in his hands, kissed her. “Let's go home.”

J
ust an impulse of the moment, Lila assured herself. A man didn't propose to a woman who'd just disabled a LoJack planted by an obsessed criminal with delusions of tsarist grandeur.

An impulse, she thought again, because their part in this whole convoluted, bloody and surreal nightmare was essentially done.

Undercover agents would keep the rendezvous in Bryant Park. As they took Jai Maddok and Vasin's “representatives” into custody, Fine and Waterstone, in conjunction with a joint task force with the FBI, would arrest Vasin. Conspiracy to murder, murder for hire topped the bill.

They'd managed to bring down an international crime organization, with hardly more than a scratch.

Who wouldn't feel a little giddy?

And nervous, she admitted, pacing the bedroom when she should've been checking her web page, working on her book, updating her blog. But she just couldn't settle down.

People just didn't go from meeting—and under horrible circumstances—to mutual interest, to sex, to love, to marriage all within a matter of weeks.

But then, people didn't generally work to solve murders, discover
priceless objets d'art, fly off to Italy and back, and step into a vicious spider's web to trap him in it.

All while essentially finishing a book, creating paintings, having really great sex. And faux painting a bathroom.

But then, she liked to keep busy.

How would they deal together when things slowed down to normal? When they could just work and live and be?

Then he walked in. He'd taken off his suit jacket and tie, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Tousled hair and those X-ray eyes. He looked the artist again. The artist—what he was—who made her yearn for things she'd never believed she wanted.

“It's set,” he told her.

“It's set?”

“They have the warrants. They're going to wait until the scheduled meeting time, then move in simultaneously. The transmission was a little patchy in places, but they got enough.”

“The bra transmitter was so totally Q.”

“Q?”

“We're definitely scheduling a movie marathon. Bond, James Bond. You know, Q.”

“Oh, right. Q. You're not still wearing it, are you?”

“No. I took it off, but I'm sort of hoping they forget to ask for it back. I'd love to play with it. The obvious pen recorder was a good distraction, but I really thought the glad-hand woman was going to cop to the wire when she was copping a feel.”

“Even if she had, we'd still get Maddok. He was done with her.”

As much as she despised the woman, Lila felt her belly clutch. “I know. He was done as soon as I told him she'd attacked me, called me—and didn't tell him.”

“The ad lib about her hoping to snag the egg for herself didn't hurt.”

“I got caught up. He'd have killed her, so we're actually doing her a
favor. Yes, that's reaching,” she admitted. “But I honestly can't wish Vasin on anyone. Even her.”

“She made her choices, Lila. The cops want our full statements tomorrow. Even if Maddok doesn't turn on Vasin, they have enough to charge him. For Oliver, for Vinnie, for Oliver's girlfriend. Fine says the authorities are talking to Bastone.”

“Good, that's all good. I really liked them. I like knowing they'll get justice, too.”

“Alexi's staying at the compound tonight. The Cherub with Chariot goes to the Met tomorrow. We'll hold the announcement until the cops clear it, but it'll be where it belongs. Where it's safe.”