Emerald Fire, page 12
‘Found it? You mean you’d hidden it?’
‘Yes.’
‘But not terribly well, hmm?’ Esterhaus pursed his lips. ‘When he took the stone, did you try to stop him?’
‘I couldn’t. He took it during the night, sir. I was asleep, and—and…’ Her throat constricted. ‘I did what I could, Mr Esterhaus. I reported the theft to the police in Italpa—’
‘The police in Italpa,’ Esterhaus said with a little laugh. ‘A waste of time, Miss Stuart. A joke! I’ve no intention of involving them in such serious business.’
Brionny nodded. ‘I can understand that, sir, but I did try to—’
‘It would be appropriate for me to ask for your resignation at this moment. You know that, of course.’
‘Mr Esterhaus,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice neutral, ‘I know I made some errors in judgement, but I promise I’ll do whatever I possibly can to—’
The shrill of Esterhaus’s telephone silenced her. She waited while he took the call.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘very good. Ask him to wait just a moment, please.’ He smiled as he hung up the phone. ‘Did my secretary tell you about the gentleman who’ll be joining us this morning?’
‘No, not really. She only mentioned that someone would be—’
‘Unfortunately he was unavoidably delayed, which means I’ll have to curtail my plans to meet with the two of you together.’ Esterhaus shot back his cuff, looked at his watch, and frowned importantly. ‘I have a luncheon appointment with the Mayor,’ he said, and smiled. ‘But you’ll be able to manage without me, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘He’ll need to know everything you can tell him about your unfortunate experience in the Amazon, Miss Stuart. Do you understand?’
Brionny flushed. Not everything, she thought. ‘I’ll— I’ll do my best,’ she said.
‘It’s vital that you do. With sufficient information, I have reason to believe we have a good chance of recovering the emerald.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ Brionny’s face lit with excitement. ‘I’d like nothing better than to see the man who stole it caught and—’
‘Your personal need for vengeance is not the museum’s concern,’ Esterhaus said coldly. ‘Recovering the stone is our sole interest.’
‘But it’s the same thing, isn’t it? Catching the thief and getting back the Eye—’
‘Think, Miss Stuart, think! There are circumstances in which the one might cancel out the other.’
‘I don’t understand, Mr Esterhaus.’
The director sighed. ‘If we can take the thief to trial, we will. But if we have no choice but to buy the stone back—’
‘Buy it back?’ she said, her voice rising.
‘It is entirely possible we may have to negotiate for the emerald’s return.’
‘But—that’s blackmail. It’s ransom. It’s—’
‘It’s business,’ the director said sharply, ‘and it’s done all the time.’
Brionny wanted to tell him he was wrong—but she couldn’t. Occasional whispers surfaced about a museum or gallery recovering a stolen object by ‘buying it back’ from the thieves who’d stolen it. The excuse was always the same—that the principals involved hadn’t realized they’d been dealing with crooks—but no one really believed that.
‘Even if you wanted to make such a deal,’ she said slowly, ‘how do you know the emerald hasn’t already been sold on the black market?’
‘I have it on good authority that the thief is lying low with the stone.’ Esterhaus stood up and came around the desk. ‘You see,’ he said as Brionny got to her feet, ‘we’ve had the most incredible good luck.’ Smiling, he clasped her elbow in his skeletal hand. ‘The gentleman you’re about to meet contacted me several days ago.’
‘While you were away?’ Brionny threw him a be-wildered look as he led her toward the door.
Esterhaus nodded. ‘He was in Peru when the emerald disappeared.’ They had reached the door, and he let go of Brionny’s arm and put his hand on the knob. ‘He’s privy to some inside information.’
Brionny’s heart thumped. ‘Can he lead us to the thief?’
‘He believes he can, and that’s where you come in. He’ll need you to help him identify the man—and the stone, too.’
A chill as cold as the grave whisked across the nape of Brionny’s neck. It made no sense, but she could feel the hair rising on her skin.
‘Therefore, Miss Stuart, as of this date, you are relieved of your duties at the museum.’
She paled. ‘You’re dismissing me? But I thought you said—’
‘I am reassigning you. You will devote yourself to helping find the thief and the emerald. When the stone is safely in my hands, I shall wipe the slate clean and see to it that you are awarded your doctorate.’ The director smiled benevolently. ‘How does that sound, my dear?’
It sounded like the best news she’d had in weeks. So why was that chill dancing across her skin again?
‘Sir,’ she said quickly, ‘wait a minute. Who is this man you—?’
Esterhaus flung the door open. Framed in it was his secretary’s desk. The woman’s flushed face was tilted up to an unseen figure standing beside her.
‘Oh, go on,’ she said, giggling happily, ‘you don’t really mean…’
Esterhaus cleared his throat. His secretary gave a startled jump.
‘Mr Esterhaus. I didn’t hear you, sir.’
Esterhaus took Brionny’s arm and drew her forward. ‘Miss Stuart,’ he said, ‘I’d like you to meet—’
But Brionny knew. She knew even before the man turned toward her.
It was Slade.
He had traded his jeans for a perfectly tailored gray suit, but everything else about him was the same, from that whipcord-hard body to the cool, emerald-green eyes.
Brionny made a choked sound. Esterhaus frowned.
‘Miss Stuart?’
Slade laughed politely. ‘I don’t think I mentioned it, Esterhaus, but Miss Stuart and I have met before.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Brionny whispered.
Slade’s eyes, cold with derision and warning, met hers.
‘Surprise,’ he said softly.
She spun toward Esterhaus, whose expression was puzzled. ‘I didn’t realize you two knew each other,’ he said.
‘Knew each other?’ Brionny gave a cackling laugh. ‘Knew each other? Mr Esterhaus, this man—’
‘Certainly we know each other.’ Slade’s voice was silky. He reached out, took Brionny’s limp hand, and clasped it in his. It seemed a simple, friendly gesture; only she could feel the almost painful pressure he was exerting. ‘Miss Stuart and I met in Italpa. We were guests at the same hotel and—’ he shot Esterhaus a knowing, man-to-man smile ‘—we ran into some—ah—some personal problems, I’m afraid.’
‘We didn’t,’ Brionny said desperately, ‘We never had any personal prob—’
‘I think she might still be annoyed with me, Simon, if you get my meaning.’
Simon? Simon? Brionny tried to wrench her hand from Slade’s, but his callused fingers gripped hers like steel.
‘Mr Esterhaus,’ she said desperately, ‘you’ve made a terrible mistake. You said the museum had been contacted by a gentleman, but you were wrong! Slade McClintoch is—’
‘Now, now, Bree.’ Slade chuckled as he stepped to her side and slipped his arm around her shoulders. His fingers bit into her flesh. ‘We don’t want to wash our dirty linen in public, do we, sweetheart?’
‘Mr Esterhaus, dammit, this man—’
‘That is enough, Miss Stuart.’ Esterhaus’s eyes were like chips of ice in his bony face. ‘Whatever happened between you and Mr McClintoch in Italpa is your problem, not the museum’s.’ He looked at Slade and smiled. ‘I look forward to swift and satisfactory progress.’
‘Of course, Simon.’
Brionny made one last, futile effort. ‘Wait,’ she said.
The door to Esterhaus’s office slammed in her face. With a little cry of fury and despair, she swung toward Slade. The polite smile he’d worn for the museum director was gone, replaced by a look of arrogance and utter contempt.
‘You bastard,’ she whispered, and he laughed coldly.
‘I’m delighted to see you again too, sweetheart,’ he said, and he put his hand in the small of her back and marched her past the desk of Esterhaus’s goggle-eyed secretary, across the museum’s Great Hall, and down the wide marble steps into the street.
CHAPTER NINE
THE INSTANT they reached the pavement, Brionny spun away from Slade and came to a stop. She was trembling with anger; her face was as pale as ivory, except for a flag of crimson high on each cheek.
‘You fraud,’ she said. ‘You liar! You—you—’
‘You really should try working up a new routine, Stuart. That litany’s getting kind of dull.’
‘You’ve got one minute to explain what you think you’re doing, and then I’m going to march straight back to Esterhaus’s office and blow your pathetic little cover story to smithereens.’
A smile tilted across Slade’s mouth, although his eyes remained cold.
‘Threats?’ he said, his voice soft as silk.
‘Promises, McClintoch.’
‘You’ll change your mind after we talk.’
‘We have nothing to talk about.’ Brionny put her hands on her hips. ‘Unless you want to talk about your prison sentence.’
His mouth tightened into a hard line. ‘This isn’t the place for this discussion.’
‘Ah. Where is the place, then? The local police station? The court house? Perhaps the director’s office?’
Slade moved closer to her. There was a sense of tightly controlled anger about him, and it took all her concentration not to step back.
‘Do you see that car at the curb?’
She looked past him. A bright red sports car was pulled up next to a ‘No Parking’ sign.
Her gaze flew to his. ‘I see it.’
He smiled thinly. ‘It’s mine.’
‘How charming. Am I supposed to applaud, or what?’
She saw a tiny vein throb in his temple. ‘Walk to the curb and get into that car,’ he said.
‘Walk to the curb and…’ Brionny tossed back her head and laughed. ‘What do you think this is, McClintoch, a Godfather movie? You don’t give orders to— Hey. Hey!’ She grimaced as his hand clamped around her wrist and he began hustling her toward the car. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ he said grimly.
Brionny slammed her fist against his shoulder.
‘I’ll scream!’
‘Be my guest,’ Slade growled. He held her tight against him, opened the car door, and thrust her into the passenger seat. ‘Scream your head off. This is New York, remember? Nobody will notice—and if they do they’ll pretend they didn’t.’
Brionny glared at him. ‘What’s the reason for this, McClintoch? Have you gone from theft to kidnapping?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I suppose you’d have no trouble believing that.’
‘You’re damned right. You’re capable of anything, and we both—’
His kiss silenced her in mid-sentence and landed, hard, on her parted lips.
Caught by surprise, she had no time to turn away. There was time only for her to feel the firmness of his mouth, the coolness of it—and to realize, with absolute horror, that she had not forgotten anything of how it felt to have his lips on hers.
‘Do you really want to recover the Eye of God?’ he asked softly.
Brionny licked her lips, trying not to notice the taste of him that now lay sweet on her tongue.
‘Of—of course,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘I have a proposition to make to you, Bree, one I’m certain you’ll find interesting.’
His voice was soft, almost husky. Her throat worked as she swallowed. ‘What—what sort of proposition?’
He smiled. It was the same sexy smile he’d given her the time they’d first met, a lifetime ago, in the Hotel Florinda.
‘I’ll tell you all about it if you come with me quietly.’
‘You’re crazy, McClintoch. Why would I go with you any way at all?’
His smile grew even more intimate. ‘I can think of at least two reasons. One, your boss handed you over to me for an indefinite period of time.’
‘He didn’t “hand me over” to you,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m not your property!’
‘Two,’ he said calmly, ‘it’s the only way you’re going to hear what I have to say.’
‘I know what you have to say!’
‘Yes. It’s one of your finer qualities, Stuart. Knowing things in advance, I mean.’
Brionny folded her arms. ‘What’s the sense in playing games? There’s no need for us to make a big thing out of this. You have a proposition to make to me—make it.’
‘Aren’t you even going to ask me if the Eye is safe?’
She blew a strand of hair off her forehead. ‘Is it?’
He grinned. ‘Safer than it was in that tampon box.’
She knew she was blushing but she kept her gaze steady on his.
‘I’m not authorized to make any deals.’
‘Deals?’
‘You know what I mean. I’ve no idea what Esterhaus is willing to pay for the stone’s return. You’ll have to take it up with—’
‘What if I told you I didn’t want money for the stone?’
She stared at him. He was looking at her in a way that made her dizzy. His emerald eyes were hot, like flames; it was insane, but she could almost feel the lick of heat against her skin.
There was a strange knot of tension forming in the pit of her stomach. She’d felt like this standing at the edge of El Kaia Gorge in Slade’s arms, almost overcome by a heady mixture of excitement and fear, the two mixed so closely together that it had been impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
‘I’d—I’d tell you to take it up with Esterhaus,’ she said, ‘not with me.’
Slade smiled, though the smile never reached his eyes. ‘I don’t think you’ll want me to do that.’
‘Well, you’re wrong. That’s just what I want.’
‘You haven’t even heard the proposition yet, but you’re certain you want it dumped on the director’s desk?’
She wasn’t certain of anything except the bone-deep knowledge that she was being drawn into something way beyond her depth.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do.’
Slade shrugged. ‘OK, Stuart. It’s your choice.’
Quickly, before he could change his mind, Brionny swung her legs out of the car. Slade leaned toward her.
‘Of course,’ he said slyly, ‘you realize we’ll have to tell old Simon everything.’
‘Exactly. Starting with the fact that you’re the rotten crook who stole his emerald!’
Slade smiled. Her suit skirt had ridden well above her knees, and he was taking his time appreciating the view.
She tugged furiously at her hem.
‘Don’t do that,’ she snapped.
His eyes met hers. ‘Why not?’ he said pleasantly. ‘After all, we’re going to get into much more intimate detail in Esterhaus’s office. You want to tell him everything? Fine. I’ll tell him all he needs to know—including the fact that you told me where to find the Eye of God after we’d made love.’
Color rose beneath Brionny’s skin. ‘He doesn’t need to know that at all! And—we didn’t make love. You seduced me, McClintoch, so you could steal that emerald!’
‘We can leave out some of the more intimate details, I guess.’ He ran his finger down her cheek. His eyes had gone dark, as silken-soft as his voice. ‘Those little sounds you made when I kissed your breasts, or the way you reached for me when you wanted me deep inside you again.’
Brionny twisted her face away from his hand. ‘Esterhaus called you a gentleman,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘But I don’t think you even know the meaning of the word.’
Slade’s voice hardened. ‘You don’t think? Come on Bree, you’re usually a hell of a lot more positive than that. You’re the expert on who and what I am, remember? You sized me up from day one.’
‘The only thing I know about you is that you belong in jail. And I’m not going to rest until that’s where you are!’
‘This is getting tiresome, Stuart. Make a decision, please. What’s it going to be? Truth and confession time in the director’s office—or a friendly little chat alone with me?’
Brionny looked at Slade without speaking. It was inconceivable that she’d ever, even for a moment, imagined feeling something for this man. He was everything she’d thought him to be and worse.
‘This proposition of yours had better be worth hearing,’ she snapped.
He laughed. ‘It is. In fact, I suspect you’ll find it fascinating.’ He slammed her door, came around the car, and climbed in behind the wheel. ‘I can hardly wait to hear your reaction.’
He hit a button on the console and the locks on the doors snicked down into place.
Trapped, Brionny thought, and the car shot into traffic.
‘I’m not going in there!’
Slade had pulled into a drive outside one of Manhattan’s priciest bits of real estate, and now Brionny was sitting with her arms crossed and an expression of defiance on her face.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are.’
‘You said we were going to a restaurant. You never mentioned a word about taking me to an apartment.’
‘I said we were going to lunch, Stuart. The days when ladies swooned at the prospect of setting foot inside a man’s home are long gone.’
She looked from him to the glass skyscraper and laughed.
‘This is your home? Come on, McClintoch. You don’t really expect me to believe this is where you live.’
‘Frankly, I don’t give a damn what you believe, as long as you don’t give the doorman a scene to remember for the rest of his life.’ His gaze flicked past her. ‘Good afternoon, Hodges.’
A man in a blue and maroon uniform was looking in at them and smiling.
‘Afternoon, Mr McClintoch.’ He put his hand to the brim of his cap. ‘Ma’am.’
The door swung open. Brionny sat still for a second, and then she muttered something under her breath, gave the doorman a bright smile, and stepped from the car.
