He was so damn glad to be able to touch her again. To be able to smell her and hear her, to have her nearby to look at. She was keeping him sane instead of frantic with worry over Eric.
She looked at him, her face made stark by her grimness and the shadows of night. “Frankie will take care of Eric. Don’t worry.”
“It’s not just Eric I’m worried about.” He tugged gently on her hair.
“I can’t think about that. I can’t lose it. Not now.”
“Okay, so we’ll keep your mind off it. Do you travel a lot?”
“Yes, but that’s because there was nothing to keep me home. I won’t so much now.” She returned her attention to her laptop screen. “The good citizens of Whisper Creek will have to get used to seeing me around again.”
“Is that where you want to live?”
Her gaze shot to him again. “The last time I checked that’s where you lived, right?”
“I stayed because it kept me close to your family. I was afraid if I moved away, I might lose touch with you altogether.” He shrugged. “Don’t look so horrified. There wasn’t any place I had a burning desire to get to and Eric needed the stability of staying in one place. But my job can take me anywhere—you know that.”
“You’d do that?” she asked quietly.
“I’d do anything for you, Anastasia. You make me a happy man.”
Ana was quiet for a few moments, then, “You know how my parents got engaged? They met in Atlantic City. My mom was running an insurance scam and my dad was hustling old stuff. She wanted to get her hands on his antiques and he wanted to get a fraudulent payout. They played each other for a few weeks, then they agreed to meet at a local bank where he was supposed to show the goods for appraisal—he pulled an engagement ring and a bottle of Dom Perignon out of the safe deposit box instead.”
“Your dad proposed in a bank?”
“Surrounded by other people’s safeguarded valuables—absolutely the perfect venue for my parents. They’d been onto each other almost from the first, but for them the game was their version of flirting and dating. That’s what my family is like, Jake. And I don’t see them ever changing.”
“I’m not running scared, Anastasia. If it takes a few decades or a lifetime, you’ll eventually figure that out.”
Shaking her head, Ana got back to work.
The sky over the turnpike was lightening when Ana answered a check-in call from Frankie.
“Hey,” she said quietly, achingly aware of the block of ice in her gut. “I got an email from Detective Samuels in New York—Terence Parker passed away an hour ago.”
“Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Terry. Jesus. He was a good guy, you know? He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”
“Have you heard from Rick?”
“Yeah.” Frankie took a deep breath. “And he let me talk to Mom. She sounded okay. Not scared at all. And you were right about Atlantic City—that’s where he wants to do the swap. Eric’s texting the address to Jake’s cell now. I told Rick I’d have to talk to Mom directly before the meet or I wouldn’t show up, and I said we wanted to get out of town before nine.”
“Good. You’re doing real good.” She shoved a hand through her hair and said what was weighing heavily on her mind. “Frankie, you and Eric... You need to be working on a Plan B.”
Jake cursed. “Ana, damn it!”
She glanced at him and kept talking. “When we turn Rick in, he’s going to turn state’s evidence to get some leniency on the murder charge.”
Frankie’s voice was as serious as she’d ever heard it. “We’re considering our options, Ana. Don’t worry about us. Take care of Mom.”
The moment she killed the call, Jake went off. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I’d like to salvage as much from this mess as I can. The store is going to get its gems back, Terence’s killer is going to be apprehended, and I’m not going to take the finder’s fee from the insurance company for obvious reasons. Putting Eric and Frankie in jail isn’t going to bring the injured parties any more justice or restitution than that.”
She grabbed his phone from his lap and took the address of the meet from his text messages and typed it into the GPS.
He glared at her. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
“Yes. Think about it, Jake. Think hard. When all’s said and done, we’ll go from there.”
The meet was at a rundown motel in a depressed, forgotten corner of Atlantic City. It seemed worlds away from the boardwalk and tourist mecca. The signs and architecture of the buildings were decades past their prime. Time and the sun had faded what color might have distinguished features before.
Ana wondered if her mother knew this place from its heyday. What had led Rick here? The convenience of exterior walkways and parking directly in front of the room doors? Was that enough to negate the fact that the bank was on the far side of town?
Whatever the reason, she’d valet parked her car at the Mondego Resort for safekeeping before picking up a rental to get to the dive motel. Then she and Jake had split up—he waited in the car down the street, while she holed up in a dingy room that smelled like an ashtray and old sweat. They waited for the call from Frankie that would put everything in motion.
“Room 105,” he said the second she answered her cell phone.
“All right,” Ana said. “I’m going to head out with the ice bucket. I’ll be nearby as you approach the door. Go up alone and make him come outside. Tell him Eric’s watching from a safe distance and has the diamonds. If Rick wants to prove his trustworthiness, he’ll step out. He’ll probably leave Mom in the room for safekeeping. Jake’ll drive around back to the bathroom window and see if he can get to her. You with me so far?”
“Yes.”
Ana appreciated hearing the quiet strength in her brother’s voice. “I’ll see you in a minute.”
She didn’t have to tell him not to look at her too long or too often, or worse, not look at her at all—anything that would point her out as suspicious. Frankie was a pro. Shoving her gun into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, Ana yanked her top over it and grabbed the ice bucket. She left the room, gratefully breathing in the fresh air outside.
Texting Jake as she went, Ana walked across the crumbling parking lot of the U-shaped single-story motel. She felt her pulse steady when Frankie knocked on the motel room door—she was never calmer then when a game was in play.
“Jesus, Rick,” she heard Frankie say when the door opened. “You look like shit.”
“Fucking bastard! You cut me out! Cut Terry out! Where the fuck is Monroe? Where’re my fucking diamonds?”
Ana slipped into an alcove that led to a maintenance/housekeeping door and pressed her back up against the wall. Rick was erratic; his breathing was heavy and his voice far too loud. It made Ana nuts to think of her mom having to spend the last few hours with him and as the conversation between Rick and her brother progressed, she grew more and more uneasy.
“Don’t fuck with me, Miller, you slimy piece of shit,” Rick snapped. “Do I look like an idiot? Do I? I’m not going outside and swapping diamonds where anyone can shoot pictures! Tell Monroe to get his ass over here now!”
“What the hell do I need pictures for? If I had the heat out here, you’d already be done. You’ve got a kidnapped woman in your room and you’re a murderer.”
“Bullshit. I never—”
“Terry’s dead,” Frank said flatly.
The unmistakable thud of flesh hitting flesh got Ana’s back up. She withdrew her gun.
“Goddammit, Terry—” Frankie stumbled back from the door and into Ana’s line of sight. His hand was pressed to his lip, blood trickling between his fingers. Staying where he was, he forced Rick to follow him out into the parking lot.
“Liar
! You’re a fucking liar, Miller.” Rick stumbled into daylight with bare feet and rumbled clothes. His blond hair was disheveled and he gestured wildly with his hands. “You’ve been lying from the beginning. Setting everything up. I told Terry you were going to jack us and you did! Who killed him? You or Monroe?”
“Jesus Christ, you strung-out sonofabitch. You fucking shot your brother. What the hell did you expect was going to happen?”
Rick slammed his palms into Frankie’s shoulders, sending him stumbling back “What did you do? What did you do? I shot him up just enough to make him look innocent. And now he’s dead? Dead?”
“Read the damn papers, man. Or watch the news. One of your bullets opened a vein. He nearly bled out. Never recovered. He had a heart attack.”
Ana stepped away from the wall, taking advantage of the opportunity to intervene between Rick and her mom. She inched toward the open motel room door, her eyes never leaving Rick’s back.
She was ready when he spun with a scream and faced her.
“Cop bitch!” he yelled, before charging toward her.
Ana fired low, hitting him in the shin, and watched as he fell to his knee. He reached behind him. She barely ducked the flung blade that stabbed through the stucco wall behind her. Rick lunged past her crouched position and through the open room doorway, tucking and rolling across the threshold, then kicking the door shut.
Turning, she fired at the ancient doorknob and kicked out with her foot. The door held. She fired again just as Rick began to scream inside.
“Where is she? Where is she?”
She stopped, holding out her arm when Frankie rushed the door. “Wait. I think Jake’s got her.”
The rental sedan pulled into the parking lot to their left. Jake was at the wheel. Both Tilly and Eric were in the car with him.
“Oh god,” Frank choked out. “Mom.”
Ana kept her eye on the room door and the curtained window. “Get in the car and go.”
“What about you?”
Rick continued to yell, followed by the firing of a gun and the shattering of glass. “Nooooo! No! No!” More shots rang out, and more wailing. Then it fell eerily quiet.
“Take care of Mom,” she told him, pulling her phone out to call nine-one-one. “Leave this to me.”
Jake paid the street vendor for his coffee, then turned to face the Crossfire Building again. Foot traffic on the sidewalk swarmed around him, congesting the pavement the same way the cars clogged the street at his back. Car horns blared over the din at regular intervals, yet the residents of Manhattan seemed unaffected by the near frantic pulse of their city.
Tilting his head back, he let his gaze travel up the length of the sapphire-hued spire of glass that pierced the sky along with the hundreds of other towering buildings in the city. The theft of the Crown of Roses was finally coming to a close, and his life with Ana was about to begin. With both of the Parker brothers dead, there was no one who knew the identity of the other two accomplices in the crime, and with all of the items recovered and returned, the cops on both sides of the Hudson River were likely to call the case closed.
The gun Rick had used to end his own life had been a ballistics match to the bullet found in Terence’s shoulder, putting that aspect of the crime to rest as well. There was one last thing to do...
Ana came twirling out of the revolving doors of the Crossfire and her searching gaze found him on the corner. Dressed once again in head to toe black, she looked sleek and very sexy. Her mouth curved slightly as she approached him and deftly took the coffee from his hand.
She took a drink and her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Black. I like a little cream and sugar.”
He tapped her on the end of her nose with his fingertip. “I’m sure you like it hot, too, so I waited for you to come out before I ordered you one. How did it go?”
“Good. Gideon Cross agreed to give the reward to the Parker family. That’s where it should go.”
“He didn’t question why you’d give away a half million dollars like you would a five dollar bill?” Not to mention the two million dollar finder’s fee for the return of the diamonds...
“No.” She smiled. “I’m sure he thoroughly researched my portfolio before I ever stepped foot into his very impressive office.”
Jake’s brows rose. “How rich are you?”
“Let’s just say I’m very good at my job.” Her smile turned into a grin.
“Damn. Got me a sugar mama. How’d I get so lucky?”
Ana licked her lower lip. “Wanna get luckier?”
“Hell, yeah.” He caught her hand in his and they set off.
Sylvia Day is the #1 New York Times and #1 international bestselling author of the Crossfire series and more than a dozen award-winning novels translated into over three dozen languages. A Goodreads Choice Award nominee for Best Author, Sylvia has won the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award and she’s been nominated for Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA award twice.
Connect with Sylvia Day online:
www.sylviaday.com
www.sjday.net
www.twitter.com/SylDay
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Sylvia Day, Blood and Roses
(Series: Shadow Stalkers # 3)
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