She knew only that Roberto’s grim expression made her worry that he regretted that moment of madness in the elevator.
She should regret it, too. She knew it, but telling herself so made no difference. Her mind might not approve, but her body was still singing. As Newby slipped the car into traffic, she turned to Roberto. “You said we had to talk.” Abrupt, but she needed to hear what he was thinking.
“Yes. I spoke to Officer Rabeck.”
“Officer Rabeck?” Oh, no. The cameras had come back on while they were still sprawled together.
“She said they had video of the two guys who hacked into the computer that controlled the elevator.”
“Really.” And Brandi cared because . . . ?
“They followed us into the lobby, sat down, and hacked into the wi-fi and through that into the building computers. Apparently they watched the security cameras until they saw us enter the elevator, then tried to take it down.”
Oh. That was why she cared. She’d almost been killed.
But she’d also had the best, wildest, most demanding sex of her life. With the best, most amoral, most powerful man she’d ever met. “We need to focus.” And not on this. On the two of them.
She brushed her hand across her face. She had it bad. She had it so bad.
“I know.” Roberto’s rugged face was grim in the dim light, and the lips she’d kissed so passionately were a thin, determined line.
She wanted to kiss him again.
He continued. “We’ve got to get this figured out, because it’s the same two guys who’ve been stalking us. Officer Rabeck showed me the video. The guys had scarves wrapped high around their faces, but I recognized the one running the computer by the violence of his cough.”
Something about Roberto’s description anchored Brandi’s drifting attention. “His cough?”
“He’s got some kind of cold or bronchitis or something. I actually caught him last night when I went to get your toothbrush.”
Now Roberto had her full consideration.
“He followed me. I caught him, but like an idiot I let him go. They hadn’t moved on us, so I thought their instructions were to keep track of us. I knew who they were, and I figured, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know.” The lines around Roberto’s mouth deepened. “My carelessness almost got us killed.”
“Two guys. Two computer hackers. And one of them has a cough?” Memory stirred. She leaned back against the cool leather seat, trying to capture the picture stirring in her brain . . . last Friday. . . . “I wonder if they’re the same guys as the ones in the pawnshop?”
“Pawnshop?”
“When I pawned my diamond ring, there were two guys in there, young guys. I didn’t get a good look at them—they had their scarves pulled up and their hats on—but one of them had a cough. The shop owner said they were hackers. I was horrified, and he backed off and said they were just geeks.” At the time, she’d been on the phone to Kim, so she hadn’t been paying close attention, but she remembered that much. “He seemed scared, and I asked if everything was okay.”
“Was it?”
“He said so.”
“Think, Brandi.” Roberto took her hand. “Why would guys you saw in a pawnshop stalk you?”
“I don’t know. I pawned the diamond. I bought sapphire earrings. I got a check for the balance. They can’t imagine I’ve still got the check, but . . . my apartment was vandalized when I got there Sunday evening, so . . .”
Roberto grasped her shoulders and turned her, fully facing him. “Your apartment was vandalized? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That note of incredulity doesn’t cut it with me, buster!” She was starting to feel cornered. “I didn’t tell you because we had agreed we wouldn’t see each other again—although you knew better.”
“All right.” He rubbed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell me later?”
“When, Roberto? At the courthouse, when you were mouthing off to Judge Knight? At the Stuffed Dog, where Mossimo’s men were threatening you with a gun? At your grandfather’s?” She was getting wound up. “I actually meant to tell you yesterday morning, but Tiffany appeared and I didn’t want to explain why I hadn’t told her, so I kept quiet. Then we moved to the hotel, then we went dancing, then you hit Alan, then we came to McGrath and Lindoberth so I could yell at Uncle Charles, for all the good it did me, then we got stuck in a murderous elevator, and now here we are—”
“Buono!” Roberto held up a hand. “You’re right. We’ve been busy.”
“Busy? It’s been one damned thing after another!”
“You suspect the men who sabotaged the elevator and the men in the pawnshop could be the same men, and your apartment was vandalized.”
“By two men. The security camera in the apartment building showed two men.”
“Did they steal anything?”
“No, they just tore things up. Dumped out all the boxes—”
“So perhaps they were looking for something.”
“Perhaps, but they were mean. They spray-painted graffiti on the wall, peed on the carpet, smashed my dragon . . .” To her horror, her voice broke.
Roberto noticed. Of course he would. The man, unlike most men, paid attention when she spoke. “Your dragon? It was special to you?”
“I bought it for myself before my parents broke up, and I’ve had it ever since. . . . Yes, it was special to me.”
“My beautiful Brandi, you’ve been stalked. You’ve almost been killed.” He ran his leather-gloved hand over her lower lip. “You don’t need a dragon. You need a knight in shining armor.”
“But I want a dragon.” And she wanted Roberto.
“When this is over, I will find one for you. The best dragon in the world.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her.
But the sexual flush was fading and logic was kicking in. They did need to discover who wanted to kill them, and the idea that she might be the target boggled her mind. She leaned away from him. “Don’t be silly. The dragon’s not important. What’s important is finding out whether the same guys did it all.”
Roberto straightened. “You’re right, but cara, soon we do need to talk—about us.” Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a smooth, flat, black metal box about the size of his hand. He slid his finger over the miniature keyboard and the three-by-four-inch screen came alive with color.
“Whoa.” She leaned over his shoulder and watched as he used his thumbs to type in a code. “That’s your computer? It’s seriously wonderful.”
“You like technology?”
“Love it. I used my father’s old laptop during law school, and kept it running through a couple of viruses, one worm infection, and a hard drive failure. The vandals smashed it, which is probably what it deserved, but I lost everything I hadn’t backed up. When I get my first paycheck I’m going to buy the newest, best—”
“What’s the name of the pawnshop?” Roberto’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
“Honest Abe’s Pawnshop on Brooker Street.”
Roberto typed rapidly.
She continued, “The owner’s name is—”
“Nguyen?” Roberto asked.
She stared at the photo of Mr. Nguyen staring out of the screen and read the headline: Pawnshop Owner Killed.
“He was such a nice guy,” she whispered. And she could scarcely comprehend that, once again, the situation had skidded out of her control and into a murky area called danger. She pushed her hair off her suddenly sweaty brow. “This isn’t about you? Someone’s really trying to kill me? Me, personally?”
“Call your mother,” Roberto instructed.
Brandi was already dialing her mother’s number.
“Have her pack,” he said. “I want her out of the hotel and somewhere safe.”
Come on, Mother. Come on. Come on and answer.
“Hello?” Tiffany sounded crackling-bright and cheerful.
“Are you all right?” Brandi asked.
; “I’m fine! Just fine! Why?”
Brandi heaved a sigh of relief. She nodded reassuringly at Roberto. “Listen, Mother, we’ve got a situation here and no time to explain. I want you to go to Charles McGrath’s house. Can you do that?”
“Um, honey? That’s where I am right now. In fact—”
“Good.” Brandi collapsed against the seat. “Stay there until we get this cleared up.”
The cheer drained out of Tiffany’s voice. “What’s wrong? Brandi, I know that tone in your voice. What’s wrong?”
Now Brandi polished her voice to a bright sheen. “I’m fine, but it seems that when I pawned Alan’s diamond, I ran into trouble.”
“Is Alan threatening you? Because I can talk to him.” Beautiful, sweet Tiffany managed to make that sound like a threat.
“No, heavens no! Don’t do that. It’s not him, it’s just . . .” Brandi tried to look back over the last week and pinpoint the beginning of the trouble. She couldn’t. “Actually, Mother, when my pipes froze I would have been miles ahead if I’d licked them, gotten my tongue frozen to them, and stayed stuck until the spring thaw.”
Beside her, Roberto chuckled. He brought up a blank e-mail. His thumbs flew as he typed a message.
randi tilted her head and tried to read it, but he hit SEND before she could.
“Is that Roberto with you?” Tiffany asked.
“Yes, Mother.”
“As long as he’s with you, I know you’ll be safe.”
When her mother said stuff like that, Brandi bristled. “He’s just a man.”
“Tomorrow I’ll call and get you an eye appointment.”
Brandi glanced at him in the fading light. Her mother had a point.
“Brandi Lynn, you let me know what’s happening. Don’t forget this time!” Tiffany ordered.
“No, ma’am. And you be careful, too!” Brandi hung up. “She’s already at Uncle Charles’s.”
“His security is very good.” Roberto held a memory chip in the palm of his hand. “If I show you the footage of the guys in the lobby, do you think you could recognize them?”
“I can probably tell you if they’re the right age and size.”
He slid the chip into a slot of the computer. “Officer Rabeck enhanced the picture for me. There we are, and there they are.” He pointed at the door as first Roberto and then Brandi entered.
In a few minutes, the two young men followed.
The camera angle was high and to the right. The guys peeled off their coats. They wore black sports jackets and slacks. They kept their scarves high around their necks, but they looked respectable. One of them went up to the guard and spoke, gesturing at his friend and shivering graphically. The guard shrugged and gestured at a couch.
“While you were in the restroom, I talked to the guard.” Roberto tapped the screen with his finger. “He said the boy—that’s what he called him, a boy—told him they’d been waiting in their car for Jake Jasinski in International to come down so they could go to a family funeral. Jake had called them and said he was late and they were to come in and get warm.”
“What does Jake Jasinski say?” She watched the two guys go and sit on the couch near a potted plant.
“That he’s an orphan.”
“I’ll bet.” She took a breath from a chest that felt tight and panicked. “Those could definitely be the men in the pawnshop. It’s impossible to tell for sure, but—”
“The evidence is weighted in their favor.”
“But . . . why did they kill Mr. Nguyen?” She took Roberto’s wrist and looked into his eyes. “Why are they after me?”
“You said Mr. Nguyen was uneasy, so probably he knew they were going to hurt him, kill him.” Roberto covered her hand with his.
“Why didn’t he tell me something was wrong when I asked?”
“Maybe he was hoping to talk them out of it. Maybe he was a good guy who didn’t want you to get hurt.” Roberto’s fingers clenched over hers. “But for some reason they’re chasing you now, so I think there’s a good chance he gave you something they want.”
She touched her earrings. “I looked at them through the jeweler’s glass. They’re great stones, but those guys aren’t coming after me for the sapphires. Not when they could have stolen them in the shop.”
“So not the sapphires. How about the bag Mr. Nguyen wrapped them in?”
She spoke slowly, retracing that day in her mind. “I put them on in the shop. He gave me the case for them, but it’s just one of those velvet jeweler’s cases with the flip-top lid and the insert that sits in it holding the earrings, sort of, you know”—she gestured, trying to show Roberto the angle—“up for display.”
“Where’s the case?”
“In my coat pocket, which is why they didn’t get it when they ransacked my apartment. Nothing’s getting me out of my coat in this weather.”
“Well . . .” His mouth quirked. “Something might.”
At his reminder of their flagrant and reckless intercourse, heat washed through her.
She was being sensible. Yes, she was. But as always with Roberto, passion lurked close beneath the surface.
She’d changed since she met him. Had he changed, too, or was his life one long kamikaze escapade after another? Had she truly fallen in love with a modern-day pirate?
Of course she had. He planned to steal the Romanov Blaze.
This man—this criminal—had no place in her life.
At the realization, pain hovered very near. When she had time, she was going to sit down and cry.
But right now they had a crime to solve. “I thought we were having a rational and very necessary discussion.”
“We are, although it’s not the discussion I would prefer to have with you at this moment.” He sighed soulfully, as if he regretted every moment he spent not in her arms. Then he gazed at her wrapped in the warm winter-white velvet Gucci and said briskly, “This coat is not the right one?”
“No, it’s the London Fog, and it’s in the closet at the hotel. Roberto, do you suppose those guys are at the hotel searching the suite right now?”
“No. I just e-mailed the FBI and told them what was going on.”
“You told the FBI?” She was horrified. “But shouldn’t you be trying to keep a low profile?”
“A man in my profession has contacts. After all, I spent a lot of time with the good agents while they questioned me about stealing Mrs. Vandermere’s puny eight-carat diamond. If I can’t use the FBI in this situation, what use are they?”
“But you did promise to do the job for Mossimo, and if the FBI starts watching us—”
“Little Brandi.” Again Roberto put his gloved finger to her lips. “Listen to me. I swear to you, I will do the right thing. Trust me.”
When he said that, she wanted to die from joy that he cared and anguish that she couldn’t—didn’t dare—believe him. “Roberto, I want to trust you. I really do. But—”
His computer beeped. He glanced at the message that popped up. “The FBI is at the hotel now. They’re guarding our suite. And the stalkers must have discovered that their plan didn’t work, because they’re loitering in the lobby.”
Newby brought the car to a halt outside the hotel.
Roberto nodded toward a man under the awning bundled up in a doorman’s outfit. “That’s our FBI protection.”
“How can you tell?” He looked like a doorman to Brandi.
“I recognize him.”
“Right.” Brandi memorized his face. “Why doesn’t he go in and arrest those guys?”
For a moment Roberto looked almost . . . guilty, and he sounded glib. “He can’t do that until we know for sure who these guys are working for.”
“What? Trying to kill us isn’t a good enough reason to put them in jail?” Newby opened the door, and she got out of the car. “Do you remember when you were talking to Judge Knight, Roberto?”
Roberto followed her toward the hotel. “Yes,” he said cautiously.
“I’v
e decided you were right.” As they passed the fake doorman, she spoke right to him. “The FBI really are a bunch of idiots.”
24
Brandi knew Roberto had promised to steal the Romanov Blaze. She just didn’t know when.
Roberto knew.
Tonight was the night.
In a few short hours Roberto would be in the Art Institute of Chicago, in the innermost sanctum, lifting the giant sparkling stone from its display case. Afterward, accompanied by the Fossera men, he would go to the Stuffed Dog and deliver it to Mossimo, and then . . . ah, then the stain on the Contini family honor would be expunged, and Roberto would have the answers to the questions that had plagued him this past year.
But before he could steal the stone, he needed to discover the identity of the stalkers who wanted Brandi dead. He needed to know that when he left her alone, she would be safe.
At this hour, the hotel lobby teemed with guests. The concierge gave him a salute. The desk clerk greeted him by name. One of the female guests asked him for his autograph.
Brandi observed the parade of sycophants. “Everybody adores you.”
“But of course. I’m a celebrity. Don’t you find it amusing that notoriety gives me the same respect as wealth and respectability?” When she frowned, he grinned. She was predictable, his Brandi, charmingly so. “Now excuse me; I have to speak to someone.”
Going to the bell captain, he leaned close and murmured, “Do you see the two boys hanging around by the potted plants?”
“Yes, Mr. Bartolini.”
“They don’t belong in here. Throw them out.”
“Yes, sir.” The bell captain touched his forehead in an informal salute and signaled security.
Roberto rejoined Brandi, satisfied he’d done his part to make sure the stalkers were miserable and cold. It was the least Roberto could do for them.
Brandi waited for him by the elevator, and if Roberto hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the small hesitation as she stepped on board.
“We could walk up,” he suggested. “After a life-altering plunge, it’s all right to be afraid.”