Beauty & the Beast (7 page)

She called their credit card companies and put alerts on their cards. Then she made sure she had the room key and scrawled a message to Vincent on the hotel notepad. She placed it beside the nightstand and this time she took her phone. She thought about calling Tess but just as quickly nixed the impulse. Tess was not expecting her to stay in touch. Tess and JT had given Vincent and Cat express orders not to include them on their honeymoon. It was for the two of them, not the four—or the five, if you included Heather. They weren’t supposed to include anyone.

“So, Tess,” Cat said to the phone without placing the call. “We’re having a pretty crazy first night.”

* * *

All Cat found in the gift shop was a pricey gold lamé bikini, which she decided to buy because never in a million years would Vincent expect her to own one, and it was Just. So. Hollywood.

“Did you hear about the burglaries?” she asked the clerk as she verified the purchase because of the fraud alert. “My husband and I had our room broken into.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “And you’re the honeymooners,” she said. “I’m so sorry.” She leaned forward. “Mitchell Samosa’s room was hit. You know, the actor.”

Cat knew who he was—a really hot young star. He’d also just gotten married. In fact, he’d been married less time than Vincent and her.

“Was he here on a delayed honeymoon too?” she asked the clerk.

The woman leaned forward even closer. She looked left, then right. “No,” she said in an undervoice. “But he wasn’t here by himself.” Cat stared at her. “Makeup girl,” she whispered.

Cat was scandalized. The woman nodded, pleased to have made an impression.

“Do you think this might have been a retaliatory act?” Cat asked. The woman frowned, not following. “Do you think someone was trying to publicize his indiscretion? Tossing his room, getting it into the news that he was here with someone besides his wife?”

“That might be,” the clerk said, thinking it through. “But George the security guard told me that nothing was taken. It would have been stickier if something had been. Insurance report, police. But nothing. We already put the two of them in cabs and sent them on their way. Two different ways. So much for
that.
”

Cat nodded. In a perverse way, she felt a little better that her own stuff had been overlooked.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you about it,” the clerk requested. “I’d lose my job. So would George.”

“No worries.” Cat smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

As she left the shop, the woman put the
CLOSED
sign up. Cat was about to take the stairs when she had the strangest sensation that she was being watched. Call it years on the job or simple intuition, but she was sure someone was lurking nearby.

The shadow of a palm tree afforded her cover as she took herself out of view. She turned on the video portion of her phone and panned it as steadily as possible as she performed a visual scan of the stairway.

“Catherine, it’s me,” Vincent said, and she stepped away from the palm tree.

“Any luck?”

“The thieves left together in one car. There were tire tracks. I’m sure the police will take prints. And
yes
, I took pictures of the tracks with my phone.” He grinned at her. “What were you up to? You can take the cop out of New York City…”

“Just making a small purchase.” She rattled her bag. “Which I will now model for you if you’d like.”

He tried to peek in the bag. She gave him a little bat.

“I would like,” he said.

When they got to their room, she put it on. He was about to take it off of her when an expensive bottle of champagne and a large bouquet of roses arrived—Vincent had planned ahead, but it had taken the hotel staff some time to locate their switched room—as well as an elaborate fruit and cheese basket and vouchers for massages, courtesy of the apologetic management. They filled up their two-person in-room whirlpool tub with bubble bath while Vincent popped the cork and Cat arranged a platter of delicacies and placed them within reach of the frothing bubbles.

“They could have at least taken my phone,” Cat said as she slid into the churning water. “It’s practically brand new.”

“We shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Vincent argued. “If they had taken something, we’d probably be making statements to the police instead of drinking champagne and eating strawberries naked.”

“I wonder if any of the other guests who moved are shipmates of ours.” She had already shared the gossip about Mitchell Samosa with him. “What a way to start a vacation, you know? It’s like we’re crime magnets or something.” Cat popped a pineapple chunk into Vincent’s mouth. He chewed appreciatively. “I’m
so
glad we shipped our bags ahead. What a mess
that
would have been.”

“Luck’s on our side. For people whose stuff gets manhandled.”

They clinked champagne glasses and luxuriated.

CHAPTER NINE

Anatoly pinched the bridge of his nose hard to keep from launching into a barrage of Russian swear words and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“What do you mean, you didn’t find it?” he said into the phone. “She packed the jacket.” He had a thought. “Was she wearing it?”

“No. We had a tail on them. They had dinner and walked down by the beach. She didn’t have on the jacket.”

“Then it had to be in her room,” he said through clenched teeth.
Unless she lost it. Or someone else got to it before we did.
Suresh had had another buyer but Anatoly had no idea who “Mr. Q” was. Could it be that this mysterious rival had already tracked down the chip?
Did Suresh tell him about the jacket?
The pieces didn’t quite fit.

“We tossed her room, and several others to make it look like a random crime of opportunity. The hotel moved them. She went to the gift shop but he stayed in the room. But Anatoly, we looked through everything they had.”

What if she had misplaced it? It was possible, if she was even half as stupid as her sister.

“Check the lost and found of the hotel and the restaurant. Search the beach. Call me back in half an hour.”

He disconnected and phoned Svetlana in New York. It was two a.m. there. Seven a.m. in London, where he was.

“
Da
,” she said sleepily.

“Wake up the girl. Make absolutely certain that her sister packed the jacket. I don’t care what you do to her. Make sure she’s telling you the truth.”

“
Da
, Anatoly.” She sounded more awake now. Good girl. Good smart girl. “Do you want me to get Ilya?”

“
Nyet
. This you can do on your own.” He was throwing her a bone, allowing her to show some initiative while at the same time giving her a break from his nephew. He hoped she appreciated it. “Call me back when you have something concrete.”

He hung up.

* * *

Heather gasped as ice water hit her in the face. Her hair, face, and front were drenched and as she sputtered, a harsh white light blinded her. When she jerked against the zip-ties, needle-sharp pains sliced through the numbness in her arms and legs. She choked back a cry of agony and fought not to panic.

“Hello.” The light receded and as Heather blinked, the figure holding the flashlight wobbled into focus. It was the Russian woman. Svetlana. She was wearing a sweatshirt and black leggings, and her hair was pulled back. She wore no makeup and Heather was surprised to see how young she looked. Her age, maybe. And naturally pretty. Heather was in some kind of cell, like in a prison, with vertical metal bars. She could see stacks of boxes. Something stank like sewer water. A creature chittered in the dark.

Rat
, she thought, gooseflesh rising along her arms. She tried to lift her legs off the ground but they were restrained against the chair.

“Please untie me,” Heather said. “This hurts so much and I’ve already sworn I won’t run away.”

“Shut up.” Svetlana aimed the flashlight in her eyes again. “Now, listen. Where is jacket? Your sister does not have. We have sent new people back to apartment. If they find, I shoot you. Through your eye. For lies.”

“
What?
” Heather cried. “Are you kidding?”

Her answer was a sharp slap across her face. Her head snapped back. Yellow dots exploded behind her eyelids and she heaved, sick to her stomach. Svetlana threw more water at her. Heather was so dizzy that for a moment she thought she’d fallen sideways again.

“Do I seem joking? Where is jacket?”

“She said she was going to pack it!” Heather cried. “We were talking about it because she was worried about getting my rash, and Vincent told her it was fine. If she left it behind I’m sorry! I had it but I gave it back to her!”

“You were Suresh girlfriend. He tell you about chip.”

“No!” She winced, pain and fear firing every synapse. She was shaking so hard her ribs ached as if they would crack. She didn’t want to know about any of this. The less she knew, the better. If she knew too much, they’d kill her.

“Wait,” she said, as Svetlana prepared to hit her again. “
Wait.
She
packed
it. Of course she doesn’t have it.” She heard herself. She had one more chance not to lead these people to Cat. But Cat was her only hope, her lifeline. And there was Vincent, her beast brother-in-law. He’d tear these people apart—literally—if they came after him and Cat.

“What you are saying?” Svetlana demanded. “Packing is in suitcase! Suitcase is in hotel room! Chip is not there!”

Heather nodded, trying to think straight. It felt so wrong to tell her. But she couldn’t figure out what else to do.

“There was a special s-s-s-service.” Terrified, cold and wet, she was stammering. “Please, can’t you untie me? I’ll tell you. It hurts s-so much I can’t even think.”

The woman frowned. “Ilya will see.”

“S-so? Is he the boss of you?” Despite the horror she had witnessed, Heather had had the presence of mind to watch her captors. They didn’t like each other. Each was vying for control.

Svetlana balled a fist and Heather braced herself for a lot of pain. But the punch did not come. Instead, Svetlana left her alone. What if she had gone to get a gun? What if she was going to shoot her through the eye here?

Oh, God, oh, my God.
Heather went blind with panic. She jerked on the zip-ties and squeezed back hot tears.

The woman returned. She was holding a knife and as before, Svetlana cut the tie that bound her wrists together. The pain as the blood rushed back into her constricted hands and fingers was almost more than she could bear. She held her hands together, then tried to make herself rub them.

“Okay, I did for you,” Svetlana snapped. “Talk.”

Heather wanted to ask her to free her legs, too, but she didn’t want to piss Svetlana off. But it was hard work to form words.

“They sent their luggage ahead,” she said. Svetlana scowled at her. Maybe she didn’t understand. Heather tried again. “The cruise ship company took their suitcases. They sent them to Los Angeles. To put on the ship.”

Understanding dawned. Svetlana closed her eyes slowly as if in frustration.

Try to grab the knife
, Heather told herself, staring at it.
She won’t expect it. Go for it.

But she couldn’t make herself do it. She was paralyzed, both with fear and the trauma of the long hours in restraints. Her legs were still tied to the chair. And how much damage could she do with a knife? Ilya was probably somewhere around here. Svetlana would yell for him. And tell him to bring a gun.

“Okay, good, Heather Chandler,” Svetlana said. She turned to go and started walking out of the cell.

The door was open all this time
, Heather thought.
If I hadn’t been tied up, I could have made a run for it.

“Please, Svetlana, my legs?”

Svetlana stopped walking. She hesitated for a beat. “
Nyet
,” she replied without looking at Cat. Then she shut the cell door behind herself.

“Cat, I’m sorry,” Heather whispered.

Come back for me…

* * *

“You understand what I am saying, Miguel,” Anatoly said. He had removed the SIM card from his phone and inserted a fresh one to place this call. He had stacks, piles of SIM cards and throwaway phones. It was nine a.m. in London now. Why did everything move so slowly every time there was need for urgency?

“
Sí
, Anatoly. No worries. You know what I can do. I have lots of people in L.A. for this kind of thing. I’ve done many jobs like this before. Successfully. I’ll get my people aboard and no one will know who they are.”

“No one suspicious. The woman is a police detective.”

“They’ll melt into the ship’s population. No one will realize they’re my operatives. I swear it.”

Anatoly tried to picture the kind of people Miguel Escalante would send. Not gangbangers, that was certain. Miguel was a wealthy, classy Angeleno. He had moved himself out of the
barrio
early in life, become educated, moved in high circles. Yet no dirtier street fighter walked the alleys of East Los Angeles.

If Anatoly were aboard the
Sea Majesty
himself, would he be able to identify Escalante’s soldiers?

“Very well,” Anatoly said. “Do it.”

“
Por favor
, put the deposit in my offshore account.”

Anatoly could feel himself relaxing. Just a little, but it was a welcome respite from all the tension. In his early years, he had questioned his suitability for this path in life. In the movies, those who operated outside the law were portrayed either as depraved monsters or heartless sociopaths. He was neither. He was a normal person, and just like any other normal person, he got nervous when business wasn’t going well. Even billionaires bit their nails when the stock market tanked.

But he had more faith in the individual to whom he was speaking than anyone in his own organization, sad to say. Faith, however, was not the same as trust.

“By the way, amigo, I assume you have not been contacted by anyone else,” he said slowly, “for any reason, about the
Sea Majesty.
”