Charmed and Dangerous (18 page)

She lifted her head. David passed her the glass of water Antonio had fetched.

“I still can’t believe, Cassie would . . .” Overcome with emotion, Maddie broke off and closed her eyes against the image frozen on the monitor.

“Is there some place where Maddie can lie down?” he asked Antonio.

“In Isabella’s office,” Antonio replied.

“I’m okay,” Maddie insisted. “I want to keep watching the tape.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” David said.

“I’m not moving until I know exactly what we’re up against.”

“All right,” he conceded and nodded at the technician. “Roll it.”

They watched as Cassie and the gunman forced Isabella down the corridor and into the main gallery. Walking stiffly but with her head held high, Isabella led them to the room housing the El Greco.

The masked man kept the gun trained on Isabella while Cassie tied her up and left her on the floor. Then together, Cassie and the man boxed up the El Greco in the crate they’d brought with them and left the room. They disappeared off camera for several minutes.

“Where did they go?” David asked Antonio.

The policeman shrugged. “There are a few areas of the museum out of camera range.”

Cassie and the gunman reappeared on the hallway camera wheeling the crate on the dolly.

David blew air through his teeth with a prolonged hissing sound but Maddie didn’t dare glance over at him. She couldn’t stand to see the pity on his face. Nausea swept over her again and she felt dizzy.

“I think I’ll lie down now,” she said.

“Good choice,” David said. “Come on.”

Antonio led the way to Isabella’s office. David kept his hand braced against the small of Maddie’s back, guiding her along, offering support. They passed the ladies room on the way and Maddie made note of it in case she felt the urge to puke again.

“Hang in there,” he whispered.

God, he was being too nice to her. She wished he would stop being so nice so she could hate him for being right about Cassie.

She was still having trouble absorbing everything she’d just seen. Disoriented, she eased down on the black leather couch in Isabella’s office and didn’t resist when David told her to tuck her head between her knees.

This wasn’t like her. She didn’t come unglued. She was the strong one. If she wasn’t cool and calm and thoroughly in control, then who in the hell was she? She’d always been so certain of herself. She was Cassie’s twin sister. Her loyal protector, her staunchest defender.

Isabella voiced her internal fears. “You must be very shocked, Maddie. I’ve never seen you fall apart. It is frightening, though, to think that Cassie has become a common criminal. I can hardly believe it myself.”

“Could you give us a moment in private, Señora Vasquez?” David asked.

Isabella nodded and departed, pulling the door closed behind her.

David threaded a hand through his hair and plunked down on the couch beside Maddie. “It looks bad for Cassie,” he said and she had a feeling he was choosing his words very carefully.

“I can’t believe she did it.” Maddie shook her head repeatedly. “But it’s right there, caught on tape. My twin sister is a thief.”

David said nothing.

“Why?” Maddie asked. “Why would she do this?”

“Maybe it’s a case of Stockholm Syndrome. Where the kidnapped victim identifies with her captor. Like Patty Hearst.”

“Patty Hearst went to jail,” Maddie said gloomily, but she clung to his explanation.

“Yes, but she got a light sentence.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me?”

He shrugged. “I’m trying my best.”

“I thought you didn’t believe Cassie had been kidnapped.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”

She looked at him. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working.”

“Then how about this?” David slipped an arm around her.

“How about what?”

“This.”

He kissed her. Lightly, slowly, tenderly. The exact opposite of the way he’d kissed her on the train.

His lips tasted like cool peppermint and total calamity, but she didn’t even care. His arms were strong around her waist and his tongue was welcoming against hers. She accepted what he offered and heaven help her, she kissed him back.

In past relationships, she’d had trouble letting go. Kissing was often awkward and fraught with expectation. She usually thought about her performance too much, worried what the guy was thinking about.

But with David, she just melted.

His thumb slid along her jaw, stopped at the pulse point in her neck. Her heartbeat jumped against the pad of his thumb and something primordial in her throbbed in response.

David picked up on her mood and deepened the kiss while his hands got busy elsewhere. He spread his fingers against the base of her skull, threading through her hair while his other hand inched up inside her sweater.

She could feel the urgent need in the eager yet hesitant way his hand skimmed over her bra, touching her breasts with an excited caress. His eagerness told her he hadn’t been with a woman in a long time.

She tasted his yearning, smelled his impatience.

It matched her own.

She sank into him. Instinct, nature and her body crowding out the protests telling her this was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong man.

But she could think of nothing except how good his tongue tasted in her mouth, how sweetly her breasts tingled against the brush of his knuckles, how wonderfully numb her mind was.

He swept her away and she allowed herself to be tossed by uncertain waters, clinging with her arms around his neck, her eyes closed, her body immersed in sensation.

His breath was warm. The room was warm. Her feminine core warmer still.

Warm and moist and willing.

Dear God, what was she doing?

Her body’s wet reaction to his kisses yanked her back to reality. How could she have let herself go so irresponsibly?

For two breathtaking minutes she had been absorbed in her own selfish needs and had completely forgotten about Cassie’s predicament.

What kind of sister was she?

To assuage her guilt and remind herself of her mission, she reached up to touch the half-a-heart necklace. But it was gone.

Vanished.

And she had no idea when or where she’d lost it.

“Oh no,” Maddie moaned. “I really am going to throw up.”

Bewildered, David watched Maddie dash into the hallway in hot pursuit of the ladies room. Well, that was a first. His kisses had never made a woman toss her cookies before.

Yeah, Marshall, you’re a real lady-killer.

Problem was, he felt woozy himself and it had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the fact he’d just violated every one of his ethical standards.

What was it about Maddie that shattered his best intentions? How come his instincts to comfort and protect her always seemed to end up with him getting touchy-feely?

Because this attraction wasn’t purely physical.

And that’s what scared the living hell out of him. This stupid, inexplicable need to be her knight in shining armor.

He’d crossed some bizarre threshold into a funhouse mirror of distorted emotions that he could not trust. Hadn’t he learned the hard way you couldn’t depend on love to be there when you needed it?

He couldn’t be in love with her. He wasn’t in love with her.

And yet, why did it feel like magic every time he kissed her?

David shook off his mental confusion. Forget the kiss. Forget your feelings. Forget trying to make sense of your relationship with Maddie. You’ve got bigger troubles.

Like, where was Cassie? And how had Jocko Blanco gotten his hands on her? And what had happened to Shriver?

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell Maddie his suspicions that Blanco had kidnapped Cassie, used her to break into the Prado and then spirited her away along with the El Greco. He would need to study the tape again, but every bone in his body was telling him Cassie had not been a willing participant in the crime.

When he thought about Blanco’s ruthless reputation, his own stomach churned.

So what to do? Tell Maddie about his fears concerning Blanco or let her go on believing it was Cassie and Shriver on the tape?

He didn’t like either alternative, but he knew one thing for sure, the longer Cassie was with Blanco, the more dire her situation. He had to take action and the sooner the better.

Before he could make a decision, Maddie came staggering back into the room.

“David,” she cried. “Come quick. I know where Cassie’s gone and I have proof Shriver forced her to help him steal the El Greco!”

When they heard Maddie shout, Antonio and Isabella came running from the security office and spilled into the corridor to join David and Maddie on their mad trot into the ladies room.

Maddie had David by the hand and she was dragging him through the door.

“What is it?” he said. “What did you find?”

She screeched to a halt in front of the bathroom mirror so suddenly he almost smacked into her.

“Look, look!” she cried triumphantly and gestured at what was written in flaming scarlet lipstick across the mirror.

Midnight Rendezvous.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” David asked, not getting what she was babbling about.

“When we lived in Madrid Cassie had a hush-hush affair with a notorious playboy from Monaco. He would send his private plane—
Midnight Rendezvous
—to pick her up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m afraid not. My sister is very flamboyant. She even partied with members of the royal family. Of course, I was a nervous wreck during the fling. Those small planes go down all the time and who knew if the pilot shared the playboy’s party-hearty philosophy.”

“So what’s that got to do with anything?”

Maddie clutched his sleeve and tugged like an impatient child trying to capture her father’s attention. “This proves Cassie’s not guilty. This is her favorite lipstick. She had to write the message in code in case Shriver came into the restroom and caught her. She’s sending me a clue, David. This clue says she’s been forced to help steal the painting and Shriver’s taken her to Monaco.”

Chapter

THIRTEEN

C
ASSIE HUDDLED IN
the passenger seat of the rented Peugeot with Jocko Blanco behind the wheel. They’d flown from Madrid to Nice, rented a car there and were driving to Monaco where Jocko had a buyer for the El Greco—which was now locked in the trunk—all lined up.

He was taking the curves like Lucifer, snarling and honking at slower moving vehicles. Whenever Cassie so much as gasped, Blanco would fling her a threatening glance and fondle the ugly looking gun in his lap.

Oh God, where was Maddie when you needed her?

Cassie clutched the dashboard until her knuckles were white and prayed for a miraculous deliverance.

Jocko Blanco had entered her bedroom through the open balcony window the night before and taken her hostage. The Interpol guy who’d been tailing her ever since she’d arrived in Madrid had attempted to come to her rescue when Blanco dragged her out the side entrance of the hotel, but Blanco had shot him in the shoulder and left him for dead in the alley.

Blanco had then stolen a delivery service van. Just before dawn, he’d forced her to call Isabella Vasquez and ask the curator to meet her at the delivery entrance.

He’d spoiled all her intricate plans.

Cassie had tried to resist, but he’d twisted her arm so it brought tears to her eyes. She wasn’t physically tough like Maddie. Between the threat of more pain and the cold handgun shoved hard against her side, she’d had little choice but to play along. She kept hoping she would think of a way out of this.

She wondered where Peyton was and what he would do when he showed up in Madrid and found her gone. Would he assume the worst and think she’d thrown in her lot with Jocko?

And what about Isabella? Was her friend still trussed in the museum? Cassie chewed the inside of her cheek. Had anyone found her yet? She prayed that Izzy was okay. She’d made sure to tie the ropes as loosely as she dared and she’d apologized for having to gag her.

How badly she had wanted to give her friend some clue that Blanco was holding her hostage. But she’d been terrified that if Blanco knew what she was up to, he would simply shoot Izzy, the way he’d shot the Interpol guy. She refused to risk Izzy’s life in order to save her own skin, so she’d kept quiet.

Cassie knew the heist had been recorded on security cameras. She knew the authorities would assume that the masked, gloved Blanco was Peyton. She had realized she would have to do something to prove her innocence while keeping Izzy safe. She had to let Maddie know she’d been taken prisoner to Monaco.

Seized with inspiration, she had begged Blanco to let her go to the bathroom before they left the museum. At first, she thought he was going to say no. She hopped around like a four year old on the playground until he finally relinquished and told her to make it snappy.

She dashed into the bathroom and scrawled
Midnight Rendezvous
in the only thing she had handy—her favorite tube of Lancôme. Never mind that the lipstick cost twenty-eight dollars a pop, once on, the stuff did not come off without a high quality make-up remover.

She was certain her sister would know what
Midnight Rendezvous
meant. Maddie had certainly been pissed off enough about her madcap affair with the flashy playboy.

What if Maddie doesn’t come after you?

When has she
not
come after you? No need to worry on that score. Her sister was as predictable as Big Ben.

Blanco whipped the car around a puttering truck loaded with crates of live chickens and snarled a fresh batch of expletives. Feathers flew across the windshield as the startled driver swerved onto the narrow shoulder.

Cassie caught her breath. Okay, okay, okay. Calm down. What would Maddie do in this particular situation?

Um, well, Maddie probably would never be in this situation.