Countdown (6 page)

“It wasn’t my business. If they wanted to fork out that kind of—” He broke off as he met her gaze. “Screw it.” He turned on his heel and strode down the street.

Jesus, he was cocky. She wanted to gun the car and drive over the bastard. He’d betrayed his friend and he was only worried about his own neck. She leaned her head against the steering wheel for a moment, gathering her composure.

Then she started the car and reached for the phone. Joe answered on the second ring.

“I want you to do something for me.” She stared after Paul as he reached the corner. “Paul Donnell is going to turn himself in to the police in the next couple hours.”

“What?”

“He set Mike up. He took twenty thousand dollars to get Mike to bring me to that alley.” She interrupted him as he started to curse. “He says they told him they only wanted to talk to me. He accepted it and didn’t ask questions. He didn’t give a damn.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yes. He said the name of the man who gave him the money was Ryan Leonard and that he knew nothing else about him. He didn’t get the name of the second man but he saw him close enough to give me a description. I want you to call Manning and tell him to get that description before Donnell tries to use it as a bargaining point. He’s capable of it.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell him not to make it easy on him.” Her voice was shaking. “He may not have pulled that trigger, but he was guilty as sin. I don’t want to see him walk.”

“I’m surprised you got him to talk.”

“So am I. But he was already scared and I used it. I’m on my way to his dorm to get the envelope with the last payment Leonard gave him. It just occurred to me that he might decide to double back and pick it up to use the money for his defense.”

“Let the police do it. There might be prints.”

“I’ll be careful. But there are too many restrictions on the police. It might take too long to get a writ to search his room, and there’s no way I’ll let him get his hands on that money. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later, Joe.” She hung up before he could argue with her.

She pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and started back toward the dorm.

B
itch. Whore.

Paul Donnell was seething with fury as he hurried down the street.

He’d always had a distaste for bossy women, and Jane MacGuire was a prime example of everything he hated. It was too bad Leonard hadn’t taken care of her in that alley.

Get rid of the anger. When he talked to the police, he had to appear heartbroken but straightforward and blame only himself. He could handle this. He could be very persuasive and he had to marshal all his talents. He’d call his father to get a lawyer to meet him at the police station. He’d read too many times of convictions that were caused by those first interviews with the police. He’d be respectful but tell those flatfeet that he’d been advised to get an attorney.

Yes, that was the strategy. But lawyers cost money and he wasn’t about to rely on a public defender. He’d have the best, and that would take—

Headlights.

He glanced behind him. No, it wasn’t the bitch coming after him. This was a bigger car, the beams of the headlights spearing the darkness of the quiet residential street. He glanced away and quickened his pace. He’d better move fast and get to that police station in case the bitch decided to break her word and pay them a visit before he could get in his innings. He wouldn’t put it past her to—

Light. All around him. A motor gunned, roaring.

What the hell was—

J
ane parked in front of the dorm and jumped out of the car.

It shouldn’t be too difficult to get into Paul’s room, she thought as she moved quickly toward the steps. She’d visited Mike numerous times, and if security questioned her, she could tell them that she’d left something in the room and wanted to retrieve it. If that didn’t work, she’d play it by—

“Jane.”

She stiffened. No. She was imagining— It couldn’t be him.

She slowly turned around.

Trevor.

He was dressed in jeans and a dark green sweater and he looked the same as the day she’d left him at the airport four years ago.

He smiled. “It’s been a long time. Have you missed me?”

She was jarred out of her shock. Arrogant ass. “Not at all. What are you doing here?”

His smile faded. “Believe me, I’d have preferred to stay away from you. It wasn’t possible.”

“You’ve done a good job of it for the last four years.” She shouldn’t have said that. It sounded reproachful, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she cared whether or not he’d forgotten her. “So have I. Water under the bridge.”

“I wish I could say the same.” His lips tightened. “We need to talk. My car is parked down the block. Come with me.”

She didn’t move. “I have something I have to do. Call me later.”

He shook his head. “Now.”

She started up the steps. “Go to hell.”

“You’ll find out more by coming with me than you will from that envelope in Donnell’s room.”

She stiffened and slowly turned to face him. “How did you know I was going after—”

“Come with me.” He started down the street. “I’ll have Bartlett keep an eye on the dorm to make sure Donnell doesn’t come back for the money.”

“Bartlett’s here?”

“He’s waiting in the car.” He looked back over his shoulder. “You trust Bartlett even if you don’t trust me.”

She was trying to clear her mind. “You know my friend Mike was killed?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I understand you were very close.”

“And how did you know about what happened tonight with Donnell?”

“I had Bartlett bug your car.”

“What?”

“And your dorm room.” He smiled. “Does that make you angry enough to follow me and give me hell?”

“Yes.” She came down the steps. “You’re damn right it does.”

“Good.” He moved down the street. “Then come along and I’ll give you the first five minutes to scold me.”

Scold? She wanted to murder him. He was just the same. Totally confident, totally contained, and totally without concern for anyone’s plans but his own.

“You’re thinking bad thoughts about me,” he murmured. “I can feel the vibes. You should really give me time to explain before you get angry.”

“You just told me you bugged my car.”

“It was done with the best of intentions.” He stopped before a blue Lexus. “Bartlett, I need to talk to her. Watch the dorm for Donnell and call me if he shows up.”

Bartlett nodded as he got out of the car. “My pleasure.” He smiled at Jane. “I’m glad to see you again. I’m sorry it’s under such unhappy circumstances.”

“I agree. Since you were evidently busy bugging my car and dorm room.”

Bartlett gazed reproachfully at Trevor. “Was it really necessary to tell her that?”

“Yes. Give him the keys to your car, Jane. He might as well be on stakeout in comfort.”

She started to refuse and then she met Bartlett’s gentle, dark eyes, which had always reminded her of Winnie the Pooh. It was no use being angry with Bartlett. He’d only been following Trevor’s orders. She tossed him the car keys. “You shouldn’t have done it, Bartlett.”

“I thought it best. Maybe I was wrong.”

“You were wrong.” She got into the passenger seat. “And don’t you let Donnell into that dorm if he comes back.”

“You know I’m not good at violence, Jane.” He added earnestly, “But I’ll be sure to let you know right away.”

She watched him walk away as Trevor got into the driver’s seat. “You shouldn’t have involved him. He’s no criminal.”

“How do you know? It’s been four years and he’s been associating with me. Maybe I corrupted him with my wicked ways.”

“Not everyone is corruptible.” Although the chances of anyone being able to withstand Trevor if he chose to exert that magnetism and intelligence that had drawn her to him were very slight. He was a Pied Piper who could persuade anyone that black was white. She had watched him twist situations to suit himself during those weeks they had been together, and knew the dazzling power of that silver tongue. “And you like Bartlett. You wouldn’t respect him if you were able to make a yes man of him.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. But there’s no danger of Bartlett becoming a yes man. He has too much character.”

“How did you persuade him to bug my car?”

“I told him it would help keep you safe.” His smile disappeared. “Though I didn’t expect you to waylay Donnell. That could have been dangerous. A desperate man is always a wild card.”

“He was scared. I could see it.”

“Frightened men have been known to strike out.”

“He didn’t and it’s over. It’s none of your business.” She turned to face him. “Or is it? You said you could tell me more than that envelope. Do it.”

“The other man’s name is probably Dennis Wharton. He generally works with Leonard.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve run into him in the past.”

“Then why didn’t you tell the police you knew who killed Mike?”

“I didn’t want them to go on the run.”

“Why not?”

“I want them for myself,” he said simply. “The police aren’t always efficient. I didn’t want to risk Leonard and Wharton getting another chance at you.”

“And you thought they’d try?”

“As long as the situation isn’t too dicey. The police aren’t making much headway. I’d bet those two will make at least one more try before someone else is sent to complete the job.”

“Sent by whom?”

He shook his head. “Really, Jane, I can’t tell you everything. Then I’d have nothing to use as a bargaining chip.”

“Why did they come after me?”

“They considered you a valuable asset in the game.”

“Game?” Her hands clenched. “It was no game. Mike died in that alley.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor said gently. “I don’t believe he was meant to die. It was an accident.”

“That’s no comfort. And how do you know what was meant to happen? What did you have to do with this?”

“Everything. It was probably my fault.”

“What?”

“I should have come sooner. I was hoping that I was wrong and there wouldn’t be a fallout, so I sent Bartlett instead. I should have bundled you up and taken you back with me.”

“You’re not making sense. What’s this all about?”

“Cira.”

Jane froze. “What?”

“Or to be more precise, Cira’s gold.”

She stared at him, stunned.

“A chest filled with gold over two thousand years old. The antiquity alone would make it exceptionally valuable. The fact that Julius Precebio gave it to his mistress, Cira, would even add to the mystique.”

“You found it?”

“No, but I’m on the trail. Unfortunately, there are others who know I’m on the trail and are looking for an edge.” He inclined his head at her. “And they found it.”

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Why would they think—”

He glanced away from her. “I’d bet they’re guessing you may be my Achilles’ heel.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps our past? That time we were together in Herculaneum was pretty highly publicized.”

“Ridiculous. You have no Achilles’ heel.”

He shrugged. “Like I said, they’re looking for an edge. I never said they found it. But I didn’t want to come here in case it seemed to confirm that they were right, so I sent Bartlett.”

“And they used Mike to get to me,” she said dully. “And that damn gold.”

“Yes.”

“Damn them.” She was silent a moment. “And damn you.”

“I thought you’d feel like that. But there’s nothing I can do now but damage control.”

“The damage is done.”

“It may have just started. They used Mike Fitzgerald to get to you. Who’s to say they won’t use someone else you care about?”

Her gaze flew to his face. “Eve? Joe?”

“Bingo. You’d go anywhere, do anything for them.”

“No one’s going to hurt them,” she said fiercely.

“Then your best bet is to avoid their involvement entirely. Get the hell away from them and go someplace where you’ll be safe.”

“And where is that?” she asked sarcastically.

“With me. I’ll keep you safe and I won’t have to worry about you being a thousand miles away.”

“I don’t give a damn about your blasted worries. And I’ll keep myself safe. You should never have—” She stopped as her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s Joe.”

“Donnell’s dead,” Joe said when she picked up the call. “And the police want to talk to you.”

“Dead?” She went rigid. “What are you talking about? He can’t be dead.” She saw Trevor stiffen next to her. “I just saw him a little over an hour ago.”

“Where?”

“I let him out of my car on one of the side streets about four miles from here.” She tried to think of the street name. “I don’t remember which one. I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“Donnell was killed by a hit-and-run driver on Justine Street. There was a witness in one of the houses who saw a light-colored car drive up on the sidewalk and hit him.”

“No accident.”

“Not likely. After the driver hit him, he backed over him.”

“Did the witness get a license number?”

“No. The kid had had a couple drinks and was feeling no pain. He was lucky to be able to dial the police and report what he’d seen. Where are you? I’ll send Manning to pick you up and get a statement.”

She still couldn’t believe it. “They killed him. . . .”

“That’s what you’ve got to convince Manning.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was killed by a light-colored sedan. You drive a tan Toyota Corolla. Donnell had admitted to you that he was an accessory to Mike’s death. You’d just come back from your friend’s funeral and were understandably upset.”

“But you called Manning and told him that Donnell was going to turn himself in.”

“And that you were concerned he’d get off. Do the math, Jane. Isn’t it reasonable that you might have changed your mind and gone back to take justice into your own hands?”

“No.” She had a sudden memory of that moment when she’d actually thought how much she’d enjoy running the cocky bastard down. “I might have been tempted, but I’m not an idiot.”