Family Jewels (7 page)

“I don’t know. Why not ask him?”

The waiter came by and refilled Trevor’s coffee cup. Cynthia stared at him. Conjecture swirled in the icy blue depths of his eyes, as if someone had stirred the water and created a vortex in them. She could get lost in that gaze. The force of it made her want to squirm in her chair.

Was he thinking again about the hot tub scene this morning? He said he’d forget about that. Somehow, she didn’t think he could—because she couldn’t either. Her pulse quickened at the thought of what it would be like to make love to this man, to kiss that handsome mouth and let his tongue flicker across the aching tips of her breasts.

She coughed to cover her sudden discomfort, hiding her mouth and most of her flaming cheeks behind a cloth napkin.

Trevor didn’t seem to notice. “I would be more than happy to speak with Mr. Andrews. However, he’s missing. If I knew where he was, I would ask him. You’re the last person to have seen him, Cyn, hence, the interest in you now. We suspect the man who broke into your apartment knew what Mr. Andrews had given you.”

All the blood in her body pooled down into her feet. “How could a burglar know that? Even if Mr. Andrews was into something illegal he wouldn’t want his own property stolen
before
it was insured. That just doesn’t make any sense. And just because he’s missing doesn’t mean anything. What if he had a family emergency? I know he’ll be coming back to claim his property.”

Trevor smiled, a gentle curve of his lips. “A nice assumption but Mr. Andrews doesn’t have any family in the United States. He’s not even an American citizen, despite living here for more than forty years.”

“Neither of which are crimes in this country.” She focused on stirring the melted whipped cream froth into her coffee. “But it does explain his accent. Where’s he from? My guess was Eastern Europe. Germany or maybe Poland.”

“Russia.”

“Oh.” She prided herself on not reacting too visibly to his news. So her client and his diamond were from the same country. Why did this all leave a bad taste in her mouth?

Their food arrived on a little cart pushed by the waiter. He set each dish down and lifted the domed silver covers with a flourish, allowing fragrant steam to curl into the air. Cynthia hardly noticed. Her previous hunger had all but disappeared now that she suspected her client of being involved in something dangerous, whether he wanted to be or not. Whatever it was, it involved her now, too.

The waiter left. Trevor reached for a small carafe of maple syrup and drizzled a golden streak over his waffle with careful precision. “Tell me about the diamond Mr. Andrews gave you.”

“No.”

“Why not? We’ve already established that’s what it is, right?”

“No, you assumed that’s what it is. I won’t tell you because my client hasn’t done anything wrong.” Cynthia cut into her omelet and watched melted Swiss cheese ooze out onto the plate. “Until I know differently I must protect his confidentiality and his property. To do anything less is unethical. Don’t think it’s because I don’t want to cooperate with you, Agent. I was very cooperative with the cops. But there’s a limit to what I can tell you. I’m not about to sabotage my career without a damned good reason.”

“I certainly don’t expect you to.” Trevor quirked an eyebrow and picked up his knife and fork. “Did you notice anything unusual about the diamond?” He lifted a healthy bite of sausage to his mouth.

She shook her head. “You have a one-track mind, Agent.”

“Not true.” He speared a strawberry loaded with whipped cream and ate it. “Did you see a mark of any sort? Numbers, perhaps?”

Cynthia chewed a mouthful of omelet, not really tasting her food. The quirky series of numbers she’d seen had excited Mr. Andrews too. What could they possibly mean? No matter. Ultimately her client had more right to that information than anyone else.

“Do you mean was it GIA laser-engraved?”

“That’s not what I meant. I asked if you saw a mark or numbers.”

“I can’t say.” She cast him a challenging grin.

His eyes narrowed to slits of blue. “Can’t? Or, won’t?”

She shrugged. “Both.”

After a bite of his waffle, Trevor’s posture suddenly changed from relaxed to rigid and alert. He stared over her shoulder, focused on something or someone in the crowd behind her. When she started to turn around to see what caught his attention, he grabbed her hand.

“No, Cyn. Don’t turn around.” He spoke softly, just above whispering. “Are you finished with your meal?”

“No. Why?”

“We need to leave, darling.”

“I’m not your darling.” She pushed her plate aside. “I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll take it home and heat it up for dinner.”

“We’ll go out for dinner.” He opened his wallet and laid a crisp fifty-dollar bill on the edge of the table. He put his almost empty coffee cup on top of the money. “Let’s go. Straight to the car, no stops inside the lobby or for the ladies’ room.”

“What’s the rush?”

Trevor stood and took her elbow in a strong grip, urging her out of her chair. “Cynthia, I need you to trust me now. Just come along, quickly.”

She started to argue, having sucked in a long breath for it but the urgency she felt in him through his touch and the dangerous look in his hard eyes made her pause. He took her hand, squeezing slightly. She grabbed her backpack and purse and walked with him.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. Her skin tingled where his breath touched her. To the casual observer it would look like a lover’s whisper. “Where we go depends on our tail. I’ll decide once we’re in the car.”

“Tail? What kind of tail? Speaking of tails, I really need to go home now. My cat is still missing.”

“I’m sorry about your cat. Your life is more valuable to me.”

“What? Wait a freaking minute here!” She jerked her hand out of his. “My life? Am I still in danger?”

Trevor stepped back and put his arm around her shoulders, forcefully guiding her forward again. “Not here, Cyn. I’ll explain in the car. Now move.”

They exited the restaurant and hurried through the luxurious hotel lobby, across the polished marble floor, stopping only as long as it took to reclaim his jacket from a cheerful coat check girl. He wrapped the heavy leather around Cynthia’s shoulders and urged her out the doors to the valet parking station. Trevor gave the hotel valet attendant his claim ticket and then ushered Cynthia over to stand against the wall. He kept his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into the firm warm length of his body.

Geez
,
the man feels good
!
He even smells good
.
Clean and woodsy
.

Outside it snowed. Light flakes floated down and quickly melted on contact with the well-trodden concrete sidewalk. Trevor’s rental car, a silver Ford Taurus, was pulled into the hotel driveway and stopped beside a taxi where another valet unloaded passengers and luggage.

“Let’s go.” Trevor propelled her toward the car, glancing once over his shoulder at the hotel lobby. He yanked open the passenger side door. “Get in.”

Puzzled, Cynthia moved woodenly, deciding to wait until he started driving to ask the questions humming in her brain. He shut the door as soon as she was inside and practically vaulted over the hood to get to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel, shifted the car into drive and sped off.

Chapter Seven

Cynthia had never been inside a car with a driver who actually squealed the tires in his haste to make a getaway. She scrambled into her seat belt and then grabbed the armrest for support.

“You should buckle up, Trevor. It’s against the law here to drive without it.”

He ignored her comments and pulled into traffic on West 57th Street without stopping, narrowly missing a furniture delivery truck and immediately merged into the far lane. He cut off a cab. The driver honked several times. Even though she couldn’t hear the words, the obscenities she saw coming out of the cabbie’s mouth incinerated the air.

“Okay, I get the point.” Her voice wavered nervously. “We’re in a hurry. Can you just take a moment now to tell me what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

He kept looking in the rearview and side mirrors. “Someone is following us. I spotted one of them waiting outside the police precinct when we left. That same man came into the restaurant a few moments ago and he brought his hulking friend with him this time. My guess is they’re somehow related to the man who paid you an uninvited visit last night.”

She sat, stunned. Her stomach flip-flopped. Then she spun around in her seat to look out the rear window. She didn’t notice anything unusual about the traffic behind them. “What? Where are they?”

Sliding from lane to lane, taking risks even cabbies didn’t take, Trevor remained calm. “Dark gray sedan, two men,” he said. “One of them is Asian. Short on stature but he moves like a tiger on the hunt. The other is taller. Big blond, looks like he might have been one of your American football players. Know them?”

“No. Do you?”

He sent her a stern look. “They seem to know you.”

She shrank down in her seat. Panic curled inside her stomach threatening the few meager bites of omelet she’d eaten. “Oh my God. Why? I don’t know anything.”

He glanced at her again, his eyes narrowed with doubt. “Are you sure? There’s not some small thing you want to confess? I can help you, Cyn. But only if I know everything.”

The wide back end of a slow-moving trash truck lumbered ahead of them. Trevor sped past it, dodging in front as soon as the car’s bumper cleared. That driver honked at them too. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and then popped them open wide again when velocity pushed her back in her seat. Trevor sped up through an intersection just as the light turned red. Cynthia held her breath, fully expecting another car to hit them broadside.

“Shit.” Her breath whistled out from between her clenched teeth. “Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed.”

“Not bloody likely,” he murmured, expertly maneuvering around a stretch limousine. Without warning he swerved the car into a parking garage, barely waiting long enough for the automated ticket to spit out and raise the gate.

“Why are we parking?”

“We’re not. We’re losing our tail. And we need to finish our talk.”

He drove around the garage until he found a secluded parking space on the fourth level. He turned off the engine and slid his seat back. It gave him enough legroom to swivel sideways to face her.

Cynthia unbuckled her seat belt. If she needed to get out of the car quickly, for whatever reason…

“Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her breath came quick and shallow. Her hands trembled. How foolish had she been to trust him to this point? What the hell did she know about Trevor St. James? Nothing. It didn’t matter now that Captain Hill had introduced them, practically insisted she speak to him. Trevor was a big, strong man and would easily be able to overpower her in such close confines. And she didn’t have the benefit of a golf club this time.

He reached over to her shoulder and lifted the collar of his jacket up. “May I?”

She leaned forward and let him take his coat, immediately missing the warmth and security it offered. He reached inside the pocket and produced a small key, then leaned over to unlock the glove compartment. She jerked when his hand brushed against her knee.

“Please, just relax. I’m going to put my harness and gun back on, where they belong. If push comes to shove, I’d rather not be caught unprepared.”

She watched warily when he shrugged into the leather harness, settling the big gun against his left side. He tugged his jacket back on, hiding his weapon from view.

“Better?”

Cynthia forced a smile, dimly aware that her whole body trembled. She took a deep breath, cringing when it warbled in her throat. Even her damned chin quivered.

He raised his hand and stroked his knuckles across her cheek with the most feather-soft of touches. “You’re a very beautiful and brave woman, Cynthia Lyons. I won’t let them near you. I promise.”

Her eyes blurred and prickled with tears. She swiped the annoying wetness away, knocking his hand away too. “Stop it! I don’t need coddling, Agent. I can and do take care of myself.”

Trevor pulled back. “I don’t doubt that for a moment.”

“Good. Tell me why they want me.”

“It’s very complicated.” His voice dropped, husky and soothing inside the confines of the car. The warm British baritone made goose bumps dance across the skin of her arms.

“Complicated?” She blinked through blurry vision. “Well, my life is complicated, too. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I need to know why these guys want me.”

“They want what you have, not specifically you, if that’s any consolation.”

She laughed sarcastically. “No, it’s not. I’m trying to understand, Trevor. But you’re not giving me a single reason to break my code of ethics and ruin my career.”

Trevor leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. Despite her rising fear and confusion, the corded muscles in his neck and the sharp angle of his jaw fascinated her. When he opened his eyes, she jolted at the raw desperation in them.

“I need your trust,” he said. “You must describe the diamond to me. Don’t leave out the tiniest detail.”

“I need air.” Cynthia opened the car door and got out. She walked the few feet past the car’s bumper to the concrete wall and stared at the pale cracks that zigzagged through it like bolts of frozen lightning.

The driver’s side door opened. She heard his steps come up behind her.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle, concerned voice.

“Yeah. No. Not really.” She thought of her initial joy at first seeing the Russian white diamond. What a beautiful stone Mr. Andrews owned! But remembering her struggle with the man who broke into her apartment and threatened her with a knife interfered with that.

The image of her brave cat flashed into her mind. Surely, he lay dead or horribly injured in an alley somewhere, with blood staining his beautiful white fur.

“Oh God. Moses.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and fought back tears.