Flawless (24 page)

“I'll take care of it—anonymously,” he promised her.

“That easily?” she asked.

“Absolutely. I owe you,” he assured her.

“You don't owe me,” she told him.

“Then just think of me as a humanitarian. Either way, consider it handled.”

She thanked him and rang off, then headed back into the office. “Day job,” she said to explain her absence.

“I rest my earlier point,” Kevin said.

She nodded. “Point taken. For now, I have to start looking for Joes,” she said.

“Joes?”

“Yep. Declan told me to go through the receipts and find anyone named Joe or Joseph.”

“Okay. Go for it.”

She booted up the second computer and had already found eleven possibilities when there was a knock at the door. It was Declan, escorting Detective Mayo.

She handed Mayo the list of what she'd found already. She'd annotated it with all the information she had, adding a note if it was a regular, even about how old they were and what they did for a living, if she knew.

“Excellent work,” Mayo said. “And I've brought my laptop, so if you'll log me on, I can help.”

Declan left them to it, and for the next hour the three of them worked in near silence, except for the occasional pertinent comment.

When they finished, she printed out the results for Mayo, who folded them up and tucked them in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he said. “Wish I could stay for dinner, but there are a few other places in the city I want to look in on for myself,” he said. “Do some more investigating of my own.”

Kieran frowned. Something was definitely going on. Clearly Mayo wasn't the one in charge of this investigation.

Kieran walked him to the door.

“Take care, Miss Finnegan,” he said with genuine concern. “I mean it.”

“I will,” she promised. Then she headed back to the bar, where she saw that Jimmy was still seated with his two new friends.

She stopped by their table. “Can I get you anything?”

“We're fine,” Jimmy said. “I'm just talking music with these two fine fellows.”

“Great,” she said, leaving quickly.

She found Kevin at the bar talking to Declan.

They both looked up at her, and Declan said, “Kevin is going to go with you to your apartment, and then he'll hop the subway back to his place.”

She looked at her twin. “You're not going to stay over?”

He shook his head. “I have to get some things at my apartment.”

“Then it's senseless for you to see me home,” she said. “I can just get a cab.”

“Not alone,” Declan told her.

Normally she would have argued with him, would have assured him that she knew which areas were safe and which weren't, and that she knew how to watch out for suspicious people and stay out of the shadows. After all, she was a native New Yorker.

But things were different now that she knew someone wanted her dead. She could have told one of her brothers.

But they would have called in the cops, not to mention the FBI, and she would have been putting Tanya in danger, besides.

“Okay,” she said simply.

By the time Kevin opened the pub door for her, she was worried that she might be putting her brother in danger, as well. Maybe she
should
say something. No. She had talked to Tanya in confidence.

But this was her brother....

She sensed something, and turned to see the two musicians getting up and starting toward the door.

Following her.

She stepped out to the sidewalk, and then something snapped in her and she spun around, nearly slamming into the musician from Georgia. Without stopping to think how crazy she sounded, she demanded, “Why are you following me?”

“Kieran!” Kevin protested.

But suddenly she knew. It wasn't anything in the way he looked.

It was his scent. The faint yet sensual scent of the aftershave he wore.

Her eyes widened, but she managed not to blurt out his name, something in her mind warning her that it might not be safe.

“You bastard,” she muttered.

“Kieran!” Kevin protested again.

A cab pulled up just then to let someone out, and she spun around, raced toward it and practically leaped inside, shaking.

Special agent Craig Frasier had been spying on her family—on
her
—just waiting for one of them to give themselves away.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

“KIERAN, PLEASE, LET ME IN.”

Craig stood outside her door, aggravated and yet kicking himself. She was no fool, and she'd jumped to at least part of the right conclusion the minute she'd figured out who he was.

He didn't know what had given him away. He'd changed his voice, and he knew his accent had been good, not to mention his disguise was worthy of the big screen.

And yet somehow she had seen right through everything.

When she didn't answer he said, “Kieran, I'm going to start suspecting a lot more than you think I do if you don't talk to me.”

That did it. The door swung open. She stood there in her stocking feet, hair streaming around her shoulders, eyes shooting off sparks of fury.

“I can't believe you!” she snapped. “The whole time, you were only there to watch my family, thinking you were going to trip one of us up. What, do you think I was with the jewel thieves that night and they were all so stupid they forgot I was their partner and took me hostage? Or maybe you think Declan's the bad guy. Yeah, Declan. He just pretends to work his ass off running the pub. He really meets with master criminals and the KGB and the IRA and you name it, ready to tear down the political infrastructure of the world.”

“Kieran—”

“Or how about Kevin? Screw acting. Maybe he's really a drug dealer when he's not figuring out the best way to rob a bank.”

“Kieran—”

“I know! It's Danny. One look at him, and you just know he's a vicious killer.”

“Kieran, stop it!”

He stepped forward, forcing her back into the living room, where she flew at him, ready to beat her fists against his chest. To his amazement, she seemed to deflate the minute she touched him.

He wrapped his arms around her, but she pulled back, walking away from him.

“You have no right to suspect my family,” she said. “I can absolutely guarantee you that my brothers would never, ever be involved in anything that hurt people.”

“Did I say I suspected your brothers—or you—of anything?” he asked her.

“No, but...”

“Are you worried about what your brothers might be caught up in?”

“No!” Kieran protested.
“No!”

“Are you worried about yourself?” he asked quietly. “Or even Julie?”

She turned away and walked into the kitchen, taking a bottle of Jameson's from the cabinet. She poured a liberal portion into a glass.

He smiled. He'd never seen her drink and doubted that she did so often. Few bartenders imbibed on a regular basis, probably because they saw the effects of too much alcohol on a regular basis.

“Were you going to offer me one?” he asked.

“I don't know. Aren't you on duty? Aren't you always on duty?”

“No. Well, a lot of the time, yes,” he admitted. “But not now. I've never been on duty here, with you, Kieran,” he said quietly.

For a moment, he thought that she believed him as something softened in her eyes.

“Suit yourself,” she said, pushing the bottle toward him.

He found a glass and poured himself a shot. A small one. He lifted the glass to her.

“I swear to you, I don't know what crazy ideas you've got in your head, but you're wrong. I'm not in disguise because I'm after your family. What I believe—and with good reason—is that Finnegan's has been used as a meeting place by both sets of thieves, the ones you helped us catch and the copycats who are still out there. I was there in disguise because some people already know me there, and who's likely to talk about their criminal plans if they think an FBI agent might overhear?”

She swallowed her whiskey straight, set the glass down hard and stared at him. “Why didn't you tell me what you were doing?”

“You might have inadvertently given me away.”

“Really. So you think I'm an idiot?”

“Kieran, stop right there,” he said, his voice quiet but authoritative. “I didn't want to put you at risk, that's all. I think you're far more afraid than I am that someone in your family is somehow involved in this.”

“Don't be ridiculous. As if any member of my family would ever try to kill me,” she snapped.

He paused for a moment, studying her. “So you think someone
was
trying to kill you?”

She nodded, but then her temper flared again. “If you don't take off that ridiculous disguise, I can't talk to you.”

“Fair enough.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom, searching through his pockets for the spirit-gum remover. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink as he methodically metamorphosed from musician to lawman. Contacts first. The wig was easy, the facial hair less so. As he worked he noticed that Kieran had poured herself another shot of whiskey and was leaning against the door frame, sipping as she watched him.

He could tell that she was furious without even looking at her. The air vibrated with the angry heat emanating from her.

She reached over at one point for a tuft on his chin he hadn't reached yet. He started to thank her, then realized she wasn't pointing it out as she ripped it off, leaving the skin underneath stinging.

“Missed a spot,” she said as she retreated back to the doorway.

He went after her, grabbing her shoulders. “Look, I get it. You're angry. But I don't think you're mad because you think I'm after your brothers. I think you're mad because I actually fooled you. And I'm sorry, but this is what I do, especially when people are dead and I want to bring their killers to justice. No matter what I feel about you, I swore an oath, and I owe the dead the best I have. And if you can't deal with that, I'm sorry. Meanwhile, I fully believe that someone wants to kill you, I just don't know why, but my best guess is that they think you know something that's a danger to them. And maybe you do and just don't know yourself what it is. As for your family...dammit, Kieran, if there's a reason why you think I'm after them, a reason why you think one of them might be involved—even unintentionally—tell me now.”

He realized he was gripping her shoulders too hard and released them.

She stared up at him. “I have already told you—no one in my family would have anything to do with robbing anyone, much less murder.”

She turned and walked away.

He thought about following her, but he decided to give her some space and headed back into the bathroom to finish removing his disguise.

That spot on his chin still smarted. He rubbed it gently. No doubt about it, she was strong.

When he finished, he found her sitting on the living room sofa beneath a watercolor of the Brooklyn Bridge, staring into space.

“Kieran?” he said.

She looked up at him.

“I can leave if you want. I'll stay nearby, maybe out in the hall, and keep an eye on your place. But I don't want you to feel as if I'm crowding you.”

“Don't be ridiculous. I would never make a government agent sit in a hallway all night,” she told him.

He sat on the sofa, too, but not so close as to touch her.

She didn't look at him.

“What aren't you telling me?” he demanded, aggravation getting the better of him.

She did turn to look at him then. “Did you find out anything while you were in disguise? Did you overhear something that might help?”

He hesitated. He and Mike thought they were onto something. Jimmy had told them that he'd been bringing business associates into the pub. Men who were looking to invest, but smart enough to want to know the details of their potential investments. He'd introduced them to Krakowsky and a few of the other diamond brokers. That was exactly the kind of info both sets of thieves would have been interested in, too.

“I think Jimmy knows the thieves. I also think he doesn't know that he knows them,” Craig said.

He was surprised when, instead of pressing for more information, she changed the subject.

“So what makes
you
think that I'm in danger?” she asked.

He hesitated. “I watched the video surveillance from the subway. There's nothing in the footage that proves anything one way or the other, but the guy in the hoodie
did
seem to be following you.” When she didn't say anything, he frowned and said, “Now tell me why
you
think someone's after you.”

She inhaled slowly, staring at him. “You have professional reasons why you can't tell me certain things. Well, I have a profession, too, and I often speak with people in confidence. I have no information that would help you identify whoever's out to get me, even if I were to break a professional confidence. All I have is something my...client overheard.”

“Kieran, I don't know what you think your obligation to your client is, but if you're holding back information that could help stop or solve a crime—”

“I'm not!” she snapped, cutting him off.

“I wish you'd reconsider and tell me what you know.”

“Oh, so my professional obligations aren't as important as yours since I'm not some hotshot FBI agent? I already told you, I don't know anything that would help solve the crime, and whether you think I'm worthy or not, I will not betray a professional confidence. You have your secrets, and I have mine.”

“Like your brothers' sealed juvenile records?” he asked.

She froze. “How dare you?” she said angrily, leaping to her feet and staring down at him. “They never did anything that truly hurt anyone else. They turned the tables on a few bullies, stole candy a few times. They never used violence, much less a weapon. They were a bunch of kids who suddenly lost their mother and started acting out. My brothers are good people, Craig Frasier. And if you try to go after them, I can promise you a fight.”

“Good people—and good thieves,” he said, smiling slowly. “Here's the thing. I'm a government agent. I need a warrant if I want to search a place. I need to go by the letter of the law. But I sure would love to see Jimmy McManus's phone without leaving a paper trail. Like I said, good people and good thieves.”

“You want one of my brothers to steal Jimmy's phone?” she asked, confusion replacing the anger that had animated her features only a moment ago.

“I would never say that. I
could
never say that,” he told her.

To his amazement, she suddenly smiled. “Piece of cake. You don't even need my brothers for that. In fact, I'd rather not tempt them. It hasn't always been easy, keeping them on the straight and narrow. Well, except for Declan. He's purer than the driven snow.”

“What are you saying?”

“I was always the best thief in the family,” she said. “I'll get that phone for you. Tomorrow night, if you like. I don't think Jimmy has missed his five o'clock Guinness in a decade.”

“It
would
be interesting,” he said, “if he happened to lose it and you happened to find it.”

“
Interesting
is my middle name,” she said. Then she turned and headed into the bedroom.

He stayed on the sofa, considering his options.

A moment later she poked her head out of the bedroom doorway. “Are you coming, Agent Frasier? You're welcome to the sofa, of course. As I said, I'd never be so rude as to leave you in the hallway, but if you're here to watch over me...this is where I'll be.”

He knew he should say something, but the fact that she was naked had him too stunned to speak.

He rose and started for the bedroom, then turned back to double-lock the front door.

That done, he realized that he was more than a little shaky.

She meant too much to him. And that was dangerous.

The thought made him careful. He made a point of setting his Glock on the bedside table and folding his jacket carefully. Then his arousal got the better of him and he began to disrobe in haste.

She was lying naked on the sheets, hair spread out on the pillow like a dark angel's wings.

He slid onto the mattress beside her, held her, felt the warmth of her body envelop him.

He was in deep.

Way too deep.

Anger, passion, confusion, need, chemistry...they all seemed to combine that night. They made love urgently, then gently, then urgently again. In the end they lay spent and exhausted in each other's arms, drifting in an otherworldly afterglow, wondering whether what they'd shared had simply been sex done right, or whether their feelings came from someplace deeper and more powerful than pure physical passion.

She curled against him, and he thought about all the things he could say.

I care about you so much...

You're so beautiful...

I think I'm falling in love...

He didn't have time to say anything, because Kieran spoke and suddenly the magic was gone and reality was back in charge.

“What's up with Joe?” she asked. “Why does Detective Mayo have me looking for customers named Joe?”

He held her more tightly, picturing Maria Antonescu dead in the alley just outside the store.

“The dead girl from the last robbery, Maria Antonescu...she was seeing a guy named Joe. And,” he added almost unwillingly, “we think Finnegan's is one of the places where he hung out. We're trying to ID him. Any idea who Joe might be?”

She shook her head. He felt her hair shift against him as she lay with her head against his shoulder.

“I went through our credit card receipts from the past few weeks and gave everything I found to Detective Mayo. I even gave him all the information I could on the men I knew. The thing is, lots of people pay cash. Or they're with other people and someone else picks up the bill. Even if you follow up on every Joe I found, there's no guarantee you're going to find the Joe you're looking for.”

He rubbed his chin; it still smarted. “We'll find him,” he said with complete certainty.