Highways & Hostages (27 page)

“Stop it, William. I see the insecurity and anger swirling across your face. Dwelling on what you believe to be your unfair lot in life will only hinder you.” Christoph lifted himself from his chair with the help of his cane. He walked to a large abstract painting on the wall perpendicular to his desk and pulled it forward to reveal a safe. He removed a tarnished pocket watch from his suit pocket and unscrewed the back, where three tiny keys rested. Next he stood directly in front of the safe and brought his face very close to it. After it beeped three times, he used one of the small keys to unlock it.

Billy looked on with wonder. Whatever Christoph was going to show him was
seriously
big. He leaned forward in anticipation as Christoph pulled open the door of the safe…to reveal another locked box.

“How many safes do you have in there? Is it like those little Russian dolls where you have, like, five in one?”

Christoph turned from his machinations and glared at Billy, who shrunk in his seat. Jesus, the guy was scary. “Sorry,” Billy mumbled.

Christoph pulled the smaller safe from the bigger one and placed it on the desk. He placed a finger on the sensor and the safe beeped three times. He used another of the small keys to open it. Billy leaned closer, lips parted, breath quickening. Christoph pulled out a large black hinged box and opened it. He picked up a small enameled egg figurine, set it on his desk, and looked at Billy expectantly, seeming almost giddy.

Billy stared at the figurine.
This
was what Christoph wanted him to see? A fucking glass egg? Billy looked at the man, unsure of how to respond. “Uh…it’s nice?”

“You idiot boy! Didn’t your father teach you anything? This is an Imperial Fabergé Egg. One of the
lost
Imperial eggs! You have history sitting right within your reach!”

Billy looked from the egg back to Christoph’s face, lost.

Christoph collapsed into his chair and regarded Billy, emotions flitting across his face. For an instant his expression was one Billy knew all too well. He’d seen it on Julian’s face countless times: a mixture of weariness and defeat. But just as quickly, it was gone. Had Billy imagined it?

Finn, 5:48 p.m.

“And the next thing I know, this guy is picking me up and throwing me across the room!” Finn said as he paced back and forth in front of Alex’s bed. “Like I’m a sack of potatoes or something. And von Rothschild’s watching it all from the second story like he’s some fucking god.”

“Finn, man, sit down. You’re wearing me out,” Alex said from his recovery bed.

Finn sat down, but he couldn’t stop his knees from bouncing.

“But Billy looked fine?” Julian asked, his brows knitted together. He shifted his weight in the old armchair next to Alex’s bed.

Finn looked at him, incredulous. “Billy’s fine—he’s more than fine. Von Rothschild has pumped his head with so much bullshit he could float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”

Julian shook his head. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t talk to me before. I would have given him more responsibility when he was ready for it.”

Alex smirked. “You know Billy. He’s selfish, impetuous, and you can’t depend on him. He’s a big baby who didn’t get what he wanted when he wanted it, so he ran to the first person who dangled it in front of him.”

The three men sat in silence. Finn’s fury threatened to boil over again. Of course Finn expected disrespect from von Rothschild, but not from Billy.

Billy was as much of a brother to him—albeit an annoying, immature, lazy one—as Alex was. Finn had known Billy since he was a pre-teen. It wasn’t Alex that Billy called when he unhooked his first bra or when he ended up in the hospital, underage, intoxicated, and barely coherent. And now, Billy was acting as if Finn were some stray begging for handouts.

And what about Alex and Julian? Finn swallowed hard. He didn’t know what he would do if he found out Julian felt the same way. Finn had placed his mentor on the pedestal that should have held his father.

For what felt like the millionth time in last couple of days, Stella’s question echoed in his head: What would he be doing if he weren’t trafficking? And now he tacked on a follow-up: Why was he working with people who didn’t give a shit about him?

It was only a matter of time before he broke.

“Oh, I didn’t even tell you the best part—Claudia’s back in town taking care of Daddy’s business while he’s under the weather.”

Alex perked up. “Claudia? I haven’t seen her since Magritte’s Silent Auction last year.”

“You never mentioned you saw her.”

Alex shrugged. “It wasn’t important enough to mention.”

Finn stared, annoyed at himself for the flare of anger he felt. What the hell was he going to find out next? That Julian was bonking his grandmother? He blinked. “I feel uncomfortable enough wearing the wire as it is—I don’t want to get my ex-girlfriend in trouble.”

Julian studied him. “Jacob, you have to put your feelings aside. Unfortunately, as with all wars, collateral damage is to be expected.”

“I don’t like it. She’s only involved because her dad is injured, and in case we all forgot, I’m the one who did it. Can’t we put this whole thing on ice for a couple of months?”

“Has the second-biggest playboy this side of Vegas been carrying a torch for the one that got away these past five years?” Alex mused. “Because the Finn Gilroy I know doesn’t give a shit what it takes to get the job done, or who gets run over in the process.”

Finn thought of Stella’s frowning face at the Mexican restaurant the night of their newlywed dinner. “Well, maybe I’m tired of being the Finn Gilroy you know,” he said, only half joking. He rose from the bed. “I’m exhausted, and my jaw hurts. I’m outta here.”

“Jacob, ultimately it’s your decision. But answer me this: are you willing to go to prison for this woman?”

Finn stopped at the door, his head bowed and his hand on the knob. “It’s complicated, but I think I have to go through with this; von Rothschild’s moving ivory. Maybe Claudia could make some kind of deal with the FBI, too?”

Even a week ago, Finn would have given Julian an emphatic ‘no,’ but now…it didn’t sit well with him. Not just because it was Claudia, but because he could clearly picture the disappointed look on Stella’s face. What
was
she—his conscience personified? What had the woman done to him?

“So this guy on the dating site sent me a message asking if I would send him a picture of my feet,” Valerie said as she filled a third pint glass for Stella’s only table.

Thankfully it was a slow night at the bar, and Stella’s customers were easy-going. After her last few days, she welcomed the dullness of it all. Stella had tossed and turned all night, and then this morning Derek had stopped by to grill Phoebe about what had happened to her over the last few days. Stella had wanted to press charges, but it was tricky because she didn’t want Finn to get in trouble—and Derek wanted to wait until they got enough dirt on the Rothschild guy to stick him in prison for a very long time.

Stella leaned against the bar and forgot her own problems as she listened to Valerie’s latest drama. “That is definitely a red flag.”

“He said he would lick them. I might let him—he’s really hot.”

“Oh my God, Valerie, he sounds like a pervert! And that’s probably not even him in the photo!” Stella reached for the full glass with her left hand.

Valerie gasped loud enough for the couple at the end of the bar to look over in curiosity. “Where the hell is your engagement ring?” she whispered.

Stella quickly set the beer on the tray. “I gave it back.” She picked up the tray and maneuvered toward the back of the restaurant, Valerie hot on her heels.

“Stella Marie Carstens, you know that’s not an adequate answer. WHAT HAPPENED? Does it have to do with your super-secret ‘emergency’ trip? You never thanked me for covering your shifts, by the way.”

Stella spun around. “Aren’t you supposed to be behind the bar?”

Valerie made a show of looking around the nearly empty room, then back at Stella. She crossed her arms. “Lucy, you got some ’splainin’ to do.”

Stella sighed. “Give me a second, okay?”

Valerie narrowed her eyes but returned to the bar. Stella absently deposited the beers in front of her customers. It wasn’t that she had been purposely keeping anything from Valerie; there was just so much going through her brain, she barely had time to sort through it all and make sense of it herself.

Stella’s phone had been unusually silent all day. She’d found herself pulling it out every few minutes and checking to see if she had missed a text or call, but there was nothing. Derek had taken her need for space to heart, which Stella appreciated. But it wasn’t him she hoped to hear from. Why would she hear from Finn, though? She’d served her purpose in his grand plan, and that was the end of it.

Valerie grabbed her wrist in a vise-like grip. “Spill it. I need to know
everything
.”

Stella pondered how much to tell her best friend. Obviously she had to tell her about breaking up with Derek, but did she want to bring Finn and Phoebe into it? Valerie had a flair for hysterics, and if Stella told her the whole story, all of the restaurant patrons and staff would know within five minutes—maybe ten if Val was off her game.

“A friend’s car broke down; he needed me to drive him to Texas or he’d lose his job—”

“Wait a minute; you said ‘he.’ What male friends do you have besides Derek?”

“Bert, Arnold, Shane—”

Valerie threw her hands up in the air. “They work here; they don’t count! Who was it?”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Do you want the story or not?”

Valerie gestured for her to continue.

“Derek found us in Texas. And you’ll never believe this—he put a tracking device on Josie!”

Valerie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s right up there with the foot fetish guy! What did you do?”

“I told him I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust me. Then I gave him the ring back.”

Valerie pouted. “I really liked that ring. And I was looking forward to my maid-of-honor duties—namely, planning the bachelorette party.”

“Well, he’s single now. But keep in mind you’ll have to answer to Dragon Mama.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Valerie said with a grimace. She placed a hand on Stella’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. At the time I really wanted it all to be over, but now I don’t know. Let’s just say this trip gave me a lot to think about. I don’t want to be a waitress forever.”

“So what are you going—” Valerie stopped mid-sentence, her gaze focused over Stella’s shoulder. “Quick, look at the door! We don’t get her type in here every day.”

Stella looked over her shoulder and nearly fell off the barstool. Diane Warner stood at the door in a beige pantsuit, clutching her purse to her chest and glancing around as if she expected someone to jump out and stick a gun in her face. Stella snorted; after her encounter with Finn in the parking lot, it was definitely possible.

Diane spotted Stella and speed-walked toward her with a relieved expression on her face. Stella straightened and wiped her moist palms on her apron. She hated the fact that Derek’s mother still got under her skin and intimidated her.

“Stella, dear, yoohoo. It’s Diane!”

“Does she think I have amnesia or something?” Stella muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“
That’s
Dragon Mama? I can’t wait to watch this unfold,” Valerie said, clapping her hands in glee.

Diane glided over to the bar and gently seated herself on a stool. She made a show of looking around and plastering a smile on her face. “This is quite the establishment…the deer head mounted over the billiards table is an inspired touch.”

Valerie leaned forward hungrily. “My bullshit meter is rocketing off the charts.”

Diane’s eyes cut over to her and then back to Stella. “Could we speak alone?”

Valerie crossed her arms. “Anything you say to her, you can say in front of me. She’s just going to tell me later on anyway.”

As Stella met Diane’s gaze, she saw a flicker of hesitation. It was then she noticed the older woman wasn’t carrying herself as regally as usual. Her shoulders were slightly hunched, and one hand kept reaching up to fumble with the pearls at her throat.

Stella turned to her friend. “Val, can you give us a minute?”

“But this is the most entertainment I’ve had—”

“Valerie!”

“Fine, I’m going. Jeesh!” Valerie moved to check on Stella’s table, but kept glancing back at the two women.

Stella crossed her arms. “I assume you’re here because I broke off the engagement. I would have thought you’d be waving pom-poms in the air and lighting candles of thanks in the synagogue or something.”

The faintest flush crept across Diane’s cheeks. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Are you here to ask for the wedding binder so you can put it aside for the next woman?” Stella’s voice was laced with an equal mixture of weariness and quiet fury. “Or were you going to present me with a bill for the missed florist appointment?”

“Heavens, have I really been
that
awful to you?” Diane asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, woman! You’ve made comments about my appearance, belittled my life choices, and just generally made me feel like I’m not good enough for your precious son. Sorry, Diane, but I like who I am just fine. I don’t want to be your mini-me.”

Diane blinked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “That’s not what I intended–”

“I was always taught that actions speak louder than words.”

Diane took a deep breath. “Stella, I expect Derek cares for you for the very reason that you’re nothing like me. He still loves you, you know; he’s terribly distraught. He didn’t share the details, but he’s been miserable ever since you broke off the engagement. I’m sorry I’ve offended you so, but I’m here on Derek’s behalf.”

“He actually sent you here?” Stella asked. She’d known Derek and his mother had an extremely close relationship, but she hadn’t exactly categorized him as a mama’s boy.

“No—not at all. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I just—I wanted to let you know that he’s a different person without you. Before you came into his life he was very serious and dedicated to his work. He was almost a recluse.”