Silken Threats (19 page)

If he chose to give them up.

He lifted the Koh-i-Nor, watching the light play over it, his eagerness at possessing it fading into the refracting glass. While he respected the work, the piece was fake. And no matter how well-done, it would never match the original.

Maybe he wouldn’t keep it after all.

A wave of dissatisfaction curled through his belly with hungry claws as he tossed the copy on the desk.

He wanted what was missing.

* * *

“You do realize I have what appears to be three priceless jewels sitting in my safe. In my house.” Lilah said the words around a half-chewed straw as it stuck up out of a green drink that had turned her mouth the same color.

Cassidy eyed her from the driver’s seat and couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Your tongue’s green.”

“Is it?” Lilah pulled down the visor mirror and stuck out her tongue. “So it is.”

“Why do you drink that sludge?” Violet had a coffee—her insistence on getting one had taken them through a second drive-through before heading toward the hospital—and Cassidy only grinned harder.

Her friends.

The three of them were as different as could be yet they knew each other. From their years-old jokes to finishing each other’s sentences to the endless eye rolling at one another’s quirks, they
knew
each other.

And loved each other.

These were her sisters. For a long time it had pained her to put them in the same category as Leah—to even think of them as more familylike than her own—until they’d been the ones to stand with her over her sister’s grave.

In that moment, she’d known. The family she’d made had seen her through. They’d given her their loyalty and their love and she could never fully repay what they brought to her life.

In the making, they’d also given her a place to belong.

And in finding her place, the pain of her own family became manageable.

Lilah took another sip before letting out a small, disgusted sigh. “Come on, ladies, get with the program. Am I the only one who can’t get my mind off the jewels? Where did they come from? I mean, Mrs. B. obviously, but before that?”

They’d worked through the puzzle over and over, not getting very far.

“Speaking of Mrs. B., we need to game-plan how we’re going to tell her.” Cassidy knew they needed to ask the questions, but between the woman’s deteriorating health and the pure shock of what had happened to all of them, she knew they needed to tread lightly. “We can’t just blurt it out that Lilah’s got a bunch of priceless jewels in her safe.”

Ever the diplomat, Violet launched in. “I know she’s an old friend and I also know she’s been incredibly good to us, but I think we need to agree we can’t tell her where the jewels are.”

Vi was right. Of course she was. But Cassidy couldn’t hold back the darts of pain at the idea she couldn’t trust a woman she’d known since she was a small child. “You’re absolutely right.”

“So what should we say?” Lilah asked.

Cassidy turned toward her friend, her gaze catching on that green tongue, and she couldn’t hold back the giggle that crept up her throat.

“Why are you laughing?” Lilah wiped her lips with a napkin.

“Because you look like you’re seven. And because I’m with you guys. And despite the insane weirdness of the past week, I’m lucky to have you both.”

Violet laid a hand on her shoulder and offered up a tight squeeze. “We’re lucky, too.”

Lilah added her hand to the pile. “And since we’re your bestest of friends, it’s about time you spilled about Tucker.”

Cassidy had known it was coming but still winced at the evidence it was time for show-and-tell.

“You only need to tell us what you’re comfortable telling us.” Violet was the voice of wisdom. “Which we, of course, hope is everything.”

“I’m not telling you everything.”

Lilah let out a low grunt of disagreement. “Oh, give a girl a break. I need the juicy parts because I’ve had absolutely
no
juicy parts for a dismally long period of time.”

“Sorry. I’m keeping the juicy parts to myself.”

“Spoilsport.” Lilah took another sip of her green concoction, a mulish expression on her face.

“But I will tell you what led up to the juicy parts.”

Those brown eyes brightened as she pushed her pink streak behind her ear. “All’s forgiven.”

So Cassidy told her friends about the past week. The quiet moments, the protective moments and even the fun moments, with Tucker wagging his eyebrows behind crazy brides or teasing her about his skills with zippers.

She kept the deeper stuff to herself. His past was his business and it was enough that he’d shared it with her. But she did share a bit about his time in the Corps and his friendship with Max.

“He’s a good guy. It nearly killed him to leave the three of us to drive to the hospital by ourselves.” The words were high praise from Violet and not a compliment she gave out lightly. She was fiercely protective of her friends and it showed in who she was willing to let close.

“He is a good guy. They’re both good guys.” A heavy stirring filled her chest, the knowledge she had met a good man rushing through her in a flood of gratitude. “But yeah. Tucker’s special.”

“You’re in love.”

Lilah said it first but Violet was close on her heels. “You love him.”

Cassidy shook her head as a low hum kicked in under her skin. The vibrations of change.

Sex was one thing, but love?

Sex was human need, and she didn’t dismiss what had happened the night before—she could acknowledge it was something that had satisfied them both.

Love, on the other hand, was commitment and merged lives and
forever
.

And her track record at forever sucked.

Of course, Tucker Buchanan hadn’t been a part of her life before.

Was that really all it took? The arrival of the right person for all the wrong ones to simply fade away?

Violet’s quiet voice broke into her musings. “I know that look.”

“What look? And how can you even see it since you’re in the backseat and I’m facing the road?”

“Because I know you. I also know the set of your shoulders and that quiet place you go to when you’re upset. It’s totally different from your quiet, dreamy ‘I’m designing’ place.”

A red light gave her the perfect opportunity, and Cassidy turned in her seat. “My dreamy ‘I’m designing’ place?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lilah got into it. “We lose you for stretches at a time when you just go somewhere.”

“I don’t go anywhere.”

“Sure you do. It’s Cassidy time and we love you for it.”

She mulled over the picture her friends painted. She did get lost in her work sometimes. And she’d been known not to come out of her studio except for short breaks for days on end.

But dreamy?

The light turned and she moved through the last intersection before the hospital entrance. “So how is it I look different now?”

“There’s nothing floaty and dreamy about you right now.” Lilah patted her arm. “You’re just sort of squinty and tense.”

“Lilah!”

Cassidy wanted to be mad—knew she should conjure up something in reaction—but all she could do was smile at the honest truth in her friends’ words.

“I can’t be in love with Tucker Buchanan. Can. Not. I’ve known him for, like, four days.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.”

“And sometimes we can read too many novels and watch too many movies.” Cassidy pulled into the parking lot, grateful the conversation would come to an end soon.

She wasn’t in love.

She couldn’t be.

But what if she was?

Chapter 17

T
ucker took the last sip of his now-cold coffee and watched Max struggle to stay calm in the face of his grandfather’s stubborn refusal to talk.

“Come on, Pops. Something’s going on. Why are you being so mule-headed about this?”

“It’s not mine to tell.” Max Senior stared into his own cup, his bright blue eyes shuttered with frustration.

“So there is something to tell?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, young man. I’ll knock ’em down your throat.”

Tucker knew the words for the bluster they were—steeped in fear forged over fifty years—and kept his own counsel. Although Max wasn’t doing the best job in the world of keeping his calm, Tucker sensed ganging up on the older man wasn’t the path to getting what they wanted.

“You and Mrs. Beauregard are in danger, Pops. You need to let us help you.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for over eighty years. You think I don’t know how?”

“It’s not about taking care of yourself. It’s about getting help when you need it.”

Although Tucker had sworn he wasn’t getting involved, visions of Cassidy’s dead brother-in-law rose up in his mind’s eye. Despite his vow to stay silent, the only way to help Max make his point was to take it out of the realm of personal safety.

“The people who’ve come after the women at Elegance and Lace are ruthless, Mr. Baldwin. If they think you know something, or if they think Mrs. Beauregard knows something, they’re going to come after you, too.”

“Jo?” The old man’s hands trembled around his paper coffee cup, and Tucker hated causing him grief, but he hated the thought of leaving him in the dark even more.

“These people mean business.”

“What people?”

Max caught Tucker’s eye before he spoke. “You don’t know?”

Max Senior was indignant. “I have no idea.”

Tucker kept his voice low, unwilling to add to the alarm by allowing anyone nearby to overhear them. “There have been a series of break-ins at Elegance and Lace. People looking for something. And then two nights ago a body was left at the back door as a message.”

“Who?” Mr. Baldwin’s eyes grew wide as he processed the news of the murder before his gaze collided with his grandson’s.

“Cassidy Tate’s former brother-in-law.”

Max covered his grandfather’s hand with his own. “This is why we need your help. And why we need to know what we’re dealing with. Whatever secret you’re hiding. Or whatever you’re keeping for Mrs. B. Someone knows. And they’re not going to rest until they have the jewels.”

Max Senior’s jaw dropped, his face going ashen. “You know about the jewels?”

* * *

Cassidy had rehearsed in her head the speech she was going to give Mrs. Beauregard. Something sweet and kind, letting her know how much she cared and how well she thought of her and how much she appreciated the space they’d leased for Elegance and Lace.

It was at the transition into “How the hell could you hide priceless jewels in the floor of said shop?” that her polished speech sort of went sideways.

So it was a shock when she walked into Mrs. B.’s room and found Tucker and both Maxes surrounding the bed and realized she didn’t have to ask any questions at all.

“Cassidy dear.” Mrs. B. held out her arms, and Cassidy went straight into them. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

Tight arms banded around her neck, and Cassidy was lost to the crushing hug. Over and over, murmured “I’m sorrys” continued to fall from Josephine’s lips.

“Shh. It’s fine.”

Cassidy caught Violet’s stare and slight shoulder lift so she held on and gave Mrs. B. one more tight squeeze before stepping away. Tucker pulled a chair up for her and she sat, taking Josephine’s hand in hers.

When Max Senior took the chair on the other side of the bed—along with Mrs. B.’s hand—Cassidy knew something had happened since they were all together a few nights earlier.

His voice was gentle when he spoke, a lifetime of love in his eyes. “Jo. We have to tell them.”

The same wild-eyed fear that had Mrs. B. hanging on her neck washed over her in another wave as she pleaded with Max Senior. “We can’t tell them. We can’t, Max. We can’t do that to them.”

“Jo. They’re in this. They have to know.” He lifted her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “They need to know.”

“No,” she whispered. “Someone will hurt them if we do.”

He pressed one more kiss to the back of her hand before lifting his gaze to his grandson. “Someone’s already tried that and they gave him a run for his money. Now we need them to know what they’re up against.”

Where she thought the news of an attack would have caused even more grief and surprise, impeding Mrs. B.’s ability to deal with the situation, Cassidy was surprised to see resignation instead.

She knows.

And when Josephine nodded, her gaze still fearful but full of determination, Cassidy braced herself for what came next.

She felt Tucker come up behind her, his hand on her shoulder, and she took comfort in his touch. In the warmth and safety of his heavy palm where it lay against her body.

With a quick glance up at him, she covered his hand with her free one and settled in to listen. “You can tell us, Mrs. B. It’s all right.”

“My father was drafted into service to the British Crown by MI6 during World War II.”

Cassidy had seen a few pictures of Mrs. B.’s father in her home over the years. Although she couldn’t remember much of the details, as she recalled he was a slender man with white hair. Not the image that first came to mind of a superspy. “Did he smuggle secrets?”

Josephine’s smile was distant, but Cassidy took solace in the fact that she was smiling. “Oh, no. Nothing that dangerous. He was a tradesman. A diamond cutter of the first grade.”

“I thought much of the expertise in diamond cutting was in Antwerp? Especially at that time.” Violet’s question was spot-on, and Cassidy didn’t even question how Violet knew something like that.

Her friend simply knew.

“A majority of it was, but not all. Besides, for what MI6 had in mind, they needed an Englishman. And there were none more loyal than my father.”

Questions filled her mind, but Cassidy held on to them all. There’d be time enough for questions after she got through the story.

And what a story it was.

“As you may know, the Crown Jewels were placed in a secret location during the war, which has still never been revealed, even to this day.”

Max shook his head, a low moan escaping his lips. “Please don’t tell me I stole the Crown Jewels of England.”

Violet smacked him on the shoulder—a very un-Violet-like move—before muttering, “Not unless you’ve hitched a ride to the Tower of London recently.”

Although a spark lit in the depths of Mrs. B.’s gaze at the byplay between Violet and Max, she continued her story. “Not exactly. My father created fakes so there were admirable replicas of the jewels should they need to be used as decoys.”

Cassidy didn’t miss the relief that eased Max’s jaw but Mrs. B.’s words jogged something loose. “What do you mean not exactly?”

“There were three stones that my father was also asked to keep safe.”

“Real ones?” Tucker’s deep voice punctuated the moment.

“Yes.” Mrs. B. nodded. “They were presented to the King as a gift just before the war, and his wife had a premonition about them. She didn’t want them.”

“So your father took them?” Lilah asked.

“Disposed of them. With MI6’s permission and in full accord of the King.”

“Why didn’t the Queen Mum like them?”

Again, Violet hit the nail with her history knowledge and Cassidy leaned forward, unable to hide her excitement. “We’re really talking about King George the Sixth? And the Queen Mum.
The King’s Speech
King George and all that?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“And you realize how amazing this all is?” The excitement bubbling in her gut took Cassidy off guard and she tried to keep herself focused on the matter at hand.

But the King and Queen?

The letter they’d found in Mrs. B.’s house had said it all, but still she’d resisted in the face of such a story. Had she, Violet and Lilah really been sitting on royal jewels that belonged to the British monarchy for the past three years?

Even the idea that the jewels were in Texas was just too impossible for words.

Tucker spoke and pulled them back on track. “How did the jewels end up here?”

“My parents never quite got over the ravages of war. London was bombed repeatedly and they both wanted a fresh start.”

“So why not leave the jewels behind?” Tucker asked. “The real ones were safe then.”

“My father was asked to protect them personally. It was an honor he took seriously. And when he announced he was moving his family to the States, to a vast open place called Texas, MI6 asked him to take the replicas with him. There was some fear that if they fell into the public domain someone could use them to do damage.”

“Like use them to try to replace the real ones if they could find a way to get into the Tower of London,” Max said.

At Jo’s nod, Max continued, his voice dry as day-old toast.

“So why not destroy them? They’re just a bunch of glass, right? There’s no value there beyond the reason they were created. That reason was gone once the war was over so the fakes should have been destroyed.”

“But that’s where the real jewels come in.” Josephine explained the purported history of the three rubies that were gifted to the King and Queen on a trip abroad. The difficulty they had in their travels home and the Queen’s desire to have them removed without drawing undue attention to the matter.”

“So Josephine’s father secreted them with the fakes.” Max Senior took over the story. “His history as a diamond cutter made it easy to blend the real jewels with fakes and he immigrated with them in his tool set. No one was the wiser.”

* * *

Tucker struggled to take it all in, the story more unbelievable than he ever could have imagined.

Crown Jewels?
The
British Crown Jewels. Seriously?

Whatever he thought he knew or suspected about this situation had been blown to bits, the story of Mrs. Beauregard’s father like something out of a movie.

A thriller that had no basis in reality. Especially not
his
reality.

“Is it possible your father told you this, maybe as a story or a way to connect with his homeland?”

Mrs. B.’s face was kind—understanding, even—but she held firm. “It’s one-hundred-percent true. All of it.”

“All of it,” Max Senior added. “I helped Jo bury the jewels.”

“And you never thought anyone would find them?” Tucker asked.

“We figured by the time anyone possibly discovered them, the provenance wouldn’t matter any longer. We were deliberate in keeping all paperwork separate,” Jo said, her gaze on Max Senior.

“And the appraiser we worked with helped us alter the fakes a bit to make them a little less identical to the originals.”

Max moved forward from his position against the wall, his earlier concern for his grandfather back in spades at the man’s mention of another witness. “You told someone about this? Someone besides the two of you.”

“We’ve kept it a secret, but yes, I found someone I trusted to get the three rubies appraised.”

“Is it possible they kept records, Pops?” Max moved even closer to his grandfather. “Do you still have the guy’s name?”

“Gunner Davidson was a friend. He never would have done anything with the information. We were careful. And we were careful in choosing him.”

While Tucker didn’t doubt the man was a friend, stones of the kind Josephine’s father had secreted out of England would be worth making a fuss over. And an experienced jeweler in Texas, in what he estimated was the mid-1950s, would have been hard-pressed not to discuss such a major professional evaluation.

Even though Max’s line of questioning would need to be pursued further, Tucker figured it might be easier to turn the conversation to calmer matters. “Why did you bury them?”

“My father kept them locked up in the house throughout his life. But, well—” Mrs. B. broke off. “Max and I thought we should remove the evidence. My father left me his properties when he passed away and it seemed like the right place for them.”

“You never wanted to wear them?” Lilah probed, her voice gentle.

“They weren’t meant for me. It seemed wrong, somehow. And—”

When Mrs. B. didn’t say anything else, Cassidy pressed, her voice gentle. “And what?”

“And I couldn’t shake the superstitious part. My father never bought into it. He was an eminently practical man and had spent his life around jewels. He didn’t ascribe properties to them beyond what he could measure through his loupe. But I never had an interest in them. In keeping them. They were a secret to me, nothing more.”

“Some things aren’t meant to be ours,” Violet said.

Tucker didn’t miss the way Josephine and Max Senior looked at each other after Violet’s statement.

Nor did he miss the subtle shift in the room at the woman’s reference to a curse.

Even though it sounded crazy to talk curses in this day and age, they had a dead body that suggested otherwise.

* * *

Robert dialed Cassidy’s number once more and swore when it dropped over to voice mail. She was probably in one of her designing fugues again. He never could understand her when she went to that weird place in her head, focused on yet another wedding dress.

He’d gone along, of course. And to be honest, her focus on other things gave him time off from playing the perfect boyfriend. That crap got tiring after a while.

Cassidy seemed taken in by his “perfect boyfriend” persona, but he knew damn right well that her friends had their doubts. Lilah was a freaking ray of sunshine who kept those rays on bright all the time, but she noticed things and got in a good potshot every now and again.

Violet, on the other hand, hadn’t made a big secret of not liking him. She kept up a polite veneer when they were all out together but it didn’t take a genius to know that she wasn’t his biggest fan.

Maybe he could use that...

The thought drifted in and as he considered it, exploring it from various angles, he realized it was his best bet. He could use that perpetual dislike to his advantage.