Steal My Heart (13 page)

It seemed like a lifetime ago. Music. Laughter. Dancing. Perfume and the clink of iced champagne glasses. The glitter of gorgeous jewels.

Paige opened her eyes to a massive headache.

Remembering Laroche and Jimar forcing some drugged concoction down her throat, she sat up with a jolt. Where was she? She dared to stretch out her fingers and found she was lying on a large bed. Her hands were free, thank God.

Holly. Where was Holly? In the dim light she made out the form of her daughter lying beside her, sound asleep. She pushed her daughter’s hair back from her beautiful, peaceful face. They must’ve drugged her, too, the bastards. Rage boiled inside her, but it had a muted quality from the fuzziness in her head.

She blinked and tried to make out the lay of the darkened room. As far as she could tell from the shadows, it was large and equipped with the standard bedroom furniture. A tall window stood near the headboard where light streamed in. She felt her body and discovered she was still in her torn dress. Sitting up, she let her feet dangle off the side until they found a hardwood floor and her shoes.

She slipped them on, rose groggily and felt her way across to the window.

It was night. The same night? She had no idea how long she’d been out. Lights from the building illuminated a stone wall along a yard that stretched away into trees and then darkness. She didn’t see any neighboring lights.

Where were they? They could be anywhere. Laroche said he was taking them some place where no one would find them. He hadn’t even bothered to draw the curtains all the way, so it must be remote. Her heart sank to her knees. They were trapped in some hideaway of Laroche’s in some God-forsaken place.

She reached for the lock on the window rail and tried to turn it, but it felt grounded by cement. She pushed up, trying to raise the sash. It wouldn’t budge. It was one of those windows made up of several small panes, impossible to crawl through, even if she could break the glass without drawing attention to herself. No escape here.

She found a chair near a dressing table, dropped into it, and held her throbbing head in her hands. The image of Mark driving away in that dark car came to her, making her numb. Her heart broke all over again. She’d trusted him, believed him, made love to him. And all of this time, all he’d been after was the Fantasia necklace.

She thought of Laroche taunting her.
Can you picture our boy as a family man?
And Jimar’s laughter when she insisted he’d rescue them.

She remembered the shock on Mark’s face when he caught sight of Holly. The dismay in his eyes when Laroche told him she was his daughter…and that she’d lied about Holly’s age. She felt as if sharp glass was digging into her brain. That was why she hadn’t told him about her before. She sensed all along what his reaction would be.

Laroche was right. Mark was never a family man. He didn’t want to be a father. Holly was the reason he’d abandoned them now.

She was about to let herself go to pieces when from somewhere outside the room she heard footsteps. And voices. Her breath caught as her head shot up. She stood, tiptoed across to the door and dared to grip the handle. Slowly she turned it. Locked. Of course.

She put her ear to it and heard Jimar’s accent. “When do we take care of them?”

There was a muffled answer. Something like, “First things first.”

Again, the creak of footsteps on a hardwood floor. Laroche was pacing, just as he had in the Piazza.

“I thought we were going to sell the little girl on the black market.”

“Patience, Jimar.”

Paige put her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of horror.
Sell Holly?
Sell her child for money? To God knows who? They’d have to kill her first.

“Maybe I’ll keep her and train her, like I did her father.”

Jimar chuckled. “She’s pretty young for that. You’d need to potty train her first.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll leave her on the side of the street somewhere. It doesn’t matter.”

No. Oh, God no. Paige turned to look at Holly’s little body on the bed, wanting to hug her, rock her, cover her ears so she couldn’t hear what they were saying. But she didn’t hear them. She was sound asleep.

Suddenly there was silence. Then the footsteps were quick and hammer like.

“What’s the matter?” Jimar asked.

Paige stepped back. The bedroom door swung open and Laroche stood before her. He’d changed from his suit into a black turtleneck and jeans, but his face was riddled with anger. He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door. “Get in here.”

“What do you want?” She stumbled down a short hall, then into a large living area.

He let her go and she regained her balance in front of a large black sofa. Rubbing her arm, she glanced at Jimar, who was now wearing dark slacks and a beige shirt, open at the neck, revealing an assortment of gold chains. The ruby ring sparkled on his finger. The man was seriously into jewelry. He stood in front of a staircase that ran alongside the hall she’d just come from. Could that be an escape? Not with that monster guarding it.

She took in the room. It was huge and beautiful and frightening, with a rustic, hunting lodge sort of style. Dark, overstuffed leather furniture, a twenty-foot stone fireplace with a roaring fire, stuffed animal heads on the walls, even a bearskin on the hardwood floor. Fitting emblems of blood sport. If she were writing a column, she’d call it luxuriously medieval, while at the same time, reminiscent of a novelty restaurant.

Laroche stomped to a coffee table, his ice blue eyes wild. He ran his hands through his white hair, making it stand up like icicles, giving him the appearance of an angry Norse snow god.

He picked up the necklace he must have been examining with the loupe that lay beside it on the table, which was a polished slab of wood and shook the jewels in her face. The glittering ruby heart dangled before her eyes.

“These are fake!” he screeched.

Her chest became a hard, throbbing fist. Play dumb, she decided. “What do you mean?”

“Are you deaf? They aren’t real.”

She blinked, as if baffled. “Of course they’re real. I took them from the case at the auction.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He stepped toward her and slapped her hard across the face.

“Mommie.” Holly appeared at the end of the doorway. She tried to run to her, but Jimar caught her halfway across the room and picked her up.

“Let her go,” Paige shrieked at him. “Don’t you dare hurt my daughter.”

Laroche chuckled in that disgusting way of his.

“Let her down, Jimar.”

The henchman obeyed and Holly ran to Paige’s arms. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart.” Though she knew it wasn’t.

“Isn’t that touching? Mother and child? If only Mark could see this scene.” Laroche’s French accent dripped with disdain.

Paige glared up at the monster. “But we all know he won’t.”

Laroche’s eyes seemed to glow like blue ice as his mouth opened in astonishment. “He has the real set of jewels, doesn’t he?”

Paige saw it now, too. The realization hit her with a sickening punch as her mind reeled with the drugs and the visions in her head. The last time she saw Mark, wasn’t he was running for the door? Leaving her? Just as he’d done before? Just as her father had done when he died?

Mark had the jewels. The real Fantasia necklace. The one worth a fortune. Wasn’t that what he’d been interested in all along? Why hadn’t she seen it before? She almost had when she watched him drive away in that car tonight.

He’d said he loved her and she’d believed him. She’d let down her guard. Made love to him. Fallen in love with him. She’d fallen for his lies. Once again, Mark Storm had betrayed her.

So she was on her own. Blinking back hot tears of shame and regret, she straightened her back and forced her mind to clear. Saving Holly was all that mattered now. She uttered the first idea that came to mind. “Maybe I could get them back.”

Laroche scowled.

She remembered Mark had called Laroche an egomaniac. Violent, but prideful and self-centered. How else could he do what he had done? That had to be a weak spot.

She sat Holly down on a throw rug and took a step toward him, putting her hand to her chin, the way she did when she wanted to convince Bigelow of an angle on a story. “You know this would make a good column.”

His thin white brow seemed to shoot to the ceiling. “Column?”

“You know. You and Mark. Father and son thieves. That’s a great angle. I could interview you, Laroche. Tell your whole life story. It could be a whole series. All anonymous, of course.”

He folded his arms. Was he intrigued or just angry?

“I’ve got an even better idea. What if I could get back in touch with Mark? What if I could get the real Fantasia away from him?”

“And how would you do that?”

She tossed her head and forced a nonchalant laugh. “I’ll find a way. I’ll get the real necklace away from him and replace it with that.” She pointed to the one in his hand.

His long Roman nose wrinkled in a scowl.

“Then I’ll write a story that will get him arrested for the theft while you go free. That would serve him right.”

He was stroking his chin now. Did she have him convinced?

She clapped her hands. “And you’d be at the center of it all. It would be an exclusive. ‘The Man Behind the Cat Burglar.’ Why, you’d be famous, Laroche.”

She could almost feel the anger rise in his chest as he inhaled. “If I wanted to be famous, I’d be famous. Is that what you’d do? Tell the whole world about me?”

“Well,” she stammered, “I’d do it discretely. No one would be able to find out your real identity.”

“And how do I know that? That’s exactly why I can’t let you live.”

He snapped his fingers and Jimar came toward her.

“I was just talking off the top of my head. We can work out the details to your liking.”

“I’m the one who works out the details,” Laroche spat out, turning his back on her.

Jimar grabbed her around the waist and began dragging her down the hall toward the bedroom again.

Holly got up and tottered after them. “Don’t hurt my Mommie.”

“Leave me alone. Let me go.” Paige struggled, trying to bite the huge man’s arm, but he was far too strong. With his big hands, he pushed her back into the room. He picked up Holly and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced like a little basketball.

Screaming, Paige turned to the door as Jimar slammed it shut and locked it.

“No, no, no.” Despair swallowed her up. She couldn’t hold back the tears. She sank down onto the floor and sobbed. What were they going to do? What were they going to do? They were both going to die in this wilderness at the hands of these psychopaths. All because of her ex-husband.

Anger coursed through her veins. Why did she ever think she could trust Mark Storm? Against her will, her mind felt his touch on her skin, his fingers along her body, the tenderness of his kiss. She remembered the way he’d insisted she eat dinner. He’d seemed so sincere. He’d said he loved her. And she’d fallen in love with him again. Horribly, desperately in love. Her throat clenched with tears. How could she have been such a stupid, gullible fool?

Holly crawled to the edge of the bed. “Mommie?”

“It’s all right, honey,” she lied.

“I’m scared.”

Paige sighed. “I am too.” She pulled herself up and sat down on the bed. She stroked her daughter’s soft hair, cherishing the touch of it. Holly yawned.

“Go back to sleep. It’s not morning yet.”

“I don’t think I can.” But she turned over and laid her head in Paige’s lap. Paige recognized something and her daughter’s arms. She was hugging Jack the Rabbit. She stared at the toy, her mind reeling. Her brain was still groggy, but she wasn’t so drugged not to remember that she hadn’t brought Jack to the Piazza. “Where did you get that?”

“What, Mommie?”

She felt when the terrycloth ears. “Jack. Where did he come from?”

Holly smiled sweetly, her eyes half closed. “From Daddy’s bag. The one you put me in.”

Paige’s heart stopped.

Mark had remembered her daughter’s favorite toy? He put it in his bag for her? She ran a hand through her hair, confusion ripping through her brain. It didn’t make sense.

Or did it?

Let’s talk about making a new start
. He’d said those words to her at the entrance to the Piazza. Had Mark really wanted to start a new life together? Was he willing to accept Holly when he thought she was another man’s daughter? Why else would he put her favorite toy in his duffel bag?

That gesture was proof that he meant what he said. It also proved that he wasn’t the type to run from fatherhood. That he wasn’t a liar any more.

But Jean-Claude Laroche was.

Her mind began to race. Once more she saw herself dangling from Laroche’s balcony at the Piazza. She’d looked down and watched Mark drive off in that car with those men. She remembered Laroche said Mark had ratted him out to the FBI. Mark denied it.