Steal My Heart (3 page)

A woman in the crowd screamed. Everyone ducked. Paige watched in sheer relief as Mark turned toward the stage. But she had no time to gloat. She hurried to the display case.

Her hands were remarkably steady as she removed the key from her purse, opened the case. She lifted the necklace off the black velvet neck form, which was shaped like a woman’s neck and bust, complete with clavicles and cleavage. The Fantasia came off easily. Nothing held it in place.

With one swift motion, she dropped the jewels into her satin evening bag. Took out the hanky she’d brought and wiped the glass clean of fingerprints. She glanced up. No one was paying any attention to her.

Heart pounding, she forced herself to walk steadily and headed for the exit.

Mark knew what Paige had done the second he heard the gunfire.

And he knew it wasn’t gunfire. It was a diversion. Just the way he’d taught her. He spun around and watched her deftly lift the Fantasia necklace out of its case and slip it into her bag. His heart soared with pride for a moment, then chafed with disdain. Who was this hypocrite he’d been married to?

He would have been on her in an instant, but the panicking crowd wouldn’t let him move.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been shot. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Mark pulled his ID from his pocket and flipped it open. “FBI. We’ve got everything under control. There’s no need for alarm.”

But the crowd kept pushing.

A security guard grabbed his arm. “What’s happening? Is Adolphus wounded?”

“I don’t know. Check out the bandstand. The shots came from there.”

“Right.” The guard nodded and headed in that direction. Mark went the other way, fighting through the crowd. He reached the back of the hall just in time to see Paige slip out the rear exit.

He glanced at the display case, hoping he’d been hallucinating and the necklace would be in its place.

Gone. His heart sank. What in the hell was she doing this for?

Whatever her reason, he couldn’t let her take the fall for this crime, though she was clearly guilty. They had too much history. He’d cared too much for her once. He’d catch up with her, find out what was wrong, return the jewels, and have them back in their place in half an hour tops.

He shot out the door after her.

###

“C’mon, c’mon.” Paige shifted from high heel to high heel in front of the silver doors down the hall from the banquet room, her nerves as raw as a bare electrical wire. This must be the slowest elevator on the planet.

Finally the light flicked on with a quiet ping and the doors opened. Thank God, it was empty. She wanted to gasp out a breath of relief. Instead, trying not to look rushed she stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby. She dared to take one more peek before the doors shut again—and spotted Mark at the end of the hall.

No.

The doors slid closed and the elevator started its slow descent. Mark would know she was headed for the lobby. He’d find a way to get there first.

She pushed the button for the mezzanine. 

###

Damn, she moved fast. Mark sprinted to the elevator, pounded on doors. No good. He stepped back and glared at the barrier. She had to be heading for the lobby.

The stairs? He was fast, but he couldn’t outrun the elevator. By the time he reached the fortieth floor, his fancy tux would be soaked through and he’d be gasping for breath.

A bell dinged and the doors of the next car slid open. Watching the party trickle out, he remembered a maneuver.

He stepped inside and pressed the Close button with one finger and the Lobby button with another. The doors shut and the car descended. Now that he’d turned it into an express elevator, he’d reach the lobby first.

The elevator zoomed. He’d beat her now, he thought with a smug smile. He’d make it easy for her. Take her gently by the arm and tell her it was all right. He worked for the Good Guys. He’d take care of her.

Another soft ding. The lobby.

The doors parted. Mark stepped onto the marble floor and turned to face Paige’s elevator. Its doors swept open.

Well-dressed people exited. Where was Paige? This was her elevator. It had to stop on several floors and slow her down. There hadn’t been time for it to stop, let her off, then go back up for another load of guests.

The last person came out. Mark braced the door with his arm and peered inside. Was she hiding in there? The compartment was empty. His jaw tensed. He’d lost her.

“Excuse me.” A thick-bodied man in a business suit brushed past.

“Sorry.” Letting the door close, Mark turned and ambled to the middle of the lobby.

This was impossible. Paige had to be in that elevator. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and looked up.

A mall-like balcony lined with brass filigree ran along the third story, forming the hotel’s mezzanine. Suddenly he saw a figure moving swiftly along the aisle, almost hidden among the giant ferns and indoor trees. He caught a shimmer of a midnight blue dress. A glimpse of sleek, dark hair. A lovely cheekbone.

There she was.

Suddenly she stopped and peered down at him, as if she were psychic. How else did she know just where to look? Alarm spread across her pretty face. His heart melted on the spot.
Don’t worry, Angel Eyes. I’ll take care of you.

She turned and ran.

Oh, no. She wouldn’t get away from him this time. He knew where she was heading. The back exit.

###

Paige could feel the hot rush of anger on her face as she charged across the mezzanine’s polished floor. How could Mark have spotted her? Did they have some kind of mystic connection because of their past together? No, he was a thief. He knew how a thief’s mind worked. That had to be the explanation. It didn’t matter. All that mattered now was getting away from him.

She rushed to the utility elevator. For some reason, it opened much faster than the one for guests. It moved faster, too, not having to stop. When it reached the bottom floor and the doors opened, Paige stepped out to a flurry of noise and activity.

Along the nearby wall, large double doors banged open and closed as waiters entered and exited with huge trays of steaming food.

The kitchen.

She looked around. Mark was nowhere.

As soon as she saw the area was momentarily clear, she headed for the door marked “Entrée,” pushed it open, and found herself in a huge, open space filled with gleaming metal, white tile, and noisy clatter.

Her heart pounding, she raced past the busy workers in their white suits, the big boiling pots, the chefs slicing vegetables with sharp knives.

“Coq au Vin on two,” someone shouted in a Brooklyn accent.

“I’ve got a Steak Diane and Lobster,” another announced.

“Excuse me.” As fast as she could, Paige scurried over the slick tiles, dodging one staff member after another, hoping no one would notice her.

Too late. One of the chefs caught her by the arm. He eyed her up and down, brandishing the knife in his other hand. “What are you doing? You can’t be in here.”

She said the first thing that came to her mind. “I’m with the Press.” Force of habit, but she didn’t have time to search for her pass to prove it. And she didn’t dare open her purse with the necklace in it.

A female voice rose over the stove. “Isn’t that Paige Dunbar?”

“Yes,” she said, relieved someone had recognized her.

“Who’s Paige Dunbar?” said a man skinning a chicken.

“Everybody in the city knows Paige Dunbar. She’s got that column in the newspaper.” The female chef left her vegetables and came around the silver table to get a better look. “Ms. Dunbar, I loved your piece on Soho last week.” She wiped a hand on her apron and held it out.

Taking it, Paige forced a smile for her fan. “Thanks so much.” Any other time, she’d be grateful for the praise.

The female chef gave the other one a punch on the arm. “Let her go, Louis. She’s a celebrity.”

Paige was glad when Louis released his grip.

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You must be covering the Adolphus shindig upstairs, right?”

“Right,” Paige nodded. “And, uh…I’ve got an exclusive I’ve got to post right away.”

“About the fancy-schmancy necklace?”

Again she nodded, hoping her guilt wouldn’t flood over her face and give her away. “Is there a back exit?”

The woman beamed a toothy grin. “Of course.” She led Paige past carts stacked with plates, around a corner where the refrigeration units stood in a row, until they came to a pair of thick metal doors. The woman shoved them open and Paige peeked out onto the back street. She’d parked her Acura near the corner, hoping to disappear into the crowd on foot when she left the hotel.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Happy to be of service. I’m looking forward to your column.”

Paige smiled weakly and headed for her car. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she glanced over her shoulder. Mark was nowhere in sight. Was she lucky enough to have lost him?

She hoped so.

By the time Paige stepped inside her house in Williamsburg and locked the door behind her, she was a wreck.

Her heart pounded. Her whole body trembled. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever catch her breath again. Exhausted, she glanced around at her own living room with its homey furniture but she couldn’t focus.

She leaned against the door and listened to the sound of her own breathing. The only sound in the empty room.

She couldn’t get the image of Mark Storm following her out of her head.

All the way home, she’d glared into the rearview mirror, cursing every traffic light she’d hit. She hadn’t seen anyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. Mark could make himself invisible when he wanted to.

She opened her satin purse and stared down at the glittering necklace. Had she really found the nerve to take that thing tonight? Evidently. It was right there.

Her mission was accomplished.

Once again, guilt clawed at her. So now she was a jewel thief. And she’d gotten away with it, too. Unless Mark found out where she lived.

Mark. He’d looked so handsome tonight in his black tuxedo, with his smile so alluring, his dark hair curling just the way she remembered it. He’d been irresistible. And when they’d danced together, his touch had felt so good. So warm and comforting. That was a joke, wasn’t it? Why had she let herself go like that? Why was she so vulnerable in his presence? It wasn’t just the shock of seeing him out of the clear blue. Of his figure appearing suddenly at tonight’s auction when she’d thought he was in jail.

She must still have feelings for him. Unresolved emotions she’d thought were buried. Those feelings had surfaced out of nowhere at the sight of him tonight. She’d better deal with them. She’d make an appointment with that counselor her mother wanted her to see, as soon as she had Holly back.

Holly. Her poor little girl. Where was that man holding her tonight?

The kidnapper’s instructions rang in her head.
After you get the jewels, go home and wait for my call.

Okay, here she was.

When? When would he call? Her stomach twisted with anxiety. She had no idea.

The purse grew heavy in her hands. She had to do something with this thing until the kidnapper contacted her. But what?

She trotted to the kitchen and scanned the counter tops. Cookie jar? No. She considered the cabinets. Behind the cereal box? The fridge. Under the sandwich spread? This was ridiculous.

With a grunt she marched upstairs to her bedroom and stuffed the purse under her pillow. Good enough for a temporary solution. She didn’t need anything fancier. The kidnapper would call any minute now, wouldn’t he?

She sat down on the bed and rubbed her arms. All she wanted was for this night to be over and to have Holly back in her arms. She pressed her hands against her eyes and sighed in disgust at herself. Then she pulled the purse back out and opened it, to dig out her cell phone. She glared at the display. No messages.

She shoved the purse back under her pillow and went downstairs to the living room to check her landline. The red dot was flashing. Had she missed his message?

Her heart racing, she punched the button.

“Hi, honey.”

Paige let out a breath as she heard her mother’s voice.

“I just wanted to check how things were going tonight. I’m so excited about Holly’s first sleepover. I want to hear all the details when I see you both tomorrow.”

Paige winced. She’d hated lying about where Holly was, but when her mother had called when she was on her way to the Piazza Hotel, she’d had no choice. The kidnapper had demanded she tell no one.

The last person she would have told that her daughter had been kidnapped would be her mother. The poor woman would be absolutely hysterical and Paige had enough dealing with her own raw nerves.

She recalled how angry her mother had been at Mark after the divorce. She was only being supportive and defensive of her daughter, but it just seemed to make the ordeal more humiliating. But Paige truly loved her mother. She had been a godsend when Holly was born, and Paige couldn’t have managed without her. Even though she fussed so much over both of them.

So tonight Paige had made up a story about a sleepover. She’d tell her the truth later. Maybe when Holly was fifteen.

Paige put her hand to her mouth as her mind replayed that afternoon.

She’d arrived only five minutes late and had waited for Holly, watching the other children emerge from the building. Her daughter was often the last out. She tended to be fastidious about packing her bag. But Paige had been in a hurry to get home and get ready for the party tonight.

She had just checked the time when her cell rang. She’d answered it, thinking it was Bigelow, her boss, checking that she wasn’t running late.

Instead, she’d heard that horrible, distorted voice that had sent waves of terror through her heart and made her burst into instant tears.
Don’t go inside the building. I have your daughter. If you want to see her alive again, you’ll do exactly as I tell you.

He must have been watching her. Where had that voice come from? He had to be nearby.

She’d sat in the car trembling, scrutinizing the surrounding streets and buildings through watery eyes, peering into the other vehicles, unable to see anything through windows that she was sure were tinted over the legal limit.

She’d wanted to cry out to someone. She’d wanted to call the police. But before she could draw the next breath, the kidnapper said if she tried to get help, he’d kill her little girl.

There was no choice but to comply with everything he told her to do. And she had, dammit. She had. So where was Holly?

Running a hand through her hair, she peered into the mirror on the wall. Her reflection was worn and drawn. She was a mess.

She glowered at the floor. There were no toys to pick up. She wandered to the coffee table and reached for a photo of Holly in an Easter Bunny outfit in a play at daycare. She ran her fingers over it. Then she went to the mantelpiece where there was a portrait of Holly on her first birthday. And the picture she’d taken of her mother and Holly when they went to Central Park for a picnic.

She ran her fingers over the images. She’d often wished her father had lived to see his granddaughter. He would have been so proud of her.

On impulse, she gathered up the photos and hugging them close, she plodded back upstairs.

The house was so empty without Holly’s laughter. Her playful squeals. Her little body running down the hall. Paige would never tell her not to run in the house again. But Holly would be back soon. Soon this would all be over and their lives would be normal again. The words she told herself didn’t have the ring of truth, but she had to believe them anyway.

She wandered down the hall and into Holly’s bedroom. No toys to pick up in here, either. It wasn’t right. She shuffled to the bed and laid the photographs on the comforter.  She drew a hand across her face and picked up the stuffed animal Holly had lain on her pillow this morning.

Jack the Rabbit, a terry cloth mess with beady black button eyes and chocolate stains on his body. Holly’s favorite toy since she was a baby. Paige pressed it to her heart and squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.

It would do no good.

Holding the toy, she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen and laid Jack on the counter. She should eat something. All she’d had was cake tonight. She opened the refrigerator door and stared at the contents. They needed milk. Holly liked chocolate and Paige had promised her she could have it on Saturday. Tomorrow. Her heart clenched. Was the kidnapper feeding her?

What made her think she could eat anything? Paige closed the refrigerator door and meandered back upstairs to her bedroom. She kicked off her heels and peeled off her party dress.

She picked up her cell again. Where was the damn phone call? There was supposed to be a phone call.

Too tired to think, she went to the bathroom and stepped into the shower after laying her cell on the counter. That was when the tears came.

She couldn’t hold them back any longer. They streamed down her cheeks hard and hot, mingling with the water, dripping down her body and into the drain. As the shower pelted her, she let herself sob.

Then she came back to herself. She couldn’t stay in here long. What if the kidnapper called? She stepped out of the shower and glared at the phone. Nothing. She’d only been in there ten minutes. It had seemed longer.

She blew her nose, dried off, and put on an old tank top.

She padded back to the bedroom with the cell phone and sank onto the bed. She laid her head down and felt something hard.

The purse and jewels under her pillow. With disgust, she pulled them out and shoved the purse into a drawer on the nightstand. She had to get some sleep.

Maybe when she woke up, she’d discover this was all a bad dream.

###

Mark sat in his beat up old Chrysler that he’d pulled along the curb on Salisburg Street and stared at the building he’d seen Paige enter half an hour ago.

Williamsburg.
Brooklyn. Not exactly the upscale Manhattan apartment they used to share. And nothing like the fifty-story buildings he was used to scaling. This was a two-story family dwelling of white vinyl and red brick. One of those renovated jobs. The area was nice. Totally suburban. Near a school.

What in the world was Paige Dunbar doing living here?

He took his binoculars out from his duffle bag, the gear he’d brought along tonight out of habit, and read the name on the mailbox again. Dunbar. She’d taken back her maiden name.

“But then why should that come as a surprise?” he grumbled to himself as he laid aside the binoculars, loosened his tie, and slipped out of his tuxedo jacket.

She hadn’t come to his trial, she’d visited him just once in prison. Then she’d dumped him. Reaching into his bag for his “work clothes,” he recalled the chill in his gut when just five days after he was sentenced, a stranger came to see him in jail and handed him the divorce papers through the secured window.

He’d signed them right away. Why fight the inevitable? If Paige couldn’t accept who he was, he didn’t need her. At least that’s what he’d told himself. It was only when he was alone in his cell that his pride gave in to grief and sorrow and he mourned bitterly over what he’d lost. Paige had been the love of his life. The woman he’d give his life for. The woman he’d do anything for.

Except go straight.

It had taken prison and an offer from the FBI to make him do that. With a nimbleness in his limbs he’d never lost, he took off his shirt, changed his pants, and tugged the skintight crew top over his head. Then he pulled on the black stretch jacket and drew the hood over his head.

And now? He thought of the way Paige had felt in his arms tonight. The intoxicating smell of her hair. The softness of her skin. She’d had the band play
Misty
. The old-fashioned song they both loved.
Their
song. Did that mean anything? Probably not. But so what if it did? She’d stolen the Fantasia necklace.

He couldn’t believe it. Why? She had to have a good reason. Paige never did anything without a good reason. Maybe she was working on a column. Maybe she wanted to teach Adolphus a lesson for his lax security.

He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.

A light went off in an upstairs window. That was his cue.

He pulled down the visor and used the mirror as he daubed his forehead and cheeks with his old supply of black face paint that he’d made out of cornstarch, cold cream and the burnt end of an old cork.

With luck, he’d never know her reason. He’d be in and out in a matter of minutes. He’d tell his boss, Foley, that he’d found the jewels in a dumpster.

Silently, he emerged from the car and slipped through the shadows to her door.

Credit cards were inferior tools. From the pouch in his jacket, he took out his favorite lock pick. He hadn’t done any B&E since the night of his arrest, but as soon as he started, the technique came back to him like it was yesterday. His movements were silent, smooth. In three seconds he had the door open.

Quietly, he stepped into the foyer and saw it led to a living room. Off to the side was the kitchen. Paige wouldn’t have put the necklace in either of these rooms. She’d keep it with her, probably had it tucked under her pillow. He found the staircase and ascended the steps without a sound.

###

What was that?

Paige’s eyes flew open. It wasn’t exactly a sound. It was more like a…presence. The kidnapper? Was he coming for the necklace? Was Holly…? She didn’t dare even think it.

Holding her breath, she listened hard. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears.

But she felt him.

Slowly, she let her arm drop until her fingers touched the metal bat she kept under her bed.

He was down the hall, not yet to her room. She was sure of it. There was still a little time.

She lifted the bat, slipped it under the sheets, and pretended to be asleep. With one eye half open, she held her breath and watched a dark figure appear in her doorway. The kidnapper. Was he here to take the necklace? Without giving her Holly back? She’d fight him to the death before she’d let that happen.