Too Wicked to Keep (16 page)

“No time,” he said, peeling his lips away from the delicious skin between her breasts. “Just put that jacket thing on and let's go.”

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

She leaned down and snagged the black mask, cape and flat-brimmed Spanish gaucho hat he'd tossed onto the corner of the bed. Putting down her accessories, she made a show of circling the cape around his shoulders, tying the mask over his eyes and then topping the whole look with the hat. When he glanced in the mirror again, he'd transformed into the perfect representation of the fictional character his family legend had inspired.

“This is crazy,” he said.

“He'll expect it,” Abby assured him.

“I don't owe the old man anything,” he argued. “He almost got Lucy and Alex killed. He nearly had me put away in prison for the one crime I didn't commit.”

“But in the end, he's just a deluded old man desperate to help his grandson. And you have a chance to put this bad blood aside and start fresh. If you have to a wear a sexy costume to do it, I think it'll be worth it, don't you?”

Abby slid her hand hungrily up his chest. The lust glittering in her amber eyes made him forget every objection he had to this plan to end the feud with Harris Liebe. Danny would have given up every ill-gotten dime he had if he could stay here with Abby just a few more minutes.

But minutes would turn into hours and hours into days and days into forever. No matter how deeply she believed that he could somehow stay with her and make a relationship work, Danny knew better. He wasn't the settling-down type. He wasn't the marrying type. He was the love-them-and-leave-them type.

So now that he loved Abby to the very depths of his soul, it was time to leave.

“Okay, let's get this party started.”

“Definitely,” she said, picking up her accessories. “The sooner we put this mess to rest, the sooner we can get back here and you can show me precisely how talented with the ladies your famous ancestor was.”

He laughed and crooked his arm to Abby, deciding not to destroy her fantasy just yet. First, he'd get that painting back for her. Then and only then would he break the news that no matter how much he wanted to stay and spend the rest of the night showing her just how much he cared for her, he was leaving with Alex and Lucy on their midnight flight to Madrid.

While Abby had gone with Claire to troll the Chicago costume shops for the pieces they needed to pull off this scheme, he and Lucy had discussed his options for the future. With her getting out of the fence business for good, he'd lost his desire to continue the cottage industry they'd created together. Truth was, the whole thing hadn't felt right since his arrest. Sitting in a six-by-six cell with no windows had given him plenty of time to think.

But as much as he could change his career, he couldn't change his past. Abby's life was too high-profile, her good name too important for him to risk her happiness. So instead, he'd accepted Lucy's invitation to go with them to Europe, and from there, he could decide what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Alex had suggested he take over the security at the House of Aguilar. No one knew better how to keep thieves out than a thief himself.

The only thing he'd have to learn was how to keep Abby out of his heart.

T
HE MINUTE THEY STEPPED OFF
the elevator, Danny stopped dead. Abby grabbed him by the hand and pulled him forward, folding her lips inward to keep from dissolving into giggles. Reluctant didn't begin to describe Danny's attitude toward wearing the costume, but Michael, standing just inside the door of her building's lobby, seemed to be having a grand time.

At the sight of his brother, he'd extended his black cape to its full width, then folded the fabric across his masked face. He looked like a crazy cross between Zorro and Dracula. Claire, standing beside him in a low-cut, hooped-skirt gown that could not have looked any better had it been worn by Vivien Leigh in
Gone with the Wind,
laughed behind a frilly lace fan.

Alejandro, whose dark skin and penetrating eyes best portrayed their legendary ancestor, stood with his arms crossed, but a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and his intense black eyes sparkled within the confines of his mask. When the expression turned predatory, Abby realized Alex wasn't grinning at Michael's shenanigans. Lucienne had emerged from the lobby ladies' room looking every bit the femme fatale—sequined red
dress, elbow-length blue satin gloves, her long red hair swirled over her left eye, Veronica Lake–style. Her slim thigh peeked through the hip-height slit in her skirt as she moved across the marble lobby with a slinky sashay that would make the animated Jessica Rabbit damned proud.

The women were gorgeous. The men were painfully handsome. And though they'd been a family for only a couple of months, the warmth the sons of Ramon Murrieta exuded matched the emotions Abby shared with her parents after nearly thirty years. Maybe it was because they had no secrets from each other. Their strengths, weaknesses, foibles and follies had been exposed for each of them to see.

And they hadn't abandoned each other—hadn't allowed old resentments, fear or past hurts to take apart their haphazard family. Even women as different as Lucienne, with her criminal past, and Claire, who used to be a cop, had been folded into the Murrieta legacy. Abby had no doubt they'd take her in, too, judging by the warm smiles and compliments she received as she and Danny joined them.

She'd dragged their brother into a boatload of trouble, but no one blamed her or thought less of her. They accepted her, no questions asked.

“Well, we're quite a trio,” Michael said, shoving Danny next to Alex. “The three amigos.”

“The three idiots,” Danny muttered. “Why are we wearing the same costume again?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Liebe is living under a delusion, which is a weakness we can exploit. If he sees all three of us, united in homage to our ancestor, he'll believe we're serious about handing over the ring. Did you
find out if his grandson is going to be there tonight?” he asked Abby.

She shook her head. “According to my contact at the caterer's, he's not on the guest list.”

“I did a little digging of my own, though,” Claire said. “Liebe used his ill-gotten gains to get the kid into Northwestern. So he is here in Chicago.”

“God,” Danny said. “I hope he doesn't show up tonight. If he realizes how wacked out his grandfather is, his whole future could be a lost cause.”

Abby stared at Danny, speechless.

“Don't look at me like I sprang a new head,” he said wearily, though the corner of his mouth tweaked up in a reluctant grin. “I'm not completely heartless.”

She slid her hand up his arm and pressed her cheek to his, not caring that his brothers were groaning about this intimate, yet public display of affection. “You're not heartless at all.”

“Okay, loverboy, let's get this party started,” Michael said, pushing his brother toward the door. They rough-housed for a second before Alex put a stop to it, leaving the women to exchange stares that said,
Boys will be boys.

They might not have been brothers three months ago, but they were now—and they had a lot of time to make up for. And damn it if Abby didn't want to be there every step of the way.

As they headed out into the frigid October air, Abby tried not to think about the fact that in less than an hour or so, Danny would try to leave.

Emphasis on the word
try,
because she fully intended to stop him. He'd convinced himself that he could never fit into her world. And a week ago, she would have agreed with him. Maybe she still did. But the fact re
mained that she refused to let him go. Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was crazy. Maybe it was desperate and pathetic and unbecoming to a woman of her beauty, intelligence and social standing.

So, consequently, she couldn't think of a better reason to hold on tight.

But first, they had to put this mess with Harris Liebe to rest.

Alejandro had hired a limousine to transport them to the party, but so had everyone else on the guest list judging by the long line of cars crawling up the street in front of Harris Liebe's rented Lake Shore house, a stunning stone building that had an impressive front portico and rose up at least three stories. Abby no longer thought it was an accident that Liebe had leased a house in her parents' neighborhood. The man was a master manipulator. He was counting on her need to keep her dirty laundry under wraps to force Danny and his brothers to give him what he wanted. Clearly, he knew a lot about the Murrieta family history, but he didn't know nearly enough about this new generation. Or about her.

By the time they piled out of the car, the men were restless. The couples split up immediately, entering a few minutes apart so they didn't draw quite as much attention to the fact that all three men were dressed the same, a tactic Michael had suggested to throw Liebe off. Abby spotted their host as they strode through the foyer, but did not make eye contact. It helped that the man infuriated her. He'd used her to get what he wanted—and she'd never even met him.

But if she'd resisted calling Danny when the news about her painting had come out—then what? Liebe would have tried something else, hooked someone else into bringing Danny out of hiding. In a twisted way, she
supposed she should be glad for the man's vendetta. If not for his determination to end the blood feud between the Loves and the Murrietas, Danny would never have come back into her life.

As they crossed into a large living room on the ground floor, she caught sight of Erica. She couldn't miss her. Black feathered wings sprouted from her shoulders, as perfect an accessory as the halo, crusted with equally dark sparkles, that she'd perched at a jaunty angle on her head. Her inky and slinky goddess dress clung to her curves in ways that had the people standing around her staring, openmouthed, even as she laughed and sipped from a flute of champagne.

When Abby registered who those open mouths belonged to, she stumbled over the train of her dress. Danny caught her by the arm and hoisted her upright.

“You okay?”

“Oh, my…word.”

Danny followed the direction of her stare and grinned. “She looks hot.”

“I agree, but my parents obviously think a little differently. My in-laws, too.”

Erica had, at Abby's instruction, contacted Abby's parents and asked them to come home for this important social event, but seeing them standing with Gennie and Doug Chamberlain, Marshall's parents, knocked her for a loop. She'd intended to introduce Danny to her parents before he escaped—but she hadn't expected to expose him to her in-laws, too.

Well, if she was going to go down, she might as well do it in flames.

“Maybe we should get out of here before they—”

“Abigail!”

Abby took a deep breath and held so tight to Danny's
arm, she nearly popped off one of her artificial nails. She pasted on a serene smile, then took a step toward Erica, who'd called out. Danny held steady, but she turned and pierced him with her determination.

“The least you can do before you disappear off the face of the earth is to meet my parents.”

“Why would you want me to?”

“Don't they deserve to meet the man their daughter is in love with, particularly right before he breaks her heart again?”

His mouth was grim, but his eyes, so green and hypnotic, flashed with shock.

“You're going to introduce me? The real me?”

“That's the only you I know. Come on, you'll charm the pants off them.”

And he did. Abby couldn't contain the smile that illuminated her whole body after Danny shook her father's hand firmly, gave her mother a sweet little bow and then bestowed the same courtesies on her former in-laws. She proudly introduced Danny as Daniel Murrieta, because honestly, that's who he was to her.

A man of mystery—a man with a shady past that he'd turned into a present he could be proud of. Whether he was ready to acknowledge his sacrifices to himself or not, she knew how hard it must have been for him to come back to Chicago and relive the one relationship that had nearly torn both of them apart. But somehow, together, they'd twisted their dishonest, manipulative affair into a real love story. They trusted each other. They sacrificed for each other. They loved each other. Did anything else matter?

“And what do you do, Mr. Murrieta?” Doug Chamberlain asked, a frown tilting the corner of his mouth and
accentuating the sternness of the costume he wore—that of a five-star Army general.

“I'm a security specialist,” Danny replied. “My brother owns an auction house in Madrid and I'm about to join him there to work on upgrading his systems.”

Abby's eyes widened. This was new. She'd known he was leaving—but she hadn't realized he had such a definitive plan.

Her father, shockingly, had dressed in a wide-shouldered, pin-striped suit with a glossy fedora and cigar. He looked like a mobster. And her mother, in a flashy blue flapper outfit, fit the perfect bill as his moll.

“That sounds interesting,” Tony Albertini commented. “Been doing this long?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Danny replied.

Abby couldn't tear her gaze away from her parents. Of all the costumes they could have chosen, these were the last ones she would have imagined they'd go for in a million years. Her shock must have shown because Erica tugged on Tony's lapel and said, “Don't your mom and dad look spiffy? Since they had to get back on such short notice, I took care of ordering their costumes for them. I think your dad looks hot.”

And so the conversation dissolved into a surreal succession of flirtations, compliments and small talk that Abby would never in a million years have expected from anyone in their social circle. Her in-laws, who had never learned about the affair that had nearly wrecked her marriage to their son, seemed utterly taken with Danny. Gennie, who'd recently encouraged Abby to move on and be happy, pinched her on the arm and winked in silent approval. Her mother, on the other hand, wasn't as subtle. She made an announcement that she needed an
immediate refill to her champagne and grabbed Abby to accompany her on her quest.

In a semiprivate corner near the dining room, Lourdes Albertini speared her daughter with an intense look. “This is what you want?”

Abby couldn't run circles around her mother, even if she wanted to—which she didn't. “Yes, mom. I love him.”

“Like you did before?”

“No,” Abby said, her heart cracking in her chest as the truth burst through. “Not at all like before. I know everything about him now, warts and criminal offenses and everything. I know I'm taking a big risk with my heart, but I did that with Marshall, too, after what happened. And that turned out to be wonderful. How lucky am I to have a second chance?”

“Lucky? That remains to be seen. But you need to trust your instincts, baby. If this is what you want, then I'm here for you. But he's signing a prenup.”

Abby laughed. “One step at a time. First I have to convince him to stay in the country.”

Her mother shrugged her spangled shoulders. “I don't know—I've been to Madrid. It's lovely this time of year.”

“I can't believe you and dad came home,” Abby said. “I mean, you know what could happen tonight, right?”

Lourdes nodded. “Erica filled us in, and frankly, sweetie, it's time your father stopped taking his family's past so seriously. His mother was a fabulous woman. She would have been brokenhearted to know you spent so much time trying to mold yourself into a perfectly proper young lady. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that's not why she willed the painting to you in the first place. She wanted you to have it on your eighteenth
birthday so you'd see that sometimes, going a little wild isn't so bad.”

“I can't believe you're telling me all this now,” Abby said.

“Yes, well, as you get older, you realize that putting up appearances all the time isn't as important as living a good life. You're a good girl, sweetie. You always will be, no matter who you sleep with. We're the sum total of our past, present and future, and right now, I'm more concerned about your future than anything else. Your father is, too.”

“Well, don't worry about me,” Abby said. “Because I think I've finally found my future. And there's someone else who needs to know that.”

“Daniel Murrieta?” her mother asked.

“Him, too, but no. Harris Liebe.”

Abby gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, then hurried around the growing crowd of guests to the room she'd just seen Liebe disappear into. A very official, bulky-looking guy stood in front of the door. With his dark glasses and twisty earpiece, she figured he was security, which meant the painting was probably inside the room, too.

She turned and caught Alejandro's eye. He was standing nearby with Lucienne. Several gestures later and Michael and Claire drifted into view. She hadn't spotted Danny, but she trusted he'd come through as planned.

Didn't he always?

“I need to speak to Mr. Liebe,” she said to the guard.