Volcano (28 page)

Damn, but he was wandering weird paths again. He had a business to salvage, a sister to find, and a murderer to catch.

He had no right contemplating beautiful women and giggling children, particularly not this beautiful woman.

Before he shooed the children out the door, John caught Charlie's eye. “Beth has the information. Talk to her and get back to me in the morning.” John sent Penelope a wary glance but continued speaking to Charlie. “I'd feel better if you stayed with them tonight. We'll talk about security tomorrow.”

Charlie would have laughed at Penelope's expression as the door closed behind her ex-brother-in-law, but he had too much sympathy for her plight. He'd really gone in too deep this time, and he'd pulled her down with him.

“I don't suppose I could get a cup of coffee before the argument begins?” he asked without hope, eyeing the pillowed sofa with longing. It had been a damned long day. He really needed more fortification than coffee.

“John left his beer in the refrigerator. Would you prefer that?” Beth asked sympathetically, already heading toward the kitchen.

Yeah, he would, but he had a feeling that he didn't need his wits muddled any more than they already were right now. “Thanks, but better not. Have you heard from Tammy?”

“I'll get it, Beth.” Coming back to life, Penelope started after her sister. “You catch us up on what's happening.”

Beth didn't argue. Charlie had a feeling that this twin seldom argued. Somewhere along the way, the sisters had definitely developed different identities, intentionally or not.

She gestured toward the living area. “Won't you have a seat, Mr. Smith?”

Beth's cautious gait as she took the recliner explained the heavy furniture, Charlie thought as he sank into the comfortable cushions. She didn't want chairs that were easily moved. Maybe the apartment wasn't Penelope's decor. He'd like to get a look at her bedroom. It was probably all pink frills and lace. Damn, but he was too tired for this.

“Tammy's with Raul,” Beth reassured him once he was settled. “He apparently likes to get away by himself”—she raised an inquiring eyebrow but Charlie didn't respond—“and he told Tammy about his hideaways.”

Charlie tried to disguise his relief with a frown, but Beth couldn't see it. She smiled at him as if she'd picked up his vibrations. Dealing with an all-too-perceptive blind woman might be worse than tackling frosty Penelope.

“They won't tell us where they're hiding,” she continued. “Raul's a bit paranoid, I think. He doesn't trust us, and he's on edge trying to figure out how to protect your sister. I guess he figures he can do it better than anyone.”

“Raul's got caution down to an art form.” Charlie prayed that's all it was. He didn't want to have to start wondering how safe Tammy was with Raul.

The scent of coffee drifted in from the kitchen area, and Charlie sniffed it appreciatively. Maybe caffeine would slap him back to normal. Dealing with two identically gorgeous women was akin to having his head squeezed between iron bookends. A man couldn't think like this. He watched Penelope moving around on the other side of the counter, and that relaxed him more than anything. He didn't want her out of his sight. “Will Raul call back? If I can talk to him, we'll work something out.”

“He's to call at nine tomorrow morning. We didn't know what time you'd be here.” Beth tilted her head toward the kitchen. “Pen, I have some homemade bread and muffins in there. You might want to put some ham on a plate and bring them out.”

“Aye, aye, mama-san,” Penelope called in a resigned tone.

Beth grinned as she turned back to Charlie. “She hates kitchens. When we quit modeling, I couldn't wait to get my hands on food. Pen willingly eats it, but she'll just as willingly eat dry crackers rather than cook.”

“I'd kind of figured that out for myself.” Charlie glanced toward Penelope, who was carefully arranging a coffee tray with thick creamy mugs and sturdy pewter sugar and cream containers. None of this bone china and crystal stuff, he noted approvingly, although the setting looked atrociously expensive and not at all like the Wal-Mart containers on his own table. “If you don't mind my asking, how did the two of you turn out so different?”

“Who says we're different?” she asked challengingly.

Charlie shot her an impatient look. “I'm not as dumb as I look, Mrs. Matthews. You took the wife-and-mother route; Penny took the career approach. You enjoy feathering nests. Penny prefers hunting and gathering. You're both beautiful, intelligent women, but she prefers hiding her beauty and you prefer hiding your intelligence. Am I getting warm?”

Beth tilted her stylish shoulder-cut hair and regarded him with interest. “Call me Beth, Mr. Smith. I suspect we'll be getting to know each other a lot better.” She turned in her sister's direction, but Penelope was rattling in the refrigerator and not paying attention. “I can't give you an instant replay of where we diverged, but it probably had something to do with our love affairs in college. I married the man I loved. Penny learned her beau had clay feet. It's kind of slanted our points of view ever since.”

Charlie didn't want to know about Penny's other lovers. Obviously, what few she'd had hadn't tried to please her. That was probably his appeal, he decided. He was the first man who'd shown her a good time.

That inflated his ego but didn't make him any happier.

Penelope finally appeared, carrying a tray with coffee and a plate of bread and ham slices. “No parsley garnishes or homemade relishes, sorry. I'm not Martha Stewart.” She dropped the tray onto a sturdy round coffee table between them. “Now, spill it, Beth. What does the FBI have to do with anything?”

She poured the steaming coffee into the thick mugs but spoke with the command of a CEO at the head of a boardroom. Charlie watched her impatiently brush her thick braid off her shoulder and almost lost track of the conversation. How in hell could he concentrate when his brains had sunk below his belt?

“John's working with the DA's office these days. He found your Russians in an FBI suspect file. They've compiled a case of circumstantial evidence that implicates their connections with the Russian mob, but they don't have enough to charge them. John sent the FBI the information you forwarded. They have an agent on the way to the islands now. I don't think your friends will be very happy when their records are turned over to the government.”

Charlie experienced a sinking sensation in his gut. “Let me guess. Jacobsen knows I was in St. Lucia and that I'm probably responsible for the FBI probe. He knows I was with Penelope. He's traced Penelope back here.” He threw Penny a look asking for verification. “He wouldn't have much trouble doing that, would he?”

She shrugged but he could see the uneasiness in her eyes. “If he has Internet connections, he can look up my name in an instant. There aren't too many Penelope Albrights in the country.”

Charlie clenched his fist around the mug. “Then Jacobsen and friends have two choices: They can assume the FBI is on to them and run, or they can try to find out just how much evidence we turned over.”

“It's all in the computer,” Penelope murmured nervously.

“And both computers are here,” Charlie finished for her. “I think it's time you ladies took a vacation.”

He ignored the hand clasp the sisters exchanged. This time,
he
was in charge, and he was getting them the hell out of here.

Beth listened in fascination as Penelope bridled at Charlie's orders. She'd never actually understood the meaning of the word
bridled
until she saw her sister's silhouette outlined against the lamplight. Penny's head jerked back and her chin shot up as if someone had stuffed a bit in her mouth.

“Get out, Charlie,” Penelope responded with what Beth thought admirable control. “You have no authority to tell us what to do. We're perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. Go look for Raul.”

“I'm damned well not budging until this is over.”

Beth would have termed the tone of Charlie's reply mulish, had she not caught a hint of something else behind his words. She could almost swear that Penny's words had hurt that great mountain of man as much as if she'd slapped him.

She didn't know why she sympathized with Charlie, other than that she hadn't adopted her sister's belief that all men were jerks. Of course, she didn't work with them all day as Penny did. But Beth had the ability to see beyond their bluff and bluster. She wished she didn't. It would be much easier if she could just say to hell with them all, but she couldn't. She had a son of her own. She knew better.

“Penny, I think we'd better listen to Mr. Smith,” Beth said quietly, leaping into the conversation before Charlie could stick another foot in his mouth. She thought he might be the kind of man accustomed to people jumping at his commands.

“Call me Charlie, or I'll think you're talking about my dad,” he reminded her. “I'm glad one of you has her thinking cap on.”

Dumb, Charlie, Beth wanted to say, but she'd learned to hold her tongue better than Penelope. Before her twin could explode, she stood up between them. “Remind me to give you lessons in tact sometime, Charlie. Could this discussion wait until morning when we're all not so tired?”

“Beth, go on to bed,” Penelope insisted with concern. “I can handle Charlie.”

“Yeah, she can handle me real good.”

From the shadowy movement, Beth guessed Charlie had leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms. She could almost hear the lascivious grin in his voice.

If she weren't so exasperated with his behavior, she would have grinned. No one had ever talked to Penelope like that. Most men were scared to death of her and tiptoed around her with absurd caution. Charlie Smith behaved like an engaging elephant, fearlessly stomping wherever he chose. She suspected he might have more brains than an elephant and knew darn well whose toes he stomped and why.

“I'm not going to bed until the two of you agree to behave like adults instead of quarreling children.” She turned toward Penelope. “If there's any danger here, we need all the help we can get. I'm not too swift at dodging gunmen and kidnappers.” She shouldn't dump the guilt on her sister, but she was too tired to look for anything more effective. Dealing with John these last few days had drained what little energy she possessed.

Beth heard an intake of breath and the rustle of fabric as Penelope stiffened, then sagged in surrender. Once upon a time, she'd been able to read her twin's expressions like a book. Now she recognized her breathing patterns. Penny would do anything she asked. Beth wouldn't take such outrageous advantage of her except that this was for her sister's own good. Charlie Smith seemed like the kind of man who would look out for Penny, and if the chemistry between these two was any indication, her twin sister found Charlie more interesting than any other man in her life.

“We're in a secured building,” Penelope reminded them, putting up one final struggle. “What can anyone do? Charlie has business of his own to tend to. We can't ask him to babysit us.”

“If the FBI has just flown to the islands, the Russians might not be looking for us here yet, but my home is the first place they'll go when they do.” The amusement disappeared from Charlie's voice as he focused his attention on Penelope, ignoring Beth between them.

Beth approved. Too many people thought they either had to touch her constantly, or behaved as if she were part of the furniture. Apparently, Charlie simply had eyes for no one but Penelope.

“Then you'll stay here tonight,” Beth said decisively. “I had John set up a cot in the spare room when we thought Tammy was coming. We've been using the room for storage, so I must apologize for its condition.” Judging his size from the shadow in front of her, she looked at Charlie with a measure of doubt. “I'm not certain you'll fit on the cot though.”

She heard the shrug in Charlie's reply. “I can sleep on the sofa. It's no big deal.”

She knew the instant his attention returned to Penelope. Beth thought she'd faint if John ever focused on her that way. The electricity was almost palpable.

“The sofa is too narrow for you,” Penelope replied tiredly. “Beth, go on to bed. We'll work it out.” Her chin stuck out again. “But I'm going back to work in the morning.”

“We'll talk about it then,” Beth reminded her. “And maybe we should set a chair or something in front of the door, just in case.”

“I don't think they're the type to break down doors,” Charlie said gently, stepping from her path so she didn't have to maneuver around him. “Just don't answer the phone. I suspect terrorism is more up their alley.”

Beth threw a half smile in his direction and nodded. “I'll keep the answering machine on. Good night, Charlie. I'm glad we met.”

Penelope took a deep breath as Beth glided from the room, leaving her alone with Charlie. She didn't want to look at him. The apartment was reasonably spacious, but Charlie had a way of filling a room with his presence. She could practically feel him now, though her back was turned to him.