Xtraordinary (10 page)

“Hey,” Chelsea said, sliding into the chair across from Jade after glancing around the café to make sure there wasn't anyone suspicious nearby. Although she wasn't sure how she'd know.

Jade slipped her lipstick back into her purse and smiled. “It's been too long, Chel. I was starting to wonder if I'd offended you.”

Chelsea tried to ignore the pang of guilt that flashed through her. Jade could be a good friend…if Chelsea would just let her in. Jade
was
a friend, at least in the sense that the two had had several long conversations at various industry events, each ending with promises to get together soon. Earlier in the year, Jade had returned from serving many months in jail on forgery charges, and there were those in the art world who now snubbed her.

Chelsea believed Jade's vow to do only legitimate work from now on. And maybe she should have said so sooner, but the truth was that she'd been too wrapped up in her own problems to seek out friendships.

“You're looking great,” she said, promising herself that when things settled down—when she was no longer looking over her shoulder for assassins—she would call Jade up for a real social call.

“So are you. I have to say I'm intrigued—I'm getting a little tired of babysitting cheating spouses.”

“Well, you've only been in business for yourself for what, a few months?”

“Technically, since I'm on probation, I'm not really in business yet.” Jade grinned. “As far as my probation officer is concerned, I'm just working at Peabody's.”

Chelsea knew the venerable old downtown art supply store well. Jade must have been a very loyal customer, for the owners to overlook her record when hiring her.

“Of course,” she said. “Listen, I assure you, I won't tell anyone we spoke. I, um, wouldn't even have considered—”

“Don't worry, honey, I think I know who I can trust around here.” Jade's smile widened, revealing an adorably crooked gap in her front teeth. “That's one thing you learn pretty quick in jail. Whatever you want to talk to me about, I can promise you it won't go any further than this table. And I'm counting on you being equally discreet.”

Chelsea nodded. “I don't know how much to say. I don't want to drag you into anything dangerous.”

Jade's grin morphed into an incredulous scowl. “Seriously? You do know I was incarcerated with actual felons, right? It's not like we were in there giving each other manicures.”

“Um…”

Jade waved her hand dismissively. “I'll spare you the details because I'm saving them for my memoir, but how about if you trust me to take care of myself. Deal?”

“Deal.” Chelsea's anxiety lessened a fraction. It was true that Jade looked tough—but then again, so did Chelsea, and look how well she had handled herself. At the first sign of danger, she'd gone running.

She would outline what she needed in broad strokes. If Jade refused, that would be that. If she was still interested…well, there would be plenty of time to consider the dangers later.

She took a deep breath. “So…I met this man.”

“Yeah? Congratulations,” Jade said, raising her cappuccino for a toast.

“Well, before you congratulate me, maybe I had better tell you a little bit about him.”

She told a carefully edited version of what she knew about Ricardo de Santos: that he was ostensibly an art authenticator, that he had access to undocumented but valuable pieces that were in no catalog or database that Chelsea knew about, that he was involved in some way with members of the Russian mafia. That he owned or leased expensive real estate in several cities, traveled on a private jet, claimed to be the son of a humble tailor from Segovia, Spain, and disappeared for weeks at a time, untraceable by any of the means Chelsea had tried, which, she had to admit, were limited.

With Jade listening attentively, asking for clarification here and there, offering no opinions of her own, Chelsea felt confident enough to place the piece of paper she had prepared on the table between them.

“This is everything I know about him,” she said. She had written down everything she could remember about the cars and motorcycle he drove, the locations of his house and apartment, even—with a twinge of misgiving—the names of the Soloniks and their café. There was a list of the people she'd seen him greet or talk to at the parties they'd attended, the women he was rumored to have dated. “Sorry it's so low tech. I know you're into all the gadgets—”

Jade shook her head. “No, no, this is perfect. In this day and age, the only real privacy to be had is when you don't involve data at all. In fact, you might want to consider getting a second phone, an untraceable one.”

“I've got that covered,” Chelsea said, explaining about her purse having been lost. Afterward, she'd picked up a pre-paid phone, mostly because she didn't have the cash lying around to buy a new smartphone.

“It's worrisome that your phone was lost—that means someone out there has all the data stored on it,” Jade said. “Let's just hope it didn't fall into the wrong hands. Meanwhile, I'll give you another number to reach me on. If we're doing this, we're going to do it right.”

“So do you…” Chelsea wasn't sure how to ask, or how Jade could know the answers to the questions she most needed answered: just what sort of man was Ricardo? Could he really keep her safe—or was he himself the greatest danger of all? And perhaps most importantly—was she crazy for wanting to see him again?

Jade held up a hand to interrupt her. “Look, I'm not your babysitter. If you tell me you like this guy, I'm just going to assume he's worth it. And, I know enough about your background to know you've been through some shit.”

Chelsea felt her face heat up. She'd kept her past hidden from everyone in her life besides the Fairy Godfathers—and even they knew only a fraction of the horrors she had survived. “What do you—”

“Let's just say that I don't take on a client without knowing exactly who I'm dealing with. I've always liked you, Chelsea, but that doesn't mean I didn't do my homework. I know your stepfather was a pretty shady guy. I know your mom had…problems.”

Chelsea felt her mouth tremble and looked away. Her mother's problems were a matter of public record—the DUIs, the drug arrests, the failed court-appointed rehabs before she disappeared for good. But much of what her stepfather had done would not be reflected in the few domestic assault and petty theft charges on his record: Jade didn't know the worst of it.

“And I know how hard you're working to protect your father's legacy. For what it's worth…” Now it was Jade's turn to look embarrassed. “I've always truly loved his work. And I never tried to make a dime off it.”

That broke the mood, and Chelsea laughed. “I don't know whether that's a compliment or not. You only copied the best. It was a Klee that finally took you down, right?”

“Yeah, I forged one of his early landscapes and tried to sell it to the wrong person. Turned out to be an undercover FBI agent. But now I'm trying to get them to hire me as a consultant, so I guess all's well that ends well, right?”

“I guess so,” Chelsea said, trying to keep her face impassive.

“Anyway, I didn't mean to go off on a whole tangent here.” Jade looked down at the list again before folding it and putting it into her pocket. “Lot of high profile names on that list. I guess I don't need to tell you that your guy associates with some very wealthy and influential people.”

Chelsea nodded, grateful her friend hadn't mentioned the beautiful and famous women on the list.

“So I'm not saying he's doing anything that isn't above board, but this gives me a place to start. Give me a few days, okay?”

Chelsea's heart fell. “Um, yes, sure…if it has to take that long.”

“Look, honey, are you safe right now? Is it an issue?”

“I—I'm not sure.” She wasn't about to tell Jade that she'd run away from the one man who seemed to want to protect her. “I mean, the sooner you can tell me what I'm dealing with, the easier I'll be able to figure out my next move.”

Jade's eyes narrowed. She seemed to be battling with herself about what to do next. Finally, she clasped her hands together and took a breath. “Look. If it's a matter of protection…do you need me to get you something?”

“What do you mean?”

Jade leaned across the table, her voice little more than an intense whisper. “I mean a gun. Do you know how to use one?”

“No!” Chelsea said, shocked. “I've never touched one in my life. Besides, I don't need it. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh yeah? With what?”

“With—with common sense, and, look, I've had some martial arts training. And I'm in good shape, I'm fast. If it came to that.”

Jade sighed, shaking her head. Then all of a sudden, her hand shot out and grabbed Chelsea's wrist, and the next thing she knew, she was on the floor, in agony, with her arm twisted up behind her. Just as she was opening her mouth to scream, Jade let go, and she crashed against an empty chair.

All around them, other patrons looked over. “Sorry,” Jade said, shrugging. “She dropped her phone.”

Chelsea got to her feet and straightened the chair she'd overturned. When she sat down, she could tell her face was on fire.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked, rubbing her wrist.

Jade shrugged. “Got the point across, didn't I?”

“That you can take me down with one hand even though I probably have fifteen pounds on you?” Chelsea asked glumly. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“Look, sorry to be so dramatic. But you can't fuck around with these guys if they really are Russian mafia. In the last decade, they've tripled their business interests in this town. And they don't hire girl scouts to protect their investments, if you see what I'm saying.”

Chelsea remembered the look of fear on Darya's face when she implored Chelsea to be careful—and Ricardo's smoldering anger when he'd led her from the café.

“All right. Look. I'll be very, very careful,” she promised. And the minute Jade told her that Ricardo checked out—that he wasn't as bad as the men who'd threatened to kill her—she'd let him protect her again.

“Good.”

“Just one question,” Chelsea said, as they gathered their purses and prepared to leave. “Where did you learn that little trick, anyway?”

Jade wrinkled her nose, making her look more like an adorable member of a girl band than a hand-to-hand fighter.

“You're asking someone who did time at Pleasant Valley State Prison?”

“I thought you were in the minimum security part.”

Jade shrugged. “Maybe so. But that doesn't mean I didn't learn a few things while I was there.” She gave Chelsea an extra hard hug, and when they pulled apart, her smile was soft and concerned. “That's one thing you and I have in common, Chel. We've both been through some rough times—but no one can say we didn't learn from them.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

That night, after Chelsea had done the dishes and Rufus had gone to bed, she went out for a run. It was dark enough that she felt invisible, other than the silver reflective tape on her running tights.

She'd enjoyed dinner with Rufus and Donny, but once she was alone again, her thoughts crowded her head with worries. And there was another emotion nagging at her, one that felt a lot like guilt.

She hadn't told Ricardo where she was going when she left him that morning. At the time, it had seemed prudent. The mixed feelings she had, leaving his arms, seemed to signal caution.

Now the decision felt reckless. She had no way to contact him unless she went back to the little house where they spent the night. But she doubted he would be there. She could try the apartment where they'd had their first “date,” but something told her that Ricardo would be avoiding any predictable places.

How would he interpret her silence, her disappearance? She tried to justify it to herself, as it was the same thing he had done to her. And it wasn't like they'd made any commitments to each other unless you counted…she blushed, thinking about the things they'd done, the way he'd made her feel. Her body warmed to the memory, and she ran faster, trying to make the fire in her lungs drown out the fire at her core.

All right. She should have made sure she had a way to reach him before she left. But she couldn't have told him about the Fairy Godfathers—not until she was
sure
. Endangering her own life was one thing, but she wasn't about to jeopardize the lives of her only family.

Behind her, faint footsteps echoed.

Shit
.

She'd had years to get over her reckless streak, but she'd done it again, choosing a course of action with nothing but blind trust that it would work out. She hadn't even given thought to what would be a safe route at nearly one in the morning: if she'd insisted on running, she should have chosen a route where there was pedestrian traffic at every hour of the day. She'd chosen to run on this street because it offered her the chance to think, but now she realized it also made her a stupidly easy target.

Up ahead a few blocks was an all-night drug store. She could run straight to its entrance, never mind that she'd look like a crazy person bursting through the doors drenched in sweat, with nothing but her key to Rufus's apartment in her sock. She ran harder, putting everything she had into the rhythm of her feet slapping against the pavement, her fists pumping at her sides.

The steps behind her came faster, too.

Whoever was pursuing her had trained for this. Chelsea didn't dare waste the precious seconds it would take to turn and see who was following, but whoever it was wasn't even breathing hard, and his steps had a mechanical consistency to them, an economy of movement that came only through hard training.