Thieves Like Us Part 15

A loud meow came from the floor near his feet and he looked down to see Fluff arching her back and rubbing on his leg. "Hey, there's my girl. How ya doin', Fluff? You miss me?" He bent down to offer the expected scratches and pets.

"She's adjusting quite well," Mr. Peters said, answering for the cat.

Fluff's purr turned into a hiss and Rocky followed her evil glare to where Jingles stalked behind a large potted fig tree.

Never one to back down, Fluff slunk forward, ears pinned and tail twitching. Before Rocky could scold her, Mr. Peters reached into his pocket, drew a small gun, and took aim at Fluff.

Rocky gave the gun a startled second glance but didn't have time to speak.

A thin stream of water shot out, hitting Fluff on her furry b.u.t.t. With a yelp, she ran for the stairs. Jingles split just as quickly toward the kitchen.

Mr. Peters pocketed the squirt gun. "Except for a few territorial disputes," he amended.

Rocky lifted an eyebrow. "Nice shot," he muttered. "They teach that in butler school?"

"No, sir. I queried a private loop for butlers on the Internet and received several tips about dealing with multiple cats in the household."

He studied Mr. Peters's implacable expression. "You're kidding."

The proper look never altered, but Rocky thought he noted amus.e.m.e.nt in the way Peters c.o.c.ked his head. "No, sir."

"Huh." Rocky supposed that level of resourcefulness was expected, but the man never ceased to amaze him.

With cat control covered, his thoughts returned to Janet. "Solarium," he repeated aloud, before he set off through the house.

Libby was nowhere to be found; she'd probably gone up to her bedroom. Janet greeted him as he approached the kitchen, hair toweled half dry and swimsuit concealed by a beach wrap covering her in a loose white material from neck to knees.

"You got out of the pool."

Janet looked confused at his comment. "Of course. Mr. Peters told us you called and said there might be a security problem. We thought it would be safer to wait inside."

Rocky started as Elizabeth got up from a chair. He hadn't even noticed her. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, now. Here," he said pulling the gun and holding it out to Elizabeth. "You can give this to Ben."

She stared it as if it were a snake. "Where did you get that?"

"Off one of the men in the car that was following me. I'm sure they have others, but maybe Ben can trace this one." Rocky held it out until she took it, two fingers gingerly gripping the barrel.

"Won't there be prints?"

"Hopefully." He doubted it mattered, though, and he cared even less. He had a good idea what the men wanted, and that was enough for him. No matter what he or Ben did to protect Janet, the thieves wouldn't give up until they got what they were looking for.

Janet scrunched her eyebrows and shot Rocky a suspicious look. "What happened?"

"I had a little confrontation with my lemmings. Probably the same ones who chased you and trashed your place. They weren't very friendly, and I think they're even less inclined to be after our talk."

"They were here?" Elizabeth looked outside, scanning the yard as if men might be hiding in the shrubbery. "On this property?"

"At the neighbor's. You should have Ben send a patrol car around, make sure they've left the area. Tell him it's two men in a silver E-Cla.s.s Mercedes. And they might be changing a flat tire."

Elizabeth's mouth had tightened into a thin line and Rocky had a feeling he'd crossed into hostile territory. "Or I could call Ben," he suggested.

For a few seconds he felt anger radiating from her hot gaze. Then her features set with determination. "I'll have Peters relay the message." With a dignified turn, she left.

Rocky looked at Janet. "What'd the poor sucker do to her?"

"He wants her to sell the house." At his confused look, she dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand. "Later. Forget Ben for now. I'm more worried about you. Did they hurt you?"

He smiled, relieved to have the conversation back where he wanted it. "No. But just to be sure, you can kiss me and make it better."

"Good idea." She stepped forward without hesitation, her arms circling his neck in a move that felt so natural he couldn't believe he could still count the number of times he'd kissed her. He needed to work harder at losing track, starting now. He pulled her hips against his while she kissed him, feeling her damp bikini bottom through her cover-up. When her lips finally parted from his, he murmured, "What color is your bathing suit?"

She gave him a sly look. "Subtle, Hernandez. I'll show you if you tell me what happened."

"I already did. I confronted them, warned them off. Your turn."

"Not yet. You took their gun. Does that mean you went all macho on them?"

He squinted one eye, trying to calculate her reaction. She was tough, but he knew women often favored talking over using force. "Something like that."

He was afraid she was going to lecture him about not using violence to solve problems, but she just nodded.

He didn't want to scare her, but she had to know what was going on. It looked like kissing time was over. He led her to a wicker love seat and pulled her down beside him on the vine-patterned cushion. "Janet, these guys are not professional thieves, at least not in the way you think of it. They're Colombians."

"You mean Banner's Colombians?" He saw understanding flare in the depths of her eyes. "They're after the diamonds, aren't they? Not the ones Banner bought with the Pellinni Jewels, but one of those other deals Sleazy told us about. Payment for the drugs they smuggled. Except maybe he didn't pay off the last shipment before he was arrested."

"That's what I think, too. The Pellinni Jewels were probably part of his money laundering as well. When word of the necklace got out, I think these guys figured that you had their diamonds, too."

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeah, like I might have found a bag of diamonds laying around and kept them. There were federal agents crawling all over my house and the Westfield-Benton offices. They didn't leave a paperclip if they thought it might somehow be connected to the case. I think they would have found diamonds if there were any."

Rocky shrugged. "Even inside golf b.a.l.l.s?"

She paused to think about it. "I'm pretty sure there weren't any others besides the empty ones I found. I watched the FBI go through the house. If there was a gold golf ball ready to be delivered to his Colombian contacts, I never saw it." One eyebrow rose. "But you can be sure I'll ask him about it this afternoon."

"What?"

Her sly look was definitely a smirk. "I just got a confirmation from his lawyer; I'm on the visitor's list."

He hadn't expected her to act that fast. "Janet, I don't want you seeing him alone. h.e.l.l, I don't want you to see him at all."

"I know." How could she be so calm when he felt like he was going to explode? "I appreciate your concern, but we have no choice. Banner is the only one who might have the answers we need, and only one person can see him at a time. I'm going."

She was right, though it still didn't make him feel any better. What did help was the fact that he was familiar with the visitation process at the Oakland County Jail: Banner wouldn't be able to touch her, and she wouldn't be alone with him.

He had to admire her determination and guts. The man was evil personified and had gone to great lengths to arrange her death; it couldn't be easy to look him in the eye and ask for information.

I'll go with you. I don't like the idea of you driving there alone, especially after I just p.i.s.sed off your Colombian tail."

"Thanks, but Ben already arranged for a security guy to go with me."

He bit back any further objections. "Call me when you get back."

She smiled. "I will. Thanks for being so understanding."

"I'm faking it."

Her smile widened. "I know."

It was impossible to stay upset when she looked at him with that mixture of amus.e.m.e.nt and affection.

"So what happened when you talked to the Colombians?"

He shrugged. "We didn't have much to say to each other, outside of what sounded like some nasty threats."

"What do you mean? What did they say?"

"Just what you'd expect, something about killing me."

"What! What about killing you?"

Rocky smiled. He liked that she was concerned for his safety.

"I don't know exactly. It was in Spanish, but I got the point."

She blinked and gave him an odd look. "Are you telling me you don't speak Spanish? You, Roberto Hernandez?"

"Hey, I'm like, fifth-generation American. I know how to order burritos at the drive-through. I think my grandmother speaks a little Spanish."

She stared, then laughed. "Sorry, I know it's a stereotype. You're right, I have a lot to learn about you." The smile lingered, then faded a bit while she bit her lip, thinking. Her blue eyes took his measure. "And I think I'd like to."

The soft, innocuous words drove into his heart like an arrow.

Her carefully erected defenses had dropped, allowing him in. It meant more than her willingness to jump into bed with him-far, far more-and he had to be careful not to scare her back behind her barricades.

"Whatever you want to know." He hadn't meant for it to come out so low and rough, but his voice was suddenly gone. Great, he beats up the bad guys and a wisp of a girl knocks him speechless.

He felt an urge to touch her, to remind himself of their connection. But she was still learning to open up, so he had to be careful. Lifting his hand slowly, he touched the tendrils behind her ear. He fingered the short strands, winding them absently around his finger and delighting when it made her eyes go hazy and her lips open slightly. It was good to know he could have that effect on her, especially since she seemed to have a greater effect on his emotional balance than he'd expected.

"That's not a commitment or anything." Her voice didn't seem that strong, either, despite her defiant words.

"I know. You want to get to know me better, that's all."

"Right. I mean, if we're still going to keep sleeping together."

"d.a.m.n right we are." He was practically growling now. He cleared his throat. "As soon as we give the cops time to either pick up those two SOBs or scare them off. We don't need them tailing us and parking outside while we-" his voice stopped as another thought clicked into place. They'd been tailing him because they were watching Janet, to either threaten her or see where she went. To see if she might lead them to the diamonds.

He stood abruptly. "s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t!"

She stopped in the middle of licking her tongue across her full lower lip, and rose beside him. He must have looked alarmed, because she'd picked up his expression. "What?"

"Sleazy. They were probably following us when we went there. We led them right to the p.a.w.nbroker who sold Banner the jewelry and the diamonds. s.h.i.t!"

Her eyes widened as she realized the ramifications faster than he could explain them. "They'll hurt him, won't they? They want information. He's dumb enough to refuse to give it."

"Exactly." He held her shoulders, kissing her more briefly than he wanted to. "I have to go."

"I'll go with you."

"Not this time." He held up his hand as her brows drew together. "No. He's either okay and I'll warn him, or they've already gotten to him. Either way, you don't need to be there. And I need to know that you're safe." He paused. "Besides, you have an appointment to see Banner." For once he was grateful to have Banner come between them.

After several seconds of clenched teeth and pressed lips, she conceded. "All right. But you call me. I mean immediately. I know how long it takes to get there, and I'm going to worry about you for every second you make me wait after that." Moisture gathered in her eyes and she slapped his chest. "d.a.m.n it. Look what you're doing to me. I hate you."

Warmth surged in his chest. He grabbed her, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her hard, giving them both a few furious seconds' taste of desire. He stepped back, then stopped at a sudden memory. "Show me," he ordered, motioning at the wrap that covered her swim suit.

A tiny smile curved her lips as she opened three b.u.t.tons and shrugged the thing off her shoulders. It fell at her feet. Rocky drank in the black bikini with gold swirls that followed the swell of each breast and dipped low between them. His eyes moved down her flat stomach to the gold-and-black triangle that smoothed across her lower abdomen and stretched into little more than strings across her hips. Following the long, tan line of her legs, his eyes caught the shine of gold around her ankle.

He skimmed his gaze back up, slowly, grinning. "Thank you, G.o.d," he murmured, and ran out the door.

The humidity felt like a blanket under overcast skies as Rocky drove to Detroit's West Side. Thunder was rumbling by the time he walked through the door of Lost and Found Treasures.

"h.e.l.lo!" he called. No one came to the window. He couldn't imagine what would make Sleazy leave the front door open and the cash window untended. p.r.i.c.k-les touched his neck, and he glanced around the ceiling for cameras. He spotted two at opposite corners of the room; a red light flashing beneath each one indicated that they were working. He wasn't rea.s.sured.

Leaning over the chest-high counter, Rocky peered into the small area behind the window. Papers, a computer terminal, stacked boxes. No sign of a scuffle, which was only mildly encouraging. The stillness of the place wasn't a good sign.

Access to the s.p.a.ce behind the window was through a door to his right. Knowing the security Sleazy employed on the outer room, he expected it to be locked with at least a couple deadbolts. He turned the k.n.o.b. The door opened smoothly.

"Hey! Anybody here?" Utter silence. A narrow hallway led to the dim back area of the store, probably the main storeroom. No lights were on, shrouding the hallway in blackness. The silence was unnatural, so thick it buzzed in his ears. Every sense was on full alert.

He was worried about the Colombians, but in Sleazy's business, anyone could be a potential problem. The man obviously bought stolen goods, and it wasn't hard to imagine that some rejected, desperate druggie, unable to p.a.w.n his items, might try to rob him. Anyone could be standing back there right now, hand m.u.f.fling Sleazy's mouth, waiting to see what Rocky would do. He had to go back there and find out what was going on.

But he needed a gun. Unfortunately, with his criminal record he'd never get a permit to carry one. Sleazy had to have one around somewhere, though.

Rocky looked under the window that divided the business area from the customers' and found a pump action 12-gauge with both barrels loaded. He tried to be rea.s.sured by the fact that it was there, that Sleazy hadn't felt he needed it. But its presence meant nothing except that Rocky didn't have to walk down that long hall without protection. Tucking the shotgun into a comfortable position at his side, he started toward the back of the store. He didn't call out anymore; he'd given the man plenty of opportunity to respond. Either Sleazy wasn't here, or he couldn't answer.

Slowly, Rocky felt inside the door at the end of the hall until he found the light switch. He hit it, sending a half dozen fluorescent tubes into a flickering fit. It took at least ten seconds for the lights to steady, illuminating several rows of metal shelves stacked with cardboard boxes. He made a careful sweep of the room, looking down empty row after empty row. No Sleazy. Turning all the way to the right, he saw a partially open door. Leading with his shotgun, he stepped toward the door, nudging it with the barrel. It moved two inches and stopped. He pushed harder, and it bounced back this time, hitting something resistant behind it.

He looked around the door into a small bathroom: a sink, a mirror, a toilet. And a body. Sleazy lay crumpled beside the toilet, a neat bullet hole in the back of his head.

G.o.dd.a.m.n it. Rocky muttered it aloud several times, unable to think of anything more appropriate. He hadn't liked a single thing about the guy, but felt bad for the way he'd died. Not to mention he felt guilty, despite the fact that he'd warned Sleazy. Desperate addicts weren't noted for neat, execution-style slayings; this death was cold and deliberate.

Sleazy died because Rocky had led a killer to the shop.

Trudging back to the front desk, he wiped the shotgun clean of prints and put it back where he'd found it. Using the phone beside the window, he called 9-1-1, promising to wait for the officers to arrive. Then he pulled out his own cell phone and called Janet.

"I expected to hear from you fifteen minutes ago."

It was nervous relief he heard, not accusation. He felt some of his tension slip away, knowing she cared more than she'd admit. "Sorry, had to call the cops first. He's dead."