Edge of Midnight (30 page)

“I didn’t, really. Send him running, I mean.” Liv hastened to clarify. “It was just, you know. Dumb luck.”

The women looked at each other. “That’s all it ever is,” Erin told her solemnly. They chortled, as if at some private joke, and smirked at Sean, slapping his ass as they filed by. He suffered this with a look of stoic martyrdom, and followed them down the hall towards the kitchen.

Margot flung an arm over Liv’s shoulder. “Excuse the invasion,” she said. “We were practically peeing our pants from curiosity. Any woman who could wrangle this spaz into shape must have an amazing set of ovaries. We just had to come and gawk.”

Liv blushed. “After the stories Sean tells, I’m gawking too.”

“Oh, Sean talks too much,” Erin said cheerfully. “Don’t listen.”

Tam spun around and blocked the parade. “Erin. I finished a new piece recently,” she announced. “I want to name it for you. May I?”

Erin looked startled. “I suppose. Wow. Could I see it?”

Tam’s smile took on a catlike satisfaction. “Certainly. Right this way.” She led them down a corridor, and up into the octagonal tower, a workroom paneled in dark wood, the effect both stark and lavish.

Entire walls were covered with tiny catalogued drawers. Bars of powerful lighting hung from the high ceiling. Mysterious chunks of machinery were bolted to the heavy worktables. Strange, twisted metal things like tormented mobiles from a goblin’s dreams spun lazily in the breeze from the window. With the tree poking through the clouds, the smell of metal and chemicals, and the backdrop of the sound of the heaving surf down below, it seemed like an ancient alchemist’s lair.

“The finished pieces are here.” Tam led them to a table draped with black velvet and lit with its own bar of lights. Several polished wooden boxes sat on it. Tam flipped one open, and presented it to Erin.

Liv’s breath stopped, the piece was so startling, although upon second glance, the design was simple. It was a torque, meant to be worn around the neck, of twisted white gold, smaller threads of subtly colored gold woven through it. The finials were an intricate snarl of golden knotwork, with glowing red stones.

“It’s like Novak’s torque,” Erin said. “Except…different. Oh, Tam. It’s gorgeous.”

Tam looked pleased. A flick of her thumb opened the torque. She fitted it around Erin’s neck. “Watch carefully. If you’re ever in a tight spot, press the garnet, push on this lever here, and there you go.” The finial came off, proving to be the decorated hilt of a small, curved blade.

“Wow,” Erin stared at the wicked looking knife. “I’m honored.”

“You should be,” Tam said. “Asking price is two hundred K.”

Liv’s jaw dropped. “People pay that kind of money?”

“You bet.” Tam dug into her pocket, and passed the cards around. Deadly Beauty: Wearable Weaponry. Tamara Steele. “Most people capable of paying that much money for a piece of novelty jewelry are very insecure. Take your standard mafioso mistress whose lover could be mowed down by a rival boss from one day to the next. An item like this will make her feel safer. Even if the safety is totally fictitious.”

“Are there a lot of mafioso mistresses out there?” Liv asked.

“Plenty. Mafioso wives, too. Lots of money and fear in the criminal underworld. Perfect market for Deadly Beauty. I call this series ‘Margot.’ With your permission, of course.”

They gasped at the assortment of hair ornaments. They seemed to pulse with trapped light. The designs were intensely sensual; feminine curves, slashing angles. Simplicity juxtaposed with tormented intricacy.

“Where did you learn how to do this stuff?” Raine asked.

“My father was a goldsmith. I was his apprentice ’til I was fifteen.”

There was a startled silence. Liv looked at the glances flashing between the other women, and realized that Tam volunteering details about her mysterious past was a first time event for all of them.

“What happened when you were fifteen?” Erin asked.

Tam waved her hand, fanning the past away from her as if it were a bad odor. “He died,” she said curtly. “I got apprenticed to somebody else. Look at this one.” She held up another pin. “Based on the spray model that you all know and love, but if you press this topaz…” She held it up. A needle glinted, so fine it was barely visible. “Load it with poison, or a sedative, depending on your needs. And there’s the old classic.” She picked up a horn shaped clip, twisted the knob, and pulled out a blade. “You can treat the blade with poison, if you don’t trust yourself to hit a vital organ or artery on the first stab.”

“Is this grisly exhibition necessary?” Sean cast an uneasy glance at Liv. “You’re freaking me out.”

“Leave the room, if you have a weak stomach,” Tam said.

“Is that blade longer than four inches?” Connor’s voice came from the open door. “Any longer than that, and you’re carrying concealed.”

“Certainly it’s longer. What a foolish question, Con. Four inches plus one millimeter.” Tam’s voice was smug. “It’s a matter of principle.”

The menfolk jostled Con aside and filed into Tam’s studio, looking around themselves with wary fascination.

“You guys were supposed to stay at the island,” Seth complained.

Raine gave him a cheerfully apologetic shrug.

“Actually, I came to get you,” Erin said to Connor. “Cindy called to invite us to her gig at the Paramount. I want to keep an eye on her, if she’s on stage with this psycho out on the loose. She’s staying with us, after. I don’t want her at Mom’s all alone while Mom’s on vacation.”

Connor groaned. “You couldn’t just tell her to blow off the gig?”

“I tried,” Erin said. “She said I was insane for even suggesting it.”

“But I already told Miles to stay with us tonight,” Connor complained. “He’ll be furious with me if he finds Cindy there.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Miles will survive.”

Tam cleared her throat. “Have you finished boring us with your irrelevant personal business? Oh, good. I’m so glad. This is the ‘Raine.’”

Tam flipped open the box. The women sighed, in unison. The pendant was stunning, an oval as large as a flattened egg. An opal flashed with deep blue-green fire in a setting of woven open-worked gold.

Earrings accompanied it, smaller pendants dangling on slender, braided gold thread from a whorl of colored gold in the earlobe.

“Like the Dreamcatcher,” Raine said. “Except…”

“Except,” Tam said. She twisted the knob where the chain was attached. The thing clicked open in her hand, revealing a dense tangle of wires and circuits, and a wad of what looked like grayish clay.

Sean sucked in a sharp breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A bomb,” Tam said proudly. “It has a limited blast range, but it’s very effective. Place it next to the target’s pillow while he snores in postcoital bliss, go to the next room, take off your earring, twist…” she demonstrated, pulling off the jeweled bulb, “and voilà.” She revealed a small button. “Your detonator. Ka-boom. Your life has been simplified.”

Seth made a rude sound. “Did it occur to you that some women might be sleeping with men that they do not necessarily want to snuff?”

Tam shrugged. “Things change,” she said. “Men grow tiresome.”

Seth muttered something in Spanish that sounded insulting.

“It’s a waste to blow up something so beautiful,” Liv commented.

“There is that to consider,” Tam agreed. “Which is why I have a simpler version, with poison beads. Tasteless, odorless, with a helpful chart to help the novice poisoner get the right dosage based on body weight and timing issues. There’s a version with inhalants, and a tiny hypodermic, too. But I think my bomblet might have some takers. There have been moments in my life when I would have sacrificed jewelry worth millions in exchange for some man’s sudden death.”

T-Rex’s bloody grin flashed through Liv’s mind, making her feel nauseated and cold. “Amen to that,” she said.

Erin, Margot, and Raine all nodded.

Tam stared at Liv with narrowed golden eyes. “Now what kind of piece would be the perfect ‘Olivia,’ I wonder?”

Liv looked at the scabbed marks around her wrist. “Something to cut through ropes or plastic, even if your hands were tied,” she said.

Tam’s eyes lit up. “I have just the thing.” She chose another box, and flipped it open, revealing several rings. Some with glowing stones clutched in tangles of golden wire, some with simple metallic braided bands and stripes. Tam picked out one of the simpler designs, variable bands of colored gold swirling around a square-cut piece of jasper.

“Pry out this lever, and press the stone,” she directed. “I made it hard to trip, because I don’t want a blade popping out at the opera while you’re clapping after the overture. Sean, would you demonstrate?”

Sean looked dubious. “Is the blade poisoned?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it long ago,” Tam snapped.

Sean did as she had directed. A very small but efficient looking blade snapped out, less than an inch long, and serrated near the base.

“You could slice off your own fingers,” Davy commented.

“Yes, in fact, it’s a nice little surprise weapon,” Tam said. “And as a last resort, you can always use it to open a vein.”

A nervous silence followed her words, quickly followed by a grunt of disgust from Sean. “Yeah, over my dead body.”

“Just so, my friend,” Tam said softly. “Just exactly so.”

Liv shuddered. She looked into the woman’s big, golden cat eyes, and found herself caught in them. Tam’s mocking laughter was gone. Somber shadows had taken its place. A silent understanding, beyond words. Tam had been in that place where T-Rex had almost taken her the other day. Where death would be a mercy. She knew it well.

Some part of her had never quite come back from it.

Liv took the ring from Sean’s hands, and examined the sharp little blade. Yes, this would have come in handy yesterday. She pushed the chunk of jasper with all her strength. Snick, the blade snapped back.

Too bad she didn’t have tens of thousands to spend.

She held it out to Tamara. “It’s a wonderful piece,” she said, with total honesty. “Beautiful, as well as useful. You’re very talented.”

Tam slid it onto her index finger. It fit perfectly. “It’s yours.”

Liv gasped, and pulled the ring off, holding it back out to her. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s so valuable.”

“One of the nice things about being rich is that I can afford to indulge my sentimental impulses.” Tam slid the ring back onto Liv’s hand. “I don’t have sentimental impulses often, so don’t waste it. And your man hasn’t gotten you a special ring yet, has he? Cheap bastard.”

“Hey. I resent that remark,” Sean said vehemently. “Excuse me if I’ve been too busy engaging in hand to hand combat with psycho maniacs and running for our lives to stop at a fucking jewelry store!”

“Excuses, excuses,” Tam scoffed. She lifted Liv’s hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “It tickles me to beat him to it. Besides, never count on a man to give you jewelry. They usually suck at choosing it.”

Sean’s jaw was tense. “You are a cat bitch from hell, Tam.”

“Ah, how deeply my little barbs sink into your tender places,” she taunted. “You give good sport, Sean. I’ve always liked that about you.”

Raine cleared her throat. “Ah, Tam? Why haven’t you ever gotten together with Seth to discuss a line of jewelry with beacon trasmitters?”

Tam shook her head. “It’s contrary to my philosphy. Beacons presuppose that other people give a shit whether you live or die, which has not been my experience. Besides, I prefer to be unfindable, as do most of my clients. Thirdly, a trasmitter is no good if someone’s holding a knife to your throat. That’s what wearable weaponry is all about. An extra something when your back’s to the wall, and you’re on your own.”

“You’re depressing the hell out of me,” Davy said.

“Take a pill,” Tam said. “They’ve got great mood stabilizers now.”

Sean glared down at the ring, and slanted Liv an uncertain glance. “I hope you know you’re not wearing that thing to bed with me.”

“Feeling insecure?” Tam peered into the box, and chose three rings, similar to the one she had given Liv. She grabbed Erin’s hand, Margot’s, then Raine’s, and bestowed a ring upon each of them.

“A token of my regard, ladies,” she said, with a wicked grin. “I never miss a chance to annoy a man.”

Nah. She might tell him to piss off, at which point he would be obliged to fall into a yawning crack in the ground and die.

Worse yet. She might get that sultry look in her eyes that made him terrified and crazy, pull her panties off…and prove it to him.

Yeah, and then? His mind ran up against a wall of stark terror.

Having sex with her would be incredibly exciting. And the inevitable aftermath would kill him. He knew it. He fucking knew it.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her slender body twined around him, writhing. Coming, while he nuzzled her incredibly tender, soft tits. He’d had no idea it could be so easy to make a girl come.

Unless she was faking, of course. But why would she? It wasn’t like she gave a shit about his poor tender virginal ego, at this point.

It sure hadn’t felt fake. He’d felt every tremor, reverberating through his body. Every gasp, every clutch of her long nails.

And when she took him in her mouth, oh, God. Oh, God.

Connor was a sneaky asshole for getting him into this. He used every trick he had to stay out of that wacky little headcase’s way, and everywhere he turned, there she was. Shaking her tits in his face.

He groaned, rolling up onto the edge of the daybed. He’d whipped himself into such a frenzy, there was no point trying to sleep. He might as well make himself useful. He booted up his laptop, and clicked his way into the chat forum where Mina had been hanging out with Jared.

Hi anybody out there Im bored, he typed.

A handful of people responded. He exchanged banalities with them, letting time creep by. Deliberately not thinking about Cindy’s heart-shaped pussy hair. Jared finally appeared, oh thank God.

Mindmeld666: hey Mina lets do a u2u

They got into a private room. Jared got right to the point. Ive been authorized to offer you an invitation.

2 what?

A special place. The Haven. Heard rumors?

He had, in fact. Some mythical secret place where people learned amazing brain control techniques. He’d taken it for sci-fi bullshit. There was so much preposterous crap floating around in cyberspace.

Tell me more, he typed.

Dont want 2 talk about it online, Jared typed. I wanted 2 meet u and talk in person, but ur soshy I had no choice. My job is to recruit people like u.

Blushing, Miles typed coyly.

Don’t. Most people who come here pay huge money. We hand pick special ones like u. The guy I work for is a genius. U have 2 xperience it 2 believe it.

Who is he? Miles typed.

Mindmeld hesitated. Im not authorized to tell u that. I havent met u so how do I know if u r who u say u r?

Fair enough. Thats my problem 2, Miles typed.

Only 1 way 2 solve ur problem. Meet me?

The question scrolled out across the bright screen and waited.

A knock on the study door sent his heart off on a tizzy.

Fuck. What to do? Hide under the bed? Stop breathing and pretend to be dead? Shit.

“You awake?” Connor’s gruff voice sounded from the other side.

Not Cindy. Miles almost slid off the chair, unmanned by a combination of relief and disappointment. “More or less,” he called.

Connor opened the door. He was fully dressed, a SIG in his hand.

“I just got a call. The SafeGuard alarm in Erin’s mom’s house tripped. Thank God she’s in Hawaii. I called the cops, but I’m going to take a look. I want you to stand guard. Can you handle one of these?”

Are you kidding? I’m just a clueless gearhead, he wanted to yelp, but the part he’d been relentlessly training swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’ve put in some hours with Sean and Davy at the gun range. Let me just finish this.” Miles leaned over the keyboard and typed,

gotta go. Check back in 2 hrs?

Ur a tease, Mindmeld666 typed. Will check back. Bye4now.

He followed Con downstairs, and took the gun.

“Heads up,” Con said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Miles paced the foyer. His brain buzzed like a hive of bees. He couldn’t sit still. The house was dim, just the orange glow of streetlamps from the window. The gun felt heavy and strange and alien in his hand.

“Oh. There you are.” The soft voice made his heart jolt and skip in his chest. “I was just looking for you.”

He turned. Cindy’s body resolved out of the infinite shades of gray in the kitchen entrance. Just as he’d thought. A tight string tank. Not a thong, but those low-slung form fitted shorts were just about as bad.

“You should be sleeping,” he said.

“Can’t.” Her voice was fretful. “I’m wound up from the gig. We were hot tonight. Too bad you weren’t there. Holy cow, Miles. What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

“Guard duty,” he replied. “Connor’s gone off to check on your mom’s place. Somebody tripped the alarm.”

She tossed her head back, making her hair do that seductive swirl thing. “Someone has to protect us against the fanged monsters, right?”

He refused to let himself be needled. “The monsters are real, Cin.”

“You’re as bad as they are.” She sauntered close enough so he could smell her honey-vanilla scent. The details of her body came into focus in the dimness. He gulped, and looked out the window.

“Can I hold that gun for a sec?” Her voice was teasing.

“No,” he said.

She folded her arms over her belly and slouched against the wall. “Are you afraid I’ll sexually assault you, or something?”

“Connor asked me to guard this house until he got back,” he said tersely. “I’m goddamn well going to do it. So don’t bug me.”

Cindy slid down the wall until she sat on the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. “Are you ever going to stop hating me, Miles?”

He let out a long, careful breath, trying to choose amongst the hundred thousand completely contradictory replies he could give to that statement. “I don’t hate you, Cin. I just hate the way you made me feel. I hated being your personal slave while all your dickhead boyfriends treated you like shit. I really, really hated that.”

“I’m not with any dickhead boyfriend right now,” she protested.

He shrugged. “It’s just a matter of time. I’ve got better things to do than run errands for you while you track your next dickhead down.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Nobody forced you to do all that stuff for me.” Her voice was small. “You could have just said no.”

“That’s true. That’s what I finally did, Cin. I just said no.”

She sniffled. “You hate my guts because of this morning, right?”

Oh, yeah. Right. He almost exploded in hysterical laughter. “No, Cin. I told you. I don’t hate you. I wish you well. All the best. Really.”

She chewed on that. “Wish me well,” she repeated. “I wish Great-Aunt Martha well. I wish all the poor children in the world well. I wish the humpbacked whales and the bald eagles and the panda bears well.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got nothing against whales or eagles or pandas, or Great-Aunt Martha. And I’ve got nothing against you.”

She covered her face with her hands. He was appalled to hear soggy sniffling sounds again. He clenched his teeth. “What do you want to hear? That I love you? I’m not going to say that. I had a crush on you, but I’m over it. I’m not letting you wipe your feet on me anymore.”

“I wouldn’t,” she whispered. “Ever again.”

“Wouldn’t what?” His voice hardened.

“Wipe my feet on you.” She brushed tears out of her eyes, sniffing hard. “I’m sorry if I ever did. I never meant to.”

The soft invitation in her trembling voice tore him to pieces. He wanted it so badly. His fantasy of Cindy, just how he wanted her to be. Grown up, chilled out, feet on the ground. And wanting him.

Fantasy, though. The key word here was fantasy.

He stood there, throat frozen with fear and pain, until the question in the silence between them became a flat, implacable answer.

Cindy let out a shaky sigh and got gracefully to her feet, padding through the kitchen. She stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Miles?”

He braced himself. “Yeah?”

“I wish you well, too,” she said. “I really, really do.”

She had a tone in her voice he had never heard before. She wasn’t trying to sock in a zinger, or impress him, or shock him. She wasn’t trying to jerk the world around until it was the way she wanted it.

Her voice was sad and flat. Facing reality. Dealing with it.

It almost made him change his mind. Having Cindy be real and straight with him was all he had ever wanted from the universe.

But she’d already vanished up the stairs. The fleeting moment was lost. He’d probably imagined it anyway, knowing how fucked in the head he’d always been about that girl.

Miles stared out at the lightening dawn. His heart felt heavy, a dead weight in his chest just like the gun in his hand, and a cruel, searing tightness in his throat, like someone was pulling a knot tight.

God help the fool who tried to assault that house on his watch. He would blow the fucker full of holes without a shred of remorse.

“He looks just like Connor.” Erin sounded smug.

Cindy squinted her eyes, still gummy from last night’s mascara, and took another swig of coffee as she tried to make sense of the grainy sonogram images of her little nephew. “I still don’t see what you see.”

“Imagine that you’re looking straight up, under his chin,” Erin explained. “See? There’s his lips, that’s his little nose…see it now?”

It finally slid into place. She got a sweet, shivery thrill of wonder.

“Wow. Oh, yeah. I see it!” She peered at it again. “Like Connor? Everything about this little guy is round, Erin. Nothing about Connor is round. I’ll concede that he appears to be a recognizable member of the human species, but he doesn’t look like Connor.”

“Oh, you’re hopeless.” Erin got up, and scooped French toast out of the skillet and onto a plate, slapping them down in front of her sister.

“You’ll make me fat,” Cindy complained, out of reflex.

“Don’t even start,” Erin warned. She set the butter and maple syrup down in front of Cindy with a sharp, eloquent thud. “Miles? How many slices of French toast for you?”

“Not hungry, thanks.” Miles’s remote voice floated to the kitchen.

Erin fixed Cindy with a speculative gaze. Cindy’s eyes slid away. She felt herself blush, for no reason she could figure. She hadn’t done anything to Miles last night except give him one more spectacular opportunity to reject her. Which he had done. So thoroughly, she had finally gotten a clue. Charm, tears, even sex, nothing worked with that guy. Her usual tricks had bombed out, big-time. Looked like she was going to have to bite the bullet. Get a dignity implant, or something.

There was a rumble of male voices in the foyer, and then Connor appeared in the door to the kitchen. He looked tired and grim.

“What’s up?” Erin asked.

“Nothing good,” he replied. He grabbed her, kissed her.

Erin poured a cup of coffee, which he took with a sigh of thanks. He sank down into his chair, rubbing his leg. “I got there right after the cops. I parked in the alley, so I almost cut him off when he bolted.”

Erin scowled. “Did you chase him?”

Con didn’t meet her eyes. He sipped his coffee.

“You macho idiot!” she scolded. “You’ll limp worse for a week!”

Connor sighed. “Couldn’t stop myself,” he said dolefully. “I got so close. But then he vaulted the Sizemores’ fence, and I was fucked.” He massaged his leg. “My days of chasing those bastards are over.”

“So? Did you see him?” Cindy asked. “Is he Sean’s guy?”

Connor shrugged. “Might be, might not. He was big, dressed in black. That describes a lot of lowlife scum who engage in B&E.”

“What did he take?” Erin asked. “Did he get Mom’s jewelry?”

“No. That’s what worries me.” Connor met her eyes. “He didn’t take anything. He’d deactivated the old alarm, but he didn’t cop to the SafeGuard one. He was there for twenty minutes. He didn’t take a thing. I think he was hunkering down. Waiting for somebody to come home.”

Erin shuddered, hunching down over her rounded belly and wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. “Why would he go after Mom, if it’s Sean’s guy? And not, say, us? Or Davy and Margot?”

Connor shook his head. “She’s an easier target.”

Cindy squirmed uncomfortably as she thought of her adventure with Porky yesterday. Her cell phone rang. She fished it out. The unfamiliar number made her belly twist. She picked it up. “Yeah?”

“Yes, is this Cindy? This is Bolivar.”

“Oh! Hi, Bolivar.” She padded into the living room, rummaging for pen and paper. “What’s up?”