Hot Rocks (23 page)

She rubbed her hands over her face, dragged them back into her hair. “I took money from him. Through college, a little here, a little there. There’d be an envelope stuffed with cash in my mailbox, or now and then a cashier’s check made out to me. And after I graduated, too. A little wind-fall out of the blue, which I dutifully banked or invested. So I could buy this house, start my business. I took it. I knew it wasn’t from the goddamn tooth fairy. I knew he’d stolen it or bilked someone out of it, but I took it.”

“You want me to blame you for that?”

“I wanted to be respectable,” she repeated. “But I took the money to build that respectability. Max, I wouldn’t use his name, but I used the money.”

“And you rationalized it and justified it. I could do the same. But let’s just cut through all that and agree that it’s a very shaky area. Let’s agree you don’t take it anymore, and make it clear to him the next time you see him.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I tried to make it clear to him. Oh, that’s right. I do. But I’ll make it stick this time. I promise. Do me one favor?”

“Just ask.”

“Put those away somewhere and don’t tell me where. I don’t want him coming back and talking me into giving them to him. It’s not out of the realm.”

Max slid the stones back into the pouch, tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I want to help you get the rest of them. I want that for a few reasons. One, I guess it’ll go a ways toward easing my conscience. Two, and more important, it’s just the right thing to do. More important than that, I hope that recovering them, getting them back where they belong will protect my father. I couldn’t stand for him to be hurt. And somewhere between the conscience and the right thing lies the two-and-a-half-percent finder’s fee.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “You know, you may have bought that respectability, but you must’ve been born with that style. I’ve got a few things to see to. Maybe you can see about warming up that fudge.”

“If I wait a bit, both of us get our evening chores done, we could have those sundaes in bed with extra whipped cream.”

“I believe I might just be the luckiest man alive at this point in time.” His cell phone beeped, making Laine chuckle when she heard the digitized opening riff of “Satisfaction.”

“Hold that thought,” he said, and answered. “Gannon.” His face broke into a wide grin. “Hey, Mama.”

Since he leaned against the stove instead of heading out of the room for privacy, Laine started to ease out. But he grabbed her hand, pulled her back.

“So, you liked the glasses. That makes me the good son, right? Your favorite.” He scowled, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could keep a hand on Laine and reach for his wine. “I don’t think it’s fair to put your grandchildren in the mix. It’s not like Luke went out specially and picked them out to suit you. Stay,” he said in a hushed aside to Laine, then transferred the phone to his other hand when he released her.

“Yeah, I’m still in Maryland. On a job, Mama.” He paused, listening, while Laine puttered around the kitchen looking for something to do. “No, I don’t get tired of hotels and eating in restaurants. No, I’m not sitting here chained to my nasty computer and working too hard. What am I doing? Actually, I’m two-timing you with a sexy redhead I picked up the other day. There’s talk of whipped cream later.”

Laine’s shocked gasp only had him crossing his feet at the ankles.

“I am not making it up. Why should I? She’s right here. Want to talk to her?” He tipped the phone slightly away from his ear. “She says I’m embarrassing you. Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Guess you’re right about that, Mama. Her name’s Laine, and she’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in my life. How do you feel about redheaded grandchildren?”

He winced, held the phone out a good six inches. Across the room, Laine could hear the exclamations but couldn’t tell the tone of them.

“No problem. I’ve got another eardrum. Yeah, I’m crazy in love with her. I will. Of course I will. She won’t. As soon as . . . We
will
. Mama, take a breath, will you? Yes, she makes me very happy. Really? I want you to hang up and call Luke right now. Tell him he’s been shuffled into second place, and I’m your favorite son. Uh-huh, uh-huh. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”

He clicked off, stuck the phone back in his pocket. “I’m her favorite son. That’ll burn Luke’s ass. Anyway, I’m supposed to tell you that she can’t wait to meet you, and we have to come down to Savannah ASAP so she can meet you, and can have a little engagement party for us. Which in Marlene-speak means a couple hundred of her closest friends and family. You’re not allowed to change your mind about me. And she’d like it very much if you’d call her tomorrow when she’s calmed down so you can have a nice chat.”

“Oh my God.”

“She’s prepared to love you because I do. Plus she’s thrilled that I’m going to settle down and get married. Then there’s you having the good sense to see what a prize I am. You’ve got a big leg up with Marlene.”

“I feel a little sick.”

“Here.” He pulled his phone out again. “Call your mama, then you can tell her and put me on the spot. We’ll be even.”

She stared at the phone, stared at him. “This is real.”

“Damn right.”

“You really want to marry me.”

“We’re past the want to. I’m going to marry you. You don’t follow through on this, Marlene will hunt you down and make your life a living hell.”

She laughed, took two running strides, then jumped into his arms. Hooked her legs around his waist and covered his mouth with hers. “I’ve always wanted to visit Savannah.” She took the phone out of his hand, laid it on the counter behind him.

“What about your mother?”

“I’ll call her later. There’s a two-hour time difference, you know. So if I call her in two hours, it’s really the same thing as calling her now. That way we can do something else for two hours.”

Since she was chewing on the lobe of his ear, he had a pretty good idea what the something else would be. Hitching her to a steadier position, he started out of the room. “What about those evening chores?”

“Let’s be irresponsible.”

“I like your thinking.”

She ran her tongue down his throat, up again. “Can you make it all the way upstairs?”

“Honey, the way I’m feeling, I could make it all the way to New Jersey.”

She bounced lightly as he started up the stairs. “We forgot the whipped cream.”

“Save it for later.”

She reached down to tug his shirt out of his waistband. “Big talk.” Her hands snuck under the shirt, ran up the hard plane of his chest. “Mmm, I love your body. I noticed it right away.”

“May I say, ditto.”

“But it wasn’t the kicker.”

“What was?” he asked and turned into the bedroom.

“Your eyes. They looked into mine, and my tongue went thick, my brain went stupid. I thought . . . oh, yum, yum, yum.” She kept legs and arms hooked tight around him when he tumbled them into bed. “Then when you asked me to dinner, I thought—in the far reaches of my mind I didn’t quite acknowledge—that I’d have this rash, wild, impulsive affair with you.”

“I think you did.” He got busy undoing her blouse.

“Now I’m going to marry you.” Delighted, she pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside. “Max, I should tell you, I’d’ve slept with you if Henry didn’t like you, but I wouldn’t be marrying you if he objected.”

He lowered his mouth to her breast, bit gently. “Fair’s fair.”

She arched, absorbed, then riding on the thrill rolled over to reverse positions. “I’d just sneak around behind his back and have sex with you. I’d feel bad about it, but I’d do it anyway.”

“You’re such a slut.”

She threw back her head and hooted with laughter. “Oh God! I feel wonderful.”

His hands ran up her sides, then in and over curves. “You’re telling me.”

“Max.” The sweetness seeped into her, had her brushing her hands through his hair, then cupping his face. “I love you, Max. I’ll be such a good wife.”

She was everything he wanted and hadn’t known he was looking for. The whole of her, all those strange and lovely layers that formed her fit the whole of him as no one ever had, or ever would.

He drew her down to him, stroking her hair, her back, as love swarmed inside him. And when she sighed, the long, contented sound of it was like music.

Soft, so soft, her skin, her lips, so that the moment took on a dreamy hue that made it easy to be tender. He could cherish her here, and wondered if anyone ever had.

Instead of seeing her as competent or clever, as practical and smart, had anyone ever shown her she was precious?

He murmured to her, foolish things, romantic things as he eased her over to undress her. His hands skimmed over her as if she were more fragile than glass, more splendid than diamonds.

Her breath caught, another quiet little sigh as she let him take her over, as she sailed over smooth, gentle waves of pleasure. Under his hands she was pliant, willing to lay herself open for whatever he gave, or took.

Long, lush kisses that shimmered through the blood and sent pulses skipping. Slow, indolent caresses that sent warm thrills over the skin. She floated on the lazy river of sensation.

As that river rose, she felt the sleepy passion wake to roll through her in an endless swell. She arched to him, once again wrapping herself around him so they sat, locked together in the middle of the bed.

Mouths met more urgently, with breath quickening as the air went misty, as heart kicked against heart. Need welled inside her, throbbing like a wound, spreading like a fever.

She murmured his name, over and over, as she pushed him back, as she straddled him and cupped his hands to her breasts.

She took him inside her, captured him in all that velvet heat. Watching him through the shadows, her hair gleaming through them, her eyes impossibly blue.

Angling back, she offered him the lovely white line of her. He could feel the canter of her heart, the shivers along her skin, the taunt brace of it as she set to ride him.

Then she leaned forward, her hair raining down to curtain her face, and his. She anchored her hands on his shoulders, dug her fingers in. And drove him mad.

Her hips charged like lightning, shooting sparks of shock through his blood. The pleasure stormed through him now, whipped by her energy. She threw her head back, crying out when she clamped around him, convulsed around him.

Clinging to the edge, he reared up, banded her in his arms and, with his lips hot on her throat, let her drag him over with her.

 

 

 

He had to work. It wasn’t the easiest transition with his
body sated with sex and his mind veering constantly back to Laine. But the work was vital. Not just for his client, or for himself, but for Laine.

The sooner this portion of the diamonds was back where it belonged, the better for all concerned.

But that was hardly the end of it, or of her problems.

He didn’t expect Crew would come back searching for them in the house, but neither did he expect the man to just cut his losses and walk away. He’d killed for those stones, and he wanted all of them.

He’d planned to have all of them from the beginning, Max concluded while he shuffled his notes into another pattern to wait for some new piece to fall into place.

No reason that made sense to have lured Myers out for a private meeting unless he’d planned to eliminate him and increase his take. He’d have picked his other partners off and slithered away with the full twenty-eight million.

Had they sensed it? Wouldn’t someone who’d lived a life on the grift catch the smell of a scam? That was his bet, in any case. Either Jack or Willy had sensed a double cross, or been spooked by Myers’s disappearance.

So they’d gone into the wind.

And had both ended up here, assuming Laine would be the perfect place to hide the stones until they could liquidate them and vanish for good.

He’d kick Jack O’Hara’s sorry ass for that later.

They’d led Crew right to Laine’s doorstep. The stones were secure, but not in the way they’d planned. And Willy was dead, Laine a target.

And once more, he thought in disgust, Big Jack was under the radar and on the move.

He wouldn’t go far, Max mused. Not with Willy’s quarter share at stake.

He’d be holed up somewhere, working on the angles. That was good. It would give Max the time and the opportunity to run him to ground and collect another quarter share.

He’d keep his word to Laine. He wasn’t interested in turning Big Jack over to the cops. But he was interested, in fact he was deeply invested, in tearing a strip off the man for putting Laine in jeopardy.

Which brought him back to Crew.

He wouldn’t go far either. Now that he knew the investigation was centered right here in Angel’s Gap—and Max could only lay that on his own head—he’d be more careful. But he wouldn’t want too much distance between himself and the prize.

He’d killed for another quarter of the take. He sure as hell wouldn’t hesitate to kill for another half.

In Crew’s place, Max would set his sights on O’Hara. There was only one thing standing between O’Hara and twenty-eight million. That was Laine.

He’d hand the diamonds in his possession over to his client, dust his hands and say that’s the best I can do and scoop Laine up, tuck her away in Savannah. Of course, he’d have to sedate her, hog-tie her and keep her in a locked room, but he’d do it if he believed it would take her out of the mix and keep her safe.

But since he didn’t think either of them would be very happy with her drugged, tied up and locked away for the next several years, it didn’t seem like the way to go.

Crew would just wait, bide his time and come after her when he chose.