Midnight Jewels (25 page)

He stared at her. He could pick her up in one hand and dangle her over the edge of a ravine until she screamed in panic and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. She was as delicate as a flower, but she seemed to have absolutely no fear of him. Mercy didn't seem to realize the extent of her own vulnerability.

Then Croft smiled faintly. She probably didn't realize
the
extent of her own integrity, either. She wouldn't betray him because deep down she was incapable of betrayal. Besides, she trusted him.

"You're bluffing," Croft said finally. And with that he started down the narrow path toward the meadow.

Mercy was infuriated. So much for clever tactics.

"How do you know I'm bluffing?" she demanded as she dashed down the small incline behind him.

He looked back at her over his shoulder. "Watch your step. The flowers in these meadows are very delicate and they've got a very short growing season. Summer doesn't last long around here."

"I know all about the fragility of mountain flora and fauna," she informed him stiffly. "I am not a complete idiot."

He smiled and sat down on a nearby boulder, one of many that had been carelessly tumbled into a small heap at that end of me meadow. "I know you're not an idiot, Mercy, but sometimes you are a little rash or naive. Come over here and sit down and enjoy the flowers. This is something you don't see very often, a high mountain meadow in full bloom."

"Have I told you that I really don't like it when you turn
patronizing and start playing the intellectually superior male?"

"You've probably mentioned it, but not within the last five minutes."

Mercy eyed him warily as she walked over and sat down on a sun-warmed rock. Croft's dark hair was lightly ruffled by a breeze. He was wearing his black chinos and, as usual, a dark shirt. He had one knee drawn up and was resting his arm on it as he gazed out over the bright wonderland spread before them. His darkness was a vibrant counterpoint to the sunlight and color surrounding them.

Something stirred in Mercy's mind, a sudden image of Croft gliding between two dimensions, his own and the one she inhabited. Like the ghost town they had passed on the way to Gladstone's estate, Croft didn't always seem completely in touch with this world. It was as if he was in it, but not always a part of it.

He needed an anchor, Mercy thought with sudden insight, something to tie him firmly to the here and now. He could too easily detach himself and retreat into his own world, a world where everything could be comprehended in terms of complete and incomplete Circles. He had difficulty accepting the eccentricities, irrationalities and unpredictableness of those who inhabited the real world. But with a flash of insight Mercy suspected he had even more trouble accepting the possible existence of some of those qualities within himself.

Mercy tore her gaze away from Croft and made herself study the landscape. She had to admit it was magnificent. Clumps of fragile wildflowers bloomed in bewildering profusion, giving their all in the short span of time allotted them. The grassy carpet in which they grew was a verdant green. Beyond the meadow snow glittered on distant peaks. The sun was warm on her shoulders.

"Falconer priorities," Mercy said on a sigh.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "Only that it's typical of you to be more concerned about the possibility that I might smash a wild-flower than about the possibility I might blackmail you."

"Mercy, we both know you're not capable of blackmailing me. Don't make threats you can't carry through."

"You won't tell me about your past?"

"Not now. Maybe not ever. Believe me, honey, you don't really want to hear about it."

She wondered about that. "Maybe you're right. Okay, I accept your right to remain silent about that side of things. But I want some questions answered about this Gladstone business. It concerns me and I want to know your plans."

"I've told you my plans. I want to find something, anything, that might tie Gladstone to Egan Graves."

"You think you'll find evidence in the vault?"

Croft nodded. "It's the most likely spot. If not there, then maybe in his office. I should be able to check both places tonight during the party. Isobel says there should be almost fifty guests."

"That many more chances you'll be discovered."

He shook his head. "That much easier to disappear."

Mercy shuddered. "I wish you'd let it go, Croft."

"I can't."

She heard the simple truth in his words and sighed. "No, you can't just let it go, can you? You're Croft Falconer and that means you have to close all the doors, seal all the gaps, stop all the leaks. Nothing must be left to chance. No questions can remain unanswered."

"A closed Circle."

"What was she like, Croft? The young woman you went down to the Caribbean to rescue?"

He hesitated and then, to Mercy's astonishment, he answered her question.

"Eighteen years old. Pretty. Blonde. Athletic. Full of life. When I pulled her off that island she was no longer eighteen, pretty, blonde, athletic or full of life. She was strung out on drugs, believed Egan Graves was the local representative of heavenly salvation and thought she was doing her duty to the church when she slept with Egan's business acquaintances."

"Grim."

"Yes."

Mercy chewed on her lower lip for a while. "How is she now?"

"Her father said it took a year to get her off the drugs and convince her Graves was nothing more than a pimp and a dealer. But two years ago she started college and she's still there."

Mercy breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. "So she's going to be all right."

"Looks like it."

"You saved her," Mercy said quietly. "She would probably be dead by now if you hadn't rescued her. Does she ever talk to you? Do you see her sometimes?"

"No. She doesn't remember me. She was hysterical that night. So were the others I managed to keep from throwing themselves into the flames. I turned them all over to Ray before dawn that morning. He was waiting in a boat a couple of miles offshore. I never saw any of the kids again and they never really got a good look at me. I told Ray that Graves was dead."

"Ray?"

"Ray Chandler. It was his daughter I was supposed to pull off the island. He was the one who desperately wanted to get his hands on Egan Graves."

"He's the one who asked you to go?"

"Yes."

"You didn't take a fee for your services?"

Croft gave her a strange glance. "Not from Ray Chandler," he said quietly. "I owed him."

"Why?"

"Ray works for the government. He did me a favor once. Looked the other way when I needed some answers from a top secret file."

"So when Ray came to you for help, you returned the favor?"

"Some people call it maintaining good karma. Others call it keeping your honor clean. I call it keeping the Circle closed. I told you, I owed him."

She looked at him. "That's how you live your life, isn't it? You keep this… this Circle closed around you. Everything must be kept under control. Including me."

"I don't think you know just how much of a wild card you are in all this, Mercy. Just when I think I've got you pinned down, you do something that scares the hell out of me. Like following me downstairs last night. Don't ever do that again."

A wild card? Mercy experienced a rush of recklessness. "You know what I dunk, Croft? I think you need to be shaken up from time to time. You're too rigid, too set in your ways. You get upset if you miss your morning meditation or if a waitress brings you tepid tea water. You dunk your way of doing things is the only way to do them and you turn tyrannical when someone tries to argue. This business of keeping the Circle closed sounds like a very limiting kind of philosophy. It makes you inflexible. Maybe it keeps you from being able to fall in love." Mercy shook her head wisely. "Doesn't sound like a healthy lifestyle to me."

"You think yours is any better? You're naive and reckless and unpredictable. You deliberately try to goad me into losing my temper or my self-control. Yes, you do," he said forcefully when she opened her mouth to deny the accusa-tion. "Last night was a classic example. I didn't come into your bedroom intending to play bondage games."

"No, you thought you'd just sashay in and give me a little thrill with a quick, off-the-cuff example of your seduction skills. In the process you'd make sure you still had me under control. I know how you try to use sex against me. I'm not
that
naive. You think that if you've got me tied to you with sexual bonds I won't question your orders or demands. You don't like me thinking for myself, do you? It worries you that I might be viewing this Gladstone situation with an open mind. That's dangerous for you because it means I might decide the man is totally innocent. Which, for your information, I have just about decided, in spite of your bedroom karate."

His mouth tilted in a wry grimace. "So much for my skills at sexual bondage."

"I thought you'd better know it's not working."

"I appreciate the warning."

"Anytime." She realized she was the one feeling goaded and provoked now.

There was a long silence and then Croft spoke quietly. "About last night."

"If you're going to apologize, make it good. I'm not in the mood for any halfhearted attempts at rationalization."

"You want me down on my knees?"

"Sounds perfect."

"I seem to recall being on my knees in front of you last night at one point," he began thoughtfully. "Doesn't that count?"

"Why you son of a—Last night I told you I would strangle you. Today I will." Mercy flew off the rock with the speed of an exploding grenade. She launched herself at Croft, heedless of the danger.

He caught her easily, cushioning her against his solid frame so that she didn't injure herself on the rocks. Croft absorbed the momentum of her flying charge and then, holding Mercy tightly, he rolled gently off the boulder and onto the grass. He used one arm to manage the small impact for both himself and his wriggling burden.

Mercy felt the rock-hard security of Croft's grasp, closed her eyes as the sky spun overhead, and then found herself flat on the ground. Croft was sprawled on top of her. When she lifted her lashes she found herself looking up into laugh- , ing hazel eyes.

It was the golden laughter that defused her short-lived flash of anger. It captivated her and charmed her as nothing else could have done. Mercy realized she loved to see Croft laugh.

"You think you're the slickest thing I've come across since sliced bread, don't you?" she asked, unable to resist running her fingers through his hair.

He grinned. "If we had world enough and time I'd make love to you out here in the sunshine. You look good on a carpet of flowers."

"Aren't you afraid I might have squashed one or two?"

"It's worth it to see your hair spread out on the grass."

"I take it we don't have world enough and time?"

"Disappointed?"

"Even if I were I'd never admit it," she said. "You're already far too sure of yourself. Besides, I know why you want to head back to the house as soon as possible. You're on a mission and nothing must get in the way. First things first, business before pleasure, keep the Circle closed, etcetera, etcetera."