Midnight Jewels (31 page)

Damn it, this was ridiculous. There was nothing to worry about. She couldn't really bring herself to believe Erasmus Gladstone was the evil Egan Graves in disguise, and even if she did believe it, there was no denying Croft was more than capable of taking care of himself. He always seemed to know what he was doing.

The water image faded from her mind, but the sense of uneasiness did not. Mercy began wondering how long it took to thoroughly explore the interior of a man's private library vault. How long before someone noticed Croft had disappeared?

One thing about this crowd, it did provide good cover. There were a number of men dressed in black or other dark colors scattered around the room. Croft's absence wasn't immediately noticeable.

Nothing should be wrong, but something was.

After having awakened more than once now with this strange, uneasy feeling in the middle of the night, Mercy was not inclined to ignore it when it struck, even if it did so in the middle of a party. Being around Croft seemed to have caused her to develop a sixth sense of awareness.

She remembered his unusual cheeriness earlier. For the first time she wondered if Croft really had had too much to drink before he undertook his trip downstairs. He had claimed he hadn't, but he'd had half a glass of wine in his hand and there was no telling how much he had had before she saw him last.

The idea of Croft drunk was ludicrous. But if she hadn't known him better, she would have sworn he had been dangerously close to overindulging just before he left for the basement.

Mercy waited no longer. A glance across the room showed that Micah had gotten sidetracked by a blonde in a pair of red long Johns and three-inch high heels. Gladstone and Isobel were still occupied with their leotarded friend. Mercy slipped through the crowd toward the door. No one paid her any attention.

Outside in the hall she heard a few voices whispering and laughing from the elegant sitting room. Someone had turned off the lights and it was obvious the couples who had retreated to that room had not gone there to enjoy the starlit view of the Rockies.

Mercy waited a minute to make certain no one noticed her and then she headed for the staircase. The sounds of laughter and the smell of marijuana and tobacco faded rapidly as she descended into the lower level of the big house.

An eerie silence and the familiar combination of chlorine and growing plants hit her as she pushed open the glass doors and stepped out onto the platform. The glowing blue of the swimming pool drew her eye. The room was dark because the overhead lights were off, but not as shadowed as last night when all the lights except those in the pool had been dimmed. Tonight the green glow from the undergrowth lit the paths that led toward the water.

She was never really certain what made her start toward me pool. Theoretically, she told herself, she ought to check the vault room first. But the aura of the glowing blue water drew her. Lately she seemed to be haunted by that shade of blue. Mercy found herself moving quickly along the white gravel path.

She saw the dark shape floating in the pool within seconds after leaving the platform. Shock went through her. She got only a glimpse through the palm fronds and ferns of what looked like a black pant leg billowing languidly in the water, but it was enough. Someone was in the pool and whoever it was, he wasn't moving.

It was the color of the pant leg material that added the extra dimension of horror to the scene. Mercy broke into a run. It was true a few other men had worn dark clothes to the party, but she was willing to bet those guests were all still upstairs. The man in the pool was Croft.

He couldn't be dead. Not like this. Croft Falconer wasn't the kind of man who would end his life by getting ignominiously drunk and falling into a pool.

"Croft! Oh, my God, Croft, don't you dare drown like this.
Don't you dare
." Mercy reached the edge of the pool, stumbled slightly as she kicked off her high-heeled sandals and then she dove into the water. Croft was floating as if he were unconscious or dead.

The skirt of her dress became a heavy, soggy weight almost instantly. But she was only a couple of feet away from Croft. Mercy stroked fiercely and caught hold of his arm.

Croft moved at her touch, rolling over in the water like a seal and smiling complacently.

"I knew you'd get here sooner or later," he said. "Never had to depend on anyone else before. Dangerous. But I knew I could depend on you. Strange, huh?"

Mercy released him as though she had been burned. "What is this?" she demanded through set teeth. "Some kind of game? Croft, you had me scared to death."

"Not you," he informed her as if he had given the matter some thought. "You're not the kind who gets scared to death. You might be terrified, but you'd keep moving, keep fighting back. It's your nature, you know. By the way, I can see your nipples through that wet material you're wearing. Very sexy."

"You idiotic bastard," she breathed, staring at his abnormally pleasant expression. "You
care
drunk."

"I never get drunk," Croft said and smiled wickedly. "But it might be interesting to see you when you're tipsy. Would you lose all your inhibitions and crawl all over me?"

"There's no point trying to talk to you now. You're too far gone." Mercy began tugging him toward the edge of the pool. He drifted happily along in the direction she was aiming him, neither helping nor hindering her efforts. "We've got to get out of here. For pete's sake, Croft, it's a miracle you didn't drown yourself."

"I can hold my breath a long time," he confided proudly.

"Is that so?" She got him to the steps and struggled to get him balanced on his feet in the water. "How long can you hold it?"

"A while."

"Oh, that's just terrific. How long have you been floating here in the pool practicing your breath holding skills?"

He swayed upright in the water, blinking water out of his eyes. "A while," he said again. "A long while." Then he leaned forward as if imparting a confidence. "I was just about to cheat and take a breath when you showed up."

"How very intelligent of you." She held her dripping skirts with one hand and yanked on his arm with the other. "Come on, Croft. Move, damn it."

"Don't swear at me. No need to swear. Unbecoming in a lady." His words were only slightly slurred as he staggered up the steps and reached out to steady himself on the rail. "Good thing I didn't have to take a breath. Would have tipped 'em off. They were watching, you know. Wanted to make sure. But now you're here they'll have to pretend everything's hunky dory."

"Croft, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, and if you don't want me to swear at you, try behaving yourself."

"I am behaving. Perfect gentleman. If I weren't behaving, know what I'd be doing now?"

"I don't think I want to hear this," she muttered as she pulled and prodded him to the top step. Out of the water Croft was a lot harder to maneuver.

He was leering cheerfully at her. "If I weren't such a perfect gentleman I'd drag you off into the middle of this phony tropical garden, take off your clothes and make love to you until you couldn't scold me or swear at me or yell at me. By the time I was finished with you you wouldn't even be able to glare at me the way you're doing now. You'd just lie there under me, clinging to me, pleading with me, whispering my name until you went up in flames. I'm getting hot just thinking about it."

It was his eyes that seemed to be turning into flames. Mercy felt herself growing warm beneath the hungry, anticipatory expression in Croft's hazel eyes. She wasn't sure if her uncomfortable flush was a reaction to the softly voiced sexual threat or if it was merely the result of sheer outrage. "I can't believe you allowed yourself to get into this condition," she muttered, releasing him to look for her shoes. "I just can't believe it. It's disgusting."

He reached out to touch her breast, which was clearly outlined by the wet dress. "I didn't do it on purpose, you know."

She brushed his hand away. "That's not exactly reassuring."

He glanced around, apparently looking for something. "Where is it?"

"Where's what? A towel? Taking a swim was an impromptu decision on your part. You didn't bring a towel with you. Next time plan ahead." Water was dripping off her in long rivulets. "Wait a second. There's one on
that lounger over there. One of the guests must have left it behind this afternoon." She picked it up and thrust it at him.

Croft's brows came together in a heavy line as he stared at the towel in his hand. He shook his head impatiently. "Not a towel. The book."

Mercy went still, her fingers pausing over the second shoe. She looked up at him. "Croft," she said as gently and clearly as possible, "did you get into the vault?"

He blinked owlishly down at her. "Sure. It's what I came down here to do, remember? I always finish what I start."

Mercy rose slowly to her feet, automatically wringing water out of her skirt. The water had been warm and the garden room was even warmer but she was suddenly experiencing a genuine chill. "Did you bring a book out of the vault?"

"Meant to." He frowned again. "Wanted to take another look at it."

"Was it
Valley
, Croft?" Mercy grasped his damp sleeve, trying to get him to focus his attention on her. "Did you take
Valley
out of the vault? Damn it, why am I trying to carry on a coherent conversation with you while you're in
this condition?"

His mood shifted again. The frown disappeared and the cheerful, blatantly sexual invitation was back in his eyes. "You want to look at the pictures with me, Mercy? We could look at
Valley
together and see if you get hot."

"Women," she informed him sharply, "do not respond to visual sexual stimuli nearly as much as men do."

"Is that right?" He appeared fascinated. "You'd rather have the real thing, huh? That's okay by me."

"Croft, stop it. You've got to get hold of yourself."

"No need to do it that way. Very lonely that way. Now
I've got you to hold. Much better." He draped a heavy, wet arm around her shoulder. Some of his cheeriness faded again as he stumbled against her. It was obvious that the unfamiliar lack of coordination was puzzling to him, even in his present condition. "What's the matter with me?"

"You're drunk. Come on, O Great Ninja Master, time for you to go to bed."

He shook his head but didn't pull away when she wrapped an arm around his waist and started to guide him down the path. "Not ninja. That ninja stuff is for television."

"Yeah, well, that's about your speed tonight. If you get real lucky, you might be able to kick in a picture tube."

"The book," he said abruptly.

"The book is safe." She sensed the lightning shift of his mood. It was disturbing having him switch from a state of silly, stupid inebriation to one of clear concern about
Valley
.

"Safe? You got it?"

His head came around quickly and for just a few seconds Mercy thought she saw the spark of normal reasoning in his eyes. Then she decided it was more likely a trick of the poor light.

"I don't have the book. It's in the vault," she reminded him patiently.

"Get it."

"What?" Mercy came to a halt on the path. "Are you crazy? How can I get into the vault?"

Croft wiped water off his forehead with the towel. "I left it open."

"The vault?"

"Must have left it open. I was in there when I realized someone had followed me. Closed the door but didn't lock it when I went to see who was in the garden." He stopped and grimaced. "Shit. I think I'm going to throw up after all. Thought the sick feeling was gone."

"Your stomach is upset? Croft, pay attention to me."

He took a deep breath. "There. It's gone. Damned nausea."

Mercy was getting frustrated and scared. She caught hold of the lapels of Croft's wet shirt and tried to shake him. He blinked and looked down at her.

"Did you find someone out here in the garden?" she demanded softly.

"Didn't have to," Croft explained. "He found me. It was a man. Must have been Dallas or Lance. Embarrassing. He shouldn't have been able to get that close without me knowing it. Something's wrong with me, Mercy."

Mercy was suddenly the one feeling nauseous. "Did he throw you in the pool?"

Croft considered that. "I think he tried to knock me out and throw me in the pool. But I tricked him." He grinned in memory of his own brilliance. "I went into the pool all by myself."

"Oh, Lord." Mercy yanked on his arm, hurrying along the path once more. "We've got to get out of here."

Croft abruptly stopped cooperating. He didn't actively fight her grip, he simply came to a halt in the middle of the path. Mercy couldn't budge him.

"Not without the book," he said. "Got to get the book."

Mercy was feeling frantic. "If I get the damned book, will you come with me?"

He nodded happily. His sexy grin returned. "Sure. Always happy to come with you, Mercy. I like to come with you and in you. I like to make you come, too. I like to watch your face when it's about to happen. I like to feel you get all hot and tight and wet around my—"

"
Shut up
. We are in serious trouble here. If you don't stop talking about sex, I'm going to throw you back in that pool, do you hear me, Croft Falconer?"

"Geesh, what a grouch. Lucky for you I'm so good-natured, huh?"

She decided the only thing she could do was ignore most of what he was saying. The book seemed to be the one thing he was really concerned about. If she got it, he might be more amenable to following her orders.

Mercy came to a decision. It looked as if she was going to have to give a few orders to Croft tonight. He had finally succeeded in convincing her that something was very wrong at the Gladstone estate. The only sane thing to do was leave. It was very obvious he was incapable of organizing the retreat. That left her to manage things.

"Croft, listen to me. I'm going to get that copy of
Valley
for you if I can get into the vault. Then we're going upstairs. If anyone sees us, we will pretend you're so drunk you have to go to bed. Once upstairs we will pack our things and go down the back way to where the car is parked. Got that?"