Night Thunder (15 page)

But Tate hadn’t anticipated that he’d strike back—and in the most in-your-face way imaginable: by stealing a diamond worth twenty million dollars from Tate’s own private home.

Lyle Samuels, his so-called security expert, was to blame for that. Before he’d died, Samuels had confessed that a week before Sabatini’s cover was blown, he’d actually shown Sabatini the secret room, proudly displaying his security system’s high-tech bells and whistles to someone he considered part of the team.

So now the Golden Eye was gone. One of the largest, most legendary diamonds in the world, snatched from the home of the man who had spent more than seven years trying to find it.

According to legend, the Golden Eye had originally been set in the eye of an idol. History had later tracked it—noting its possession by sheiks and sultans, pirates and kings. It had even made its way to the French court of Louis XV before it vanished in the bloodbath of the French Revolution.

But it belongs here,
Tate thought, his green eyes narrowing to icy slits.
It was made to be mine.

It’s more than time to call in backup for Dolph,
he decided as he left his treasure room and went to find Renee.

Armstrong would have his chance to get the job done.

He was tired of waiting, tired of excuses for Dolph not finding the girl. Let them both hunt her—and the diamond.

And may the best man win.

Chapter 13

THE BLAZER BUMPED AND ROLLED ALONG THE rough gravel road as Josy drove slowly, making careful notations on her sketch pad. She refused to let herself be distracted by the stunning beauty of this rugged land, or by the aquamarine radiance of the Wyoming sky. But she did brake suddenly to stare when she saw a small herd of pronghorn antelope on a ledge no more than a few hundred yards away.

Beautiful and proud, they stood perfectly still for a moment as if surveying their own private kingdom, then suddenly they turned as one and bounded away, disappearing along the rocky bluff as if they’d been no more than a mirage.

She glanced at her map again, took note of her surroundings, and jotted a brief description for herself, along with a drawing.

Ledge at right . . . aspen tree . . . purple flowers beneath . . .

She’d been driving exactly sixteen minutes since she’d left the highway, following the road into the foothills about one mile south of Shadow Point and the trail she and Ty had ridden the other day.

Not far enough yet, she decided, and drove on, climbing for another quarter of a mile. When she reached a side trail that wound around a gully, she turned onto it and proceeded slowly, watching for just the right spot.

Finally she stopped and got out, taking the package— rewrapped and retaped in its original brown paper—with her. She also pulled out the small shovel she’d bought at Merck’s Hardware and her sketch pad and pencil, and set off toward a big rock nestled alongside a broken tree stump.

She knelt down in the grass a foot from the rock, dropped everything but the shovel in a little pile, and began to dig.

Turning down Angel Road an hour later, she wasn’t surprised to see Corinne’s car parked in front of Ada’s house. She’d already stopped by Bessie’s Diner, hoping to see Ada, and she’d heard all about the bad news.

“I’m jinxed, that’s what it is,” Corinne was saying in a low, desolate tone as Josy peered in through the screen door. They were sitting in Ada’s living room, and Ada was pouring her a cup of tea.

“Maybe I’m not supposed to get married. Maybe I’m just not supposed to marry Roy. Maybe this is fate’s way of telling me the wedding is a mistake—” Her voice cracked.

“Stop that now,” Ada chided. Josy had never heard her speak so sternly. “You’re talking nonsense.” She caught sight of Josy on the porch and motioned her inside.

“Did you hear what happened?” Ada asked as Josy joined them.

“Yes, Roberta told me—the bridal shop went out of business. You don’t have a gown.”

“They just closed their doors. There was a message on their machine—all shipments have been suspended and they can’t fill any orders dated after the first of last month. I’m so screwed,” Corinne groaned, and tears shimmered in her eyes.

“Corinne, we’ll figure something out,” Josy soothed, sitting down beside her.

“That’s exactly what I told her.” Ada took a seat on the other side of Corinne. “There’s that bridal shop in Casper. We’ll go there and find you something pretty—”

“It’s too late. There won’t be time for fittings. I called and they’re completely booked for the next three weeks. And their stock is low . . . I’m going to have to get married in my navy blue suit. It’s short, it’s too tight on me, and I’m going to look like a fat bluebird on my wedding day!”

Corinne gave a sobbing gasp as she struggled for self-control.

“Ada, you know about Roy’s family,” she said miserably as Josy stared at her, mystified. “They’re related to the Barclays. And they’re all rich. They own all that oil and natural gas, they have interests all over the world. I know Roy doesn’t care about things like that—he loves me—but I don’t want to humiliate him by walking down the aisle in a skimpy blue suit that hits above my knees . . . with a b-broken zipper—”

“You’re hardly going to do that,” Ada interrupted her. “We’ll find you something in that bridal shop. And I’ll do the fittings myself, if need be. I can still sew rings around just about anyone in this town, even if my eyes aren’t what they once were. I’ll get it done for you in time and you’re going to look as pretty as any bride who ever walked down the aisle.”

“I’ll help,” Josy said instantly. They both stared at her.

“I’ve been sewing for years,” she said quickly. “I almost studied fashion design instead of interior design.”

She squeezed Corinne’s arm. “Between Ada and me, we’re going to have you looking like you belong on the cover of
Bride
magazine.”

A flicker of hope shone in Corinne’s eyes. “Really? You think?”

“I
know.
” Josy stood up, taking charge. “Let’s go.”

Two hours later they were plundering through the racks of Ceecee’s Bridal Shop in Casper.

The selection was thin and the gowns picked over, because, as the salesgirl explained, it was between seasons. Most of the summer stock was gone, except for whatever gowns remained on the racks. The shipment of new fall styles wouldn’t arrive until later in June.

Corinne’s face had fallen when she’d seen the sparse selection but she turned toward the racks with something like desperation in the set of her mouth. Ada and Josy each picked a different rack and began eyeing the lineup of gowns.

There wasn’t much there, Josy had to admit as she shuffled through padded hanger after padded hanger. Most of the leftovers looked like discouraged wallflowers. They were either too frumpy or too sexy, too plain or too glittery, or else too froufrou—nothing that would be right on Corinne. None of them caught her eye until . . .

“What about this?” she said suddenly, sweeping an ivory silk gown off the rack, carrying it over to Corinne. Ada scurried over, pursing her lips as she studied the gown.

“The fabric is beautiful,” Corinne said slowly, “but the high neckline . . . I don’t know. It looks so prim and old-fashioned. It isn’t me.”

“No, it isn’t, but I’ll fix it. We’ll make it strapless, and I’ll add seed pearls to the bodice and hem, jazz up the train . . .”

“You know how to do all that?” Ada asked incredulously, staring at her.

“Watch and see.” Josy grinned. For the first time since she’d fled New York, she felt free. She felt like herself. She wasn’t lying, evading, or pretending. And she could do something to really help Corinne, to help her have the wedding day she’d dreamed of.

“If you buy this dress, Corinne, I’ll turn it into your dream dress. You’re going to look like a movie star.”

Corinne’s eyes sparkled as she gazed from the dress to Josy.

“I’m buying it,” she announced.

Ada shook her head. “I’ll help with what I can, but what you’re talking about is beyond me,” she admitted.

“It would help a lot if you could sew in some of the seed pearls,” Josy told her. “I’ll make a pattern and show you where they go.”

An hour later, after Corinne found simple white satin heels that she arranged to have dyed ivory, they headed over to a small restaurant called the Buffalo Grill for a celebratory dinner.

“You don’t understand, Josy. I’m not usually neurotic. I’m a calm person.” Corinne leaned back against the tan leather booth. “Aren’t I, Ada?”

“Cool as a cucumber,” Ada agreed. She cut her hamburger in half and reached for the catsup. “At least you were—until the day Roy proposed. Since then, you’ve been a basket case most of the time.”

“It’s partly because I thought Roy would never get over Katy Templeton, even after she married Jackson Brent. But he did . . . and then everything was wonderful because he truly wanted to marry me. But—” She broke off.

“It’s okay, honey,” Ada told her quietly as Corinne just frowned down at her plate. “I’ve been telling you, nothing like that is going to happen ever again.”

Josy’s brows shot up. “Nothing like what?”

“I was engaged once before,” Corinne told her in a low tone. “Before I moved to Thunder Creek. He was a great guy and I was so madly in love I could hardly see straight—until he left me at the altar.”

“What?” Josy gasped.

Ada jumped in quickly. “He didn’t literally leave her at the altar. He called her the day before the wedding and told her he didn’t want to get married. He’d met another girl three weeks earlier. He said he’d found himself attracted to her, and it made him realize he wasn’t ready to get married.”

“He called you the day before?” Josy repeated incredulously. “So tell me, how did you kill him? Slowly, I hope.”

Corinne laughed shakily but there was still an echo of pain in her voice. “That was the last time I ever spoke to him.”

“And now it’s all behind her,” Ada said. “But she’s scared to death something’s going to go wrong with Roy.”

“Can you blame me? Look at all the trouble I’ve had with my wedding gown—maybe it’s an omen. Maybe I’n not supposed to marry Roy either—or anyone—”

“Stop it,” Josy ordered. “I’ve seen you and Roy together. If that isn’t love in his eyes when he looks at you, I don’t know what is. And you love him, Corinne. You guys are great together.”

“I know. Roy is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Then stop driving yourself crazy. And wait until you see the dress. I promise you—Roy’s going to think he’s died and gone to bridegroom heaven when he sees you.”

Ada added something, but Josy didn’t hear it. She was distracted by two men passing the window of the Buffalo Grill. They looked familiar . . . but for a moment she couldn’t place them, then as one turned his head and glanced casually inside, it came to her with a jolt.

She
had
seen them before—the night she’d danced with Ty at the Tumbleweed. They were the two men in the parking lot, the ones Ty had been watching from his truck.

But even as the realization crossed her mind, another man joined them.

It was Chance Roper.

Chance said something and the one with the stringy hair shook his head. Chance was gazing through the window of the Buffalo Grill and Josy lifted her hand in greeting.

But he must not have seen her, for he didn’t acknowledge her wave and in fact seemed to stare right through her before shifting his gaze back to his companions. He said something else, gestured, and then the second man nodded. Quickly, all three of them walked off down the street.

“Who’d you wave to just now?” Ada wanted to know.

“I thought I saw Chance, but maybe I was wrong,” Josy murmured doubtfully.

“Chance is working today,” Corinne said. “He’s usually off work on Fridays. Come on, let’s get the check and go home. I’m dying for you to draw me a sketch of how the dress will look—if you don’t mind?”

“Mind? I can’t wait to get it down on paper.” Josy was surprised at how easily the image of the dress had come into her head. With a little cutting, shaping, and sewing, the result would be a sophisticated sexy confection that would perfectly suit Corinne. She suddenly couldn’t wait to get started.

All during the ride home, ideas for other dresses began flitting through her mind. Ball gowns, opera gowns, cocktail dresses. The images flowed and she wished she had her sketch pad with her and could draw the ideas as fast as they were popping into her brain. She hadn’t felt this way in months . . . maybe she was getting unblocked . . .

“So now you know my crazy history with men and marriage,” Corinne was saying, stepping on the accelerator as they hit the highway and the prairie rolled past in a blur of spring wildflowers.

“You’re not the only one who’s been burned,” Josy assured her. She thought of Doug, of his lies, his stories. He’d been clever and she’d been naive. Well, she’d never be quite that trusting again.

“No woman ever really knows what a man is thinking,” she added darkly.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Ada, sitting beside Corinne in the passenger seat up front, gave a sniff. “Every woman past the age of fourteen probably has some story of a man doing them wrong.”

“Even you, Ada?” Corinne looked over at the older woman as the sun filtered in through the windshield, edging lower in the rose and blue-tinged sky.

“Oh, honey, I’ve had my heartaches, if that’s what you mean.”

Josy went still. She studied Ada’s profile from the backseat, her attention suddenly centered on this woman who had given birth to her own mother.

“What happened?” she asked in a calm tone that betrayed none of the intense curiosity brimming in her.

“Oh, well, you know—what always happens. There was a young man.”

She paused. Josy desperately wanted to press her, but decency kept her from asking for an explanation. She felt like she’d be prying—and under false pretenses. It felt wrong to pump Ada for information when she didn’t even know that her granddaughter was sitting within three feet of her.

I should tell her the truth first . . . then ask her who my
grandfather is . . . why she gave my mother away . . .

But not here, she decided. Not now.

Corinne, though, was oblivious and had no hesitation in urging Ada to talk. “Yes, there’s always a young man,” she agreed vehemently. “Usually a snake or a heel or one who’s too stupid to know his own mind. So which was yours, Ada?”

There was silence for a moment. Then Ada spoke softly. “Mine,” she said, “was a wild and handsome boy. He rode broncs in the rodeo, and he roped steers with the best of them, and he did a mean square dance. He also managed to hog-tie my heart.”