Hearts in Vegas (Harlequin Superromance) (30 page)

Maybe Vanderbilt could abandon her, but he never could.

If the investigators showed up, he’d tell the truth—that he
knew she was up here without protection, so he stepped in.

He didn’t know much about the video tech except that Frances
mentioned he was a film student Vanderbilt hired occasionally for surveillance
jobs.

Stuffing the wireless camera into one of his cargo-pants
pockets, he headed to the video-kid’s room and rapped on the door.

“Who is it?” asked a voice from the other side.

He stared at the peephole. “Just got called to come in,” he
said confidentially.

He heard a lock click. The door opened.

“Thought there’d be two of you,” the kid said, heading briskly
to a camera-tripod setup. “Show’s starting any minute. My name’s Lou.”

“Yeah, just me. I’m Braxton.” He crossed to a desk where a
monitor displayed a video image of the room next door. Oleg sat on a couch,
thumbing his smartphone. Dmitri sat in a chair, yammering in Russian on his
cell. A bottle of vodka, shot glasses and a fruit basket sat on the coffee
table.

Braxton looked at the slim video wire snaking from the camera
into the wall. “You...drilled a hole through the wall?”

Lou glanced at Braxton as though he’d just fallen to Earth. “Of
course.” He looked back at the screen. “Did it while Dmitri was in the bathroom.
The pinhole camera blends into the patterned wallpaper.”

Braxton glanced at the open equipment bag on the floor,
surprised at the stash of tools in it. From where he sat, he saw a small
sledgehammer, hand saw, some wrenches.

Lou saw him looking, turned back to his screen. “Never know
when you’ll need something on one of these jobs. Used that sledgehammer once to
bash down a door so I could escape....”

The kid tensed.
“She’s here.”

Braxton watched the monitor as Frances entered the room, as
cool and confident as the first time he’d met her. Dmitri ended his call and
stood, smiled broadly as she pulled the glittering necklace from an inside
jacket pocket and handed it to him.

Turning serious, Dmitri held the necklace against his chest.
“
Vso khorosho, chto khorosho konchayetsya.
All’s
well that ends well. Oleg, my friend, pour the vodka!”

Dmitri crossed back to his chair, next to which was a small
table that was clearly visible on the monitor, although hidden from view to the
others in the room. With great care, he laid the necklace on the table.

After that, the three of them stood in the center of the room
while Dmitri gave a toast in Russian. The men downed their shots; Frances sipped
hers.

Setting down her shot glass, she gestured to the necklace and
announced, “Dmitri, your long months of planning to steal the Helena Diamond
necklace from the Legendary Gems exhibit has paid off. I’m honored to have
worked with such an accomplished jewel thief as yourself.”

Braxton watched Dmitri puff up, basking in the praise.
Agree with her. Give Vanderbilt the evidence it needs to put
you behind bars.

But instead Dmitri waved off the compliment like a coy
schoolgirl. “More vodka, my friends?”

As Oleg refilled the shot glasses, Frances turned to
Dmitri.

“Tell me,” she said, “is it your genius, ability to build a
team of experts or superior knowledge of gems that makes you the James Bond of
jewel thieves?”

Do it, Dmitri. Confess.

“Ah, Frances,” he said, admiring the necklace, “it is
you
who are a genius. You completed the task in
exactly
268 seconds, just as you calculated.”

Braxton thought he saw something within the replica. “Zoom in
on the diamond.”

“Gotta keep the Russian in the frame—”

“
Do it.
I’m ordering you.”

As the camera closed in, Braxton saw two perfectly symmetrical
hearts etched within the diamond.
It’s not a myth. The
image really exists.

The realization slammed through him. Frances had handed off the
real Helena Diamond necklace, worth twenty million dollars, to Dmitri. If he
walked out of that room with it, the necklace would probably never be seen
again.

Vanderbilt would blame Frances. Suspect her of knowing it was
the real necklace and double-crossing Vanderbilt. And a sting meant to put
Dmitri behind bars would snare Frances instead.

Braxton surged to his feet. “I have to stop this.”

“Stop what?” The kid asked.

Adrenaline coursed through him. Couldn’t waste time calling
security—by the time they got here, it’d be too late.

“I need to get into that room,” he said, “but the door’s
locked.”

“What’re you talking about?”

The sledgehammer.
He yanked it out
of the bag, and headed to the door with it.

“Are you crazy?” the kid yelled.

“Probably,” he muttered.

Within seconds he was standing outside Dmitri’s door, holding
the sledgehammer like a bat, focusing on the spot next to the door handle he
needed to hit.

He swung with all his strength.

Crack!

Yelling. A scream.

His hit had ripped the lock from the door. Tossing the
sledgehammer aside, Braxton slammed his shoulder against the door, which flew
open and crashed against the wall.

* * *

F
RANCES
SCREAMED
AGAIN
as the door smashed open and a
guy wearing a baggy hoodie and cargo pants stormed into the room. His baseball
cap was pulled low, shielding his eyes.

Oleg raced past the intruder and out the door.

Shaking, her pulse thundering in her ears, she wanted
desperately to follow Oleg, escape this madman, but she was frozen, couldn’t
move.

But Dmitri wasn’t. As he started toward the small table, the
intruder grabbed one of his arms and flipped it behind him. Dmitri yelled out in
pain as he fell to his knees, immobilized.

Panting for breath, Frances looked up.

Still holding Dmitri’s arm, the guy flipped up the bill of his
cap with his free hand.

Braxton.

“What the hell are you doing?” she rasped.

He nudged his chin toward the necklace on the table. “It’s the
real one, Frances. That kid zoomed the camera in on the diamond, and I saw those
etched hearts.”

She stared at him with horror. “Are you
crazy?
”

“Probably,” he muttered, “but I know for a fact that the image
has been cut deep inside the diamond—which proves its authenticity. I had to
stop Dmitri from leaving with that necklace.” With his free hand, he pulled out
his cell, thumbed the pad, held the phone to his ear.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. “It’s a replica,
Braxton. I told you that.”

“What?” Dmitri shrieked.

“Detective Parks, this is Braxton Morgan. I’m here at the
Mandalay Bay, holding our friend Dmitri Romanov. We’re in room...”

Frances couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Don’t involve
the police, Brax!”

He ignored her, continued talking to Parks, told him that there
was a sting being conducted by Vanderbilt, that Oleg was on the run. Dmitri,
hearing the word “sting,” muttered darkly in Russian.

Frances tuned both of them out, couldn’t stand to hear more.
Deeply angered, she cursed herself for letting Braxton talk her into letting him
protect
her today.

As he slipped his phone back into his pocket, she said, “You’ve
ruined my life.”

His eyes widened with surprise. “No, I saved it.”

“How? By barging into the middle of the sting and blowing it?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I told you what would happen if you slipped
up—and you just did. Big time. But
I’m
the one who
will pay.”

An overwhelming sense of despair rose like a tsunami wave,
hovering, dark and ominous.

Pressing the tips of her fingers on her lips for a moment, she
tried to pull herself together...eased in a shallow breath, slowly let it out,
easing in another....

After weeks of struggle, and hope, and opening her heart to the
point where it ached with joy, to the point where she finally let go and dared
to chase dreams of a life that could be...perfect.

And this was where she chased them to, where her folly had
reached its conclusion.

“Frances, if I hadn’t come in here—”

“I wouldn’t be going to prison. Vanderbilt is holding me
responsible for your actions, remember? That night in the Jeep at the airstrip,
I told you that if you messed up this case, Vanderbilt would fire me, which
means the court will revoke my suspended sentence, which means...”

Her heart hammered in her chest and her breaths seared her
throat. The one thing she feared most—going to prison—Braxton had made
happen.

Her phone beeped with a text message. It was from Charlie.

Parks called. My car’s out front.

What a mess. The singing detective had contacted her boss, no
doubt giving him the stunning news. Now Charlie would need to scramble, work
damage control over this catastrophe, every second of it captured on video, and
he’d need to debrief her ASAP.

“I have to go.” She crossed to the table, picked up the replica
necklace and slipped it into her jacket pocket.

“Frances,” Braxton said, “I love you.”

She looked at him, her heart turning inside out. Despite her
anger and hurt, she longed for him even now.

Memories of their almost-kisses—pressed against the warehouse
doors, holding each other that night at his house, cuddling in the Jeep on
surveillance—hurtled across her mind. The time he’d buttoned her in his trench
coat, ensuring she was safe and warm. The times they’d been silly, teasing each
other, making each other laugh.

The night Captain Brax Morgan stood on the stage, promising to
be there for her.

She’d remember everything. Always.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, tears slipping down her
cheeks as she walked quickly out of the room.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S
ECONDS
AFTER
SHE
LEFT
,
Lou ran in, breathing hard, an equipment bag in each hand. “Hotel security...probably here...any minute.” He frowned. “What’s that smell?”

“His cologne,” Braxton said, tightening his grip on Dmitri’s arm. “You got a close-up of the diamond on video, right?”

He nodded. “Didn’t see...any hearts, though.... Gotta go.”

Braxton listened to the thumpity thump of the kid’s hasty retreat down the hall, wondering how he could’ve missed them.
Must’ve been too busy working that camera, didn’t look closely.

“Tough-guy Braxton saw hearts in the
replica
diamond?” Dmitri barked a mean laugh. “Love
is
blind.”

“Shut up.”

But the worry took hold. Within the lights and dark planes of the complex-cut diamond, had his eyes played tricks? Imagined the hearts? Because if the necklace had really been the replica...

A chilling tremor crawled up his neck.

Then the one person whose life he wanted to protect above all else, he had instead destroyed. Frances would pay dearly for his blunder with her freedom.

And to think that Drake had said she’d bring Braxton down. His brother had been so wrong about her...wrong to give Braxton an ultimatum, too, because there could never be a choice. He loved Frances, and whatever it took to unravel this disaster, to clear her name, to save her, he’d do it.

“Impressive how you single-handedly destroyed a sting,” Dmitri continued. “Seems love is blind
and
stupid.”

“And you’re so smart? You lost the Helena Diamond necklace.”

“But I was
brilliant
planning that heist,” Dmitri snapped, “and after I’m free, which will be soon because the authorities can’t hold me without proof, I’ll plan another one.”

Braxton heard the rumble of footsteps down the hall. “Speaking of plans,” he said between this teeth, “I’m turning over our investigation notes to the U.S. Immigration authorities, which will result in your immediate, permanent expulsion from the U.S. But I have an offer for you, Dima. Immigration will never see those notes if you leave Nevada and never return.”

Dmitri snorted a laugh. “I’ll tell my lawyers those notes are lies.”

“You can also tell them my phone recorder app’s been running this entire time, and I have your confession you planned this heist.”

He snarled a curse in Russian.

“Braxton Morgan,” a voice called out from the shattered doorway, “it’s Detective Parks. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, come on in,” he yelled back.

“I accept your offer,” Dima said quickly under his breath.

“Thought you would,” Braxton murmured, smiling at the detective and several officers as they entered the room.

* * *

F
RANCES
LEANED
HER
head back on the headrest and closed her eyes as Charlie drove his car down East Warm Springs Road. The outside temp had dropped to the fifties, so he’d cranked up the heat inside the Porsche, sharpening its scents of leather and wood. Since she’d left the Palazzo nearly an hour ago, gray clouds had rolled in, masking the sun.

And to think she’d hoped this would be a perfectly sweet day.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling sick to her stomach at the mess she’d created, at what her future held.

As soon as she’d gotten into Charlie’s car, she’d admitted to telling Braxton the room number at the Mandalay, explained she’d mistakenly thought he’d keep his distance as a backup, and took full responsibility for the disaster. Her boss had asked a few questions, said they’d go over details later.

“Maybe there’s hope,” Charlie said, loosening the knot of his purple silk tie that matched the pocket square in his cashmere sport coat.

Tears welled up, blurring her vision. “Hope for what?” she asked, her voice breaking. “That maybe the five years in prison will fly by, instead of crawling along, second-by-regretful second?”

“Damn,” he muttered, staring ahead at the road. “I just remembered the battery’s dead on my phone, and I need to make a call. Got yours handy?”

She tugged it out of her pants pocket and gave it to him.

He lowered his window, tossed the phone outside.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Here’s your hope,” he said as the window rolled back up. “Instead of going to prison, come live a life of luxury with me.”

Was he cracking under the pressure? Thinking he’d hide her in that posh Tuscan-style home of his?

“Charlie, it’s been a bad day....” As though
bad
could even begin to describe what had happened.
Catastrophic
was more like it.

“That necklace is the real one, Frances. I didn’t do the swap this morning.”

For a moment she just stared ahead at the dotted lines in the road, unable to breathe. With trembling fingers she touched the outside of her jacket, felt the bulge of the necklace.

“I stole...the real Helena Diamond?”

“Yes! And the security staff helped you! Now we’re driving to that airstrip you told me about—thank you for that—where a private plane will whisk us away to Dallas. From there, we’ll hop a flight to Brussels where a fence will give me twelve million for the necklace. Within a week, the gold will be melted, the diamond cut into stones, each with its own diamond certificate, and they’ll be distributed to diamond merchants in Tokyo, New York and Paris.”

“You’re willing to destroy the Helena Diamond?” She wished she’d believed Braxton, but everything had been happening so fast, and his claim of seeing the hearts sounded so ridiculous.

“Destroy? It’ll live on dozens of ring fingers for years to come, as will we on that twelve million, sipping champagne on the Riviera...or wherever else we choose to live.”

“We?”

“I’ve always found you attractive, Frances.”

He was so egocentric, it probably hadn’t crossed his mind she might not feel the same way.

Charlie’s financial problems had to be much worse than she’d realized. From years working at Vanderbilt, he’d have the means to locate a fence, and he’d likely promised a substantial I.O.U. to some pilot with a private plane to help him make a great escape.

The Porsche turned onto the same side road she and Braxton had traveled the night they conducted the surveillance at the airstrip.

“You cancelled those two Vanderbilt investigators who were supposed to be in the next room,” she murmured.

“We didn’t need any cowboys wearing white hats around.”

But one had been there anyway. “You didn’t know Braxton would charge in like that, though. I might have given the necklace to Dmitri.”

“I wasn’t worried about that. Had a backup plan called Smith & Wesson.” He patted his cashmere jacket. “I knew where Dmitri’s limo was parked at the hotel, planned to meet him there for a chat.”

Probably knew where it was parked because he’d attached a GPS device to it, the way he’d done to her Benz.

At first she’d wanted to think that this was all a bad dream, that she’d wake up and it would all be over.

Now she knew this nightmare was for real.

* * *

A
COLD
BREEZE
skittered past as Braxton and Detective Parks walked out the front doors of the Mandalay Bay.

“Storm’s coming in,” Parks said.

Two police units were parked at the curb. Several officers were putting Dmitri, his hands cuffed behind his back, into the back seat of one unit.

“He’s already lawyered up,” Parks said. “Big surprise there. By the way, we’re closing in on Ulyana’s afternoon visits to casinos. All signs point to her working alone. Now
that
surprised me.”

Braxton’s phone rang. He checked the caller ID. Drake.

“One moment,” he said, taking the call.

“We’ve got a problem,” Drake said. “Just checked those motion detectors out at the airstrip...blue skies, no clouds. Impossible. Somebody’s playing a game.”

Drake looked up at the heavy, dark clouds rolling in. “Like put images of the same landscape in front of the lenses?”

“Exactly. Where’s Dmitri?”

“Handcuffed in the backseat of a cop car. The sting fell apart, though, and the necklace is...”

An uneasiness rocked his gut. “We need to get to that airstrip.”

* * *

S
CREAMING
SIRENS
PUNCTURED
the quiet. Frances pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. A police car, its red lights spinning, barreled down the dirt road toward the airstrip. How had they known to come here?

Her eyes shifted to her reflection, saw the mottled red scar making its appearance. She felt the familiar anxiety at the thought of being exposed, but tamped it down as best she could. Her scar was a small matter compared to the shit storm that was about to take place.

“We’re not doing anything illegal,” Charlie said evenly, “just sitting in a car. We’ll say you lost your phone, thought maybe you’d dropped it at the airstrip.”

Always the lawyer, he was already piecing together his argument.

She watched the police car, dust billowing in its wake, screech to a stop on Charlie’s side of the Porsche. Detective Parks got out, his hand on his holster as he strode toward them. A surge of wind pummeled the windows.

“Put your hands on the dashboard,” Charlie said evenly as he put his on the steering wheel.

As she did, a crack of lightning split the sky. In the flash, she caught a face starting grimly at her from inside the police car.

Braxton.

Her heart froze.

More sirens in the distance. Parks kept walking toward Charlie’s door. “Get out of the car
slowly,
” he said loudly.

Just as Charlie pressed a button and the door locks clicked open, Frances heard the muffled drone of an engine. A small white plane flew low toward them from the north.

Watching it, Charlie slowly opened his door with one hand, his other slipping inside his jacket.

Surreally aware of every ticking second, and seeing how easy it would be for Charlie to pull his gun, Frances eyed the path of his hand disappearing into his coat. With a surge of energy she fell against him, her right hand reaching inside his jacket, touching cold metal.

Yells. Sirens.

Time sped up as Frances and Charlie tumbled out the open car door, their bodies tangled, the two of them grappling for the gun. The instant she met his fevered, intense eyes, she heard a door slam and the crack of a pistol shot.

Hands grabbed Charlie’s cashmere jacket, jerked him to his feet. Braxton, his jaw clenched with fury, slammed his fist into Charlie’s face. Charlie toppled backward, the gun flying through the air.

Several police officers ran over, and one of them handcuffed Charlie. Braxton gently lifted her to her feet.

“Frances,” he rasped, looking deeply into her eyes, “are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” she said shakily, glancing at Charlie being led away by two officers, then back into Braxton’s worried eyes. She was vaguely aware of an old pickup truck lurching to a stop next to one of the police cars.

Braxton shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe you tried to get his gun....”

“I thought he might shoot you.” She glanced around. “I heard the gun go off....”

“The bullet missed all of us—blew out the detective’s tire, though.”

Thunder growled in the distance as Frances looked into Braxton’s shiny gray eyes, overwhelmed with gratitude they were both standing here, safe, alive. But when his gaze shifted to her cheek, she tensed, started to raise her hand to cover it, but then paused.

“It happened when I was fourteen,” she whispered. “I was practicing a magic trick with fire—”

“That’s the past,” he said, cutting her off, his eyes boring into hers. “Frances, you’re a beautiful woman, inside and out.”

He pressed a kiss against her cheek, her deepest secret, before moving his lips to her ear.

She closed her eyes, letting the illusion fall away, finally freeing the woman inside—the one who yearned to live and love without pretense—rise to the surface.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got something else nice to say. You’ll be bringing those fifth-century Greek coins back to Vanderbilt in a few days.”

There was a story behind this, one they’d share later. She smiled up at him, her heart brimming with love.

“Kiss me,” she whispered in a throaty whisper.

“Any time,” he murmured, leaning forward.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a male voice broke in.

Drake, hunched inside his corduroy jacket, stood nearby, looking sheepish.

“Nice timing, bro,” Braxton muttered.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Drake said, looking around before his eyes wandered back to Frances’s. “Just, uh, wanted to say that Parks told me what you did...trying to get the gun.... You could’ve died saving my brother’s life.” He blinked, hard. “Frances, I’m sorry for how I’ve...”

“It’s all right,” she said gently.

He nodded solemnly, then turned to his brother. “Sorry, Brax, for saying...”

“Water under the bridge,” he said. “As long as there’s never an ultimatum between us again.”

“Deal,” Drake agreed. “One more thing. They finalized the money raised at the auction and Li’l Bit won the Shelby. He wants to give it to his brother...meaning you, Brax.”

Brax shook his head. “Let’s give it to Grams as a wedding gift. I don’t think I’m a Mustang guy anymore. My fast-living days are behind me.”

“Grams said you’d try that,” Drake continued, “and to tell you...let me get this right...
owning a dream is different than living an old lifestyle.
And that if you give it to her, she’ll just give it right back. Okay, I’m done playing messenger. See you at the house? Mom’s making her famous meat loaf for dinner. Invited the family over.”

Braxton glanced at Frances. “We, uh, had a date for March second that’s pushed up a day....”

She nodded her agreement.

Drake gave a salute to Frances. “See you next family dinner, then.”