In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (14 page)

Chapter Eight

“Yes, Armand is from France. I think he lives there still. Like any good Frenchman, he prefers France.” She stalled, suddenly out of words.

“How did you meet him?”

“Would you believe a school work fair? I’d been designing jewelry for a couple of years, and I had a little workshop in the basement of our apartment building. I made simple, inexpensive pieces and sold them to the kids at school. I got a kick out of making money. We never had enough, and my mom worked so hard.”

She stopped and sipped her coffee. “One of the teachers saw some of my jewelry I’d sold to the other kids, and she told me about design school.” She laughed. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing.

“Long story short, the teacher, Mrs. Atwater, helped me apply to get into the school, and a few weeks later there I was. I loved it. For the first time I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.”

“What about finishing high school?”

“It was a vocational high school. Using their shops, I started to make real money. That’s when Darcy got interested. ‘Course the little stinker turned out to be the best designer of all. Armand came to one of the school fairs and introduced himself and said he’d been following my career.” She snorted. “I didn’t even know I had a career at that point.”

She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup. “And then Mom died and everything went south. The social workers wanted to put us both in foster homes. By that time Darcy and I were making enough money selling online we didn’t need them. But they wouldn’t leave us alone. That’s when Armand showed up again.”

“I’d like half an hour alone with that bastard.”

She slipped her hand over his tight fist. “I know it was wrong of him to take advantage of us, but he did help. We got to stay together and live in Paris instead of a foster home, and he…he was good to me. To both of us. We continued to design and make jewelry there, and Darcy’s designs blossomed. I concentrated on the craftsmanship. Together we were something.”

“Until you had to pay the piper.”

“I didn’t know Armand was a thief. I suppose I should have guessed. He’d be distracted, then disappear for extended periods of time, and when he came back, he didn’t want to go out much. The story was he was our uncle,” she added.

“One day he brought me a file of pictures of this amazing emerald necklace. The design was exquisite. I’d never seen anything like it, and by then I’d seen a lot. He encouraged Darcy and me to go to museums and shows all the time.”

“Did he ask you to steal the necklace?”

“God, no. It belonged to a princess. You couldn’t get within a mile of it, I don’t imagine. Well, I couldn’t.” She studied her hands. “And I like to think he wouldn’t have exposed us to that much danger.

“No, he wanted me to replicate it. It took me nine months to make a copy that satisfied him.”

Rafe frowned. “Then what happened?”

“Nothing. We’d served his purpose, and he didn’t need us anymore.”

“He threw you out?”

“Hardly. I’d just made a replica of a three-million-dollar necklace, and Armand is not a stupid man. He made sure we were happy. Found an apartment for us. Got us jobs working for an up-and-coming designer. He’d stop by to visit, but the time got longer and longer between the visits. He moved so we couldn’t find him. Not that I tried too hard. I knew creating that replica was wrong, and I knew he’d use it.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the cup. “It’s not like anyone was hurt. The princess probably still hasn’t realized she no longer possesses the original necklace.”

“You lived in Paris all that time?”

“No. Darcy wanted to move home, so we came back after a couple of years, but then Dejarnatt offered us jobs for his new line, and we returned to Paris.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Godat?”

“Years.”

“He never contacted you?”

“No. It was better that way for all of us.”

“How do you know it’s him pulling all these stunts now? You got the thing with Dejarnatt stealing Darcy’s designs. The FBI is chasing you for God knows why. How do you know Godat is after you, too?”

“Because I know him. He either waits for chaos or he creates it, and then he steps in and takes what he wants.”

Rafe started pacing the kitchen. “Darcy in jail is chaos.”

“Yes, it brought me back to the States.”

“Planting the amber stones on you. Somehow siccing the FBI on you. ”

“Planting the passports and the bag of money,” she added.

“So, you’re on the run. You have no money and no place to hide. And then Godat rides to the rescue. Wow. You almost have to admire the guy.”

“Except he didn’t count on you sticking around.”

“Because I’m the pretty boy. We’re not usually good at sticking.”

She slipped off the stool and put her arms around his waist. “You’re a fascinating man with a good heart.”

“Careful, Irish. Talk like that, I might think you’re falling for me.”

She didn’t trust herself to answer and had to content herself with leaning into him and resting her head on his chest. When Rafe pulled her closer and rubbed circles on her back, her tension eased. If only...

“What does he want?”

She allowed herself another second of comfort and pulled away. Now for the tricky part. “I don’t know. He hasn’t contacted me yet because he hasn’t been able to find me. I’ve got you to thank for that.”

“He’ll keep trying.” He wandered over to the window above the sink, his back to her. “When Gage first asked me to check you out, he mentioned something about sapphires. I think they’re here in Boston.”

Her heart climbed into her throat. “I imagine he means the Bismarck necklace. It’s on display at the Museum of Fine Arts. Have you seen it? It’s beautiful.”

He turned around, his face lined with worry and sadness. The heart-stoppingly handsome man she’d met had all but disappeared. Hang around her long enough, and he’d be old before his time. He already looked like he’d aged a good ten years in the last hour.

“Bridget, I...”

She flinched. Using her name instead of calling her Irish seemed so intimate. “What?” she prompted.

He looked deep into her eyes, then after a minute, sighed and moved away from her. “I guess I should go have a look at that necklace if that’s the one Armand wants.”

She rubbed her arms again, suddenly feeling bereft. It’s not as if she had a choice. Armand had made her options clear last night. He’d been delighted she now had two people in her life he could use to force her to work for him one last time.

She choked on her bitterness. Right. Just as the emeralds had supposedly paid her debt to him before. It had to stop, and she was the only person who could get close enough to Armand to do it.

But she couldn’t tell Rafe to leave her alone. She’d tried that already, and it hadn’t worked. He wasn’t going anywhere. She understood that now, and while the prospect frightened her, it also thrilled her. She didn’t want him to leave. Which meant she had to find a way to keep him safe, and make him believe they were working together.

That’s why she’d contacted Armand. She would do as he requested, but only as long as Rafe and Darcy were safe.

But that’s not all she would do. It was time for this to end, and she was the one who had to do it.

***

She was lying to him. Again. He wondered if he and Bridget would ever get to the point where they trusted each other. He had the feeling that time was running out, that they had to bypass the usual getting-to-know-you phase, straight to…wherever they were now. At the moment it felt like a standoff.

He understood why she didn’t trust him. The last person she’d trusted had probably been her mother, and the sudden death of a parent often felt like a betrayal. Then Armand had stepped into the void left by her mom, and look what a bastard he’d turned out to be, taking advantage of a grieving seventeen-year-old.

He didn’t trust her, either, mostly because she kept lying to him. They may be at an impasse, but that didn’t mean they weren’t on each other’s side. Knowing the bit he did about Bridget, she was probably figuring out a new angle of how to protect him. Yeah, he loved that thought.

Hanging out here wasn’t helping her. He could leave. Walk out the door, call Gage and tell Big Brother to come pick him up. Or he could hide out here in Honey’s apartment, which was an extension of his world, really.

Except…he frowned and looked around the kitchen. “You’ve been here, what? Two days?”

“More or less. Why?”

He opened his mouth to tell her what he was thinking, but thought better of it. “I need a shower. Come on.” He held out his hand.

Her face lit up as she laughed, and as he looked at her freckles and the twinkle in her eyes he wished he’d met her when they were both teenagers and life was still full of possibilities.

“You’ve got to be kidding. We just did it a few minutes ago in the front hall.”

Where he’d seen the dead flower petal on the floor. Honey always kept fresh flowers in her home, even when she wasn’t here. It was a thing with her. She spent so much time on shoots that when she returned, and she never knew when that would be, she wanted fresh flowers waiting for her. Just like the home she grew up in.

He grabbed Bridget’s hand and tugged her toward the bathroom. “Humor me. I need you to wash my back.”

He turned the hot water on in the shower and stripped off his clothes in record time, then felt himself grow hard as he watched Bridget shimmy out of her clothes. God, she was beautiful.

“Look at you!” She wrapped her hand around his cock. “This has got to be some kind of record.”

Great. How was he supposed to concentrate with Bridget naked and wet beside him? He grabbed her wrist and gently peeled her hand away. She giggled and backed into the shower. Man, what he’d give for this to be just a fun day at home.

He closed the shower door after them and dropped a kiss on her nose. “I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

“Is that what you need?” She grabbed a bar of soap.

“Someone may have bugged the condo.”

The soap slipped from her hand. “What?”

“Honey always has her maid keep fresh flowers in the apartment. The ones by the door are dying. Has the maid been here to clean while you’ve been here?”

She slumped against the tile wall behind her. “No. I assumed you or Honey had told the maid not to come.”

“Either the FBI or your buddy knows we’re here. They probably told Izzy to stay away so they could bug the place.” He whipped his hair back off his face. “Christ. Do you think they installed cameras as well?”

“We have to get out of here right now.”

“You still have that disposable phone?”

“In my purse.”

His mind leapfrogged in different directions. “I need the number in case we get separated. I know a woman who lives two doors down. We’ll go to her place first.”

“How many women’s apartments do you have keys to?”

“You’re jealous. I like that.” He picked up the soap and handed it to her and turned his back. “Marianne had her seventy-fifth birthday a few months ago, but yeah, maybe she’s got a little crush on me. So she might help us out.” He sighed with pleasure as Bridget started washing his back.

“You can stay with her if you want, and I’ll leave. If we leave together, they’ll be on us right away,” he suggested.

Bridget leaned into his back. She felt so good pressed against him. “How will we find each other?”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet. But if we stay here, someone’s going to move on us soon.”

“Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you hold me for a minute?”

He was beginning to think he could hold her for a lifetime, but that was the last thing she wanted to hear right now. He turned and wrapped his arms around her. “It won’t be for long. We have to figure out where you’re going, get you some money—”

“I’ve got money now.”

He sucked in a breath when she ran a soapy hand over his cock and lower. “Yeah? From where?”