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Her chin lifted. “And you played hooky a lot?”

“You might say that my early life was pretty much one long game of hooky.” He walked to the shoreline, toed his shoes off and then leaned down to take off his socks.

“How so?” she asked, kicking off her sandals and joining him.

“It’s a long story,” Chance said.

“I can wade and listen at the same time,” Natalie pointed out.

They began to walk. The sun beat down on their shoulders and arms, and the lukewarm water lapped at their ankles. “My mother moved around a lot, mostly within London and the south of England. But a few times, she followed a band to Scotland or Wales. She was what you would call in America a groupie—and she was especially fond of young groups that were just starting out. Sometimes, they’d give her work, repairing and laundering costumes or passing out flyers. I got to help with that.”

Natalie frowned as she slipped her hand into his. “She took you with her?”

“She was only sixteen when I was born, and she didn’t have any family. Most of the time she supported the two of us by waitressing. She thought that was the best kind of job because she could bring home food. Plus, it was something that she could do just as well in one town as another.”

Chance shot her a look and saw that the frown had deepened on her face. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. She was pretty and she laughed a lot. And she loved me. It wasn’t until I got to the orphanage that I started to go to school regularly.”

“Orphanage?”

Chance shrugged. He rarely let himself think about that part of his life, and he never talked about it. He wasn’t sure why he was now except that what they were doing reminded him in a way of that early part of his life before the orphanage. “One night she never came home. Police came to the door the next morning. She’d been struck by a bus on her way home from a concert.”

Natalie simply turned and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry. How old were you?”

“Twelve.” Chance found that it was hard to get the word out because once again feelings were swamping him. He felt his body stiffen, not in defense but in surprise. There was none of the fire that he usually felt when she held him. In its place was a steady warmth and a sweetness that seemed to squeeze his heart. Her head was pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around him, and he could have stood like this, just like this for a very long time.

Slipping a finger beneath her chin, he lifted it because he had to see her eyes. He could see sympathy and affection and a question.

“Chance?”

He wanted more than anything to kiss her. To lower his head, press his mouth to hers and lose himself in her. But if he did, he knew he would lose something that he would never get back. At the last second he set her away from him.

She turned away, but not before he saw the hurt in her eyes. He had his mouth open, his hand outstretched when he realized that the name in his mind, on his lips, was
Natalie.

He barely had time to swallow it when he heard the crack and felt the burning sting in his shoulder. The next shot hit the wet sand not three feet from them.

“Run.” Grabbing her hand, Chance fixed his gaze on the line of palms half a football field away and dragged her with him.

12

NATALIE STRUGGLED
to swallow her fear as they raced for the cover of the trees. Sand sprayed up less than a yard to their right, and Chance’s grip on her arm tightened.

“Sprint.”

Fighting to keep her breathing even, she felt the pull in her calves each time her foot sank into the sand and struggled for traction. Fifty yards became forty…thirty…twenty. There was another spray of sand, this one to her left. Finally, they reached the first line of trees.

Chance kept up the pace until palm leaves closed in on them and the sand at their feet became completely covered over with vegetation. Beach had become swamp in an instant.

They would have to go more slowly now or run the risk of falling or twisting an ankle.

“Follow me,” Chance said. It was only when he took the lead that Natalie saw the blood on his shirt.

“You’ve been hit.”

Chance pulled the shirt off his shoulder and glanced down at the wound. “It’s just a scratch. C’mon.”

Natalie pressed a hand against the knot of fear that had formed in her stomach. The mark was angry-looking and it was oozing blood. But he was right, she told herself. It was just a scratch. And she wasn’t going to let herself think about the fact that it might have been worse.

They walked swiftly in silence for a while. Natalie tried to keep her mind blank and focus on putting one foot in front of another. Moving as fast as he could, Chance cut a path through the vegetation by tamping down palm fronds and grasses. Now only thin spears of sunlight pierced the darkening gloom, and damp heat pressed in on them. Natalie felt a trickle of sweat run down her neck.

Something moved under her foot. Stifling a scream, Natalie reached out to grab a fistful of Chance’s shirt.

“What?” He stopped and turned so fast that she bumped into him.

“Nothing,” she said.

When he merely studied her for a minute, she lifted her chin and repeated, “Nothing. Go.”

She was just not going to let herself think of what might be under her bare feet, not while a gunman might be after them. Snakes had always scared her, but they weren’t nearly as dangerous as whoever was using them for rifle practice.

“This way,” Chance said and made a sharp right turn.

She hoped he knew where he was going, because the oval expanse of black water to her left had her thinking of another kind of danger that lurked in the Florida swamps.

Alligators. Hadn’t she read that wherever there was water, you could bank on finding one—or more?

No. She tore her gaze away from the water, fastened her eyes on Chance’s back and made herself think about who had shot at them. Brancotti? Had he somehow seen through their disguises? But how?

If it wasn’t Brancotti, who else could it be? Keeping her gaze fastened on Chance’s back, she pictured each one of the people she’d met at the dinner party the previous night.

Her favorite suspect would have to be Armand Genovese. A man with mob connections wouldn’t even have to pull the trigger himself. He’d have easy access to a professional hit man.

And a hit man wouldn’t give up until the job was done. He might even now be following them into the swamp.

Natalie risked one quick glance over her shoulder and saw only shadows. She stumbled, caught herself and refocused her attention on Chance’s back.

Sir Arthur probably hunted, but even when she formed an image of him with a rifle in his hands, she found it hard to believe that he was a killer.

She didn’t know as much about the other guests, but they were all very wealthy. Any one of them could have hired someone.

But why would any of them want to kill Steven—unless…

Chance stopped abruptly, and she walked smack into him again. Peering over his shoulder, she saw the trunk of a fallen palm tree blocking their path. He gripped her hand and guided her around it.

Once on the other side, they crouched down and Chance leaned close, his voice making no more sound than a breath. “If we’re being followed…” He reached into his pocket and drew out a small gun. Together, they waited, listening. Gradually, she could hear other sounds above their breathing. No sounds of footsteps. Leaves rustled overhead, insects buzzed, and farther off, a gull shrieked. A minute stretched into two and then three.

Natalie shivered as she watched a spider the size of her fist crawl down the side of the tree trunk.

Clamping her teeth together, she made herself wait another minute before she said, “I want to get out of here.”

“Yes,” Chance said. “‘Calli’ can get sick. I’ll tell Brancotti that I want to fly you back to New York.”

She stared at him. “Forget it. I was talking about getting out of this swamp. I’m not leaving you here alone.”

His expression was grim, his eyes cold. “It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you here.”

“Tough.” She could make her eyes cold, too. “I don’t cut and run until a job is finished.

Besides, you need my help.”

He said nothing for a minute. Because she was right. Natalie pressed her advantage.

“We’ve decided that unless we get lucky and find the real diamond on the first try, we have to hit both safes. You won’t be able to do that alone. Once the job is done, I’ll be ready to leave. And instead of arguing with me, you’d best put your energy into figuring out who took that shot at us.”

CHANCE SHOVED DOWN on the emotions that had been swirling through him since they’d narrowly missed that barrage of bullets on their sprint for the trees. He couldn’t afford to let them cloud his mind, not now when he had to focus on protecting Natalie.

Gathering his thoughts, he said, “I don’t have to figure anything out. It was Brancotti.”

She shook her head. “Not necessarily. It could be anyone he’s invited to his house party.”

Chance bit back his impatience as she ran through her little rogue’s gallery of suspects, but he still wasn’t convinced. “What’s their motivation?”

“Any one of them could be worried that Steven Bradford might outbid them.”

Chance shook his head. “My money’s still on Brancotti.”

“He’s a businessman. He wants Steven Bradford here as competition. You’ll drive the price up.”

She had a sharp mind. Chance had to admit that, but she wasn’t aware of all of the facts.

“I’ve gone up against him before.”

“I read the file. You lost your partner.”

Chance nodded. “He could have put us in the Venetian room to let me know that he suspects who I really am. And now he’s decided that the game is over.”

Natalie thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he rather play the game out to the finish—let you get the diamond in your hand and then spring a trap?”

Chance remained silent. She could almost see his mind at work.

“Besides, if he kills Steven Bradford, he calls attention to this place. He can’t want the police wandering through, questioning his guests or even worse, wondering why all these people are gathered here. It’s too risky.”

“But he didn’t kill me,” Chance pointed out. “He could still intend to play the game to the finish. Either way, it’s too risky for you to stay.”

Natalie studied him in silence for a moment. Then she said, “I’m not going unless you come with me.”

“I’m not leaving without the Ferrante diamond.”

“Then I stay, too.”

Chance grabbed her wrist as she started to rise. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? It’s too dangerous for you to stay. It’s possible that Brancotti set this whole auction up to trap me because I came too close to catching him the last time.”

She gave him a long, cool look, and when she spoke, her voice was just as chilly. “I’ve heard everything you said. But I don’t desert my partners.”

When he opened his mouth, she raised a hand to silence him. “You haven’t convinced me yet that Carlo is on to us. Your history with him and the fact that you lost a partner may be clouding your judgment.”

“You may be right, but—” He cut himself off as he looked into those cop’s eyes. He owed her the rest of the truth. “There’s more that I haven’t told you. Carlo and I go back a long way—all the way back to that orphanage I told you about. His name was Damien back then, and he was my best friend, my mentor. I trusted him until he betrayed me.”

“How?” Natalie asked.

“I was twelve and he was seventeen when I was placed there, and he took me under his wing right from the start. You’ve seen what he’s like. I came to worship him. The nuns at the orphanage trusted him, too. He could go anywhere without being questioned. He had a knack for opening locks and under his tutoring I found that I did, too. After lights-out at night, he’d come and get me, and we’d practice. Once a month they changed the combination on the safe in the headmistress’s office. Damien would finesse the lock on her office door and then we’d practice on the safe. It took a while, but eventually, I was able to open it. Each month after that we’d have competitions to see who could open it the fastest.”

Natalie couldn’t help but recall that she and her father had had the same kind of competitions.

“One night, Damien excused himself while I was working on the safe. He said he had a surprise for me. I don’t know how long he was gone. I was totally focused on listening to the tumblers fall. This particular night the safe was empty. I didn’t even have time to wonder about that when Damien returned with the headmistress and the police. There’d been over a hundred thousand dollars in the safe—money from the annual fund-raiser.

Looking back, I can see that Damien had laid his plans far in advance.”

“They didn’t suspect him?” Natalie asked.

Chance laughed dryly. “Why would anyone suspect St. Damien? He looked as horrified as the headmistress to find me there. He told them that he’d heard something when he was making his rounds and he’d called the police immediately. They found me in front of the open safe, and then they found letters under my mattress—from my accomplice. In them, I was told just what to do and I was even given the combination of the safe. The police assumed that I had tossed the money out the open window of the office to my ‘partner’

and that, thanks to Damien, I hadn’t had time to make my escape. Looking back, I can see how stupid I was.”

“You were twelve, a child. How could they have been so stupid to suspect you?”

Chance glanced down to find that Natalie had slipped her hand into his. He couldn’t help wondering how his life might have turned out if someone at the orphanage had had even a little of that simple faith in him. “The nuns didn’t think that being twelve was an excuse.