Stolen Fury (11 page)

“Clothes. Not research. Try another box, Slick.” She straightened and moved the box away, then shifted back to her papers.

If he told her he liked that little nickname, she’d probably stop using it. Hell, he’d be as slick as she wanted, however she wanted. All she had to say was when.

He was smiling as he reached for the next box marked
Lisa
, flipped the lid and glanced down at another pile of clothes. A tiny T-shirt with the words
JUNIOR ARCHAEOLOGIST
stenciled across the front caught his attention.

“I take it this isn’t research either?”

Her head didn’t move, but her gaze lifted to his. A blank look ran across her face. “My sisters saved all their baby stuff for me, figuring one day I’d get around to it.”

He chuckled and dropped the shirt back into the box. “You don’t strike me as the maternal type, Maxwell.”

She stared at him a long moment before looking down again. “Yeah. Hilarious, huh?” She pushed the box away with her feet. “Hand me the next one.”

They spent the next hour sorting through boxes, pulling papers and binders, searching for anything remotely related to the Furies. Several papers referred to someone named Landau. Rafe made a mental note of the name in case it came up again. He’d pulled a couple of notebooks filled with chicken scratches and had made a pile of papers that had anything to do with Greek mythology. Together they created a stack in the middle of the room.

He grabbed the last box and popped the lid, while Lisa moved to one of the trunks under the window. A couple more filled notebooks, a pile of research books, mountains of little sticky notes. Geez. Anal was an understatement. The guy had even saved napkins he’d jotted info down on. Complete with…yup, ketchup on the corner.

Shaking his head, Rafe lifted the last notebook and spotted a handful of photographs in the bottom of the box. He smiled at what had to be Lisa in college. Her hair was down past her shoulders, her face young and innocent, and she wore the baggiest sweatshirt and sweatpants he’d ever seen—obviously, he noticed looking closer, to cover up a much-chubbier body than she sported now.

He flipped through the stack. There were a few of her with her siblings. One with a guy who had to be the infamous cop brother (they looked too alike for him to be anything other than family), a few more of her working in the field with colleagues, one of her in front of a lecture hall, teaching. None were overly remarkable, except for the fact she was much younger, but the last one made him pause.

Her arm was around an older guy with brown hair slightly gray at the temples, sporting a deep tan and a worn, rugged face. She was smiling, he appeared to be scowling. Both were wearing sunglasses, and they were standing on a boat, cool blue water glittering behind them.

But it wasn’t the location that stopped Rafe. It was the fact her hand covered his on her stomach. And looking closer, he realized she hadn’t been chubby in those pictures, she’d been pregnant.

Pregnant? Lisa?

He glanced across the room to where she was busy sorting papers in the trunk, paying no attention to him. He looked back at the photo. It was definitely her. No question about it. And because these pictures were with Stone’s research, it was pretty obvious the guy with her was none other than the dead archaeologist.

She’d had his baby? He opened his mouth to ask that very question, then closed it quickly.

Maybe she hadn’t. In the photo it looked like she was just starting to show. He flipped the paper over and glanced at the date: May 23. Stone had died sometime in the middle of June. Which meant this picture was taken just before his death.

Rafe bit the inside of his lip. Hailey’s cousin had looked like that when she’d been…what, five months along? Six? Fifteen years ago, how late could a woman legally have an abortion? If the guy had just died, would she have gone ahead with the pregnancy?

His gut said yes, but he couldn’t be sure. Maybe she’d given the kid up for adoption. That was always a possibility.
Either way, it was pretty obvious Dr. Maxwell didn’t have any children now, and from all his research, he knew she was the ultra-career-driven female. He’d watched her with the kids downstairs. She was a good aunt, teasing them, playing with them when they begged for her attention, but when all was said and done, she kept her distance.

Lisa let out a long breath and stretched her back. “I think that’s about it.”

Rafe slipped the picture in his back pocket and replaced the others.

She stood. “Let’s get it boxed up, and then we can get out of here.”

He followed her lead and reached for the lid. Getting out of here sounded pretty damn good right about now. “Works for me.”

That hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d thought it would be. Once Rafe had shut up and stopped making smart-mouthed comments, he’d worked fairly well and pulled his own weight. And, Lisa had to admit, going through Doug’s old papers hadn’t affected her as she’d expected.

She’d tossed all those old pictures—thank God. Not seeing his face helped. But she was still apprehensive about reading his notes in depth. It would invariably bring up memories and emotions she wouldn’t be able to hide. She hoped to do most of that away from the watchful eyes of Rafe Sullivan.

She rounded the curve in the stairs and stopped short when she heard Shane’s voice in the kitchen. Great. Just great. As much as she loved her brother, some small part of her had hoped she’d missed him this trip. He must have heard her footsteps—or read her mind—because he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen just then, dark hair mussed, darker eyes locked on hers.

“There she is.” He took the box from her fingers, dropped it on the floor and caught her in a tight embrace.

Her eyes slid closed. He smelled like wintergreen Tic Tacs® and stale coffee. “God, I missed you,” he said into her ear.

She missed him, too. More than she wanted to admit. He was the only man who could very nearly bring her to tears.

When he dropped her on her feet, she got her first good look at him. His eyes were tired, worn. Blue smudges under his lashes proved he wasn’t sleeping much. And he’d lost weight since she’d seen him six months ago in San Francisco.

“You look like hell, little brother.”

Little brother
was her favorite joke. At six-one, he was anything but little. Broad shoulders, a trim waist, abs of steel. He was every woman’s fantasy, even ten pounds lighter than his normal one-ninety. But that didn’t ease her worry.

He flicked her one of his lopsided grins and tapped his fist against her jaw. “Nice of you to notice.”

Footsteps echoed behind her. Shane’s gaze lifted. When his expression hardened, she knew he’d just caught sight of her thief.

Wonderful.

“What the hell?”

She placed a hand on Shane’s chest and watched as he shifted into protective-big-brother mode. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. This is Rafe—”

“Sullivan,” Shane finished on a harsh breath. “Oh yeah, I definitely remember.” His gaze narrowed, flicked to Lisa and back to Rafe again. “Mind telling me what the hell he’s doing here?”

“The cop brother,” Rafe mumbled behind her. “Yep. This night’s just getting better and better. Lisa, I’m gonna leave you to argue about me while I put all this stuff in the car.” He moved past them with two boxes in his hands.

Shane took a step toward him. Lisa moved between the two men and waited until Rafe disappeared out the front door before looking back at Shane.

“Okay, don’t get pissed.”

“Don’t get pissed?” he asked with wide eyes. “The guy’s a criminal. One you asked me to check out. You’d better start talking. And fast.”

She bit her lip.

“Lis?” His hands moved to his hips.

Lisa tugged him into the guestroom and closed the door. “It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Do it anyway.”

The tone of his voice said he wasn’t putting up with her excuses. She knew that tone far too well. On a long breath, she told him about the Furies, about meeting Rafe and their eventual partnership.

“Holy shit.” Shane dropped onto the end of the bed. “Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?”

“Apparently. But thanks for pointing that out.”

“You can’t trust this guy.”

“Do I look stupid?”

“At the moment, yeah,” he said on a pathetic laugh.

“Okay, look. He’s my best shot at getting Alecto back. And if I want to find Tisiphone, he’s my best shot right now at that, too. And I think he might know where Magaera is. So, yeah, I’m going along with it. Whether you like it or not.”

“How do you know you’re even safe with the guy?”

It was that cop instinct of his kicking in, questioning everything. Distrusting everyone. He’d seen too much in his life working the streets and at some point had stopped believing people were innately good deep down inside. She had her own belief issues, but Shane’s ran much deeper.

And knowing that softened her. “It’s a gut feeling.”

“Aw, shit.” He rolled his eyes.

There went her sympathy. “Just shut up and listen. Yes, he’s a thief, but he’s not violent. He’s had plenty of opportunities to stick it to me, if you will, and he hasn’t. No, I don’t trust him. But I’m not afraid of him either.”

“So you’re going to go along with this?”

“For now.”

“And what if you don’t find the Furies?”

She heard the skeptical tone. He didn’t believe they actually existed. She knew otherwise. “I will.”

He closed his eyes, opened them. “Lisa, at some point you have to let this obsession go.”

Her back bristled. She wasn’t going to let him talk her out of this. And she wasn’t going down
that
road with him again, either. “I will. When I find them.”

She stepped toward the door.

His hand stopped her. “Hold on,” he said softer, turning her toward him. “You got a place to stay to night?”

She couldn’t stay mad at him when she knew he was genuinely worried. “Yes. We have hotel reservations.”

“Screw that.” He fished a key out of his pocket and handed it to her. “You’re staying at my place to night.”

“Shane, we already—”

He held up a warning hand. “Don’t say no. It’s not a question. If you’re gonna go through with this crazy idea, you’re gonna stay at my place where I can get a read on this guy before you take off again.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that look doesn’t work with me, Lis. Now listen. I’m on duty to night. I only came over here for a few minutes to see you. I should be home sometime after midnight. Be sure you’re there. And don’t make any plans to run out tomorrow morning before I get up. We’ve got more talking to do.”

She frowned and reluctantly took the key. There was no sense arguing with him. She knew when he meant business. “Fine. One night.”

“For as long as you’re in Chicago,” he corrected.

She pulled open the door.

“Lis?”

“Fine,” she huffed, walking toward the front door, knowing he wouldn’t quit until he got his way. The man was exasperating. No wonder he was still single. “For as long as I’m in Chicago.”

Which sure as hell wouldn’t be long, if she had anything to say about it.

Rafe was in the hallway talking to her mother when she
and Shane emerged from the bedroom. He glanced at her, curious, his gaze flicking to what she knew was Shane’s rigid don’t-mess-with-me face behind her. Her mother smiled, oblivious to the raging testosterone pumping through her entryway.

Lisa blew out a frustrated breath. The only bright spot in this whole gigantic nightmare was that her father had retreated to bed already.

They said their good-byes, Lisa managed to get out of the house with only one Tupperware container full of chocolate-chip cookies—sustenance, her mother told her—and they climbed into the rental car. Silence was a welcome sound. She drew in a long breath of cool air.

“Yeah,” Rafe said sarcastically. “That was fun.”

Lisa started the ignition and pulled away from the curb. “Stuff it, Sullivan.”

He was quiet on the drive across town. When he realized they weren’t headed back toward the airport, he sat up straighter. “You missed your turn.”

“Not exactly.”

His brows lifted in question.

She shifted. “We’re staying at Shane’s.”

His eyes widened. “Do I even have a say in this?”

“No.”

“Even better,” he mumbled, settling back in his seat.

He could bitch and moan all he wanted. She didn’t care. She was
letting
him tag along as it was. He should be grateful she hadn’t drop-kicked his ass already.

Lisa glanced in the rearview mirror as she headed north on Pulaski Road. Headlights switched lanes behind her and looked to be approaching fast. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and moved into the right lane.

“What?” Rafe asked.

“Nothing. Some idiot behind us is swerving in and out of traffic. Probably drunk.”

He turned in his seat and glanced behind them. She looked back in the mirror. The lights barreled closer.

Rafe tensed. “He’s gonna hit us. Pull over.”

Lisa glanced in the mirror again. He was right. Her adrenaline jumped. “There’s nowhere else to go.” A car had moved up along their left. Parked cars sat against the curb to their right.

“Step on the gas then!” His hand clamped over her knee, and he pressed down hard, making her jump.

The car shot forward. She swerved through traffic, tightened her hands on the wheel and tried not to hit anything. The vehicle behind them sped up, following her path, steadily closing the gap between them.

“Carajo.”
Rafe’s hands settled at her waist. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and slid over the low console until his big body was beneath her.

She jerked the wheel and corrected. “What the hell are you doing?”

His foot tucked beneath hers, taking possession of the gas pedal. “I’m saving our asses, Mario. Move over.”

She had little time to do anything else. His large hands closed over the wheel. He cursed as he dropped one arm and repositioned the seat back about a foot to make room for his long legs. Then he turned the car to the right with a hard jerk. Her body slammed against his before she had time to latch her seat belt. The side street was empty but for a car up in the distance. Rafe’s foot pressed down on the accelerator. He glanced in the rearview mirror again, his expression tensing more and more by the second.