Stolen Fury (33 page)
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing outside at this time of night?”
Hailey reappeared in the other doorway. “Rest of the house is clear.”
Shane’s gaze darted up. “And who, exactly, are you?”
Lisa blew out a frustrated breath and made reluctant introductions. “Hailey Roarke. Shane Maxwell. She’s a cop, too.”
“And?” Shane asked, obviously sensing more.
“And…” Lisa pursed her lips. “Sullivan’s ex.”
Shane’s gaze roamed over Hailey, hovered on her silky boxer shorts and tank top, her tousled blonde hair hanging around her shoulders. His gaze darted to Rafe who was wearing only jeans, then jumped back to Lisa. And when his eyes widened, Rafe had a pretty good idea just what Lisa’s cop brother was thinking. “Just what in the hell’s going on here?”
Rafe pushed away from the wall, wanting to kill that idea before it even got started. “Hailey brought the boat up for us last night.”
“Boat?” Shane’s gaze snapped back to Lisa. “What do you need a boat for?”
When she didn’t answer, only crossed her arms over her chest like she wasn’t going to tell him, he tipped her chin up with his hand. “Somebody better start talking. And soon, before I haul her ass back to Chicago and lock her up
myself.
”
Shane clicked off the cordless phone, tossed it onto the couch in the living room where Lisa was sitting and scrubbed his hands through his short hair. “Got a John Doe in Chicago who matches Sullivan’s description of Kimbel. Tony’s checking it out now. Body was pulled from an empty lot near O’Hare this morning.”
Lisa blew out a breath. She’d told Shane as much as she
could, and she didn’t like where any of this was going. First Laura Hamilton, Landau’s assistant; then Landau himself; now James Kimbel. She couldn’t see the connection, aside from the fact they all might somehow be tied to the Furies.
“Explain this to me like I’m stupid.”
Shane dropped onto the footstool, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “If we use you as the centerpiece and fan out from there, there are a couple of ways this could have played out. You said Kimbel and this guy Winters were working together?”
“Yeah. Rafe said he saw them together at Landau’s party.”
“Then we have to assume something got screwed up. Maybe they did Landau together, Kimbel got cold feet, and Winters popped him to save face.”
“Or?” she asked, seeing he didn’t exactly buy that theory.
“Or we’ve got another player in here who’s taking out the competition one by one. From what we know about Laura Hamilton, she was working on acquisitions for Landau. She’d recently made a trip to Greece, was interested in acquiring pieces for his new collection. Is there any chance she might have come in contact with you or Alecto?”
Lisa’s brow lowered. Since she’d changed into shorts and a T-shirt, she sat back, tucked one foot under her on the couch. “I doubt it. The name’s not familiar. Do you have a description?”
Shane reached for the file folder he’d left on the coffee table. “Yeah. Five-seven, one-hundred twenty pounds. Blonde hair, blue eyes.”
“Just your type.” Lisa winked.
Shane only frowned and dug a picture from the folder. “Here. Landau gave us this.”
Lisa reached for the photo. Her eyes widened as she fingered the shiny paper. “I know her.”
“Who?” Rafe walked up from behind with a mug of steaming coffee. He leaned over the back of the couch and drew in a breath. “Milan,” he mumbled.
“You both recognize her?” Shane asked, glancing from
face to face. He flicked Hailey a look over Lisa’s shoulder when she stepped into the room after Rafe.
Lisa took the mug from Rafe and nodded. “The university in Milan had her working with me when I was there. She carted things back and forth from the hotel for me. She…” Lisa shook her head. “She said her name was Greta. She was around when I was working and could have seen my research papers.”
“You mean your research on the Furies,” Shane corrected.
Lisa nodded.
Hailey slid into a side chair and tucked her legs under her. “So why would someone kill her?”
Shane turned one hand sideways, leaned his weight on his thigh and glanced up. He looked more relaxed than he had when he’d first shown up, but Lisa caught the flash of unease in his eyes that said he was still on the edge. “If she was reporting to Landau, and someone thought she knew more than she was telling, then my guess is they tried to get information from her.”
“Jesus.” Lisa ran a hand over her brow. “And when I showed up at Landau’s party, someone figured he knew more, too.”
Rafe’s hand gripped her shoulder. “He already knew more. That wasn’t because of you. He’s been looking for the Furies for a while.”
His touch didn’t have the calming effect she’d expected. She remembered the papers Rafe had taken from Landau’s safe. The ones that were eerily similar to Doug’s letters from Frederique, Annalise and Sophia.
“Okay,” she said, trying to stay calm. “Then who killed Landau and why? Winters?”
“Maybe,” Shane said. “But if so, then my gut says he was working for someone else.”
Rafe didn’t respond, and Lisa knew he was holding back about Billy and Pete and who he thought was behind all this. Part of her couldn’t blame him. Hell, he hadn’t even told her. He had no reason to trust Shane. But she did.
“There’s something else,” Shane said warily.
Lisa looked up.
Shane ran a hand over his mouth like he wasn’t sure he wanted to mention what ever was on his mind. “We’ve been watching Landau for a while. Even before Hamilton’s death. We’ve never been able to prove it, but there’s been speculation he’s using his gallery as a front for bringing drugs into the country.”
“What?” Lisa asked.
“Like I said,” Shane replied, “we’ve never been able to prove it, but a lot of times rare antiquities get through customs with barely a sideways glance. Convenient hiding places. Everything we have is circumstantial. Up until you showed up with all this about the Furies, I suspected Hamilton’s murder was related to that, not this. Not you.”
Lisa took a deep breath and studied her brother, face set in a grim line, forehead wrinkled in thought. Guilt for dragging him into this when he should have been back in Chicago where he was safe consumed her. “Are you gonna get dinged for this? For being here? For…me?”
He met her gaze. “I was ordered to take a vacation. That’s what I’m doing. If I happen to help Tony wrap up a case in the meantime”—he shrugged—“then that’s just my dumb luck.” He pushed up to stand. “I wasn’t exactly planning on a cruise through the Bahamas, but it looks like my luck might just be changing.”
Lisa’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not going with us.”
That irritating smile spread across his face. The one that always made her want to pop him in the nose. “Remember all those little favors, Lis? Well, I’m calling ’em in. Until this is over, I’m keeping a close eye on you.” He jerked his thumb toward Rafe. “And there’s no way I’m letting you take off with this cat to find Tisiphone.”
Rafe frowned and straightened.
“Besides,” Shane added, looking around the room, gaze resting on Hailey. “Seems to me you guys could use a little help.”
Cigarette in hand, Terence Winters lifted the receiver of a pay phone outside the Ritz Carlton on Key Biscayne. He’d made sure to dress like a tourist, complete with cargo shorts, obnoxious tropical print shirt, flip-flops and a camera bag draped over his shoulder. He didn’t need to draw attention. He shouldn’t even be on Key Biscayne, after last night’s events.
Stupid. It hadn’t occurred to him Sullivan would have his cop ex hanging around. The only thing saving Terence’s ass right now was he’d used his silencer, so he was pretty sure no neighbors had heard the shots. That and the fact he hadn’t hit anyone. But she knew. The bitch cop knew he’d fired. Hell, now it looked like two cops knew.
That was all he needed. He wasn’t going down for taking shots at a fucking cop by mistake.
His gut told him this game wasn’t going to end well for him. He always trusted his gut. No way in hell he was about to ignore it now.
“Do you have news?”
He winced at that sharp female voice. Did she practice the bitch tone or was it just ingrained? He wished like hell he could deal with the big guy instead of her. “They left on Sullivan’s boat this morning.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you plant the GPS device onboard before they left?”
Fuck, yeah. He did everything she said, just like a friggin’ yes-boy. Which included plugging Kimbel, because the guy had a sick obsession with Sullivan that was making her nervous. “Yeah. It looks like they’re headed to the Bahamas.”
“Give me the coordinates.”
He recited where they’d been when he’d checked his computer in the rental car five minutes before. Sullivan’s boat had at least a four-hour head start, but he doubted it would matter. It was a two-day trip by sailboat from Key Biscayne to the Bahamas, longer if they were navigating the waterways and going deeper into the islands. But by air it was only a couple of hours.
“Keep tracking them. We’re on our way to Nassau.”
He hung up the phone, fought to keep from slamming it on the cradle. Taking one last puff, he blew out a long breath of smoke, ground the butt into the concrete with his shoe and slipped on his shades as he walked toward his rental around the block.
No, this wasn’t sitting well with him. If he were smart, he’d keep his options open.
Options. He was an options man. Not a yes-boy.
Before he could change his mind, he climbed into the tan sedan, pulled out his cell and dialed Odyssey.
Pete massaged his aching forehead as he ran through his latest inventory sheet. He really needed to schedule another overseas buying trip, swing through Europe, stop off in Turkey, maybe even head into India, but just the thought left a pit in the bottom of his stomach. It’d been a long time since he’d enjoyed one of those trips. An even longer time since work had been anything but a diversion.
He thought of Rafe and Lisa as he scanned the list, flipped the page. Then chuckled, because he’d recognized that shell-shocked look in Rafe’s eyes when the man had been here yesterday. The barracuda had definitely taken a
bite out of him. And judging from his demeanor earlier, she’d knocked Rafe right on his ass.
Hell, six years ago, that had been Pete, hadn’t it? Rafe didn’t stand a chance.
His smile faded as he refocused on the pages in front of him. His storage facility was still full, but there were pieces he needed to add to his collections. A few special things buyers had asked for that he didn’t have on hand. As he made notes on a notebook at his right and turned to the last page, though, all thoughts about buying trips and demanding clients and his SOL partner slipped right out of his head.
His Egyptian collection filled one whole sheet. And even though he’d known it was inventoried with the rest of his holdings, the list still stopped him cold.
Line after line of Egyptian relics, jewelry, statues and artwork. All items he hadn’t been able to pass by during the last five years without buying. All things he had no intention of ever displaying.
Shit. He needed to get rid of it. Every single piece. The smart thing to do would be to sell it all off, but each time he’d tried, it’d been like taking a knife to the jugular. So far, he hadn’t been able to do it. So there it all sat. In storage. Thousands and thousands of dollars worth of Egyptian artifacts he couldn’t look at, but didn’t want anyone else to have. Because getting rid of it would be like getting rid of her.
And man, did that make him as fucked as Rafe, or what?
The knock at the door brought his head up. Seeing Billy standing in the shadows, he flipped the inventory sheet over and pushed all thoughts of Egypt out of his head. At least for the time being. “William. I thought you were in Kansas City with Betty.”
Billy shrugged and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “Was. Finished. Look, you got a minute?”
Pete leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t even noon yet and he was itching for a beer. “What’s on your mind?”
Billy came slowly into the room, looking more than a little on edge. “Rafe’s pretty pissed at me.”
“You don’t say.”
“Look, I know you two are tight. I’m just…you know, I’m not the fuckup he thinks I am.”
“Rafe’s under a little stress right now, Billy. Your mother, the situation with you, this project he’s working on.”
“I know. And if he’d told me any of what was going on, I wouldn’t have gotten in with those people.”
Pete smirked. “Your screwup isn’t Rafe’s fault.”
“No, but he’s not a saint like everyone thinks, either.”
Pete chuckled. Leave it to Billy to get all defensive when he was the one who’d come here looking for a handout. “What do you want, Billy?”
Billy took a deep breath. “I need something to get back on Rafe’s good side. Mostly for
Mamá
, you know? Contrary to what Rafe thinks, I don’t want her to suffer because I made a mistake. And hanging with Betty in Kansas City isn’t gonna do it for me.”
Pete’s interest piqued. “What do you have in mind?”
Billy shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me. What are he and that redhead really looking for? Maybe I could help.”
Pete studied Billy and pondered if the kid was really serious or simply blowing smoke. He had a few skills that might just come in handy if things got rough. And contrary to what Rafe thought, the kid had potential.
Pete’s phone rang as he considered this. Not looking away from Billy, he lifted the receiver. “Kauffman.”
“It’s Winters. Listen up because I’m only going to say this once.”
“Any luck?” Barefoot and dressed in loose jeans and a white T-shirt, Rafe eased down the companionway later that evening.
Lisa looked up from her spot at the salon table where she’d been making notes from Doug’s journal, trying to narrow down their target island. “Some.”
They’d left that morning, cutting a path through the Atlantic toward the Berry Islands. Lisa wasn’t thrilled that Shane had tagged along, or that Rafe had suggested Hailey join them to keep the peace, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it. She was thankful to be away from that house, though, and whoever was following them. Odds were they’d been seen leaving, but at least out here on the open ocean where they seemed to be the only boat for miles, she felt safe.