Thieves Like Us (33 page)

“I have,” he protested. “I mean . . .” He smiled and squinted as if he’d heard wrong. “Could you say that first part again?”

“I want to be part of your life.”

“That’s good, too, but I meant the other part.”

“You lucky man!” Vasili slapped Rocky’s back, although he’d looked so stunned to begin with she wasn’t sure he even noticed. “Janet is good woman, better than you deserve.”

“Thank you.” She gave Vasili her best smile. “But I think Rocky deserves a good woman.”

The Russian considered it. “If you say so.”

“You just said I was a good man,” Rocky reminded him.

“Not that good.” He turned back to Janet. “Go on.”

She’d given this some thought in the past twenty-four hours. “I think he deserves more than some casual affair with no real emotional connection.”

Rocky cocked an eyebrow in obvious interest.

“Eh,” Vasili said, dismissing his friend’s love life. “Even good man can make do with bimbos. Woman like you deserves fine Russian man with romantic soul, who treat you like princess.”

“You’re very sweet, Mr. . . . Excuse me, I didn’t get your last name.”

“He just goes by Vasili,” Rocky said.

“Petrovich. But you good friend, you call me Vasili.”

Rocky rolled his eyes.

“Vasili, let me ask you something.” She stepped closer and laid a hand on the Russian’s beefy arm as he leaned toward her attentively. “Suppose a woman really cares for you—”

He nodded vigorously. “Do I care back?”

“I hope so.”

“Let’s say yes.” Rocky smiled. “For the sake of your story.”

“Okay,” she said to Vasili. “This woman cares for you enough to want a real relationship. She’s brave and clever in a crisis—she’s proved this before.”

“Good qualities,” Vasili agreed.

“And she’s smart enough to discover that her ex-husband was paying his lawyers with stolen diamonds, and she tells the police in time to recover them.”

“No shit?” Rocky grinned. “Good job.”

“Thank you.”

“
Hmm
,” Vasili rumbled as he frowned. “Police always a problem.”

“Yes, well, this capable, smart woman wants to share every part of your life, even the slightly dangerous ones, because that’s how much she cares about you. Do you let her?”

Vasili rubbed his chin. “Good question.”

“Yes, it is.” She spoke to Vasili, but her gaze was locked on Rocky. If she stood here much longer she might fall right into those feverish brown eyes. Before she could, she said, “You think about it and let me know.”

“I will,” Vasili called as she walked out the door. She strode past the two burly barbers without glancing at them, yanking the outer door open without even a pause in her step. A feeling of power surged through her, a sense that she could take on the world. She nearly skipped across the street to the abandoned parking lot, elated with the way she’d laid her argument out, and even more elated with the way Rocky had reacted. It had been a long time since a man’s smile had made her tingle, and his had shot jolts down to her toes.

She was reaching for the door handle of her BMW when a hand slipped around her neck and covered her mouth and nose, pulling her back against a hard body. Another hand chopped at her wrist, sending her keys flying from her suddenly numb fingers. She opened her mouth to scream, but a cloth muffled the sound. It smelled funny, too.

Oh, shit, not again.
One deep gulp made her realize she should hold her breath, but it was too late. The already dusky sky went pitch black and the sound of heavy breathing in her ear faded to nothing as she slumped into unconsciousness.

R
ocky grinned. “Damn, I love that woman.”

Vasili nudged him with a his elbow. “Good! I have perfect ring for you!” He hustled around the counter, fumbling with his keys.

He laughed. “I’m not getting engaged, Vasili.” He shot a thoughtful look toward the closed door. “At least not yet.”

Vasili straightened. “Of course you marry Janet. You love her. Very beautiful girl. Fire in eyes.” He gave a knowing wink. “You know what that mean.”

He narrowed his eyes at the Russian, wondering what in the hell had happened to the Mafia boss who used to threaten to cut his fingers off if one single gemstone was missing from a heist he’d ordered. Romance seemed to have turned his aggressive tendencies to mush. The big guy was a sap—who knew?

“What you think, two carats? Three?”

“I’m not giving Janet a stolen ring.”

“Not stolen.” Vasili looked offended. “Loose stone. Get band at store, all legit. Three maybe too much for little fingers, eh? I have nice two and a half.”

Great, a hot diamond, probably stolen from some upscale suburban home and pried from its setting. “I already have a stone, Vasili.” Anything to keep Janet from walking around the rest of her life with a stolen diamond on her finger.

What was he thinking? She wasn’t talking about marriage, and one thing he knew about Janet was not to rush her. But she wanted a relationship, and that was good enough for now.

“Gotta go,” he told Vasili, reaching for the door.

“Wait! We got business.”

The sting. They’d had word that someone was interested in buying the remaining Pellinni Jewels and might show tonight. The response had been so fast, they were sure they’d hooked the right thief. When he showed, Rocky wanted an up-close look at the bastard who had searched Janet’s condo and killed Sleazy. When he was done with him, Ben could have him.

“I’ll probably be back before he shows. And I decided I’m bringing Janet, because she’s right: We make one hell of a team, and I’m not going to risk losing that. If he stalls on closing the deal, you’ll have it on tape, right? You have cameras hidden in here?”

Vasili stared under lowered brows. “I look stupid to you?”

He had cameras. “Not in the least. I’ll be back.”

“No hurry, she said let her know, she didn’t say deadline,” Vasili called after him, but Rocky didn’t stop. He didn’t want her to think he was hesitating, weighing the decision.

Rocky scanned the street, squinting through the growing darkness as he looked for her rental car. Gone. Not surprising, since she’d had that purposeful look about her. He didn’t want to chase her all the way back to Bloomfield Hills, then drive back here to wait for their thief to show up. If he could get her to pull over, he’d meet her somewhere. It might even be romantic.

He smiled to himself as he stood on the cracked sidewalk outside the barber shop and dialed her number. His gaze wandered along the street as he listened, idly noting the kids loitering outside the convenience store down the block. One ring. Up the street in the other direction, a resale store closed up for the night with a clang of metal bars shutting over the front window. Two rings. She was driving, so she might have to dig the phone out of her purse. Three rings. Four rings. He frowned and looked around again, doing a double take when he saw a BMW in the lot across the street.

He snapped the phone shut and jogged toward the car. The bar’s neon sign cast the only light in the sheltered lot, but he could already tell that it was a dark colored BMW—not the usual car for this neighborhood.

An old man smoking on the sidewalk glanced at Rocky as he dashed by, tossed his cigarette in the gutter, and ducked into the bar. Probably avoiding whatever trouble had Rocky sprinting.

He reached the car and rounded it quickly, examining it. Dark blue, just like Janet’s. There were no marks on the body, but it had been recently repaired. Nothing inside to give him a clue about the owner, and he didn’t know her license plate number. He circled the car again, trying to remain calm, but something inside him was edging toward panic. He ran his hand over

the smooth metal, peered through the windows, and stepped on something hard in the process.

He bent down. Keys—with a large, silver rectangle bearing a company emblem and black letters. He held it up to catch the light. Aims Air Freight.

A cold jolt of fear hit him in the gut. She hadn’t left here on her own.

His gaze darted around the parking lot, though he knew there was nothing to find. She’d been taken. There was no other possibility.

Questions tumbled through his mind as the fear inside him thrashed and twisted like a wounded snake. This
had
to do with the Pellinni Jewels. Had he been followed again? Had his sting been turned back on him?

He couldn’t think clearly; instinct took over. With frantic fingers, he called Ben. The Detroit police would take a call about a missing woman more seriously from Ben than from Rocky. Then Ben could help him search for Janet.

Rocky winced, remembering how the police chief had ordered him to keep Janet safe. His ass was grass, but he didn’t care. Nothing Ben could do or say would be worse than what he already felt. If he didn’t find Janet . . .

He would. He refused to think about any other possibility.

Ben was terse, snapping out questions and ordering him to stay put before hanging up. Rocky closed his phone, breathing as heavily as if he’d run a mile. His heart thundered even faster. He was torn, anxiety telling him to move, to search for her, and reality telling him he had no idea where to start. He paced the lot while he waited for the police.

There could be witnesses. The idea made him look frantically up and down the street. The group of kids was gone from the corner, but someone from the bar might have noticed her. She was pretty and had been in enough of a huff to be memorable, even without the expensive car.

Yanking open the door to the bar, he stopped just inside, scanning the small room. Dim yellow lamps hung over a banged-up pool table and several booths, but no one occupied them. At the bar, three old men looked up, faintly curious. The bartender who’d been slouched over the bar talking to them straightened up but said nothing.

The closest man was the smoker Rocky had seen earlier. All three seemed well past their first beer. The bartender was younger and far more clear-eyed. Rocky included him in his hard stare as he spoke. “Anyone see a young woman in the parking lot next door? White girl, pretty, short dark hair. It would have been just a few minutes ago.”

The old guys looked at each other as if checking to see who knew the correct answer before shaking their heads. The bartender offered, “Ain’t been outside.”

The smoker waved a thumb in the direction of the parking lot on the other side of the wall. “She the one drivin’ that fancy BMW?”

Excitement cracked through him like electricity, but he held perfectly still, as if his anxiety might leap across the room and shock the old guy. “Yes! You saw her?”

The guy tipped his beer and took a swig. “Nope. Nice ride, though.” He looked at the guy next to him. “Tol’ ya someone had a Beemer out there.”

The fraying feeling inside Rocky intensified in a rapid unraveling of patience. Keeping his voice calm and even was the hardest thing he’d done in a long time. “Did you see anyone out there at all? Anyone passing by or hanging around? It’s important. Someone may have abducted this woman.”

The old men shook their heads and the bartender said, “Sorry, man.” Two seconds later, they casually went back to their conversation. Just another missing woman, nothing worth getting excited about. Rocky turned and banged out the door, stalking back to the lot as the first police cruiser pulled up.

Ben arrived minutes later, and Rocky couldn’t tell him any more than he told the Detroit cops. Janet hadn’t received any threats that he knew of and had only been out of his sight for a few minutes. He did his best to leave Vasili out of it, admitting that he’d been at the barber shop, claiming he’d come for a haircut. Ben gave his overlong hair a skeptical glance, but when asked, Vasili backed up his claim, fairly demanding that the police officers admire Rocky’s artistically trimmed ends. There was no way he’d mention the sting they had planned, and no way it would ever net them a thief now with three cop cars parked outside the door. The plan might be ruined for good. And Vasili looked torn between worry over Janet and a strong desire to string Rocky up by his tender parts and put his barber’s shears to use on something other than his hair.

It was hard to care. If anything happened to Janet, it wouldn’t matter what Vasili did to him. Nothing mattered to him as much as she did, not even his own life.

As soon as he could, Rocky snuck away. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to do
something.
If he stood around simply listening to theories he’d go crazy. He was at his car when his cell phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket, half-annoyed at the interruption and half-hopeful it would be Janet.

He looked down and there was her name, solid and reassuring, on the caller ID. He flipped it open, plastering it to his ear. “Janet! Where are you? Are you okay? Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Really? Good to know.”

The voice was wrong—male, cocky, familiar. Anger tore through him. “Easy! Where’s Janet?”

“Well, duh, where do you think? Your pretty little girlfriend is right here, keeping me company.”

Fury churned in his chest, gripping his heart like a vise. He had to clamp his lips together to keep from sputtering profanities and threats. Caution was required, and he fought down the crazy part of him that longed to throttle the little weasel. His free hand plugged one ear to dull the city sounds and he lowered his head to growl into the phone. “What did you do to her? If you hurt her, I swear I’ll kill you.”