Countdown (9 page)

“I thought you would. That’s why I wanted a little time for you to get over your first emotional response and be able to reason again.”

“It’s reasonable to call in the law.”

“Reasonable, but not effective if you want Grozak. He’s been dodging the law for years and he’s good at it. You don’t want him to suspend operations and disappear if he scents trouble.”

“I don’t want that smirking bastard who killed Mike walking around free either.”

“You’re a cop’s kid. You know the large percentage of murderers who are never caught. And most of them don’t have as many contacts and people protecting them as Grozak.”

“He’s not going to get away.”

“I never said he would. I can’t afford to let him. He’s a danger and he has to be eliminated.” The words were spoken simply but with absolute coldness, sending a ripple of shock through her. Trevor was usually so understated that she sometimes forgot how lethal he could be.

“And how do you intend to do it?”

“He wants me dead, he wants the gold. Since he can’t have either one, I let him come near enough for me to pounce.” He smiled. “I pounce very well, Jane.”

“I imagine you do.” She looked away from him. “But I’m still not convinced I should trust you instead of the police.”

“Shall I tell you? Because I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I don’t want the gold.”

“We’ve already covered that ground. I know what you want.” He leaned toward her and his voice lowered to velvet softness. “And I’ll give it to you. Everything, anything you want.”

Her gaze flew back to his face and she was caught, held captive by the intensity, the charisma that electrified his expression. She had drawn that face a hundred times and knew every line and indentation of his lips, the blue of eyes that could often be cold and yet sometimes were warm as a tropic sea. Those eyes were very warm now. He couldn’t mean— No, of course not. With an effort she pulled her glance away. “The scrolls. You’re talking about the scrolls.”

“Am I?” He smiled faintly. “Of course I am. What else?” He reached into his jacket pocket. “I brought you a present.”

A cabochon-cut blue stone lay in his palm.

“It’s one of the lapis stones on the bronze containers for the scrolls. Not very pretty, but I thought you’d like it.”

Two thousand years old.

She reached out and tentatively touched the lapis. “So old . . . You shouldn’t have taken it out of its setting.”

“I didn’t. It fell out when we were opening the tube.” His hand brushed hers as he placed the lapis in her palm.

She flinched and then forced herself to steady her hand. Jesus, he’d barely touched her and she felt as if an electric charge had rippled between them. She looked up to see him studying her expression. “And I was right, it’s better off with you.”

“Is this some kind of bribe?”

“More like a promise. I promise to let you read the scroll that was in that tube if you’ll give me a little time to find that chest and remove Grozak from this earthly sphere.”

“Only this scroll?”

He chuckled. “Greedy. No, I’ll let you read all of them. But this one was particularly interesting, and I think you’ll be as excited as I was.”

She could feel the excitement as she looked down at the lapis. “Why? How was it different?”

“Cira wrote it.”

She glanced up, startled. “What?”

“Cira. The rest were written by Julius Precebio and his scribes, but this one was definitely Cira.”

“My God,” she whispered.

“Just a little time,” he said persuasively. “Stay with me. Let me keep you safe. You want Grozak? It will happen. You want to read the scrolls? You’ll get them. It’s a win-win situation for you.”

Her resolution was bending, swaying with every word. She had to block him out, think. She could feel herself falling under Trevor’s spell.

Just a little time.

He hadn’t asked for an irrevocable commitment.

A win-win situation.

Lord, she didn’t know whether he was right, but she suddenly knew she was going to find out.

She leaned back in her seat. “Two days. I’ll give you two days, Trevor.”

5
                                                                                          

R
ocks flying everywhere.

Pain.

Blood!

She would not die in this hellish tunnel, Cira thought through the haze of pain. They had to be somewhere near the end of the passage. She wouldn’t be stopped now. She’d give herself just a second and then she’d—

“Run.” Cira could hear Antonio cursing as he grabbed her arm and pulled her down the tunnel. “Pamper yourself later.”

Pamper? she thought indignantly. It was pampering to pause because she was dazed and bleeding? The anger sent the blood rushing through her veins and into the sluggish coldness of her legs.

She ran.

Rocks were falling all around them.

Heat.

No air.

Night with no air.

Antonio’s hand holding hers in the darkness.

Darkness?

No, the darkness was less now.

And up ahead . . . light?

Her heart leaped and she put on speed.

Antonio chuckled as he kept pace with her. “I told you I’d lead you out of here.”

Don’t look at him. “If I stopped pampering myself,” she said tartly. “And I would have got myself out eventually.”

“May I point out that there’s little time for trial and error?” Antonio asked. “Admit you were right to trust me.”

They were closer to the light now. Almost safe. If anyone could be safe while the world ended around them, she thought grimly. “I don’t trust you. I just know you want out as much as I do. You could still betray me. You’ve done it before.”

“I made a mistake. I was hungry and poor and—”

“Ambitious.”

“Yes, ambitious. And you’re not? Tell me that you didn’t claw and fight to get out of the gutter and win a place for yourself.”

“I didn’t take money to abandon you. We were going to go away and start a life together,” she said bitterly. “You left me.”

“All right. I left you. Julius offered me either money if I left Herculaneum or a knife in the back if I stayed with you. I took the money.” His hand tightened around hers. “But I came back.”

“Because you wanted more gold. You wanted the chest of gold Julius gave me. Or maybe the portion Julius was willing to dole out to you for bringing him my head.”

“I wanted you,” he said. “And I was willing to connive and lie and risk my neck to get you.”

“And the gold.”

“Yes, but I’d take you without it.” He grimaced. “By the gods, what a confession from me. I never thought I’d say those words.”

She glanced at him, and even in the dimness she could see how beautiful he was, perfect of form and face. He had been the most popular actor to walk the stage at Herculaneum, and every woman in the audience had desired him. But it was his intelligence and volatile recklessness that had drawn Cira from the beginning. She had always been able to control her lovers but she had never been able to control Antonio. Perhaps that danger had been part of the excitement. Yet at this moment his expression was grave and his words had the ring of truth.

Don’t listen to him. He had betrayed her. He would betray her again.

“I’m taking you away from here,” he said. “If Julius tries to stop me, I’ll kill him. If you want to leave the gold, I’ll walk away from it.” He scowled. “Though you’d be a fool to do it. And I’d be a bigger fool to try to prove that it meant nothing to me. It does mean something to both of us. It means freedom and the chance to—”

Someone was standing at the end of the tunnel, framed against the light!

“What?” He frowned and followed her glance. He stiffened and stopped in his tracks. “Julius?”

“You know it is, damn you. You led me right to him.”

Fury. Disappointment. Sadness.

Accept the fury but not the sadness. What a fool she was. She’d almost believed him again. Would she never learn?

“Damn you.” She lunged forward and grasped the hilt of Antonio’s sword. “I’m not going to let you bastards do this to—”

“Jane. Wake up.”

She had to get away from Antonio. Had to get past Julius at the end of the tunnel.

“Jane, dammit.” She was being shaken. “Open your eyes.”

“Julius . . .”

Her lids lifted sluggishly.

Trevor.

“I thought you didn’t dream about Cira anymore,” he said grimly. “That was one hell of a nightmare.”

Her gaze wandered around the jet as she tried to get her bearings. That’s right. Trevor. Mike was dead and they were on their way to Scotland. She shook her head to clear it. What had Trevor said? Something about Cira . . . She sat up straighter in the chair. “I haven’t dreamed about Cira for more than four years.”

“Well, this one must have been a doozy. You were scared to death.”

“I wasn’t scared.” It was Cira who had been frightened and angry. Cira who thought she had been betrayed. Cripes, stop thinking like that. It had been Jane’s dream, and any emotion generated was her own, not some long-dead actress’s. “How do you know I was dreaming of Cira? Did I call her name?”

“No, Julius’s. And since Julius Precebio was the villain of the piece, it had to be a Cira dream.”

“Very logical.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose it was perfectly natural for me to dream of Cira. You brought it all back with your talk of the scrolls and her gold she’d hidden away.”

“I didn’t have to bring it back from very far,” he said dryly. “She must have always been with you if you went to the trouble of going on those archaeological excavations.” He got to his feet. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee. You look like you need it.”

She did need it, she thought as she watched him head toward the galley at the back of the plane. As usual, the dream of Cira had been vividly lifelike and it was difficult to bring herself back to reality. She felt a desperate need to dive back, finish what Cira had started.

Crazy. Get a grip. It was a dream.

“Black, right?” Trevor was beside her, handing her a Styrofoam cup. “It’s been a long time since I made you a cup of coffee.”

But he’d remembered the way she took it. There wasn’t much that Trevor didn’t remember. As Eve had said, he was totally brilliant, with an IQ off the charts, and that amazing memory went with the territory. “Yes, black.” She sipped the coffee. “How much longer before we land?”

“Another hour or so.”

“I slept longer than I thought.”

“You needed it. It’s been a hell of a day for you.” He sat down beside her again. “Too bad you couldn’t have pleasant dreams. But the Cira dreams are never pleasant, are they?”

“I wouldn’t say that. You told me once that you dreamed of Cira after you first read the scrolls, and your dreams were disgustingly pleasant.”

He chuckled. “What the hell? I’m a man. What do you expect?”

“A little respect for a woman who did the best she could in a time when she should have been ground into the dirt by the system.”

“I respect her. But those scrolls written about her by Julius were as erotic as the Kama Sutra. You’ll see when you read them.” He lifted his cup to his lips. “You never did tell me about your dreams.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Not much. She’s in a cave or a tunnel running, it’s hot and she can’t breathe. The night Vesuvius erupted?”

“Probably. It seemed as if the conditions would have been the same.” She looked down at her coffee. “And if the dreams were triggered by something I read somewhere, then the eruption might have figured in them. It was the most famous event that happened in that era.”

“But you’ve never been able to track down any reference to Cira in any history book or other source?”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I was a bookworm from the time I was a toddler. It could have been just a line or two that stuck in my mind and later—”

“Whoa. I’m not arguing with you. There are too many bizarre happenings in this world for me to question anything. Your explanation sounds as good as any to me.”

She had sounded defensive, she realized, and she didn’t have to defend herself to Trevor. “If you can think of a better one, I’m open. I’ve been searching for a logical answer for four years and I haven’t found one. That’s one of the reasons I want to read those scrolls. Maybe there’s something in them that will trigger a memory.”

“Maybe.” He smiled. “Or maybe you’re just plain curious about Cira. You told me before you left Herculaneum that you had to find out if she survived the eruption.”

“The scrolls wouldn’t tell me that.”

“But they might point you on the right path.”

Her gaze flew to his face. “Do they?”

“You’ll find out for yourself in a few days.”

“I may strangle you. And if you’re conning me I’ll find a way to make you wish you’d never been born.”

“I wouldn’t dare. You’d see right through me.” He stood up. “I believe I’ll go and relieve Brenner for a while. It will give you a break from my company.”

“And keep me from asking questions?”

“Just delay them.” He paused, looking down at her. “I’m not trying to keep you in the dark, Jane. I have a lot to do, and having to worry about you halfway across the world will get in my way.”

“So you’re dribbling information to keep me intrigued and heading in the direction you want me to go.”

“Whatever works.”

“Well, then dribble this information. Why are we going to Scotland instead of back to Herculaneum?”

“I’m sure Brenner told you it’s a trifle uncomfortable for me in Italy at the moment.”

“Because that’s what you told him to tell me. I don’t believe it would make any difference to you if Grozak was on your tail. You’d enjoy the adrenaline rush. It’s why you do what you do instead of becoming a solid citizen.”

“True, but unfortunately most of the people around me aren’t similarly inclined. I have to take their feelings into consideration and act responsibly.”

“Responsibly?”

“I can be responsible when it’s important to me.” He met her gaze. “That’s the reason I came to get you. You’re important to me.”

Every word, every nuance, every expression breathed sensuality. And her body was responding to that sensuality; the palms of her hands were tingling, her breasts felt suddenly sensitive. Even her pulse was beginning to race, she realized with frustration.

Son of a bitch. She wouldn’t look away from him, dammit. He knew what he was doing to her. He was expecting it. Ignore it and face him down. “I wasn’t even on the scene when you set up shop in Scotland. Who were you being responsible for then? Bartlett?”

He stared at her defiant face for a long moment before he smiled. “Do you know there’s no one in the world like you? God, I’ve missed you.”

Stop this melting warmth that flowed through her. Crazy. They were over a foot apart, but she felt as if they were touching. “Bartlett?” she repeated.

“Bartlett and Mario.”

“Who’s Mario?”

“Mario Donato, another innocent bystander who’s doing some work for me at MacDuff’s Run.”

“If he’s doing work for you, then he’s not innocent.”

“Relatively speaking. He’s the translator finishing up the scrolls. I had to get someone else to do the work after Dupoi sold me down the river to Grozak.”

“I’m surprised you were able to get the scrolls back from him.”

“I was keeping an eye on Dupoi. I’m not the most trusting man around. At the first sign that he was negotiating I moved in and took the scrolls away.”

Her gaze narrowed on his face. “He double-crossed you. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing. I didn’t touch a hair on his head.” He tilted his head. “You don’t believe me?”

“Why should I? I know you spent years and traveled thousands of miles to get revenge on that murderer who was after me four years ago. You wouldn’t walk away from someone who betrayed you.”

“But that’s exactly what I did.” He paused. “After I planted evidence that the bastard was really in the process of double-crossing Grozak. I thought the punishment should fit the crime. I understand Grozak was very upset and took a very long time to dismember that son of a bitch.”

She shivered as she saw his expression. Cool, casual, yet there was an underlying savagery in that very carelessness.

“You shouldn’t ask questions if you don’t want answers,” he said as he read her expression. “Because I’m going to tell you the truth. Well, as much as I can. If it doesn’t violate a confidence. But I’ll never lie to you if I can help it. That’s quite a gift from a con man like me, but you may find it uncomfortable as hell.” He turned and headed for the cockpit. “Too bad. Live with it.”

I
t’s like something from
Macbeth
,” Jane murmured as the car glided toward the huge stone castle on the cliff overlooking the sea. “Very dark and moody.”

“But it’s got modern plumbing,” Bartlett said. “One can put up with dark and moody if you can have a hot shower every day.”

“You have a point,” Trevor said. “There’s a lot to say about the delights of an efficient hot-water heater. But that isn’t why I leased MacDuff’s Run.”

“Why did you?” Jane asked.

“A number of reasons. It’s an interesting property. It was built by Angus MacDuff back in 1350, and the family has a fascinating history. Unfortunately, they recently fell on hard times and have had to rent out the place. It’s private, easily protected, and we were able to move in and out of the area without nosy neighbors asking questions. The people in the village believe in keeping to themselves.” He glanced at Brenner, who was driving the car. “Though Brenner’s been doing more moving than I have lately. I stashed the scrolls in several different areas after I took them away from Dupoi, and he had to be very careful retrieving them.”