Dawn Stewardson (14 page)

“Good-looking,” Lauren said. “You mean movie star calibre?”

“Nah…well, I dunno. I mean, Danny DeVito’s a movie star, right? But by good-lookin’ I meant like a straight nose, a tan, all his teeth, that kinda thing. And neat. Clothes always pressed. Short hair. Never needs a shave.”

“What color hair?” Lauren asked.

“Brown.”

“And his eyes?”

“Two of ’em. He’s got two of ’em. Two ears, too.” The weasel started to laugh at his joke, then turned it into a cough when Sully glared at him.

“I dunno,” he muttered. “Who looks at a guy’s eyes?”

“What else?” Sully demanded. So far, he hadn’t heard anything that would distinguish Blackstone from half the fortyish-year-old men in the country.

“What else,” the weasel repeated. “I dunno. He dresses good, I guess. A suit if it’s day. Sometimes casual stuff at night. But never jeans and sneakers or nothin’ like that. It’s always expensive stuff.”

“What else?” Sully said again.

“That’s about it, my friend. There’s nothin’ real special about him. But, hey, most of the customers I couldn’t describe at all. I only know him ’cuz of the fuss he put up about not fillin’ out our forms. And ’cuz he smacked a five hundred buck deposit down on the counter like it was milk money.”

“Well, thank you,” Lauren said. “Perhaps we’ll want to do business with you again.”

“Anytime. Anytime.” He smiled at her, then gave a sidelong glance in Sully’s direction. Clearly, if there was an again, he’d be far happier dealing with Lauren alone.

Sully took her arm and they started for the door. “We might,” he muttered, “want to do business with that lowlife again?”

“You never know, Sully. At the moment, he’s the only link we have to Blackstone.” As they walked out onto the street, she glanced at her watch.

“When do we have to be at the gallery?” he asked, knowing why she was checking the time.

“Well, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to get there early. The man Marisa lives with had to be in Europe this month, and she likes moral support at this sort of thing.”

“The man Marisa lives with?” he said curiously. From what little he knew about Lauren’s parents, he couldn’t imagine them approving of that arrangement.

She shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking, and no, my parents weren’t happy about it at first. But they finally rationalized it as a function of Marias’s artistic temperament. At any rate, is it okay if we get to the gallery early?”

“Sure, it doesn’t matter to me. But with that guy who threatened your brother wandering around, is it a good idea for so many members of your family to be in the same place at the same time?”

“Well, Elliot thinks if the man was actually going to try anything he’d have tried it by now. And I know he’s asked a couple of criminologists their opinions, so we’re probably all in the clear.”

“Sully?” she went on after a moment. “You’re awfully disappointed we didn’t get much about Blackstone, aren’t you?”

“Kind of.”

“Only kind of?” she said softly.

“All right, more than kind of. I keep thinking that if he still wants to get his hands on Eagles Roost as badly as ever, how do I know he won’t come up with some other bizarre scheme? As far as that goes, how do I know he hasn’t got one in the works already?”

“Yes, I see what you mean. If he’d plan a bank robbery, who knows what else he’d do. But we’ve got about an hour before we should be getting ready for the reception. So when we get back to my apartment, why don’t we sit down and try to figure out some other way of finding an address for him?”

“Sure. Good idea.” He doubted, though, they’d come up with any brilliant plan.

“If we go to the reception early,” he said, “can we leave early, too?”

Lauren smiled. “We’re there at six-thirty, we’re gone by seven-thirty. Then we’ve got the rest of the evening to ourselves. Does that sound all right?”

Sully smiled back at her. It sounded just great.

T
HE
C
HALMERS
G
ALLERY
, which handled Marisa’s work, was down in SoHo. As their taxi sailed along Broadway, Lauren glanced across the backseat at Sully and smiled, thinking how absolutely gorgeous he looked. He was wearing good pants and a chocolate-brown shirt—which he’d said had been a birthday gift from Grace and Otis.

It made his eyes look so deliciously dark she practically melted every time her gaze met his. If this reception had been for anyone but her sister, she’d have skipped it in a minute. Then the two of them could have been alone together the entire evening.

As they crossed Houston Street, leaving the village behind and entering SoHo, she rested her hand on his and said, “Have you decided about what we were discussing in the apartment? About hiring a private detective?”

“I’ve been thinking it over,” he said slowly. “But with Fax Depot being open twenty-four hours a day, we’d need more than one person. It would probably take three people to keep it under surveillance. And they’d probably want to try tracking him down other ways as well, which would mean even more manpower.

“So I’m just not sure. As much as I’d like to know what Blackstone’s story is, until I get some funding firmed up I really don’t want to spend any money I don’t have to.”

It almost killed her not to say she’d pay for a dozen detectives, if that’s how many it would take, but she kept quiet. Until Sully got over this thing he had about her money, she intended to be very careful.

Glancing out of the taxi, she saw they’d almost reached their destination—which started her worrying about how things would go once they got there.

Over the past week, she’d grown awfully concerned that inviting Sully to this opening had been one of her infamous little errors in judgment. And at the moment, the butterflies in her stomach were multiplying at an alarming rate.

Her father was bound to recognize Sully’s name when she introduced them, so maybe she should have forewarned him, should have given both him and her mother time to adjust to the idea. It was too late to think about that now, though.

As the taxi jerked to a stop in front of the gallery, she told herself that no matter how upset her father turned out to be he was far too well mannered to say anything really rude.

Once they were out of the taxi she watched Sully paying the driver, thinking he looked as uneasy as she felt. Then he straightened his shoulders, shot her a quick smile and suddenly looked up to taking on the world.

She only hoped he was. Her little corner of it, at least. With a deep breath, she took his arm and they started for the door.

A woman she didn’t recognize was standing just inside, checking invitations. Beyond her, in the long, narrow gallery, two dozen or so other early arrivals were sipping champagne—some looking at the paintings, some standing talking.

Her heart hammering nervously, she scanned the room. She spotted Marisa, then her parents, then Elliot. They were all busy talking; none of them had noticed her yet.

“Those are my parents, ahead on the right,” she murmured to Sully, hoping her voice wasn’t betraying her anxiety.

Sully nodded.

“And that’s Elliot standing over beside the bar. I don’t see his wife, Ursula, but she’ll be here someplace. And Marisa’s the one in the black dress, over there who—”

“Who looks a lot like you only not quite so beautiful,” Sully said.

“You’re impossible,” she told him, but he was doing a lot to lower her anxiety level. It was still far too high for comfort, though, and then it jumped even higher because she suddenly sensed something was wrong.

Not far behind them a woman had raised her voice. “Sir?” she was saying as Lauren turned and saw it was the woman checking invitations.

“Sir, this is a private reception,” she said while Lauren’s gaze found the man she was talking to.

“Look, you can’t just barge in here and… Oh, my God! He’s got a gun!”

“Nobody move!” he yelled.

The entire room froze.

“Don’t move a muscle,”

Sully whispered.

Lauren doubted she could if she tried. She simply stared, numb with fear, at the man holding the gun.

Sully meets the family

A
DRENALINE PUMPING
like crazy, Sully sized up the situation.

The pistol was a .380 semiautomatic. Not especially powerful. Nor accurate. But potentially deadly at close range. The guy brandishing it was about thirty—nervous but not strung out. And the way his eyes were roaming the room said he was here with a purpose.

All at once, he found who he was looking for. He pointed the gun at Elliot Van Slyke and shouted, “You! Lawyer man! I told you I’d get you and here I am.”

Elliot’s face went white. Lauren made a strangled little noise in her throat. Sully’s mind began working flat out. The guy wasn’t using both hands to aim. That was good. But probably not good enough.

Just as Sully made his move, the shooting started.

The gallery exploded with the shots. People were ducking and screaming. The smell of gunpowder seared the air. And Sully tackled the shooter from behind.

They both went down. Sully heard the gun clatter onto the floor and yelled for someone to get it. The shooter was halfway to his feet, so Sully grabbed his leg and yanked him off-balance. The shooter hit the floor again—Sully on top of him now, his hands around the guy’s throat.

“Okay,” he snapped, breathing hard. “Make another move and I swear I’ll break your goddamn neck. You understand?”

“Yeah,” the man whispered hoarsely.

“Good. Somebody call the cops!” he said loudly, still not taking his eyes off the man he had pinned. Then, his thumbs firmly lodged against the guy’s windpipe, he glanced up to see who’d gotten the gun.

Lauren had it. She was standing pointing it at them, a stricken look on her face and her hand shaking so badly he hoped the gun didn’t have a hair trigger.

“Way to go,” he said quietly. “But it’s okay now, so why don’t you check on your brother.”

T
HE POLICE
had arrived following the shooting…immediately ordering everyone to refrain from talking to other witnesses until they’d given an official statement. That meant Lauren hadn’t had a chance to say a word to Sully or anyone else.

But at least she’d been told that Elliot would be all right. The ambulance had gotten there shortly after the police, and the paramedics had said none of the bullets had hit him, but that he’d smashed his head when he dove to the floor. And that had resulted—hopefully—in just a minor concussion. At an rate, while Ursula had gone to the hospital with him, the police had asked the other family members to remain at the gallery for questioning—along with the rest of the witnesses. Thankfully, no one else had been injured.

At that stage, between the guests who’d arrived before the shooting and the swarm of uniformed police officers and detectives, the gallery had been fairly full. As witnesses had been questioned and left, though, the numbers had dwindled.

Now, Lauren saw, glancing around while her detective made a few final notes in his book, the only other people still being questioned were Sully and her parents. The hero of the piece and the family of the victim were obviously of more interest to the police than anyone else.

The sole other remaining civilians in the gallery were Marisa—who was standing alone by the bar looking shell-shocked—and the gallery’s owner. He was in his office on the phone.

“I think that’s everything,” the detective interviewing Lauren said at last. “Thank you for your time.”

She nodded, then looked over at Sully again, hoping he was almost done. She desperately needed to wrap her arms around him and assure herself he really was all right. That was the only thing she thought might stop the shaking inside.

He was still deep in conversation with one of the other detectives, though, so she headed over to her sister and gave her a hard hug.

“Some exhibit opening,” Marisa said ruefully.

Lauren managed what she hoped looked like a smile. “Well, it’s certainly not one anybody’s going to forget soon. Especially not Elliot. Has Ursula called from the hospital?”

Marisa nodded. “She said they’ll probably release him tonight.”

The news sent a rush of relief through Lauren. Even though the paramedics had sounded sure of themselves, she’d been afraid that the concussion
wasn’t
just a minor one. Or that they’d missed something. “We were all so lucky,” she murmured.

“Thanks to your friend.” Marisa glanced in Sully’s direction, then back at Lauren. “I’d just spotted you with him before the chaos erupted. Who is he?”

“His name’s Jack Sullivan.”

“Well his looks are to die for. Where on earth did you meet him?”

“Ahh…he just walked into my office a week or two ago.”

“Really?” Marisa glanced over at him again. “But who is he? I mean, aside from being a total hunk. And where on earth did he learn to fight?”

Lauren reminded herself Marisa was the most liberal one in the family and said, “I suppose he either learned it growing up on the streets of the Bronx or in prison.”

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, she began at the beginning and raced through the entire story.

“Well, well,” Marisa murmured when she’d finished. “And just how serious are things between the two of you?”

“Marisa…I think I’m in love with him. No, I’m sure of it.”

Marisa gazed at her for a few seconds, then said, “Aren’t you worried that it’s happened too fast?”

“I’m worried about a whole lot of things, but that isn’t one of them. In fact, I doubt I’d be worried if it had happened even faster, because it feels so right.”

“Well, I guess there’s no set schedule for falling in love,” Marisa said. “But what about Mom and Dad? They don’t have a clue about him, do they? Mom would have been on the phone to me right away if they did.”

“No, they don’t know anything yet.”

“And how much are you going to tell them?”

“As little as possible for the moment. But when I introduce them Dad will recognize Sully’s name. And he knows he’s an ex-con.”

Marisa laughed quietly. “And here he is with Daddy’s little girl. Do you think Dad can take any more tonight? On top of Elliot’s almost getting shot?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren said, glancing past her sister, “but we’re about to find out.”

The three remaining detectives had magically wrapped up at almost exactly the same time. And at this very moment, Sully, her father and her mother were all heading from various areas of the gallery over to where Marisa and Lauren were standing.

She still wanted to hug Sully so badly she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried, and when he reached her she wrapped her arms around him and clung to him tightly—telling herself it didn’t matter that her parents were watching.

Her mother would have sized things up in two seconds, anyway. When it came to her daughters and men, she had better radar than the United States military.

“Hey,” Sully murmured against her ear, “everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

She nodded her head against the solid warmth of his chest, aware that she’d been right. The shaking inside had almost stopped. “Elliot’s going to be fine. And you were wonderful, Sully. Just wonderful.”

He gently patted her back. “You weren’t too bad yourself, Van Slyke. You’re the one who ended up with the gun.”

“That didn’t hold a candle to what you did, Sullivan,” she whispered as her parents closed in on them.

“This young man is with you, Lauren?” Roger Van Slyke said, obviously surprised.

She nodded, moving out of Sully’s embrace and noting how elated her father looked to learn Sully was her date. Unfortunately, she knew his elation wouldn’t last.

While Marisa began filling their mother in on Elliot’s condition, their father was extending his hand to Sully, saying, “I’m Roger Van Slyke, and I don’t have words to thank you enough. You probably saved my son’s life.”

“Jack Sullivan,” Sully said, shaking hands.

Lauren watched her father’s expression. It didn’t change. He hadn’t picked up on the name immediately, but it was only a matter of time.

“I’m Elliot’s mother,” Susannah Van Slyke said, “and Roger is right. We can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

Marisa cleared her throat.

“And this,” Lauren said, taking the hint, “is my sister, Marisa. Marisa, Jack Sullivan.”

Lauren glanced at her father again. This time, the name had clicked. She could almost see the wheels starting to turn.

“Jack Sullivan,” he said. “Jack Sullivan. I know your name, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir. We spoke on the phone a while back. When you called Eagles Roost, looking for Lauren.”

Sully’s words were followed by a dead silence. A very long dead silence.

“You run that program, then,” Susannah finally said. The brittle smile accompanying her words meant she’d sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to force herself into charming mode. “It must be very rewarding work.”

“Most of the time,” Sully agreed.

“And you came here tonight with Lauren,” Roger said, clearly having difficulty getting his head around that. “You just happened to be in town or…?”

“No,” Lauren managed to say evenly. “I invited him to come in for the exhibit opening.”

“Oh,” Roger said, glancing at Sully again. “And did you find a hotel you’re happy with? I understand some of them leave a lot to be desired these days.”

Lauren rolled her eyes.

“I’m staying with a friend. I grew up in New York City, so I still know a few people here,” Sully said.

“Oh.” Roger apparently had no more questions on the tip of his tongue, because he glanced at his wife for help.

“Well,” she offered, “since you’re with Lauren, why doesn’t Roger take all of us out for dinner? I want to phone the hospital and talk to Elliot, but then we could go to…where do you think, Roger? Jean Georges? If you called ahead, I’m sure Franklin would ensure there’s a good table for us.”

“Oh, Mom,” Lauren said, “that’s a really nice idea. But I’m afraid Sully and I have plans for the evening.”

“I don’t,” Marisa jumped in quickly, before either parent had a chance to ask if Lauren and Sully couldn’t change their plans.

Lauren shot her sister a thankful glance.

Marisa nodded almost imperceptibly and went on, “I mean, I did have plans, but since there’s not going to be any post-opening party now, I’d love to have dinner with you and Dad.”

“Ahh…” Susannah said. “Well, good.”

Lauren glanced at her watch, then at her parents. “I’m afraid we’re already late, so we’d better get going. Say hi to Elliot and Ursula for me. And tell them I’ll call tomorrow.” With that, she grabbed Sully’s hand and practically ran for the door.

“Thanks,” he said as they hit the street and he hailed a taxi. “I don’t think I’d have enjoyed dinner with your parents. They were both itching to grill me, weren’t they?”

“Only to within an inch of your life.”

When they’d climbed into the cab, she added, “But at least you couldn’t have met them under better circumstances.”

“Oh, sure.” Sully grinned at her. “An art gallery that turns into a shooting gallery. Who could ask for anything more?”

She lightly punched his arm. “All right, maybe I didn’t exactly mean circumstances. I should have said you couldn’t have made a better first impression. That you couldn’t possibly have topped saving their son’s life.”

“Where to?” the driver demanded impatiently.

“East Seventy-third and Madison,” she told him before glancing to Sully again. “Let’s change into something more casual, then go grab dinner, okay?”

“As long as we don’t go to Jean Georges.”

Lauren smiled and settled back as Sully wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

L
AUREN CLOSED
the apartment door behind them but didn’t turn on any lights. Instead, she reached for Sully’s hand and led him across the living room to the windows.

Darkness hadn’t totally fallen, but the night city had come alive. Directly below them, Fifth Avenue was a string of headlights. On the far side of the street, the park stretched out, shadowy gray, lit only along some of the pathways and the few streets that wound across it.

Beyond the park, the lights of the big old apartment buildings on Central Park West shone warmly in the distance, while toward Midtown the city exploded in brightness—from the hotels along Central Park South down to the theater district.

Lauren glanced at Sully’s rugged profile and her heart skipped a beat. She’d always thought this view at twilight was incredibly romantic, but tonight was the first time she’d shared it with a man she loved.

They stood silently gazing out for a few more moments, then Sully draped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She rested her head against his shoulder and breathed in that combination of the outdoors and his own scent.

Finally, she shifted, trying to see his expression. When she could, he took her face in his hands, kissing her the way she’d been dreaming about since the very first time.

“Thank you for everything you did tonight, Sully,” she murmured at last.

“Shh. Can’t you see I’m trying to kiss you?”

That made her smile. “I mean it. If it weren’t for you—”

He cut her off with another kiss.

“Oh, Sully,” she murmured. “How am I ever going to get enough of you?”

He exhaled slowly. Lauren’s words had so eerily voiced his own thoughts that it was downright spooky. How was he ever going to get enough of
her?

He didn’t know exactly how to express the way he felt, but he knew that Lauren was meant for him. She had to be, because no other woman had ever made him feel the way she did.

Even so, he couldn’t help wondering if he could ever possibly make her his.

S
ULLY WAS STILL AWAKE
when Sunday morning came creeping into the living room, and it wasn’t just because his buddy’s sofa was uncomfortable.

He’d spent the entire night thinking about his last few hours with Lauren. Eventually, instead of going out for dinner, they’d decided to order in. Then they’d watched a terrible late-night comedy that had seemed hilarious because he was watching it with her in his arms.