Deep Blue (29 page)

“I’m going, Conn. You can’t see the front and back at the same time. You’re going to need my help. Besides, all we’re going to do is watch the house.”

“You aren’t going, and that’s final.”

She gave him a too-sweet smile. “Have it your way, then. I’ll just sit right here, waiting for you like a good little girl until you get back.”

He knew that look. She planned to follow him the moment he left the villa. “You little witch. I suppose the only way you’d stay here is if I tied you up. Since that is something I’d rather do under far more intimate circumstances, I guess I’ll have to take you with me.”

“Very sensible.”

And he was only going to watch the place. It was probably a total waste of time. Grumbling about hard-headed women, he waited as she walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt.

She was dressed and ready to go a few minutes later, a pair of sandals on her small, slim feet.

“You’re going to get wet, you know.”

“I’ve been wet before. Besides, it isn’t that cold.”

Conn went over and pulled a short-sleeved black knit shirt out of his bag, stripped his tee shirt off over his head, and pulled the knit shirt on instead. The darker colors would blend better with the night. He was glad to see that Hope had also figured that out.

“Put this on. At least you’ll be able to see.” He tossed her a dark blue bill cap to help shed the rain and dragged a black one down over his forehead.

This time of year, the sun still set fairly early. As soon as he felt sure they wouldn’t be spotted, they slipped out the back door and headed for the big, plush villa that Eddie Markham called home.

It sat on a rise overlooking the sea, white plaster walls, red tile roof, bigger even than the rest of the units in the development. Waves crashed on the beach below the house and rolled toward the huge front windows overlooking the sea. A small, private dock allowed boats to come and go at their leisure.

Markham lived an expensive lifestyle. And though The Villas had begun to prosper, they hadn’t been as lucrative an endeavor as Eddie had hoped. He’d been ecstatic when they’d found the treasure. The money from the sale of the Maiden—money he didn’t have to split with anyone else—could set him up for at least the next few years.

“I’ll watch the front. You take the back,” Conn said to Hope as they neared the house, figuring that if St. Giles appeared, he would likely come straight to the front door of the house. Eddie had no reason to think Conn suspected him. As far as anyone could guess, the thieves had come off one of the numerous boats anchored around the wreck site.

And the truth was, they very well could have.

If he hadn’t accidentally discovered St. Giles’s presence on the island, Conn wouldn’t have linked Emperor Eddie to the theft.

But once in a while fate cut you a break. Maybe this was one of those times.

One thing Hope discovered—stakeouts weren’t the least bit of fun. For hours, she had been huddled beneath the broad, flat, variegated leaves of a huge philodendron plant, a small bit of shelter from the seemingly endless onslaught of rain.

She had been staring through the windows of Eddie’s study for so long her vision was beginning to blur. So far, all she’d caught was an occasional glimpse of him. By now, he had probably gone to bed.

Every half-hour, Conn had come to check on her. She knew he was worried about her safety and her discomfort out in the elements, but each time she assured him that she was all right. She could do this one thing for him before she said good-bye.

Her chest squeezed at the thought. She wasn’t sure how long they would be out here in the darkness before Conn gave up and they went back to their villa. As miserable as she was, she would almost rather stay out in the storm than face the storm of his wrath once she told him that she would be leaving.

Her heart set up a painful throbbing. God, it hurt to love someone. But it hurt even more to lose them. Leaving was the answer. For her it was something she just had to do.

Something stirred in the darkness behind her. Hope crouched lower beneath the leafy foliage, all but disappearing in the rain. Her pulse quickened. Conn hadn’t been gone that long. It had to be someone else. Then she heard the soft whisper of his deep voice next to her ear.

“Someone just showed up out front. Portly fellow wearing a hat. Could be St. Giles.”

She turned back to the window. “Look—they’re walking into the study now.” Eddie Markham led the way, followed by a heavyset man in light brown slacks and a white, short-sleeved knit shirt. His hair was beginning to gray and there was a bald spot on the back of his head.

“What are you going to do?” Hope asked softly.

“I’m going in. I want you to go back to the villa and wait for me there.”

She shook her head. “I’m not leaving. Don’t even think about trying to make me.”

Conn swore softly. “All right, dammit, then stay right here. Don’t get any closer. If anything happens, I want you to head out of here as quickly and quietly as you can. Get back to the villa and call the
Conquest.
With the weather the way it is, the boat hasn’t been able to leave. Tell Joe what’s going on. Tell him I’m at Markham’s. He’ll know what to do.”

She wished Joe were already there, or that Conn would wait until he came, but she knew he wouldn’t.

He’s a SEAL,
she told herself.
He knows how to handle these things.

And he was carrying a weapon. A big, ugly, lethal-looking gun he undoubtedly knew how to use.

Hope watched him slip soundlessly away. It was amazing how quietly he moved. One minute he was crouching there beside her, the next he was gone. Nothing moved in the darkness, not a leaf or a blade of grass. Not a sound reached her ears, yet she knew he was out there, silently making his way toward the house.

Her heart was galloping so hard it hurt. The palms of her already rain-slick hands were beginning to feel hot and clammy. Inside the study, she could see the two men talking. Markham walked over and pulled the drapes, obscuring her view, and silently she cursed.

There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the house, though by now Conn was probably inside. She needed to get closer, find a way to see what was going on.

Moving as quietly as she knew how, Hope made her way around the perimeter of the terrace, keeping low, the ground wet enough to hide the sound of her footsteps. Once she reached the house, she flattened herself against the plaster wall near the window. She couldn’t see inside, but she could hear the two men talking, and there was no way to mistake what was going on.

“Don’t worry. They’ll be here any minute. Would you like a glass of brandy while we wait?” Eddie’s voice, jovial, confident.

“No, thank you. You’re certain they have it? That it’s the Maiden and not something else?” British. Undoubtedly St. Giles.

“They’ve got it. And it’s definitely the Maiden. Once you’ve seen it, assured yourself it’s authentic, I’ll expect you to transfer the money.”

He nodded. “We can do it from here, over the Internet, just as you suggested. Fifteen million transferred to your personal account in the bank on Grand Cayman.”

“As soon as I’ve verified the money is there, you can take the statue and leave. You won’t be able to get off the island until the weather clears, but I understand you have someone with you who’ll be able to keep the statue safe until your plane can leave.”

St. Giles moved a little and so did Hope, allowing her to see the men through the split in the curtains. The collector smiled. “Forest is quite a capable man. He’ll be here any minute.”

Adrenaline shot through her. Another man was coming. She prayed Conn was able to hear the conversation.

It was only a few minutes later that two more men arrived at the house. The front door must have been left unlocked in anticipation of their arrival. Eddie invited the men into the study, two nondescript males, both around five-foot-ten, one of them black, probably Jamaican, the other fair-skinned with light brown hair. The second man carried a cardboard box that appeared to be quite heavy. He set the box on a carved wooden table near the center of the study.

Eddie greeted them briefly, addressing the black man as Brunet, the white man as Williams, and instructed the latter to open the box he’d brought in. He did so carefully, lifting out the heavy statue and setting it down on the table.

The Maiden.
Hope felt a rush of excitement just looking at the beautifully formed, glinting chunk of gold.

“My God.” St. Giles walked toward the Maiden like a man in a trance. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch the statue, run his finger over her long, wavy hair. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie flashed a satisfied smile. “She’s yours, St. Giles. All you have to do is come up with the money.” He turned to the other two men. “If you gentlemen will step into my office, we can finish our transaction and you can leave.”

While St. Giles examined the statue, viewing it from every angle, lifting it and checking to be certain it was authentic, the other men followed Eddie into a small room off the study that served as an office. The men returned a few minutes later, apparently satisfied with the compensation they had received for their work.

Everything seemed to be moving along as planned. Hope figured Conn would wait until the men who brought the statue were gone before he stepped in to retrieve the Maiden. She was standing there worrying about him, afraid of what would happen when he appeared, when she felt the hard steel barrel of a pistol pressing against her ribs.

“Enjoying the conversation?” The upper-class British accent slid through her like a knife.

She had forgotten about St. Giles’s man. She had wrongly assumed he would arrive at the front door like everyone else. Her pulse raced, her mind as well, trying to think what to do. She took a steadying breath, turned to look up at him, and gave him a phony smile. “I take it you’re Forest.”

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. “I see my reputation precedes me.” His face looked hard in the thin ray of light seeping out from between the curtains. She noticed that his gun never wavered.

“Since I don’t believe we’ve met, why don’t we go inside where we can be properly introduced?” The gun nudged her forward.

Hope scrambled to think of an option, or a story she could tell that he might believe, but it was obvious there were no options, other than to do as the gunman said. And she thought that he wasn’t the sort of man to believe anything but the truth.

“There’s a door ’round the side.” He prodded her again, the gun pressed firmly against her. “Let’s go.”

Well, at least I’ll get out of the rain,
Hope thought grimly, making her way along a path that led to a heavy wooden door on the east side of the house. Forest rapped on the panel a couple of times and the black man named Brunet let them in.

Forest urged her forward with the barrel of the gun. In the light of the hallway, she saw that he was tall, his skin slightly weathered. He had hard, carved features and thick black eyebrows, yet he was attractive in a brutal sort of way. With his clipped British accent, a sort of bad-guy James Bond, she thought, wishing she could find the courage to smile at her faint attempt at humor.

“Ah, Forest! There you are. Do come in.” They followed the sound of St. Giles’s voice down the hall and into the study. The collector’s face went white when he saw that his associate was not alone.

“As you can see, I’ve brought a visitor,” Forest said.

“Your timing could certainly have been better,” grumbled St. Giles.

“Well…Ms. Sinclair…” Eddie Markham walked toward her, his expression cold and unpleasant. “Under different circumstances, I’d say it is good to see you. Unfortunately for all of us here, it is anything but.”

“I found her outside, peeking in the window,” Forest explained, the gun now pointed at her heart. “From the looks of her, she’s been out there quite a while.”

For the first time, Eddie noticed her clothes were drenched, and dripping all over his highly polished wooden floor. “Get her a towel, Williams. She’s ruining my ungodly expensive parquet flooring.”

Williams left the study and returned a few minutes later with a thick white towel, which Hope used to blot some of the water from her face and clothes.

“I don’t like this,” St. Giles said, pacing back and forth. “What the devil was she doing out there?”

Eddie fixed her with a glare. “Unfortunately, I think I know.” He checked to make certain Forest still had her securely in the sights of his weapon and walked toward her. “Where is he, Hope? Is he inside the house? I don’t believe you came here by yourself. Where is my illustrious partner?”

Hope swallowed the lump of fear that rose in her throat. “I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I spotted St. Giles’s plane at the airport and put two and two together. I figured you might have the statue.” She managed a confident smile. “If you did, I thought maybe my silence would be worth a price.”

“Very astute of you. But there is no way in hell Reese would have willingly let you out of his bed.”

Forest caught her arm and dragged her closer. She felt the pressure of the gun barrel against the side of her head.

“Where is he?” Eddie asked. When she made no reply, he walked over and opened the door to the study. “I know you’re out there, Reese. If you want your lady to keep on breathing, you had better come out and join us.”

Hope stood frozen, heart thundering, praying Conn would stay hidden. Forest worked the slide on the pistol, cocking the weapon, then returning it to her temple. She heard Conn’s softly muttered curse.

He stepped out of a darkened room into the hallway, both of his hands in the air, the pistol dangling from one of his fingers.

“Move forward,” Forest instructed. “Very slowly.”

Conn made his way several feet into the study.

“Set the pistol on the floor and kick it out into the hall.” Conn obeyed, using the edge of his foot to shove it across the wooden floor. “Now close the door.”

He did it slowly, the door making a soft click as it closed. Then he turned to face the group gathered in the study.

“Quite a little party you’ve got going here, Eddie.”

“Yes, isn’t it? A few more guests than I’d planned, but then I’ve always been good at improvising.”

“I don’t like this,” St. Giles said for the second time, his voice a little shaky. “I’m a businessman. I didn’t expect these kinds of complications.”

“Take it easy, St. Giles,” Eddie warned. “You and I are going to complete our transaction just the way we planned. Then you and Forest can take the statue and leave.” He flicked a glance at Williams and his companion, Brunet. “For a little additional compensation, my friends here will take care of the
complications.
”

Conn stiffened, his gaze swinging to the men and back to his partner. “You’re willing to kill for the damned thing, Eddie?”

Eddie made a faint shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve never killed anyone. When necessary, troublesome people may have occasionally disappeared, but that was never my concern.”

“You’re the law here, Eddie. Even if you sell the statue, there’s not much we can do. Take the money and let us go.”

Eddie lifted an expensive cloisonné vase off the carved wooden table in front of him, held it up and examined it in the lamplight. “I wish it were that easy. I’m not about to spend the next twenty years looking over my shoulder, worrying about you and Talbot.”

He nodded at Williams, who pulled a pistol from the back of his pants and leveled it at Conn. “You two will have to come with me.”

Conn flicked Hope a glance, telling her to trust him, to let him pick the time to make his move. She gave him a faint nod. Conn was a SEAL. She trusted him to get them out of this mess in one piece.

“St. Giles, you come with me,” Eddie commanded.

The collector cast a nervous glance from Conn to Hope and back to Eddie, uncertain what to do. Before he could take a step forward, the study door slammed open, crashing back against the wall, jerking all of their attention in that direction.

“Nobody move!”

Hope’s eyes flew wide at the sight of Andy Glass standing in the opening, feet splayed, gripping Conn’s pistol in both hands. Andy’s eyes looked huge behind the lenses of his glasses, and the gun trembled wildly.

Dear God, does he even know how to use the damned thing?

“I heard what you’re planning, Mr. Markham, and I won’t let you do it. I was wrong to get involved in this in the first place.” He adjusted his grip on the gun. “There was just so much gold, and I wasn’t going to get any of it. Just a measly bonus. I have a wife back home, a couple of kids. I thought, hey—it’s just money. What would one missing piece hurt?” The gun wavered. Andy took a firmer hold on the weapon. “But I’m not about to let you hurt these people. These people are my friends.”

Hope’s heart twisted. Andy Glass was not a criminal. But gold tempted even the best of men.