Family Jewels (19 page)

A man emerged from the shadowed edge of the building and stepped into her path. She tried to dodge him at the last minute and yelped when his fist tangled into her hair. He jerked her back against the grimy brick wall. The force of it knocked the air out of her lungs.

“Didn’t take you long,” sneered the short Asian man. He pinned her to the wall with his gloved hand on her throat.

Despite his small stature, he held her like she weighed no more than an insect. She struggled, kicking and clawing at his hand to ease the crushing pressure on her throat. He smashed his leather-gloved fist into her temple. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Her body went limp. She fought to stay lucid and not lose consciousness.

Through spinning vision and the roaring inside her ears she heard him speak into a cell phone. “Got her. She’s in the alley. Bring the van around back.”

“Let go of me,” she growled as loudly as possible.

“Shut up!” He stripped her backpack from her shoulder and dragged her away from the wall by the nape of her hair. “Come on, bitch. We’re takin’ you for a ride.”

Cynthia stumbled. He whipped around to slap her again but another man’s authoritative voice stopped him in mid-swing.

“Enough! Let her go.”

She regained her balance, looked up and saw Trevor’s tall confident form walking toward them. A nauseating mixture of relief and fear welled up inside her stomach like a geyser ready to explode. Trevor didn’t make eye contact with her. He held his gun with both hands, aimed squarely at the man who held her captive. It gleamed with lethal intent.

“Fuck,” her captor swore softly.

For one split second she thought he would release her. But he grabbed her around the waist and around the throat again, using her body as a shield. She felt the pinprick edge of a knife jab into the tender skin beneath her left ear. Cynthia stiffened, too terrified to move a muscle or even breathe.

Trevor didn’t lower his gun.
Sweet Jesus
! He looked so dangerous. And in tight, icy control. He continued to walk toward them, his steps measured and menacing, pushing the man farther inside the alley. He dragged her with him.

Her captor tensed. “Drop the gun or I’ll slice her wide open, man. Do it!”

The back door of Lu’s pawnshop burst open. Her captor swung about, twisting her body sideways with a vicious snap that threatened to break her spine. She saw his big blond partner race out into the alley. He also collided with the metal trash container and then skidded to a halt when he saw them, his pale blue eyes darting wildly between his partner and Trevor.

The blond reached inside his trench coat.

The sound of a gunshot exploded inside her ears. She jerked reflexively. Trevor hadn’t even taken his eyes off her captor when he aimed for the blond man. A shrieking howl split the air and the man crumpled to a heap on the ground, clutching his knee. His bulky frame writhed and he let out a high-pitched scream like a rabbit being skinned alive. He curled up in a fetal position and held his shattered kneecap with both hands. Bright red blood seeped from between his pale fingers.

The man holding her swung back around to face Trevor, pushing her body between them.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” Trevor took another step forward. “Drop the knife. Let her go.” He walked past the blond man on the ground, completely ignoring his pitiful groaning.

Her captor jerked her back, the knife pricking at her neck in earnest. Fear clogged Cynthia’s throat. The smallest swallow would drive his weapon home.

The sound of screeching tires from the street caught her attention. A large dark van pulled into the alley. The driver pointed a gun out the window and aimed at Trevor. He dodged behind the heavy metal trash container and crouched down on his knees.

Her captor chuckled. “We’ll be going now. Come on!” He pulled her along the opposite wall, backing up toward the waiting van.

“Cynthia!” Trevor called out. “Close your eyes.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, too afraid to even blink. In a few more steps, she wouldn’t be able to see him behind the trash container anymore. She’d be dead.

“Do it!” he shouted fiercely. “Close your eyes.”

Tears welled up, making her vision blurry. She was pulled closer to the van. Whatever Trevor planned, he’d better do it now. She had to trust him. She squeezed her eyes shut.

The second she did, another gunshot exploded in the small alley, followed quickly by two more. Her captor wrenched back, away from her. His grip on her loosened and his body slumped down behind her. The knife clattered at her feet. She was frozen in place, unable to feel her muscles or will them to move. When she opened her eyes again the first thing she saw was the hole that pierced the van’s windshield and the blood-splattered glass. The driver’s body slumped over the seat.

Trevor’s hand wrapped firmly around her upper arm and pulled her away from the wall. “Are you hurt?”

“I dunno,” she mumbled. She looked down at the man’s crumpled form. A dark pool of blood spread out beneath his head.

Dead. A black hole pierced his skull between his eyes. His dark, slanted eyes stared at nothing. Her stomach lurched into her throat. “Oh God.”

The back door of Lu’s pawnshop opened again. Trevor pushed her out of the way and aimed his gun at Lu standing there in his bright red wig and blue silk outfit.

“No!” Cynthia grabbed Trevor’s arm. “Don’t shoot him! He’s a friend.”

Lu aimed a small pistol at the blond man lying in the alley. She didn’t even know he owned a gun. The blond dropped the weapon he’d pulled as a last effort. He grimaced in pain, grabbed his bloody knee again and resumed moaning.

“I called the police already.” Lu kicked the discarded gun over to the wall with one of his high-heeled pumps, carefully keeping his weapon focused on the groaning blond hulk at his feet. “You okay, honey-pie?”

Trevor studied Lu for a moment, then tucked his gun inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. “Keep an eye on that one,” he ordered.

“My pleasure.” Lu beamed, apparently delighted to have the task of keeping the blond pinned to the ground. He turned worried eyes on Cynthia. “Girlfriend, you sure do liven up a boring afternoon. So, who’s your hunky boyfriend?”

“He’s a cop. Sort of,” she answered woodenly.

“Ooh,” Lu crooned. “You know how to pick ‘em, baby-cakes.”

Cynthia moved over to the wall, away from the dead body of the man who’d held a knife to her throat. She rubbed the area where he’d pricked her skin and winced when she found a cut. Her fingers had a small smear of blood on them. Shaking with spent adrenaline, she sank down to her heels and buried her face in her hands. She concentrated on breathing while crouched against the wall for support. So far, she’d managed not to puke. Her sore knee bumped into her backpack.

When she chanced a glance at Trevor, he spoke into his phone but his gaze burned at her with such fury that she had to look away. Damn! He was angry. Beyond angry. He was pissed.

Would he even give her a chance to thank him for coming to her rescue? Could he forgive her for being so damned stupid? Probably not, judging by his body language. He looked stiff and totally unapproachable. Whatever feelings they might have shared for each other last night and this morning had been executed in cold blood. She knew he’d never forgive her now. Who could blame him?

Because of her, he’d just killed two people and wounded a third.

Police sirens sounded down the street, drawing closer with every piercing wail. They’d have a lot more questions for her this time. She picked up her backpack, repositioned it on her shoulder and bravely stood up to wait for them.

Chapter Seventeen

Cynthia slumped on an empty gurney parked behind one of three ambulances that had arrived on the scene, right behind the squad of police cars. The coroner’s black, windowless van departed with the bodies of the men Trevor killed to protect her. She couldn’t look in that direction. The implications of their deaths hit her with solid finality. An ambulance carried the injured blond man to a nearby hospital, followed by a squad car. Most likely he’d have surgery to repair his knee and then be carted off to a cell for recovery.

Through a haze of confusion, she gave a preliminary statement to one of the police officers who then told her to “wait for further questioning”.

After cleaning the shallow cut on her neck, a female EMT taped a small piece of gauze over the wound.

Funny, it had felt so much worse, much deeper than “shallow”.

“All done,” the woman said and patted Cynthia’s shoulder. “Apply some ice on your temple to keep the swelling down. Aspirin should help with any headaches if you get them. Since you’re up to date on your tetanus, the cut should heal quickly. See your doctor if you have problems, okay?”

“I will. Thank you.” Cynthia eased off the gurney. Other than the deep throbbing inside her head from the man’s fist, she felt fine. When she stood, her legs wobbled and her feet felt like she walked on marbles. She braced against the ambulance door for a few moments. Her hands shook while she shrugged back into her coat and retrieved her backpack.

She hadn’t had the chance to speak with Trevor yet. Things happened so fast once the police arrived and secured the area. Two of the city’s local TV stations had sent crews to film and report the event. Fortunately the cops kept them at a distance.

She glanced around, looking for a safe place to watch the proceedings but stay out of the way. Trevor stood near the empty, blood-splattered van with Detectives Ed Marsh and Jack Sival and a dozen other cops. Red, white and blue flashing lights from seven police vehicles created a bizarre carnival effect over the crime scene. The lights bounced off the walls and hurt her eyes. The crowd that gathered appeared as an ocean of humanity pressed against hastily erected barricades.

A tow truck backed up the alley toward the disabled, bloodied van. Cynthia winced from the high-pitched “
beep
,
beep
” warning the truck made. Two uniformed police officers guided the truck into the narrow space between the buildings. Thick diesel fumes pillowed toward her from the exhaust, forcing her to hold her breath or suffer a serious bout of coughing.

When the tow truck cleared her path she looked up and met Trevor’s eyes. The force of his anger hit her like the scorching heat from a blast furnace. He left the detectives he’d been speaking with and strode toward her. A taut, barely contained power emanated from his body. A muscle ticced in his jaw, clearly visible as he approached. She’d never seen a man so angry with her. God, he was sexy!

“Thank you for saving my life.”

He didn’t say “you’re welcome”. Narrowed, hot blue eyes pinned her to the spot. “Besides the cut and the bruise on your face, you’re unharmed?”

She cringed at the clipped tone of his voice. “Yes. I just want to go home and—”

Without letting her finish he grabbed her hand and forced her to walk quickly with him, past the crowd of wide-eyed onlookers to where he’d parked his SUV in front of Lu’s pawnshop. He yanked the passenger side door open.

“Get in,” he ordered.

Cynthia pulled her hand free. “No! This whole, horrible thing is over now, right? They’re dead. You have what you wanted and you have that blond bully alive to question. Just leave me alone.”

Detective Sival ambled up beside them. A cigarette stub bobbed from his lips. He wiggled the stub to the corner of his mouth before speaking. “Problems?”

“No,” Trevor growled at him without taking his eyes off her.

“Yes,” she said defiantly at the same time.

Trevor scrubbed a hand through his hair. Detective Sival’s ink-black eyes showed concern and that unique blend of curiosity and suspicion that cops had. “Wanna tell me about it, Miss Lyons?”

She closed her eyes for a second. She felt tired, weak and emotionally at the bottom of the barrel. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Detective. I just want to go home now.”

In contrast to Trevor’s hard face, Sival’s turned soft and sympathetic. He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and crushed it under the scuffed toe of his shoe. “I’m sorry about that. You should rest. Maybe you’d feel more comfortable coming with us? We can put you in a safe house, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

The thought of still being involved in any way, even for her own safety, appalled her. “Why? I’ve already given you my statement of what happened back there, Detective. It’s over, right?”

“We think so.” Sival cocked his head at Trevor. “He doesn’t. I think it would be a good precaution if you came with us. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“It’s not over, Cynthia,” Trevor cut in. “Too many people know about the diamond by now.” He leaned his arm across the open car door and glared at Sival with brazen challenge. “Including you, Detective. And your partner. Hell, even your esteemed Captain Hill.”

Sival reached inside his pocket for another cigarette and slid it between his wide lips. He didn’t light it. “You assume a lot, Agent St. James. Let me set you straight on something. We don’t have time to go chasing after one little lost diamond. Plenty of homicides, kidnappings and burglaries to keep us busy. With all due respect, if the lady doesn’t want to go with you while you finish your wild goose chase, she has the right to come with us. We’ll keep her safe.”

Trevor’s lip curled into a snarl that would do a wolf proud. Barely leashed fury radiated from his taut body. Was this the same man who tenderly licked drops of wine from her quivering skin last night?

She shook off the mental image of him, naked, bringing such pleasure to her body with his expert touch. Thinking about his loving wouldn’t get her anywhere right now. What she needed to do was diffuse the nasty situation brewing between these two men.

“Detective, can I have a moment with Agent St. James alone?”

Sival glanced between her and Trevor, nodded and walked a short distance away to light his cigarette. When he was far enough, she turned to face Trevor.

“You haven’t been back to your hotel room yet, have you?”

“No. And you shouldn’t have left it. You gave me your word you’d stay there.”