Mission: Irresistible (21 page)

“Spptt, Harry.”

“What is it?”

“You’re a good four inches taller than I am. Take a gander through the window and tell me what you see inside.”

“To what end?”

“To the end of finding out what in the hell is going on around here.”

He sighed, shouldered past her, and peered through the window. Cassie tried not to notice how he smelled like soap and toothpaste, or how cute and intellectual he looked in his round, dark-framed glasses. Sort of like a grown-up Harry Potter.

Stop ogling him. The guy could be a high priest in the Minoan Order.
But even as she thought it, she still couldn’t reconcile the Harry she knew with the cunning mastermind Ahmose Akvar had made him out to be.

“Well?” she asked.

“I don’t see anything.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “What do you mean, you don’t see anything? You have to see something.”

“No,” he corrected her. “There’s nothing to see.”

“You’re kidding.”

She muscled him aside, stretched as tall as her toes would allow, but she still couldn’t see anything except the foyer wall. And it was a truly icky shade of latte. “We’ve got to get in.”

“What?”

“How else are we going to learn anything?”

“We could be mistaken,” Harry said. “Just because Clyde lied to Phyllis for us doesn’t mean he stole the amulet.”

Oh yeah? What does it mean when he’s in an old photograph with you and Adam?

She waved a hand. “Look around and see if Clyde’s the kind of guy who stashes a hide-a-key. Try under the welcome mat. We need to get inside and see if he left any clues.”

Harrison grimaced. “This idea doesn’t appeal to me.”

“How come?” Was it because he might have left clues implicating him?

“I’m a private guy, and as such, I respect other people’s right to privacy.”

“Luckily, I don’t have such misgivings. I’ll do whatever I have to do to stay out of jail. I’m not taking the fall for Clyde’s sticky fingers,” she said.

“You’ve got to stop jumping to conclusions.”

“Well, at least I jump. You spend so much time hugging the shore, too cautious to stick a toe in the water, that you never make a move.”

“Yeah, well, what if there was a drop-off in the water? Or a deadly undertow? Who would be dead and who would be alive?”

“And who would have had fun while they were alive and who wouldn’t?” she challenged.

“Why are we arguing about this?”

“You got me. Just check the welcome mat for a key.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Hardheaded man.

Harrison lifted up the corner of the dusty welcome mat with two fingers. “Nothing here.”

He let the mat flop back down, sending dirt scattering across the porch. Cassie peeked behind the mailbox and underneath an empty flowerpot but came up empty-handed.

“Looks like Clyde’s not a key stasher,” he said.

“Let’s check around back. Maybe you can pry off a window screen so I can wriggle inside—and don’t give me that long-suffering look.”

“I don’t see the point in breaking into the man’s house.”

“Hello? The guy stole Kiya’s amulet and left me to take the blame.”

“We don’t know that.”

She met Harry’s gaze and he didn’t flinch. What was going on behind those dark, enigmatic eyes? She didn’t know what to think or whom to believe. “Clyde lied.”

“People lie for all kinds of reasons.” His eyes were locked on hers.

Was he lying to her? She was certainly keeping secrets from him. A tremor afflicted her, a slight thing, nothing terribly noticeable. At least she hoped he didn’t notice. But it was in her legs and then her arms. She steadied the quivers by locking her knees, dropping his gaze, and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

“You’re acting differently,” he said. “What’s changed between us?”

Cassie hung a nonchalant expression on her face. “Changed? Nothing’s changed.”

“What happened with Phyllis?” He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder and she drew back. “See? That’s changed. Yesterday you wouldn’t have pulled away from me.”

Dammit, why did she have to be such a lousy liar? She had to sidetrack him from talking about Phyllis. She couldn’t keep fibbing, or she’d soon give herself away. She had to tell him something that was true to throw him off the scent.

“Maybe I’m still embarrassed about last night.”

“Aw, Cassie, you don’t have to be embarrassed about that. You were just being yourself. I like how open and honest you are.”

If he only knew. Right now she felt about as open and honest as an alcoholic Enron executive. And as guilty.

“I’m going in,” she said and nodded at the house, desperate to get out of this conversation.

“And what if some nosy neighbor decides to notify the police?” he asked.

“We’ll just say we dropped by to see an old friend. He didn’t come to the door. He’s plump; he’s middle-aged. He doesn’t eat right. He’s a heart attack waiting to happen. We were worried.”

Cassie didn’t wait for Harry to follow. She took off around the side of the house. The grass whimpered for a good mowing, and her sandals sank deep into the dewy foliage. The itchy Bermuda seeds tickled her ankles, and several narrow blades lodged between her toes.

Ugh. The sacrifices she made for her job.

She cornered the house and was pleasantly surprised to find the back door standing open. No breaking-and-

entering charges needed. Well, no breaking anyway. Technically, she supposed she would still be entering. She started up the back stoop, but a hand reached out and snagged her elbow.

“Are you crazy? Buy a déjà-freakin’-clue. Didn’t we just go through this last night?”

She turned to look at Harry. “Hey, I like the déjà-clue thing. Way to reference pop culture. Didn’t know you had it in you. Now let go of my arm.”

“Woman, don’t you have even a whisper of common sense? An unknown man in a mummy costume has been stabbed, an ancient amulet has been stolen, and your apartment was plundered. Figure out the appropriate response. Danger. Proceed with caution.”

“Fiddle.” She blew a raspberry. “If his place is empty, Clyde is long gone.”

“There could be someone else inside instead of Clyde.”

“Oh.” He was right. She hadn’t considered that.

“I’ll go first. You stay right behind me.”

“Can I wrap my arms around your manly waist?” she teased, to lessen the tension and to keep him from noticing any more changes in her behavior.

“Are you physically incapable of going five minutes without flirting?”

“Pretty much.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he managed to fight it off. “Just follow me.”

Harry ascended the stoop, Cassie at his heels. He pushed the door open. The hinges creaked ominously.

She made spooky horror movie noises.

“Shh.” He frowned and whispered fiercely, “What if someone is in here?”

“The cow already got out of the barn on that one. I don’t think our presence is going to come as a news bulletin.”

“Good point,” Harry admitted and stepped over the threshold.

The kitchen was lit only by the morning sun dappling through the bare window. Except for the refrigerator and stove, the room was vacant. No dining table, no toaster on the counter, no dirty dishes in the sink. But there was dust on everything. It looked as if Clyde didn’t live here anymore.

Very strange.

They moved into the tiny living room. Harry led the way, and it was all Cassie could do to keep from resting her hands on his shoulders. But she was still anxious about trusting him. She wanted to believe in him, but Ahmose had raised enough doubts in her mind.

They skulked down the narrow hallway and into the first bedroom. It was as dusty and empty as the rest of the house. They took a quick peek into the adjoining bathroom.

Nada.

One room to go.

The room at the end of the hall.

“If this was a horror movie, this is where the audience would be screaming at us not to go into the room. You realize we’re the too-stupid-to-live people.”

“I promise you that Freddy Krueger isn’t in there.”

“What about Jason?”

“Him either.”

“Michael Myers?”

“Nope.”

“Leatherface?” Cassie asked. “He’s the scariest of all with that chain saw. Rrrrrrrrr.” She pretended to slice him up with a chain saw.

“Knock it off.” Harrison squared his shoulders and moved toward the door. Cassie crept after him.

He turned the knob.

Blood swooshed through her ears.

Harry edged the door open.

Something darted out.

Something small and gray and fast.

A mouse!

Cassie shrieked, wrapped her arms around Harrison’s neck, and jumped into his arms. “Omigod, omigod, omigod. I would have preferred Leatherface.”

“You’re afraid of mice?”

“Petrified.”

“He’s more afraid of you than you are of him,” Harrison said.

“I seriously doubt that. You’re incredibly lucky I didn’t pee my pants.”

He was holding her and chuckling. Cassie could hear his laughter deep inside his chest.

She didn’t want to get down. It felt kinda nice in Harry’s arms, and there was a mouse lurking in the house. But she wasn’t a lightweight and she didn’t want to break his back, so she let go of his neck and set her feet on the floor, all the while casting a suspicious gaze in the direction of the mouse.

“Let’s wrap this up.” He stepped into the room the mouse had come out of. Tentatively, Cassie crept in behind him.

It had a short stairway leading down into a cellar.

Oh no. She wasn’t about to go down there. She quickly backpedaled.

“Where you going?” Harry started down the steps.

“That’s okay, you go on, report back to me.”

“What? You chicken to go down to the cellar?”

“No.” Terri-fickin’-fied.

“Brock-brock.” He made chicken noises and flapped his arms like wings.

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m claustrophobic.”

“And after that big speech about jumping headlong into the water.”

Why did he have to call her on this? She hadn’t been in a cellar in eleven years. She never wanted to be in one again.

“You know the only way to get over a fear is to face it,” he said.

“I know.”

Crap. He was going to goad her until she went into the cellar. With no windows and only one door to escape through.

“We’ll leave the door open. I’ll be right with you.” Yeah, famous last words. Probably what Ted Bundy said to his victims.

Don’t exaggerate. Harry’s not a serial killer.

Maybe not, but he could very well be a thief who was trying to frame her for his crime. If that was the case, why had he brought her to his conspirator’s house?

Maybe he had wanted to lure her here so he could lock her in the cellar. That thought froze her.

He extended his hand. “Come on.”

Don’t go!

“You can do it.” His smile could have melted the polar ice caps. She was such a sucker for a great smile. How pathetic was that?

“Can’t I just wait here?”

“That doesn’t sound like the Cassie I know.”

“All right,” she said. “But if I do this, the next time I want you to do something adventurous, you can’t hold back.”

“Deal.”

She could do this. No problem. Just a simple cellar. She gulped and eased down the stairs.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He reached up and pulled the dangling cord on the bare lightbulb. It took every ounce of courage she possessed not to fling herself back up those steps.

“Hey, look here.” He squatted on the dirt floor. Cassie could clearly see the imprint of what looked like a coffin delineated in the dirt.

Their eyes met. “Solen’s sarcophagus.”

Harry trod across the floor, headed for a cabinet positioned in the corner beside a cedar hope chest.

“Where you going?” she asked, quickly covering the gap between them.

“We’re here. We’ve come this far. Might as well check out every nook and cranny.”

“Such a thorough little scientist.”

The expression on his face was somber. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Cassie. I’m really getting worried about Adam. What if he’s”—she could tell he was having trouble even saying the word—“dead?”

His voice cracked, and the sound of it squeezed her heart. There was no doubt in her mind that he cared about his brother. He wasn’t lying. This wasn’t an act. Ahmose had to be wrong. Harry would never put either his job or his brother in jeopardy by stealing an ancient artifact.

Unless he’s just a damned good actor. It’s not like you’re the best judge of a man’s character.

But she could not deny the look of concern in his eyes. He was extremely worried about his brother.

Harry reached for the handle on the cabinet door.

“Ooh, wait, wait.” She shook her hands like she was drying her fingernails after a manicure. “Let me brace myself in case there’s another mouse in there.”

“Tell me when.”

She gritted her teeth and tensed her shoulders. “Go.”

Harry wrenched the cabinet open, and they found themselves staring down at a bolt of white linen.

The mummy hit the ground rolling.

Ooph.

Stunned, he lay there gasping like a guppy. It was a long drop for a three-thousand-year-old guy with a leaky stab wound in his back.

Get up. You ain’t got time to laze around.

He heard shouts from inside the warehouse. Knew his absence had been discovered by Nike and Froggy Voice. Frantically, he rolled over on his side, tried to force his legs to obey.

After a couple of wobbly attempts, he managed to drag himself to a standing position.

Get the hell out of here.

Right. Which way?

If he took off in the wrong direction, he could easily run into Nike and Froggy, and if he did, he knew there would be no getting away. In his present condition, he couldn’t outrun an infant.

He swung his head around, spied a delivery van parked on the street at the end of the alley. Maybe he could hide behind it until the coast was clear.

Hurry, hurry.

Something brushed against his leg. He looked down and saw he was starting to unravel. A long strip of linen was dangling from his elbow. If he wasn’t careful, he’d trip himself. Tucking the material into his fist, he took off at a lope, headed in the direction of the van, but just as he reached it he tripped in a pothole and went tumbling headlong under the vehicle.