Raven on the Wing (17 page)

Cautiously, he told his sister, “This isn’t a good time to talk about it, Rena.”

She was nothing if not quick; her voice didn’t change, but he knew she understood. “Later, then. What I
really
called to ask about was your brunette.”

She could, Josh realized, still surprise him. “Um … what brunette?”

“The one who finally caught you.” Serena was patient. “That’s why you’re still in L.A., isn’t it?”

Josh cleared his throat, torn between laughter and resignation. “Well, as a matter of fact …”

Her soft laughter was warm and rich. “It finally happened, didn’t it? You got swept right off your feet!”

Remembering, Josh laughed as well. “You’re more right than you know. And how the hell—?”

“Josh, you haven’t interrupted a business trip—except that time for me—in years! Besides, I’ve been watching the papers, and you haven’t appeared with a blonde on your arm since you got there. I know you. Such a radical break in your habits has
got
to mean—”

“All right, all right.” He reminded himself again that the phone could be tapped, annoyed by the need to guard his words. “If it weren’t for Brian’s tendency to go berserk when someone lays an unkind hand on you, you’d probably be burned at the stake, witch. My only solace is that you had nothing to do with my meeting Raven.”

“What a wonderful name! Josh, when can we meet her?”

His throat abruptly closed up, and Josh swallowed the lump. “Soon, I hope.”

After a slight pause, she said, “Can I help?”

“No.” He cleared his throat, not surprised by her perceptiveness. “No, honey, but thanks.”

“Well, I’m here.”

“Yes. Say hello to Brian for me.”

“I will.”

He cradled the receiver gently, staring at it, remembering for the first time in years the pact he and Serena had made as kids. It was now an ingrained habit both observed, and he, at least, never thought about it. Until now.

They never said good-bye, not even casually, when any distance separated them.

Staring at the phone, Josh thought about that. A pact concocted between two children, born in the darkest hours of their young lives when tragedy had stolen their mother and locked them within a cage of “security” designed to protect them. Stuart, silent and shattered, had withdrawn temporarily from his daughter and stepson, and they had clung to each other in bewildered pain, understanding only that there
were things they could not control, could not change.

From that common experience, each had strengthened the innate traits they shared. Serena, brilliant and loving, had evolved a method of controlling her life that was as devious as it was natural for her. She schemed and plotted, arranging situations to suit her, always uncannily accurate in reading people and their reactions to her plots.

Josh, older than she and more cynical, had taken a direct route in an effort to control his own destiny. Certain deep within himself that he would love a brunette, he had simply avoided women with dark hair—obsessively avoided them. He gathered about him an impressive force of intelligence and security people, preferring to be aware of possible dangers, avoiding surprises of any kind. He grimly learned to recognize what he had referred to as “the dark side of the streets,” knowing that threats came from there.

And now …

He stared at the phone, realizing that some scars never really healed. Raven would never
forget her sister. And he and Serena would never bring themselves to say good-bye to each other, because there was, somewhere within them, still two young kids stubbornly telling themselves that if they didn’t say good-bye … neither of them could go away forever.

He realized only then that he had never said good-bye to Raven.

Raven couldn’t have said exactly what was bothering her. She had been a little worried that Leon would see the change in her and react somehow, but he very obviously had not. And she soon forgot that worry, vaguely disturbed by something in Leon’s manner.

All during lunch, he had been his usual urbane self, talking casually, as he normally did. Apologetically, he had canceled their evening plans, explaining that there were some overseas calls he had to make. His expression and gaze were unreadable as always, his voice courteous.

But Raven had seen the slightest indication of restlessness or some similar emotion in him. He
had toyed with his wineglass, his napkin. He had eaten little and glanced at his watch more than once. All uncharacteristic of Leon Travers.

She had the strong but inexplicable feeling that he barely knew she was with him, that his mind was far away.

Very
uncharacteristic.

Raven had taken a chance and called Josh, wanting him to know they could be together earlier than usual that night. But she had been a little distracted, even while talking to him, still bothered by nothing she could put a finger on.

All her instincts were screaming at her, and she didn’t know
why
.

Talking casually to Leon, keeping her cool mask in place but avoiding any direct look at him that could show him she had changed, Raven devoted a tiny, analytical part of her mind to the problem.

What was wrong?
What?

Zach came in minutes after Josh had finished his call. He looked at the gun, but said nothing.

“Is this phone safe?” Josh asked.

“Yes,” Zach answered simply, not surprised by the question. “And we haven’t been bugged. I check twice a day.”

“Good.” Josh stirred, then got to his feet and drew on his jacket. “I’m going to the penthouse; Raven doesn’t have to see Travers tonight.”

“Why the gun?”

Josh walked across the room and picked up his car keys, finally replying shortly, “I don’t know.” The door closed softly behind him.

Within a minute, Zach had rousted Lucas and Rafferty from their rooms, and the three men stood together near the desk.

“He wore the damned gun, didn’t he,” Rafferty said gloomily, and it wasn’t a question.

Zach didn’t waste a nod. “He’s bothered by something. Maybe Raven sounded tense or worried when they talked, I don’t know. But Josh has good instincts, and they’re obviously trying to tell him something.”

Lucas pulled out his gun and checked it methodically, automatically. “So. We stick close?”

“Until this is over.” Zach looked at the lawyer. “Got your own damned gun?”

Sighing resignedly, Rafferty patted the left side of his jacket, where only another professional would have spotted a very slight bulge. “Right here. And I hope to hell I never have to use it again.”

Zach nodded sober agreement, checking his revolver, then replacing it in its shoulder holster while he watched Lucas bring a briefcase from his room and open it on the coffee table. It was jammed with electronic equipment, and Lucas grunted in satisfaction when a brief check showed them all a clear signal on the small screen.

He closed the case and straightened, looking at the other two. “Well, we’re all set. Two signals, clear as a bell. If he leaves his car, the transceiver in his shoulder holster will still guide us.” Frowning, Lucas added, “What worries me is how
he’ll
know where she goes. If he follows her and Travers spots the tail …”

Zach’s wide shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Nothing we can do about that now, except stick as
close as we can. He won’t do anything to put her in greater danger, and he knows surveillance methods. Cross your fingers and hope.”

Rafferty, following the other two from the suite, reflected silently that they’d probably spend an uncomfortable night outside the penthouse, bored silly.

At least he hoped they would.

It was late in the afternoon when Raven got back to the penthouse, and she turned her tape player on automatically as soon as she was inside. She opened the top drawer of the small table where the player sat, slipping her purse into it and gazing for a moment at the other purse there.

Another one of the habits she’d made obvious to Leon was the one concerning her purses. She carried a different purse each time she left the penthouse, always getting one out of this drawer whenever Leon was here. The purse she stared at now was one she’d never carried, because it was
the one she intended to have at the final confrontation with Leon.

The one containing her gun.

She closed the drawer slowly, sighing. It was only then, distracted with the vague worry, that she realized Josh was there. She turned and saw him as he stepped into the sunken living room, and she crossed to him instantly with a glowing, welcoming smile. In his arms, she lifted her face for his kiss, everything inside her responding in a fiery surge to his touch.

But she stepped back abruptly, her face going still, and swiftly opened his jacket to stare at the gun.

“Better to be prepared,” he said quietly. “When we talked, you were bothered by something.”

After a moment, Raven nodded. It didn’t surprise her that Josh had sensed her disturbance. “Something nebulous. Nothing I can put my finger on.” She closed his jacket, smoothing the material absently. “But you shouldn’t be wearing a gun. However it ends, you won’t be a part of it, Josh.”

He was silent.

She stared up at his face, and anxiety knifed coldly through her. Swallowing hard, she said, “You aren’t planning on following me?”

The hands on her shoulders tightened, and something restless stirred in his eyes. “No. That would only put you in danger.”

Relief swept over her, and she rested her forehead against his chest for a moment. “It’s all planned,” she murmured. “And the timing is critical. Hagen and Kelsey will be there—” Abruptly, she swore softly and stepped back, staring down at the bracelet on her arm. “Turn off the mike, Kelsey,” she commanded firmly.

“Will he?” Josh asked.

“No,” Raven answered, still addressing the microphone hidden in her bracelet. “He’s a lousy pervert. Kelsey? Turn off the mike!” She knew only too well that it would remain activated.

Josh started to suggest that she put the bracelet in a drawer somewhere, but the shrill summons of the doorbell stopped the words in his throat. He and Raven stared at each other for
a moment, then he swiftly retreated to the bedroom.

Raven drew a deep breath and went to answer, forcing her features into an indifferent mask, which nearly cracked when she saw who was there.

“Theodore. Leon isn’t here—”

“I know that.” Theodore’s thin lips were pressed tightly together; clearly, he hadn’t forgiven her slap. “He’s waiting down in the limo. If you want to see your merchandise, come with me. We’re going now.”

Her mind raced wildly. “I don’t recall inviting you to come along,” she said coolly.

“You think Leon would trust a limo driver with something like this,
Miss Anderson?
I’m driving. Are you coming or not?”

“I’ll get my purse.” She turned from the door and stepped over to the table, reaching into the drawer and pulling out her purse. The one that counted. “I only hope you know where we’re going.” Her comment was automatic; she had no hope at all that Theodore would let something
slip. But the scorn in her voice must have gotten to him.

“I think I can find my way to Long Beach,” he said stiffly.

Raven pulled on sunglasses and went past him out the door, her face impassive. But her mind was still racing. Had Josh heard? And what was it that was still bothering her? She felt that somehow another piece of the puzzle had dropped into her lap if she could only recognize it.

What was different? Out of sync? Leon’s restlessness at lunch, his tension. This abrupt trip—was that planned? To shake off any possible pursuit, maybe. But why was Theodore driving?
All
of Leon’s people were trustworthy. The limo had taken him to that house where the twins had been so briefly held, hadn’t it? With the regular driver, their operative had reported. Why was Theodore driving today?

Raven was tense all the way down in the elevator, but one suspicion vanished when they stood by the limo. Theodore opened the back door and she saw Leon within the car.

“Good afternoon, my dear.”

“Leon.” She got into the car. So Theodore hadn’t planned a trick of his own, she thought. Still, she had learned to profoundly mistrust anomalies; a sudden change in anyone’s routine was a danger signal, especially when that routine was as set as Leon’s was.

Why was Theodore driving?

“I apologize for giving you no notice, my dear,” Leon said smoothly. “I hope you had no plans?”

“None at all.” Training held; there was nothing in her voice to indicate her furiously racing mind. “Frankly, Leon, I’m simply glad that finally we are getting down to business. I could lose an important commission if my clients found their merchandise elsewhere.”

“I believe you’ll find the merchandise satisfactory,” he said indifferently.

Conscious of the extra weight her gun lent the purse in her lap, Raven said, “I gave you a rather long list; not every item is available today?”

“No.” Leon stared straight ahead. “But the special item you requested is. Twins.”

She infused her voice with cool satisfaction. “Good. The largest commission of all for me.”

“I knew you’d be pleased, my dear.”

Josh wasted no time in getting to his car. He had told Raven he wouldn’t follow her, and he had intended to keep his word, knowing that he would likely be spotted. But he had heard Travers’s man say Long Beach, and resolution had vanished.

If he could get there before them, he thought, there was a chance. A small one, but a chance nonetheless. He had to assume they’d take the most direct route to Long Beach, and he had to believe that he would be able to spot them. And if he was careful, he could follow them from that point.

Familiar with the area, he drove swiftly, avoiding heavy traffic and holding himself just below the speed limit; he had no intention of being stopped by a member of the highway patrol. His mind was working, second-guessing Leon Travers and his driver, hoping desperately that his instincts were good.

He had to be there. Had to be as near to
Raven as possible when this entire situation reached its final conclusion.