Silken Threats (20 page)

Cassidy had no reason to call him back. But if he called Violet, he could persuade her to help him with some party planning. She might not like him, but she was a businesswoman through and through. He’d appeal to that business sense and work it from there.

A quick internet search turned up a number for her and he dialed her up, listening as her phone rang before going to voice mail. He nearly hung up, but then thought better of it. He waited for the beep, then dived in.

“Violet. It’s Robert Barrington. I know it’s been a long time but I was hoping to get your help with a party I’m planning for my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. Please give me a call when you can.” He rattled off his number and settled in to wait.

* * *

“Have you lost your ever-loving mind?”

The words exploded from Max’s mouth like gunshots, and Cassidy had to admit her thoughts weren’t all that far from his.

They’d migrated to her house after their visit to the hospital and had settled in her living room with several plastic containers of sushi, a few bottles of wine and Bailey guarding the door, a boiled soup bone from Lilah between his paws. Although the guys had looked dubious at first, she was glad she’d ordered extra by the way each of them kept digging into the carryout trays for more rolls.

“I’m not stupid, Maxwell. I think it’s the perfect opportunity to draw the bastard out.” Violet kept her tone level—too level—and Cassidy knew that was trouble.

“Robert’s at the center of this. There’s no way you’re taking a meeting with my wimpy ex.” Cassidy thought through the remembered message and fought the shiver that gripped her shoulders.

First he’d left her a message. Then a second. And then he’d moved on to Violet, his voice as smooth and easy as the lies that had tripped from his tongue.

“Oh, come on, he’s too stupid to be at the center of this.” Lilah piped up. “Look at how badly he’s bungled even an innocent get-together.”

“Lilah’s right.” Tucker snatched another California roll, his coordination with chopsticks impressive. “He’s not the lead on this. He’s someone else’s puppet.”

“So we draw him out to the find the puppet master.” Violet pressed her point. Cassidy knew the look of determination that had settled itself in Violet’s green eyes. She’d seen that look often enough and knew it meant trouble.

Violet Richardson knew how to get her way. And if she didn’t get it on her first try, she pushed and pulled and
maneuvered
until she did.

“Vi, you’re talking about taking something into our own hands we have no business going anywhere near.” Lilah’s normally upbeat nature was nowhere in evidence. “We couldn’t even manage to get a clean read off the video cameras of who dropped Charlie off behind the shop. How are we going to manage drawing out a criminal with an agenda and the skills to back it up?”

Cassidy knew the video feed had been a disappointment. The guys had taken a look at it and she, Lilah and Violet had reviewed the digital copies they could access 24/7 from their new security provider.

All they’d seen was a man, cloaked in a sweatshirt and jeans and with a ski mask covering his head.

She’d run the image repeatedly, hoping for some clue she’d recognize about the figure. Or that she could see a glimpse of Robert in a frame or two and know they’d caught their man.

But no matter how she’d scrutinized the feed, she got absolutely nothing off the image that was captured.

“Lilah’s right. We need to turn this over to the police and wash our hands of it.”

“It’s too late. We’re in danger now.” Violet wouldn’t be dissuaded and, if anything, her arguments had grown more fierce. “No one knew the full contents of that box. So no one’s going to believe we didn’t hold something back that came from what Max lifted.”

“The police will know. And when nothing shows up fenced in the coming months, whoever’s behind this will lose interest.”

“Those stones have been hidden for more than half a century and that hasn’t deterred anyone’s interest.” Violet poured another glass of wine, her frustration palpable. “And I, for one, am sick of playing the sitting duck.”

“It’s hard when things don’t fall right in line, just like you planned.” Max’s pointed words hung over the group like a hangman’s noose.

No one said a word, even as fury leaped, hot and strong, into Violet’s vivid green eyes. For a moment, Cassidy got the distinct impression the argument was going to come to blows.

Or blows from Violet, at least.

Instead, something seemed to register at the last minute, because those flames of anger died, doused by a wave of reality. “Yes, it’s damn hard. It’s my job to make things happen and instead I’m sitting around like a damsel in distress. I’ve managed to acquire two bodyguards, I’ve put off about eighty percent of everything I had to get done this week, I haven’t slept in my own bed and it’s looking like I won’t tonight, either—” She broke off and turned toward Lilah. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I know how much the princess loves her six-hundred-thread-count sheets.”

The same look as before—the one that made Cassidy think her delicate friend was going to go all wrestler on someone—flickered again then quickly vanished as a husky laugh escaped Violet’s throat. “Nothing but the best for me.”

“’Course not.” Lilah lifted her glass in a toast. “You’re Violet freaking Richardson.”

Just like earlier in the car, Cassidy took some comfort—even if it was minimal—from the fact that they could still laugh in the midst of such chaos.

But when she caught sight of the longing that stamped itself over Max’s face, his gaze racing over Violet’s laughing face, Cassidy reconsidered her assessment of the situation.

Max was worried about Violet.

Terrified, if she read his body language correctly. And her friend’s tendency to throw herself into the middle of something was tying him up in knots.

Tucker stood to go get more wine from the kitchen, and Cassidy didn’t miss the glint in his eyes that suggested she join him. She followed him into the kitchen, a comment about Violet and Max hovering on her lips when Tucker grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

His mouth coursed over hers, his kisses full of a raw, base hunger.

She kissed him back, whatever she was about to say fading in the glory of being in his arms.

Until that moment she hadn’t understood just how much she’d missed seeing him. Touching him. Being with him.

The corded muscles of his forearms lay under her fingertips, and she explored that sinewy surface as he pulled her even tighter against his body. With his teeth he tugged her lower lip into his mouth, and she felt an insistent pull deep in her core.

How did we find each other?
she wondered as the moments spun out between them, the sensual kisses driving both of them slowly mad with desire.

And how was it possible she hadn’t even known him a week ago?

The need for him was so strong—so
necessary
—she struggled to make sense of it all.

Was this what people meant when they blithely rattled off pithy little statements like “you know when you know” and “someday your prince will come”?

She’d thought she knew before. Twice before she’d started down the path of binding her life with another, only to run out on the first and now find out the second was likely a psychopath.

The part of her that hid from others wanted to hide from this, too.

And the bigger part of her—the woman who was tired of being alone and wondering if there would ever be anyone out there for her—knew she needed to hang on to what she’d found.

“Tucker.” She whispered his name against his lips, torn between continuing to kiss him and getting back to the four other people having a meal in her living room. “We need to get back to dinner.”

“A minute.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her head against his chest. “Please give me a minute.”

She took the comfort he offered and, sensing he needed it as much as she did, returned it back to him. Her hands stayed low on his hips and she took solace in the warm, unyielding strength of his body.

Just one more moment.

For them.

Hard muscle flexed under her fingers as his body slowly swayed against hers, and she allowed her mind to drift with the gentle movement.

She’d thought it before, but after observing him for the past few days, she had a new appreciation for the term “warrior.” She also understood how his agile mind played as important a role as his strong, solid body in this.

He’d worked, alone or as a team with Max, quickly assessing threats and dangers and strategizing against them. From initially handling things at Elegance and Lace, to planning how to get back in and get the gems, to how they were going to deal with Robert, he was in charge. In control.

Which was why his next comment was so jarring. “I let you talk me into drawing them out once and I can’t do it again.”

“Tucker.” She laid a hand on his chest and tried to get a bit of space. “I know Violet. She’s not talking about doing this alone.”

“We shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

“We can involve the police. No, we
should
involve the police. Set it up like a sting. You know once he hears we have a lead Detective Graystone will be as anxious as we are to take Robert down.”

Bailey trotted in, obviously sensing the tension, and he plopped into a seated position between the two of them on the floor. Tucker patted his head before taking a few steps back. “You heard Lilah. Robert’s not the source. He’s just a cog in the wheel.”

“Then we take him down and remove one of the cogs.”

“Why? So whoever’s running the show can pull in a few more? These guys mean business.”

“So do I.”

“Why? So you can hang on to a gemstone that has a dark cloud over it?”

Cassidy puzzled through his comment, surprised at the depth of conviction she heard. “You believe there’s something wrong with the stones?”

“I... No...” He shifted off the counter to pace her kitchen, his body caged by the small space. “Who the hell knows? All I do know is that almost seventy years ago someone in a position to keep an expensive set of gems discarded them like they were garbage.”

“It’s not like the royal family hurts for money.”

“That’s beside the point and you know it. So you stuff them in a drawer in a room of the palace. They disowned them.”

Although she’d thought Mrs. Beauregard’s story fanciful, Tucker made a sound point. Who discarded something so precious? Even with endless amounts of money, who would just give up something like that?

Donate it, maybe? Regift it if it wouldn’t cause offense to the original gifter. Heck, make a fuss and put it in a museum.

And in that moment, the reality of what they were dealing with hit her. “They wanted it off British soil.”

“Exactly.”

Cassidy inhaled on a sharp breath. “And now it sits in my friend’s safe.”

Chapter 18

T
ucker stood on the porch waiting for Bailey to return from his last romp of the evening and couldn’t shake Cassidy’s haunting words. Long after their friends had left, with Max promising to stay at Lilah’s with Violet under full security, he was still thinking about Cassidy’s conclusions.

They wanted the stones off British soil.

He wasn’t a fanciful man. His earlier life and insistence on trying to live up to his father’s impossible dreams had driven any sense of the whimsical straight out of him.

But he was a strong believer in his gut. And his was ringing bells something fierce.

He also couldn’t shake the mystery of who the source of the information leak was. Josephine and Max had sworn up one side and down the other they hadn’t shared the information and he believed them. Their sheer unwillingness to share details over the past few days—more than fifty years after burying the jewels—was a pretty good indicator neither of them had given up their secret.

So who was it?

The jeweler who’d evaluated the stones was the most likely source but there was no way he was the only one. And even if he had talked, he’d have no idea the stones lay in the center of a concrete floor.

So who knew?

And who had they told?

“I can see the deep thoughts floating above your head like storm clouds.”

Cassidy came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist as Bailey bounded up onto the front porch. He let the dog in, then firmly closed and locked the door before turning toward her, pulling her against him. “There’s a lot to think about.”

“I think I have a way to cut those deep thoughts off for a while.”

He smiled at her, the moment more precious than he ever could have imagined.

He loved this woman. With everything he was, he loved her. Her warmth. Her loyalty. Her spirit of dedication to her work. Those and so many other facets he’d seen over the past week fascinated and enticed, drawing him ever closer into her orbit.

So why the indecision in telling her his feelings?

He cared. More than he’d ever imagined he could.

And although his thoughts as he looked at her had immediately filled with images of them making love, they morphed, grew more expansive. The physical was one part of what they shared, yet he saw so much more when he looked at her.

Felt so much more when he was with her.

He
knew
it wasn’t a mirage.

Yet he couldn’t struggle past the scars of his youth to actually put his feelings to words.

So he pushed everything he felt into the physical and hoped it was enough. Hoped she understood that everything he was or would ever be was for her.

As if in unspoken agreement, she fisted his shirt in her hands, dragging it up and over his head with swift fingers. A warm smile danced between her lips and her eyes were tempting and so full of promise.

He tried to keep up but she’d already danced out of his reach, dragging the sun dress she wore up her body and over her head as fast as she’d removed his shirt. The dress floated to the floor at his feet but he barely noticed, his attention fully focused on the naked woman standing before him. “You’re... I mean...”

“Naked?”

One lone eyebrow quirked above the rich blue of her eyes before she lifted up on her tiptoes and nipped at his lip. “Cat got your tongue, Mr. Buchanan?”

He knew he was about three paces behind her—and reveled in the slightly befuddled haze that had drained nearly all thought from his mind—but he also wasn’t a man to waste an opportunity.

Quick as a flash, he slipped out of his shoes, then dropped his jeans and briefs in one fell swoop.

“Ah. I see we’re on the same page now.”

He laughed at her words before he dragged her against his body. The wild, uncontrolled, unrelenting need for her nearly had his knees buckling before he caught himself. He boosted her up so her legs wrapped around his waist and captured one pert nipple between his teeth, just because he could.

She pressed herself into his mouth and his pleasure downshifted into primal satisfaction when she moaned low in her throat.

Any thought of taking things slow vanished at that delicious moan and he pushed them both on, flipping their positions so her back was against the door. She splayed her hands over his shoulders and positioned herself over him, then tightened her legs around his waist for leverage.

And then she began to move.

Pure ecstasy swept through him at the joining of their bodies. Their mouths met again and again, full of a desperate desire to ride the moment for all it was worth.

The play of their tongues—a sensual give-and-take—mimicked the hard, driving needs of their bodies. Tucker kept his hands tight at her waist, guiding their motion while supporting them both.

And quickly felt the moment spin out of his control.

Raw need.

Elemental hunger.

And a desperate yearning for all she could give him and more.

It was one of the most powerful moments of his life.

Enraptured, Tucker breathed her in, her name a rough whisper dragged from his throat. “Cassidy.”

And when he heard her cries grow more urgent, signaling her release, there were no more words.

Only the glorious act of falling with her.

* * *

Tucker reached for Cassidy to pull her close and came up with nothing but a handful of bedsheet. Coming awake in an instant, he sat up and scanned the room. It was dark, but faint light drifted from her second bedroom along the hallway. Since he didn’t see Bailey where he’d slept beside the bed on a soft pillow Cassidy had given him, Tucker figured where he found one of them he’d find the other.

He followed the sliver of light in the hall and pushed open the door to the room.

And found Bailey asleep at her feet while she sewed a long length of material.

He took the moment to watch her, pleased to stand and look his fill. She’d pulled all her fiery hair up in some sort of messy twist that drew the eye. From there, he followed the long column of her neck, then over her slender shoulders, clad in a thin tank top.

Unbidden, a memory long buried rose up in the back of his mind. His grandmother kept a painting in her room of a young woman in her bath, glorying in the early-morning light. As a young boy he’d been fascinated by the picture, until the day his brother had found him and teased him, ruining the painting for him.

“Quit being a perv, Tuck. You can’t even see her fully naked.”

He whirled, surprised at the voice and the sneer he heard under Scott’s words. He didn’t even know what that word meant—
perv
?—but he didn’t like the way it sounded when Scott said it. “I am not.”

“Sure you are. What are you doing? Camping out in here to look at the naked woman? Come on. Dad wants us downstairs for the football matchup with Cousin Dell’s kids.”

Tucker hated football but he didn’t dare say it out loud.

Scott played football therefore
he
had to play football. And go sit in the bleachers on Friday nights and scream for Scott. And spend all Saturday morning after the game having breakfast in town so everyone could come up and congratulate Scott on how great he played while his old man glowed like a lightbulb.

He’d rather be
anywhere
else.

“Tucker?”

His vision cleared only to be filled with Cassidy, concern filling her eyes, turning them a warm blue. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”

“You looked so far away.”

And he had been. He might have been standing with her but in his mind he was that eight-year-old boy, still angry and frustrated by everything he couldn’t have.

And everything he wasn’t allowed to be.

“Something jogged a thought.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.” He dropped into a small love seat opposite her. “It was just silly. I saw you sitting there and it made me think of some dumb memory at my grandmother’s.”

If she was upset he didn’t share anything further, it wasn’t apparent. Instead, her smile was warm and her question sweet. “Did she sew?”

“I don’t know. I don’t—”

Maybe it was the lack of pushing or the subtle acceptance that he didn’t have to share every thought in his head, but before he could stop them, the words tumbled out.

The painting he’d loved. Scott’s cruel taunts, from an older brother to a young, impressionable one. And another afternoon of endless torture playing a sport he hated.

She sat next to him and took his hand in hers. The warmth of her fingers touched something inside him, chasing away the cold that had settled in his stomach at the retelling of a dopey old memory.

“Seems like we’ve churned up a few old ghosts over the past week.”

What were the odds? Most people his age hadn’t lost a sibling, yet both of them had, and they’d connected over that aspect of their lives. “It’s strange. I lost my brother and you lost your sister. And neither of us have very good memories of them.”

“Or anything to chase away the guilt over that fact.”

Did he feel guilty?

Although he wouldn’t have classified the emotion that way, now that it was out there, he realized there was some truth to the thought.

Scott had lost his life and in the process—albeit a slow one—Tucker had gained his.

“I loved him. But I never had a bond with him.”

“That was me and Leah. Of course I loved her. She was my sister. But we never had a bond. And then once I met Vi and Lilah, I felt bad about that because I
did
have that relationship with them. And then she died and all those feelings sort of jumbled up into one big mess.”

“Max is my brother. I knew it from the first—he had my back and I had his. And then we went through enough situations where we
had
to have each other’s back and it was as natural as breathing.”

She rested her head against his shoulder and linked their fingers. “Maybe it’s time we stopped feeling guilty about something we’re immeasurably lucky to have.”

“Maybe so.”

* * *

Detective Graystone buried his head in his hands, a low moan of disgust punctuating the gesture. He had commandeered the front display area of Elegance and Lace, and his stiff pose was in stark contrast to the large, purple velvet chair he’d chosen. “Run this past me one more time?”

Max avoided a sigh—though Cassidy figured it was a close call—and launched into his story once more. “I took some of the jewels out of the case before I stowed it in the van.”

Max had told the detective the same story about five times and no matter how many different ways Graystone challenged him, the order of the telling never changed.

“And despite getting video cameras installed, no one saw anything on the video feeds to corroborate your story?”

Although Cassidy knew it was his job, it amazed her that the detective missed no detail. Left absolutely nothing uncovered.

Before she could say anything, Violet interjected. “Lilah and I watched the feeds back at Dragon Designs. We saw Max open the back door of the van and open the box. You can see him rummage through the box, shove something in his back pocket and then put the lid back on. What we can’t see, no matter how many times we run through the footage, is who came up to the van. We know he got in and out of the van but that’s all we can see.”

“Because he’s wearing a ski mask and sweatshirt in Dallas in August? And presumably shoved the box under the sweatshirt.”

“Yes.” Lilah nodded. “And when you watch it you can see he’d clearly staked out our cameras because he had to have put the mask on out of frame.”

The detective sighed, his mouth set in a grim line. “Whoever this guy is, he wasn’t stupid about it. He must have worn different clothes until he found a parking spot near here.”

“No cameras on any of the buildings nearby?” Violet asked.

“My officers are trying to track them but security is limited here. Nothing to reasonably follow someone traveling up or down the street. And you have a lot of buildings where the cameras are up for show, without actually capturing any footage.”

Cassidy knew they’d been the same with their building so she could hardly fault her neighbors. She knew some of the higher-end design firms had top-notch security, but the rest of the businesses were small firms with little to steal beyond a few laptops. Heck, if it hadn’t been for the break-in and Tucker’s insistence on better security they still wouldn’t have cameras at Elegance and Lace.

Of course, they hadn’t felt at risk up until now.

“Your landlord said her home was broken into by a masked man.” Graystone flipped through his notes, nodding when he found the one that corroborated the thought.

Cassidy appreciated the thorough attention to detail but her unease about Robert hadn’t diminished and she decided to go for broke. “There is one more lead you may want to look into.”

She recounted her experience with her former fiancé and his sudden interest in contacting her, then Violet. The detective scribbled several pages of notes before glancing back up, his gray gaze sharp. “I don’t suppose either of you have any intention of calling him back.”

“He is looking for our services,” Violet pointed out.

Violet might have nerves of steel but she was well matched by Detective Graystone. “Miss Richardson. While I appreciate you’ve lost several days of productivity at your business to this matter, do you honestly think Mr. Barrington’s call was a casual outreach?”

“It could be.”

“And you’d need to lose about a trillion brain cells to even remotely pull off that dumb look you’re aiming for.”

Violet’s wide-eyed stare narrowed, then considered him before she nodded, and Cassidy didn’t miss the grudging respect stamped there. “Fine. Robert Barrington could be the answer to drawing out whoever is behind this.”

Lilah reached for one of the cupcakes she’d laid out earlier on the oversize coffee table that sat in the middle of all of them. “I think the detective wants to take back what he said.”

“What’s that?” Violet asked.

“You really are that dumb.”