Steal My Heart (11 page)

Hidden behind a column outside the Piazza’s majestic entrance, Mark pressed his mouth to Paige’s lips, drinking in the taste of her, wishing with all his heart he didn’t have to let her go.

He pulled back to study the contours of her delicate face, the determination in her smoky gray eyes, despite the pain she was enduring. Admiration danced in his heart. What courage she had. If he wasn’t so deeply in love with her already, he’d have fallen for her on the spot.

“When this is over—”

“What?”

“Let’s talk about making a new start.”

She stared at him open mouthed.

He shouldn’t have said that. He forced himself to release her. “Check your watch.”

“We’ve checked our watches five times, Mark.”

“You can never be too accurate during a caper.”

“Caper?”

He shot her a half-grin. “Technical term.”

She put her arm next to his. “They’re exactly the same. Down to the second.”

He nodded, satisfied. “It will take me fifteen minutes tops to get up there. Start counting as soon as you open the hotel door.”

She nodded, her forehead creased with worry.

“This is going to work. We’re going to make it work.”

She inhaled and nodded again. “We have to.”

He grabbed her and kissed her once more. Her arms went around his neck in an embrace that broke his heart. If this worked, if they got her daughter back and got rid of Laroche, both their lives would be different. He had something to live for now.

She broke away, straightened her clothes and took a step back.

“Remember. Fifteen minutes.”

“Right.” She turned and headed for the door. As soon as she opened it, he sprinted toward the corner.

###

Mark stared up at the vertical thrust of the reinforced concrete structure. The hotel’s northern side. From a darkened recessed area, he studied the stack of balconies
with their arches and cathedral-like, medieval carvings. Easy pickings.

Fifteen minutes. He could do it. He’d done more difficult climbs and he’d kept in shape in prison, exercising every day. In prison, it wasn’t smart to let yourself get soft.

He knelt down to open his duffel bag took out a rope and a grappling hook. Then he zipped up the bag and secured it to his back like a knapsack. He peeked out from his hiding place and scanned the street. There was traffic on the highway but pedestrians were light. The best time to do something like this was three a.m. but he didn’t have that luxury tonight.

When he saw no one on the sidewalk he stepped from his hiding place, took aim, swung the rope and hooked the first balcony. He gave it a test tug and when it held, he started up the wall.

The stones were slick from the recent rain, but he got his footing against the building’s smooth surface and began to step himself up it. Not the structure he would have chosen if he were back in the business. Funny, the curves life can throw at you. But he still had the old stuff. In less a minute, he was drawing his body up to the second floor with the ease of a mountain climber.

Just like the old days. He climbed over the banister, got his bearings and swung the rope onto the third story balcony. Like taking candy from a baby.

He repeated the process and was on the fourth floor in record time. Up he went again. One floor after the other, getting a little faster with each story as muscle memory brought it all back to him.

By the time he reached the eighteenth floor, he was only a little winded, but his nerves were on edge. He checked his watch. Three minutes, thirty seconds to go. He’d be right on time. He couldn’t wait to see Laroche’s face when he slipped in through the balcony just the way his old mentor had taught him.

Still something in his gut made him uneasy. Before he swung his rope again, against his better judgment, he glanced down toward the street and noticed a dark Crown Vic with a dent in its hood slowing alongside the hotel. Emotions churned in his stomach. Finally he shows up? Walter’s must have given the okay to pick him up. Well, at least Foley’s timing was good. All Mark had to do was get to Laroche first, which he was just about to do. Maybe his luck was picking up at last.

With a surge of hope, he swung his rope and hooked the next story.

###

Paige’s breath came in hitches as she rode the elevator to the twentieth floor of the Piazza Hotel. Her mind raced.

Downstairs she’d sidled past the front desk—though a new clerk had replaced the one she and Mark had toyed with earlier—and taken the elevator to the mezzanine. It would take her less than fifteen minutes to get to the twentieth floor, so she’d wandered around a bit, past the shops. Gazing over the railing at the hotel’s massive foyer, she’d remembered spotting Mark there last night watching her and a lump formed in her throat. Last night she’d been terrified of him.

And tonight?

Tonight she’d fallen in love with him all over again. As ill-timed as that was, she couldn’t help it. She wanted to be with him. They would get Holly back tonight, she told herself. Tonight she would tell Mark the truth. And maybe they could be a family together.

Finally, the bell rang and the
elevator doors opened like a vault to a crypt.

She stepped into the luxurious hallway and checked her watch, her heart beating like a rabbit’s in heat.

Fifteen minutes?

That was awfully tight. Why had she let Mark make all the decisions? Why had she let him talk her into allowing him to scale up the side of the hotel? Fifteen minutes wasn’t long enough. Her grip tightened on the beaded bag with the fake Fantasia. Her palms were moist.

What if something went wrong? What if he didn’t make it in fifteen minutes? What if he fell to the ground? She shuddered at the thought then grunted under her breath at herself. She’d better smother these thoughts or her nerves would get the best of her and she’d blow everything.

Okay. Deep, cleansing breaths. Just like in her series of articles on yoga. She could do this. She had to do this. Holly’s life depended on it.

Gritting her teeth, she loosened her grip on the evening bag and strode over to the door etched with the number Mark had given her, the skirt of her cherry-colored dress swishing around her knees. As she reached it, she studied her watch again. Mark’s fifteen minutes was almost up. One, two, now. She knocked.

Silence.

She knocked again, this time with the authority of a police officer.

Footsteps. Laroche or Jimar must be scrutinizing her through the peephole. She heard muffled voices. They were caught off guard, just as she knew they’d be. They were trying to figure out how she’d found them and what to do about it.

After what sounded like a sharp argument, the door opened a crack, and a tall, thin man appeared.

Laroche.

He seemed to be in his early sixties, with a bold shock of elegantly styled, pure white hair and glassy, light blue eyes that accented a good-looking, but well-lined face. He was dressed in a charcoal cashmere suit he might have picked up at Valentino or Yves Saint Laurent. These people liked to let you know they had money.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding as if he’d just woken from a nap.

Paige didn’t waste time. “Open the door. I’ve come for my daughter.”

Laroche eyed her as if she were a delicious piece of candy, though she could see the shock in his expression, which he hid well. “As nice as it is for such a beautiful woman to show up at my door, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss. I’m here by myself.” His accent had a hint of French and would have been utterly charming under any other circumstances.

His suave style might’ve fooled her if she didn’t already know who he was and that Holly was in there with him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He lifted his hands with a cultured air and gave her a gallant smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.” This time there was an edge to his elegant tone.

She clutched the bag in her hand and thought of how her sweaty palms must be ruining the material. “Yes, you do.” She’d had enough games. She braced herself, set her shoulder against the door and pushed as hard as she could.

It swung open and the man staggered backward in surprise. Behind her, the door closed and she sensed the presence of a large body stepping toward her, she saw the glint of the ruby ring, felt cold metal against her temple. Gun.

“Good to see you again, Ms. Dunbar,” Jimar said in his dark Jamaican accent. Then he addressed Laroche. “He’s not with her, like I told you.”

Laroche flashed him an angry glare to be quiet. So that’s what they were arguing about. Whether Mark was with her or not.

The Jamaican ran the barrel of his gun under her chin and stepped in front of her. Up close, he seemed taller and more broad-shouldered than she remembered. His dreadlocks glistened like deadly spikes. The sight of him turned her insides to jelly.

“Maybe we should ask her.” Laroche moved toward her with that cultured air and leered, all politeness gone. “But first things first. I see you finally brought me what I wanted.” He snatched the purse out of her hand and opened it. As he studied its contents, one of his white, graceful brows twitched.

Nerves skittered down her spine. Could Laroche tell the jewels were fake just by looking at them? She lifted her chin, suppressing a sneer. “Take the stupid necklace. Just give me back my daughter.”

His thin lip curled. “It isn’t that easy. I gave you two chances to meet me alone and you didn’t take either of them.”

What? Somehow Paige found her breath. “What are you talking about? I was there.”

“But not
alone
.” He emphasized the word.

Somehow, he’d known Mark was with her. Jimar must have seen them following him. But they didn’t think Mark was with her now. Or maybe they’d been arguing about something else.

She escaped Laroche’s penetrating gaze and took in the room with its breath-taking decor of muted rose and purples, accented in gold leaf and oriental touches. If their room at the Godiva had been Windsor Castle, this was Versailles.

Just for an instant, she let her gaze wander to the elegant double doors leading to the balcony. But she saw nothing.

Nothing at all.

Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. It was all she could do to force down the panic rising in her throat. She focused on the closed door to the other room. Holly was in there.

Jimar scowled at her. “How did you find us? How did you get in here?”

“Evidently, you weren’t careful enough.” She wondered if they could see her pulse beating in her throat, but she was determined to do what she came here for. “I want my daughter,” she demanded. “Now. Give her to me or I’ll call the police.”

Jimar laughed. “Now how are you going to do that?”

Laroche glared at her with such viciousness in his eyes, it took her breath away. Panicking, Paige looked at the locked door again.

That’s where Holly was. She’d seen this evil man put her in there. But why hadn’t her daughter called out to her? Surely she’d heard her voice. Or had this bastard bound and gagged her? Or drugged her? Or was she—dead? No, that couldn’t be true. She had heard Holly’s voice on the phone less than an hour ago. She’d
seen
her.

She didn’t dare look toward the balcony again. She knew it was empty. Her stomach dropped and dread engulfed her.

Oh, God. Mark, where are you?

His chest heaving, Mark swung his leg over the banister and scrambled onto the last balcony. He pulled up the rope, picked up the hook, loosened his duffel bag and set everything on the terrazzo floor.

He was here. Laroche’s floor.

He checked his watch and his stomach clenched. Forty-two seconds late. Damn. Why hadn’t he given himself more leeway? If anything happened to Paige or her daughter he’d never forgive himself.

His heart hammered as he peered through the sliding glass doors. In the elegant room, three figures stood clustered together. The sight of Jimar’s gun pointed at Paige’s head made him want to break the glass, rush in and blast both his old rival and his mentor to kingdom come.

But that would get Paige killed for sure.

Besides he noticed she had sidestepped just in front of the settee, making Laroche and Jimar face away from the window so they wouldn’t see him. Smart move. He’d have to remember to tell her how brilliant she was.

Forcing his panic down, he studied the lock. Typical sliding latch. From his pocket, he took out his thinnest lever wedge, worked at it, and had the lock open in three seconds. Noiselessly, he slid the door open and stepped inside. One thing he knew was how to be silent and invisible.

He crossed the room, drew his gun, stepped behind the Jamaican. “Drop the gun, Jimar.”

The man didn’t move.

Mark shoved his weapon into the big man’s ribcage. “I said drop it.”

“Do as he says.” Laroche took a causal step toward him and spoke with that old, familiar condescension. “You’re late, Mark. I thought I taught you never to underestimate your time.”

Mark ignored Laroche’s comment. He snatched the purse out of his hand and stared at the well-dressed man he once thought of as his father.

If he didn’t have had a score to settle with him before, he did now. Nobody got away with harassing Paige. He glanced down and saw his FBI cell on the coffee table. He thought of the beat up Crown Vic outside. All he had to do was hold these goons until Foley showed up.

###

Paige felt dizzy with relief as the pressure against her temple eased and Jimar’s gun rattled to the floor.

She’d wanted to cry out for joy when she saw Mark in his black clothes and cap come through the balcony doors a second ago. It had taken all she had not to do something that would alert these monsters to his presence.

Now that she was able to breathe again, she made her demand once more. “I want my daughter.” She stomped across the room to the closed door and turned the knob. Locked. “Where’s the key?”

Laroche folded his arms and stroked his chin, studying them. “I can see why you married her, Mark. She’s quite lovely. Spirited and intelligent, as well. Too bad she divorced you.”

“Never mind us,” Mark grunted with the command of a marine. “The lady asked you a question.”

Jimar didn’t move. He stood like a mindless robot, eyes on Laroche, waiting for direction.

Laroche glowered at Mark. “How long has it been, Mark? Three years? Four?”

“You know how long it’s been.”

“Oh, that’s right. You were in
prison
. That’s when Paige divorced you, wasn’t it?”

In Paige’s opinion, Laroche should be serving more time than her ex-husband had. But she saw Mark’s jaw clench. Laroche could get to him. He’d said he was like a father figure. That wasn’t good.

She banged on the door. “Holly, are you in there? Holly.”

Nothing. Why wasn’t she answering?

If only Mark didn’t have to keep these two at bay with a single weapon, he’d have this door open in a flash. They didn’t have much of an advantage. They had to act fast and get out of here.

She glared at Laroche with sheer hatred. “What have you done to her, you monster? Give me the key.”

Laroche ignored her. “I knew you would go after the Fantasia necklace, Mark.” He waved a casual hand in the air.
“The leopard and his spots, and all?”

Mark glared at Jimar, then Laroche. “I didn’t go after it.” Why was he being so defensive?

“Only because your ex-wife beat you to it,” Laroche chuckled.

Why was he laughing? Why was Mark letting this man browbeat him like this? “Mark doesn’t have anything to do with this,” she said to Laroche. “All we want is my daughter. Give her to us and you can have your necklace.”

Laroche shook his head like some sort of benevolent priest. “But you’re wrong, Paige. Mark Storm has everything to do with it.” He tilted his head at Mark as if he were astonished. “You must truly care for her, Mark, to protect her like this.” He took a step toward him, his accented voice dripping with disdain. “You see, it didn’t matter to me which one of you stole the necklace. The outcome was going to be the same. Of course, my idea was that Mark would be arrested for the theft and learn of his wife’s and her
daughter’s
deaths in the newspapers.”

Dread shot through her. What was he talking about? And she couldn’t ignore the way he’d said the word
daughter
. Did Laroche know about Holly? How could he?

“Did you think you could simply walk out on me, Mark? After all our years together?”

“I didn’t walk out on you, Laroche. As you keep pointing out, I was in prison. I was arrested after my last caper.”

Laroche inched closer to Mark. “The one you went on independently. The one I warned you not to do.”

“So what?”

“So what? You left my service. The one thing I expressly forbid. And have you forgotten you stiffed me out of more and more of my commission over the years? I haven’t. But since you were in jail, I would have let even that go. But, no. After all these years, all I’ve done for you, how do you repay me? With the ultimate betrayal.”

Paige watched the muscles in Mark’s jaw twitch. “What are you talking about?”

“Your innocent act is getting on my nerves, Mark. You did the unthinkable.” Laroche’s voice took on a ragged edge. “What did I always tell you? What’s the worse thing anyone can do to me?”

Mark’s whole body stiffened. “Peach on you.”

“That’s right. So how could you rat me out to the Feds?”

“I didn’t rat you out.”

“Didn’t you? Then why have they been on my tail ever since you were arrested?”

Mark’s dark brows twisted in confusion. Laroche was getting the best of him. “I don’t know but it wasn’t because of anything I told them.”

“You were always such a good liar, Mark. I taught him a lot, but prevaricating, spinning the facts to serve his own purpose, came naturally to him. He had such talent. That was why I planned this little family reunion.”

Mark’s eyes flooded with rage. “Family reunion? You were like a father to me once, but no longer. I’m not your son.”

Laroche shook his head. “That wounds me, Mark. But it’s not what I meant.” He reached into his pocket.

“Don’t,” Mark grunted, aiming his weapon so that the bullet would go through Jimar and hit Laroche. She’d never seen him use a gun, but Paige didn’t doubt he was an excellent marksman as well as a Breaking and Entering expert.

Laroche held up his other hand. “I’m unarmed.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket. “It’s just the key to that room.” He tossed it to Paige.

She caught it, her heart hammering against her chest. Her fingers trembled as she jammed it into the keyhole and yanked open the door.

“Holly?”

A small figure lay on the bed in the dark room. Slowly she lifted her head and blinked. “Mommie?”

She was alive. Paige’s hands went to her mouth, then she stretched them out to her. “Yes, honey. It’s me.”

The little girl got off the mattress and stumbled toward Paige, still dressed in her favorite Sugar Pink top and jeans. Her dark hair was tangled and her eyes seemed unfocused.

Paige glared at Laroche. “You drugged her, you bastard.”

“Mommie, are you really here?”

“Yes, I really am here.” Paige bent down and beckoned to her.

Coming to life, Holly ran toward her, hitting her square in the chest. “Mommie, Mommie.”

Paige didn’t care. She’d never been so glad to be accosted by her little girl. “Sweetheart. Darling. Are you all right?” She kissed her over and over, then she pulled back and looked at her, straightened her hair.

“Don’t ever go away again.”

“No, I never will.”

But even in this situation, the attention span of a child was short. Holly turned her head, and her eyes widened. “Who’s that?”

###

Mark struggled to keep his eyes on Laroche and Jimar, his mind racing with raw emotion he hadn’t felt in years. He hadn’t counted on his old mentor being able to push the buttons from his past so easily. But then, from the corner of his eye, he watched Paige with her daughter and felt a stab of joy. That reunion made a short walk down memory lane and enduring a false accusation from a swindler all worthwhile.

This was the best thing he’d ever done in his life. And maybe it would make up a little for the past.

And then he turned his head and got a good look at Holly.

The color of her hair was exactly like his mother’s. He saw the shape of her jaw, so like his own. He saw his own eyes staring back at him. Couldn’t be.

He heard Laroche’s soft laugh. “Well, well. What a nice family portrait we have here.”

Mark tightened his grip on Jimar. So help him, he’d shoot both of them. “That’s enough, Laroche.”

“Ah, I’ve hit a nerve. That’s right, Mark. She’s your daughter. Paige, didn’t you mention that little detail?” He clucked his tongue. “Such a thing to keep secret.”

Mark gritted his teeth. “You’re lying, Laroche. Holly’s too young to be my daughter.”

Laroche laughed outright now. “What a deceiver you are, Paige. I quite admire you.” He knelt down and smiled at the little girl. “Holly, how old are you?”

She cringed from the man but held up three fingers. “And two months.”

“Yes. Good girl. Three years and two months,” Laroche said rising again.

Mark felt like a hard rock had hit him in the chest. “Is that true, Paige? Is that her age? Is Holly my daughter?”

Paige moaned, her eyes filling with tears. She couldn’t speak.

“Is it true?” he demanded.

She put her head in her hands. All she could do was nod.

Once again his mind raced back to that night. Why hadn’t he guessed it before? Ice cream. Rocky Road ice cream. Paige had been craving it the night he was arrested.

She’d been pregnant.

The little girl stepped toward him, eyes wide. “Are you really my daddy?”

Mark didn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to take her in his arms. He hesitated, letting his gaze linger on the child an instant too long. As soon as he did, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Jimar tugged out of his grasp and shoved Mark’s arm up. The gun flew out of his hand. Laroche was on the floor, scrambling for the weapon Jimar had dropped earlier.

Jimar went for Mark’s gun, but Mark spun and kicked out at him. He missed and the lumbering giant reared back and hit him hard in the gut, sending him into the wall. He heard Paige scream. He wasn’t giving up that easy. Fighting for breath, he kicked the gun away from Jimar’s hand just before he reached it.

Then he sidestepped and caught Laroche under the ribs with a hard kick. “Get out of here,” he cried to Paige without looking at her.

###

“Mommie.”

Paige grabbed Holly and looked toward the three fighting men. If only she could reach the door, but they were blocking the only way out of the suite. If she tried to get past them, Jimar was sure to grab her. There was no escape. Nothing but the balcony where Mark had come in.

“What’s happening, Mommie?” Holly started to cry.

“Shh, darling. Try to be as quiet as you can. We have to find a way out of here.”

She glanced back at the open glass doors where Mark had entered the room. It was their only chance. Holding Holly tight, she rushed toward them.

“But what about Daddy?”

She’d have to leave him here. The thought was like broken glass grinding into her heart, just as painful as the look in Mark’s eyes when he realized Holly was his daughter. Guilt gnawed at her with the sharp, vicious teeth of a rabid tiger. Why had she lied to him? Why hadn’t she found the courage to tell him truth? He must hate her now. She couldn’t bear the thought of Mark hating her but she didn’t blame him.

She stepped through the door and onto the balcony. City lights twinkled below. The night air was chilly against her face. She tried to cover Holly’s head.

She spotted Mark’s bag on the floor. She put Holly down and rifled through it, hoping to find another gun or some tear gas. Something. Instead she discovered the rope and hook he must have used to get up here.

She’d have to use it, too.

Could she do it? She had no choice. Her thoughts raced. She’d interviewed a mountain climber last year. Back then, she’d watched a score of nature shows and read a lot about the subject. She went faux rock climbing at an amusement park in Jersey to get the feel of it. That would have to serve as training.