Read In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) Online
Authors: Kate Kelly
In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (17 page)
Two years ago, when Gage had first come into their lives, he and Sophie had been under suspicion for art theft, as well as selling drugs. Rafe had quietly hired the best criminal lawyer he could find to stand by in case things got out of hand. Which they had, but not the way he’d anticipated.
He called Burnham now and explained as best he could what had happened. After far too much laughing and exclamations on the lawyer’s part, Burnham agreed to come down to the jail and see what he could do. But he warned Rafe the chances of bail were probably nil because of his escape.
Two hours later, Rafe stood in front of a judge and listened to his lawyer tell the judge the whole sorry story all over again. All the prosecutor’s office had was the bare facts, which didn’t really make sense.
After both sides had had their say, the judge took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Let me get this straight. You were in jail for…” she pulled the paper in front of her closer, “…resisting arrest and interfering with a criminal investigation.” She looked up from the paper. “I’m sure there’s a story behind that arrest as well. Unfortunately, we’re short on time today. Someone kidnapped you from jail, and instead of going to ground after you escaped your kidnapper, you met your sister at the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well, then called the FBI because her husband, Special Agent Vince Gage, the agent who arrested you, couldn’t be found. Then you waited at the hospital with your sister until Special Agents Gage and DeMarco arrived, at which point they arrested you again.”
She put the paper on her desk and flattened it with her hand. “It’s not often a real-life hero visits my courtroom, Mr. Pascotto.”
Rafe heard DeMarco groan behind him.
“You must have done something to antagonize the FBI. But I doubt whatever you did warrants another visit in jail. I’m giving you one month of community service during which time I hope you contemplate the error of your ways.”
Ten minutes later, Rafe stood on the sidewalk outside the courthouse with a slip of paper in his hand of where he had to report for community service the next day.
Burnham shook his hand. “You should get some ice on that eye.”
That advice had just cost him five hundred bucks. “Thanks for making yourself available on such short notice.”
Burnham grinned. “I’ll dine out on this story for years. Stay out of trouble now, and if you don’t, call me.”
With no cab in sight, Rafe stuck his hands in his pockets and walked down the street. After he found the MG, he planned to go home, call to see if Sophie was okay, and then try his luck with Bridget’s number. He doubted she’d answer, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to contact her. Because he couldn’t find whatever it was he needed—stamina? fortitude?—to walk away. At the very least, he’d call Marianne, make sure she was all right, and find out how the great escape had gone. If the FBI had arrested Bridget, would they let him know?
He phoned the market where he’d left the car, and the management informed him the FBI had impounded his vehicle. Of course they had, because they loved him so much, they didn’t want to see the old sports car get ruined.
At some point, he’d hoped to sleep for at least twenty-four hours, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not with having to deal with the cops again to get Sophie’s car back and showing up for community service early tomorrow. What kind of stuff did you do in community service? Pick up garbage? Mow lawns?
DeMarco pulled over to the curb and honked his horn to get Rafe’s attention. Rafe took his time going over to the car. He liked Nick well enough, but he’d had enough of cops for now.
“Gage just called. Sophie’s fine. They’re on their way home.”
“That’s a relief. Thanks.”
“Want a drive home?”
“Why?”
DeMarco laughed, flashing his white teeth. “Sooner you get home, the sooner you can ice that eye. I don’t want to have to haul you in for scaring the kiddies.”
“You guys impounded my car. Care to escort me over to the yard to get it?”
“You’re having a helluva day, aren’t you? Wasn’t me, by the way.”
“Must have been my tail.” He got in the front seat. He’d be damned if he was riding in the back. “What’s with this community service stuff?”
“You show up at the address the clerk gave you, and they ask you what you’re good at and try to match you up with a group. What are you good at, besides tilting at windmills?”
“You’re a laugh a minute, DeMarco. I’m not an expert on anything.”
“Really? You seem like the kind of guy who’d be successful at whatever he decided to do.”
“I never stick with anything long enough.”
“You finished with modeling?”
“Pretty much. Got a thing in California in a few months.”
DeMarco smirked. “Selling more underwear?”
Rafe rolled his hand into a fist, then relaxed it. “It’s probably an award show. I haven’t checked it out.”
“You winning some kind of award?”
“Nah. I’m just the escort. Walk the Hollywood lady up the red carpet and smile a lot. It’s a contract thing.”
“No kidding. How much do you make for something like that?” He pulled up in front of the impound yard, flashed his badge and drove through the gate.
“I don’t know, five grand maybe?”
“Jesus. They need anyone else to help them out?”
Rafe laughed. “Like Serena would let you. Thanks for the drive. You want to tell these guys to give me my car?”
Nick got out and went into the office. A few minutes later he came out with the keys to the MG. “I thought the MG was Sophie’s car.” He handed him the keys.
“It was. Gage wanted her to get rid of it, so she asked me to buy it so she could still drive it once in a while.”
Nick followed him to the car. “Did you tell Gage?”
“Not yet.” He got in and rolled down the window. “Thanks for your help.”
DeMarco put his hands on the door and leaned in the open window. “None of my business, but Gage was worried about Sophie driving this car. You should have told him.”
Rafe sighed. “You think?”
“Absolutely. You getting in between them, that’s not good.”
“You’re probably right. But he’s got her isolated out there. All her friends are here in town, and now she doesn’t even have a vehicle to drive. She loves this car.”
“Understood. You should still tell him. It’s this kind of shit that drives Gage crazy, you riding in to save Sophie. Give the guy a break. He loves your sister.”
“I know. And you’re right. I’ll tell him about the car. Just maybe not right now with all this other shit going on.”
Nick smiled. “Good man.” He started toward his car, but turned back.
Now what?
“O’Neill’s got some bad people hooked into her. We could help her if she let us.”
Rafe smiled sadly. “That’s what I thought, too. That I could help her. Turns out, she doesn’t want anyone’s help. It’s just the way she’s made.”
“Tough break for you. If you need help, call.”
He needed help, all right. He needed his head examined because he was going to his apartment, and after calling the ladies on his list, he planned to look up everything he could find on the Bismarck sapphires, then drop by the Fine Arts Museum and take a good long look at them while they were on loan from the Smithsonian. What were the chances the Bridget would be there, casing the joint?
He walked around his apartment when he got home and opened windows to let out the stale air. The rooms felt small and crowded, yet empty, like no one lived there. The apartment had never bothered him before. Not that he’d thought of it as home exactly, but it was his space, where he dumped his stuff, and where he went when he had no other place to go.
He stood in the kitchen and stared out the window that looked out on the brick building next door. He was done with the place. Building his own home had been on his mind a lot lately, and it was time to get some plans down on paper and hire an architect.
He phoned Sophie, reassured to hear her laugh when he asked how Esmeralda was. Gage came on the line at the end of the call, and in a gruff we’re-not-going-to-ever-talk-about-this-again voice, thanked him for being there for Sophie. Rafe refrained from pointing out he’d had Sophie’s back for years before Gage had come on the scene. He hesitated to tell Gage about the sports car; no sense in spoiling his good mood.
When he called Marianne, she gave him a too-detailed account of what happened after he’d left and offered to help in any way if needed.
Bridget didn’t answer her phone. Of course. The hollow feeling in his chest grew as he listened to her phone ring over and over.
The minute he hung up, his phone rang and he snatched it up. “Rafe,” Marshall, his agent, yelled. “You’re not answering your messages.” He’d probably hustled Sophie for his new number.
Raphael had forgotten about messages, but he doubted Bridget would leave a message and that’s all he cared about at the moment.
“Good news,” Marshall continued in a boisterous voice.
“Why are you shouting?”
“Sorry. I’m excited. I got your hundred thou, plus another fifty.”
“What did you say?”
“I got you an extra fifty thousand. You would not believe how successful the ad campaign is in Europe. The company can’t keep up with the demand. Plus.” He raised his voice again. “They want to hire you for another ad campaign for the States.”
“No.” Bad enough his bare ass was hanging out for everyone to see in Paris. But right here, where he’d come face to face with it every day? No fucking way.
“Basil figured you’d refuse. He’s offering two hundred and fifty for a handful of frontal shots. I’ve never had a male model offered that much for one ad campaign.”
“Frontal?”
“You’d be wearing the underwear, of course.”
“And?” He wanted to see how far Basil would try to push him.
“I don’t know all the details. There’d be a woman’s hand again, and…you know.”
“No, I don’t.” But he did. Queasiness slithered through his stomach at the thought. What was wrong with him? Two hundred and fifty thou was a lot of money, and hell, look at the women who modeled underwear. A lot of those ads were just as suggestive.
“You’d have a hard-on.” Marshall got the words out quick. “It wouldn’t have to be real.”
He’d changed. Somewhere between posing in his bare ass, getting beat up and falling for Bridget, something had shifted inside him. Six months ago, he’d have jumped at the chance to make that much money with one ad campaign and would have thought it a lark. It was unthinkable now.
“Is the hundred and fifty in my bank account?”
“Minus my fee. Yeah.”
“Good. Tell Basil to go fuck himself.”
Marshall blew out a long breath. “I was afraid you’d say that. It was worth a try, though. If anything else comes up, I’ll call.”
“Thanks, Marshall.” He’d wait a couple of weeks before he told his agent that he was finished with modeling. He rolled his shoulders, surprised at the lack of regret.
Because he had so much to do. He wheeled his chair over to desk and turned on his iPad.
Sapphires
. He couldn’t wait to see what he could find.
“What is wrong with you? This is a mess.”
Bridget watched Armand use the tip of his finger to push the setting she’d been working on across the table like it was a discarded tissue. He was an arresting-looking man, his nose too big for his face with deep lines bracketing his mobile mouth. His dark hair fell forward and partially obscured his sharp blue eyes. He was in his late forties now and had acquired an air of success that he wore well. He’d been away for a week, and she was so desperate for company, she was almost glad to see him.
She sank onto the stool beside the worktable and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know. I’m trying, Armand. Honest. It’s so quiet here. I need…something.”
Armand had rented an isolated farm north of Boston and set up a workshop inside the barn for her. Under any other circumstances, she’d have been delighted with the work space. The redolent smell of hay hung in the air, although it didn’t look as if anyone had used the barn for years. Most days she kept the large doors wide open despite the lights Armand’s crew had hung over the big, wooden worktable for her. She had everything she needed, and she had nothing she needed.
At first she’d been delighted with the remote location and that there was so little distraction. But after the first week, she knew she was in trouble. She insisted on having a radio to listen to and a TV blaring in the background. An Internet connection was out of the question out here. Not that Armand would have allowed her one.
When she’d first arrived, the last house she’d seen before the old farmhouse where she, Armand and two guards now lived, had been at least five miles down the road. She hadn’t left the farm for a month, and the evening hikes that either Armand, or one of his men, took with her weren’t enough. She needed the sound of traffic, of people talking on the sidewalk, of music blaring out of cars or bars.
“What am I going to do with you,
mon petit chou
?” Armand wrapped his arms around her.
She rested her head on his shoulder. He was standing between her and the life she wanted. And yet, they shared so much history that, in a way, Armand knew her better than anyone else, even her brother. She hadn’t realized how empty her life was until she’d met Rafe.
“You miss that oaf of a boyfriend too much. Let me make love to you. You are too vibrant to be alone for long. We were good together once,” he whispered in her ear. “We can be again if you let us.”
Armand had been a considerate lover, and he’d taught her almost everything she knew about sex. Except for the breath-stealing passion she’d felt when she was with Rafe. Would she ever feel passion like that again?
“I can’t.” She pushed away from Armand and returned to the worktable.
Where was Rafe? What was he doing? Had he gotten on with his life and forgotten her? Part of her hoped he had, because she’d never have a normal life. The FBI were constantly tracking her down to pump her for information about Armand.
But she doubted she’d ever betray her former lover. True, Armand had taken advantage of her after her mother’s death, but he’d also been compassionate and kind. He’d given her what she needed the most at the time, a home for herself and Darcy.
And after the theft Armand now had planned? She could kiss her life goodbye.
In a way, she’d traded her life for Rafe’s and Darcy’s safety. Armand was negotiating with Dejarnatt to come up with a believable story that would guarantee Darcy his freedom. And Rafe would be left alone. All she had to do was replicate the setting Armand had requested. Which would make her an accessory to the theft, if it were ever discovered. Even knowing it was wrong, she couldn’t bring herself to care all that much if the real necklace was replaced by a fake one. No one had worn the expensive piece of jewelry for fifty years.
She pulled the setting toward her again. The work she’d done wouldn’t fool anyone, the setting clumsy and crude. She’d gone about this all wrong. She’d thought by contacting Armand she’d be able to control the situation, but she’d underestimated him. Armand had assumed complete control, and was now pushing to reassert himself as her lover as well.
But neither of them had anticipated Rafe’s influence on her. She couldn’t concentrate without him. Couldn’t sleep, either, and despite the tempting meals Armand had prepared for her, she’d lost weight.
The last thing she’d wanted was to fall in love. It was inconvenient and messy. Hell, it was dangerous. Armand would only put up with so much, and if she couldn’t give him what he wanted, she knew he’d go after Darcy or Rafe, or both. Armand would think nothing of dumping stolen gems on them then tipping off the police.
No, she didn’t hate Armand, but over the last month she’d realized he’d grown harder and more desperate since their Paris days. He was not the same man. She’d walked right into his trap, and she worried he wouldn’t let her escape this time.
She made herself smile at her captor. “Part of me almost wishes we could go back to the way we were. I wasn’t unhappy then.”
“But you are now.”
“I didn’t plan for this to happen, Armand.”
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “No one ever does. But we’re running out of time. I’ve been protecting you up until now, Bridget. You need to understand I’m not the person who wants the necklace so badly. Another person is pulling the strings and if we don’t do as he asks, I can’t assure your safety or the safety of people close to you.”
“What are you talking about? I thought this was another one of your outrageous heists?”
“
Mais, non
. I have too much to lose to take chances anymore. No, the person who has coerced me into replicating the necklace is desperate. If I don’t deliver, he will tell the police exactly what I’ve done and who helped me. Please believe me, he will go to great lengths to get what he wants.”
Of course. It made sense now. Armand may have used her for his own ends years ago, but he’d never endangered her life. With a trembling hand, she picked up the file she’d been using when he’d walked in. “I’ll try harder,” she whispered. “I won’t disappoint you.”
He kissed her cheek. “I know you won’t.”
***
Two days later, Bridget sat on an old, upturned wooden box that she’d set in the open doorway of the barn and watched Armand and his man, Cyrus, drive away. She fidgeted with the Koil Kutter in her hand. Usually he told her how long he’d be away, but after their tense discussion a couple of days ago, he’d kept his distance from her.
She wiped away the sweat that trickled down her face. Most days a breeze kept the heat at bay, but today was the hottest it had been all month, and there wasn’t a lick of wind. Maybe later, Louis, who’d been left behind to watch her, would agree to go to the river half a mile out back of the farm so she could swim. Louis hated everything about the countryside. If he could have stayed inside the house all day and still do his job, he would.
She got up and dragged herself back to the worktable. It wasn’t a good idea to go swimming, anyway. The way Louis looked at her sometimes made her nervous. Not that she thought he’d do anything inappropriate; Armand wouldn’t tolerate it.
Too bad Armand hadn’t stopped to see her before he’d left. She’d accomplished more today than she had the past week. He’d be pleased with her.
***
Rafe slung his knapsack on his back and unlocked his bicycle. He hopped on and headed toward home, feeling as light and free as a kid let out of school. In the last month his life had become both more complicated and more simple. Simple because he knew what he wanted now and could see clearly exactly where he wanted to go.
And more complicated because he couldn’t find Bridget. After banging his head against the wall for the first two weeks of her disappearance, he’d realized she’d cut ties with him completely, and he wouldn’t find her unless she wanted him to. At first he’d thought he’d go crazy. Then he’d gotten mad, but good things had started happening in his life. Now he tried not to think too much about her. He was learning to let go.
He stopped at a red light. Still a lousy liar. What did he think? If he kept telling himself he didn’t care, his feelings for Bridget would evaporate? He didn’t even know if she was alive, for chrissake. That thought alone kept him up most nights, and it was during those long sleepless nights his anger built. Surely, she could trust him enough to let him know she was okay. She didn’t have to face Armand by herself. He would have helped her if she’d let him.
Why Bridget? Out of all the women he’d met, what was it about her in particular that intrigued him? That he couldn’t walk away from the relationship, like he had with so many other women, drove him nuts. She was all wrong for him. His head was full of plans for building a house, and with Sophie pregnant, he’d even started thinking maybe it was time to settle down and start a family. He even knew what he wanted to do for work.
For his community service sentence, they’d sent him to an after-school center to teach kids how to draw which had turned out to be a blast. Although he’d served his time, he planned to continue volunteering there. He’d discovered he loved working with kids.
The light turned green, and he continued through the intersection, thinking about the final designs he’d just received for his house. He planned to use the bottom floor as a studio to give art lessons to kids.
Where the hell did Bridget fit into all that?
When his phone chirped the special ring he’d set for Sophie’s calls, he rode up on the sidewalk and braked. She was eight months and counting now, and he considered himself on call until the baby arrived. Gage planned to take the next month off, but he still had a week to go. Until he was free, Rafe was keeping his schedule open. If Sophie needed him, he’d be there.
“Hey, how’s Ichabod?”
There was a pause, then a man started talking. “Do you know who I am?”
His heart racing, Rafe checked the number. It was Sophie and Gage’s landline.
“No.” But he did.
“Uh, huh. Bridget said you were a terrible liar. Listen to me carefully. Your sister is fine and will remain so if you do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand so far?”
“Where’s Sophie? I want to talk to her.”
“She’s at a baby shower. I imagine she mentioned it to you.”
Rafe looked around wildly. Everyone was acting normal, like the bottom of the world hadn’t just come unhinged.
“Rafe. Pay attention.”
“Baby shower. Yeah. She said something about it. She’s about to have a baby, for God’s sake. Leave her alone.”
“I’m not interested in your sister except as a means to an end. Do you see the black SUV parked three cars ahead of you?”
He craned his neck. “Yes. Where’s Bridget?”
“Put your bike in the back of the SUV and get in the front passenger seat. According to Sophie’s calendar, the shower is almost finished. I’m not leaving here until you do as I say.”
Rafe shoved his bike toward the SUV. “I swear to God, I’m going to rip you apart limb by limb if you hurt either Sophie or Bridget.”
“I believe the baby shower was just down the street, wasn’t it? Your sister should be arriving home any minute.”
Rafe jerked open the back door of the black vehicle. The man in the driver’s seat didn’t turn around as he crammed his bike into the back. He could hear Armand’s voice on the phone, but he ignored him until he climbed into the front seat and slammed the door shut.
The driver still didn’t look at him as Rafe spoke into the phone. “Now what?”
“Now I get out of here and just in time. Your sister looks like she’ll have her baby any day now. Sit back and relax, Pascotto. And do up your seat belt. We don’t want to attract any cops.”
Armand hung up. Rafe gripped his phone so tight, it was a wonder it didn’t snap in two. He slid a sideways glance at the bruiser of a guy who was driving as they pulled out into traffic. He looked like the kind of guy who’d worked as a bouncer most of his life. Would he notice if Rafe punched in Gage’s number?
He laid his phone on the seat beside him, out of sight.
“Hey,” the driver grunted.
Rafe automatically looked over. He didn’t see the fist coming at him. He felt his phone slip out of his hand as a wave of black engulfed him.
***
Bridget looked up from the seemingly endless task of making more jump ring connectors that she’d gone back to after supper and listened to a vehicle drive into the yard. She put down the two sets of pliers and wandered over to the open barn doors to look. She knew it was Armand and Cyrus returning after being gone for two days because she recognized the sound of the SUV. No one else had come to the farm the entire time she’d been here. Yet each time Armand drove into the yard, she couldn’t ignore the flicker of hope that Rafe, or even Gage, had found her.