In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (19 page)

Chapter Eleven

Rafe rolled over and looked at the faded purple flowers on the beige wallpaper. Sun needled in between the partially opened blinds and a toilet flushed on the other side of the paper-thin wall. He gingerly slid his fingertips over his pulsating nose. He wasn’t going to get lucky with a clean break. Which meant he’d look like one of those guys who were always getting into fights.

Great. And he wanted to work with kids.

Halfway out of bed, he stopped and listened to Bridget throw up in the bathroom. He’d been too rough on her last night. Christ, he was an idiot. He’d been scared and relieved at the same time. No matter how cool the man tried to act, Rafe could smell Armand’s desperation. And the two hired guns were downright scary. They all wanted to get the hell out of here, and the only way for that to happen was for Bridget to finish the necklace.

How had she lasted this long? As pissed off as he was for getting sucked into the whole ordeal and having Sophie threatened, he had to admire her guts. Bridget was amazing to handle the kind of pressure she was under and still manage to stand up to Armand.

She was also sick as a dog, by the sound of it. He dragged on his jeans and T-shirt. Probably nerves. She had to deal with Armand, the two guns, and now him. And they were all pissed at her.

He rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

“Of course. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Of course? Who had been the last person to look after her? Armand because he’d wanted the other necklace? It made him sick to think of how the scumbag had slithered into her life when she had been seventeen to take advantage of her.

Unlike him, of course. All he’d wanted was to lure her back to the States so the FBI could investigate her. As though she would have fallen for his story about the sapphires. Except the sapphires were real. How had Gage known that that particular necklace would interest so many people? The research he’d done indicated no one had worn the necklace for over fifty years, but had hinted that the foundation that owned it was considering “renting” it out.

He opened the trailer door and looked out at the dusty farmyard. He’d been ready to use Bridget, too, because the truth was, he’d been thrilled when Gage had asked for his help. Yeah, he and Gage butted heads, but he admired the man, because Gage knew what he wanted, and whether he was right or wrong, he had strong beliefs. His brother-in-law lived in a black-and-white world. To Rafe, who stumbled around the nebulous gray area of uncertainty more often than not, that certainty looked damned appealing sometimes.

So when Gage said,
Interest
Bridget O’Neill in the sapphires
, with the purpose of enticing her back to the States, Rafe had been eager to prove to his brother-in-law that he, too, could be righteous, whether Bridget was guilty or not. The reason it was so important to impress Gage was something he wasn’t ready to look at just yet. He suspected it was all tangled up with his feelings about his absent father, and, man, there was a cesspool he wasn’t ever going to wade into.

He’d messed up royally anyway, and now the best he could do was get them out of here alive, then leave Bridget alone.

He turned when he heard movement behind him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The harsh morning sunlight showed him what he’d missed last night. There were new lines engraved in Bridget’s chalk-white face, and her hazel eyes looked twice the size they usually did. She was scarecrow thin, her clothes hanging on her like hand-me-downs from a bigger sister.

“I’ll be fine after I eat.”

“We have to go to the house?”

“Afraid so. Armand’s actually a good cook.”

You couldn’t tell by looking at her. “Give me a sec to clean up.”

He found a new toothbrush and a razor in the bathroom and washed his face and brushed his teeth. Maybe later he’d take a shower. Or better yet, ask to go for a swim in the river Bridget had mentioned. He needed to see the lay of the land for himself to understand what they were up against.

Not able to sleep last night, he’d spent an hour studying the necklace design and had found what one of Bridget’s problems was. She’d reversed the design in one small section of the necklace. He stopped in the act of finger-combing his hair. Had she reversed the design on purpose? She was brilliant—and devious enough—to come up with an idea like that.

He’d also spent a good long time reviewing their possibilities for escape. There were precious few, which, in a weird way, reassured him. If it had been easy to leave, what would that have said about Bridget? Maybe she was telling the truth for once when she said she distrusted Armand.

Armand was busy making toast when they entered the old farmhouse kitchen. He took a minute to check out Bridget before turning back to the toaster. “There are scrambled eggs.” He tilted his head toward the stove. “And ham. Coffee or tea. Help yourself.”

Rafe waited to load his plate until Bridget had spooned a small amount of eggs on her plate and two pieces of toast. After she poured a coffee for both of them, she sat at the table, looking determined as she stared at her plate. Her nerves must still have been bothering her.

“Did you sleep well?” Armand brought his coffee to the table and sat.

“Okay.” Bridget pushed her eggs around her plate.

“And you, Rafe?”

“Enough, given the circumstances.”

“So today you will make progress, eh,
mon petit
?”

Bridget smiled wanly. “I hope so.”

“For that you must eat. I had hoped having your lover here would improve your appetite.”

Rafe’s mouthful of eggs turned to sawdust. Had Armand really brought him here to make things easier for Bridget? Or did the threat of hurting people she cared about feel more threatening with him sitting across the table?

“I don’t work well under pressure, Armand.”

“I disagree. You accomplished a lot yesterday.”

She bit into her toast and washed it down with a mouthful of coffee. Rafe watched her repeat the process over and over until she’d eaten both pieces of toast. It was like watching someone being force-fed, except she was forcing herself. He was sure she hadn’t tasted a bite of the delicious, homemade seven-grain bread. At least she was eating.

He glanced across the table to catch a satisfied look on Armand’s face as she swallowed the last bite. At least they had that much in common. Both wanted her to eat. Rafe got up and took his empty plate to the sink, not wanting to think of what else he and Armand had in common. The Frenchman had cared about Bridget once, hadn’t he?

“I imagine Bridget has told you not to leave the farm. What she doesn’t know is both Cyrus and Louis are sharpshooters. You may not be able to see them, but rest assured they can see you. I wouldn’t want any…unfortunate accidents to happen.”

Until he was ready to kill them.

“May I use the washroom?” Might as well check out the house, although he already knew there was nothing to see. With Bridget living in the house, Armand wouldn’t have left anything lying around that she could use as a weapon or means of escape. Like a cell phone. He wondered what Cyrus had done with his. Was it still on the floor of the SUV?

“But of course.” Armand smiled broadly. “It’s at the top of the stairs. Come.” Armand turned to Bridget. “I will walk you out to the workshop.”

When Rafe hesitated, Armand waved him on. “Just to the workshop. She will be fine.”

The bastard had probably bugged the trailer and listened to their conversation last night. They had talked about sticking together, and Armand was sweeping her away from him at the first opportunity to prove to Rafe who held the upper hand.

Okay. He’d been off balance because of everything that had happened yesterday. But he had both feet on the ground now, and it was time to change the rules of the game.

***

Armand took her elbow and propelled her toward the trailer. “Does he know?’

“Does who know what?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. Does Lover Boy know you’re pregnant?”

Hell
. She’d worked so hard at hiding the truth, she’d almost convinced herself it wasn’t true. “No.”

“Is it his?”

“Yes.” She pulled her arm away.

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I wasn’t planning to. He’s not exactly happy with me right now. Why did you have to threaten Sophie? Are you insane? I don’t understand you anymore, Armand. Who is this person who has such power over you?”

His face went blank. “I need the necklace. That’s all you need to know. I can help get rid of it if you like.”

“Get rid of what?”

“The baby.”

She stepped back and covered her stomach with her hands. “Go to hell.”

“You need to think about this, Bridget. The necklace must be finished, and your health is interfering with that. Plus, what kind of life can you offer a child? I say this as your friend. You have a past that will haunt you your entire life. It’s already caught up to you. For the sake of the child, you must give it more thought. And how much longer will it be before Pascotto realizes you’re pregnant?”

His look of pity knifed through her. “Think of how he will react,” he went on. “He’ll feel guilty, because that’s the kind of man he is. Is that what you want? The man you love feeling sorry for you and obliged to stay with you?”

She turned her back to him, tears stinging her eyes. Everything he said was true. She knew she didn’t deserve a child, but regardless, she was going to have this one. And she was going to give it the best life she could. Because she already loved the new life growing inside her. As for Rafe, in her heart she’d known from the beginning she couldn’t have him.

“Leave me alone. I’ll finish your damned necklace.”

She escaped into the trailer and slammed the door in Armand’s face. Their relationship was deteriorating fast, and that was a dangerous direction to go in. She covered her face with trembling hands. She had to hold it together, be smarter. Fighting with Armand was only going to make things worse, not better.

Yes, he was a pig for saying she didn’t deserve to have a child. She knew she wasn’t worthy, but the minute, no, the second, she’d realized she was pregnant, a tiny glow had flared to life inside her, and it grew with each day. She was going to survive the mess she was in, and she was going to have this child. And no one,
no one
, was going to get in her way.

She jumped when Rafe jerked the door open.

“Are you okay?” He stood in the open doorway.

“I just came in to get the necklace and design.” She picked them up and shivered as she eased past him, his bare arm brushing against hers. “Why do you think Armand didn’t take them last night like he usually does?”

He followed her to the barn. “I can’t second-guess Armand. That kind of person is alien to me.”

Alien to him
. What an accurate choice of words. Although she’d never stolen anything, she understood Armand. He wasn’t alien to her, not in the way he was to Rafe.

She laid the papers on the worktable and forced herself to concentrate on the design.

“I want to show you what I found last night.” Rafe chose two sheets from the file and lined them up side by side. The sun had bleached the hair on his arms a rich gold, and she curled her hands in on themselves to stop herself from reaching out and running her fingers over his rough hair and solid muscles.

“Irish. Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry. What did you say?”

“Tell me what you see.”

She tore her gaze away from his arms and stared at the designs. “Um…I’m sorry. What am I supposed to be looking for?”

He stepped closer until he was looking over her shoulder. She inhaled deeply. Why did he always smell like sunlight?

“Look here.” He reached around her and pointed at the upper section of the first sheet, his voice brushing against her ear. “Then look here.” He pointed at the second sheet, same section.

He’d found the trap she’d laid for Armand. If he had found it that easily, had Armand also discovered her trap? Although he took the designs with him every night, she’d assumed he hadn’t studied them, except in the beginning.

“It’s that obvious?”

“So you did it on purpose?”