A Touch of Minx (27 page)

"I think I do," she interrupted, uncomfortable with and unused to gratitude from a client or a mark. When she re-located something it was always a monetary transaction. And besides, Stoney was usually the one who dealt with the contractor. Half the time she didn't know who she was working for, though after what she'd seen at Toombs's house, that had clearly been a mistake. "My finder's fee for this job is sixty grand."

"I'll get a check out to you as soon as I see the armor tomorrow morning."

"It's nice doing business with you, Joseph," she said, sitting back.

Viscanti laughed, giddiness and relief in the sound. "Oh, you'll be doing business with me again, Sam. And not just me. We curators are small in number, but you'd be surprised how many people try to liberate items from museums."

Not really. "Okay," she said aloud, grinning. "Call me when it gets there, will you? I feel kind of protective of the old shogun."

"You and me both. Thank you so much, Sam."

"You're welcome. I'll talk to you on Monday."

She flipped the phone closed, blowing out her breath. That was the score she'd needed, the one to start her art retrieval going. She'd done it.

"So does it feel good to be a good guy?" Rick asked from the doorway.

He'd put on gray dress slacks and a lighter gray shirt, his gray and rose silk tie hanging untied around his neck. "Yes, it does," she answered truthfully, standing and making her way around the table toward him. "Being bad pays better, but I think I could get used to this."

"Speaking on behalf of property owners everywhere, I am glad to hear you say that." He held out his hand. "Come here."

Grinning, Samantha walked up to him, relishing the way he twisted his fist into her shirt and pulled her up against him, the passion in his kiss and the way it made her toes curl.

"You know," she murmured, when he gave her a second to breathe, "I think you have all the makings of an adrenaline junkie. You're having a little trouble coming down from our little job, aren't you?"

Rick shook his head. "I'm having a big problem. And I know just how to solve it." Kissing her again, he shifted his grip to slide his hands up under her shirt, up beneath her bra, to caress her breasts. "You feel good."

"So do you." She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his very capable hands on her bare skin. "Rick, stop."

"No."

"Yes, stop." She pushed his hands down. "We have a dinner date that we can't be late for."

"Oh, yes. That." He kissed her again, trailing his mouth down her throat.

Christ. "Did you clear Stoney to get in here so he can pack the armor up?"

"Yes, I did. Louie and Reinaldo both know he's coming. They'll even feed him if he wants to eat. And I let my pilot know he'll be flying a crate to New York. All the details are worked out."

"Cool."

"So can we fool around now?"

She snorted, shoving at his shoulders again. "Later. I have to get dressed."

He kissed her once more. "I'm going to hold you to that. Three B and E's in two days, and no sex. I could be damaged."

Abruptly she realized what he was doing. "I'm okay about dinner with Toombs, you know," she said, taking the ends of his tie and knotting it for him. "You don't have to distract me. I'm a big girl."

"Maybe I'm distracting me," he commented, running a finger down her arm. "John Stillwell will be back here at the end of the week. I'm going to put him to work doing a little research."

"Your chief assistant doing research. Could it be on Toombs's businesses? He might have mob connections, you know."

"What I know is that he won't be taking any more photos of you." His voice lowered, shaking a little at the end. "You have your things you need to take care of, and I have mine."

"Rick—"

"You'd best hurry," he said, backing out of the doorway and checking his watch. "We need to leave in about twenty minutes."

For the moment she let it go. Truthfully, the idea of Toombs continuing to stalk her didn't sit well at all. Especially when he'd been doing it for nearly a year on and off, and she'd only realized it over the past week or two. Having Rick destroy him because he'd taken photos of her… She'd have to think about that one.

She decided to wear pants, just in case somebody recognized them and they needed to run for it, undignified as that would be for Rick and Aubrey. If she'd figured it right, the housekeeper would no longer be employed there, and she was the only one who'd gotten a good look at them. Tough for the housekeeper, yeah, but it also served her right for letting strangers into a house that didn't belong to her without any outside verification that they had actual business there.

Rick drove the Jaguar. She must not have looked as col-lected as she was aiming for, because he actually reached over to take her hand for part of the drive. She would have shrugged him off, except it was kind of endearing.

As they reached the Picaults' house and climbed out of the car, Samantha took his arm. "Just remember that you've never been in here before," she murmured, noting that Aubrey and Toombs—driving his damn black Miata—had already arrived. She smiled as Yvette pulled open the front door herself. No housekeeper, apparently.

"Good evening, Rick, Samantha," she said.

"Good evening," Rick returned. " How was your bike ride?"

"Very nice. Thank you for asking. Please come in. I'm afraid we're a little ragged tonight; August had to fire our housekeeper."

Yep, they knew the armor was missing. "I'm sorry to hear that," she replied, as they walked through the foyer and down the hallway to the parlor. "It seems like so many people come here for the sun, and not to do the work they hire out for."

"Yes, exactly."

Aubrey and Wild Bill both stood as they entered the parlor. "Hello gentlemen," Rick said, moving between her and Toombs to shake hands, while she settled for nodding.

Their demeanor clearly unsettled, August and Yvette conducted a tour of the house, showing off their collection of Japanese antiquities. By now Samantha had already seen most of it, but nobody knew she'd been on the second floor except maybe for Katie Donner—and neither of them was talking about that.

She pretended to be interested in the Hina dolls, and pretended that she didn't notice every time Toombs looked over at her, which seemed to be at least twice a minute.

Rick never left her side, and with Aubrey guarding the rear she felt kind of like Fort Knox. Amazingly enough, the basement wasn't part of the tour, which made her think that the other six sets of armor were probably there illegally, too. They weren't her concern, though, unless some other institution hired her to recover them.

Except for creepy Tombs and Rick nearly suffocating her, the evening was… dull. Boring. Normal. Yes, the Picaults were obviously frazzled, but they'd stated it was because they'd had to fire the housekeeper, and none of the rest of them were going to contradict that. So they all made small talk and ate dinner and said admiring things about the collection, and called it a night.

"I never thought thieves would be so dull," Rick said once they were back in the Jag and heading home. "Especially after meeting you."

"Yeah, well, you met me first, and I've just spoiled you for everything else. It's like having Claim Jumper eclairs. Nobody else's ever measure up after you've had one."

"You're an odd bird, Sam."

She grinned. "Well, this odd bird is sleeping in tomorrow. I am done for the week."

"After the sex, you can sleep in. I wasn't kidding about that."

"Sex with you is my eclair. I'm not passing that up."

Monday, 9:44 a.m.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Samantha grum-bled, burying her head under her pillow.

It didn't keep her from hearing Rick laughing at her. "You didn't really think that whole sleeping-in thing through, did you?" The bed settled as he sat down on the edge of it.

"You're the one who made me start work on the damn garden." The table saw started up again down below. "What the hell are they doing?"

"I believe they're making the forms so they can pour the concrete garden borders."

"Make them stop."

"I might, if you hadn't given me the curly wig yesterday." His hand grasped her ankle through the blanket.

"You are an evil, evil man."

She heard him sigh. "Fine. I'll go have Reinaldo offer them some muffins and coffee. That should give you another half hour or so. I'll be in the office."

The bedroom door closed, and a couple of minutes later the saw whined to a stop. Finally. Readjusting her pillow, she snuggled into the blankets again.

The cell phone on her night stand rang. Growling, she threw off the covers and grabbed the phone. "Jellicoe," she snapped.

"Sam, it's here," Viscanti's happy voice came.

Rick was right. She hadn't thought the sleeping-late thing through, since she'd asked people to call her this morning. Stupid. "Good," she said aloud. "Everything intact?"

"Yes. I've already called Dr. Naruko with the new exhibit, and he's flying up from D.C. I think you may have put the Met over the top."

"I'm glad. You invite me for the opening, okay?"

"I certainly will. Bye."

"Bye."

Before she even set the phone back, it rang again. This time she looked at the caller ID. J. C. Thomas Elementary School. As she hit the talk button, she decided to put this entry into her things-she-never-thought-would-happenjour-nal. "Hello?"

"Miss Jellicoe?"

She recognized the voice. "Miss Barlow. Good morning."

"Good morning to you. I'm not even going to ask how you did it, but thank you so much for bringing Clark back here. The kids are just so excited. It's like… the good guys won one."

Wow. "My pleasure. I'm glad I could help"

"I hope you'll come on the day we present our science projects. You'd be our special guest."

"I'll see what I can do," she hedged, that panicky feeling welling up in her gut again. "Have Livia let me know when it is."

"I will. Have a good day, Miss Jellicoe."

Well, she wasn't going back to sleep now. Humming, she headed for the shower and then threw on a T-shirt and jeans and found the jacket she'd worn yesterday. Rick was in his office working on the computer when she knocked at the half-open door and walked in.

"You've cheered up quite a bit," he commented.

"Viscanti called to thank me, and then Livia's teacher called to thank me. I rule the world."

He grinned. "Well, Miss Ruler of the World, how would you like to go get some breakfast before the hammering and sawing starts again?"

"International House of Pancakes?"

"Just let me get my shoes."

While she waited for him, she wandered through part of his warrior hallway and over into the library to look down at the chaos she'd instigated. A dozen guys and half that many construction trucks were out there, scooping mounds of dirt out of the ground to reshape the pool, carefully potting the plants that needed to be removed for their relocation, cutting forms for the first concrete pour, doing the man thing with their thumbs in their belts as they surveyed the—

"Miss Sam, the—"

She turned around as Reinaldo tumbled into the room. Behind him, Wild Bill Toombs walked into the library and closed the door behind him, jamming a chair beneath the latch.

"'Good morning," he said, bowing.

Her heart lurched. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, striding over to check Reinaldo. He was out cold, but at least he was breathing. "And how did you get in here?"

The questions didn't matter all that much, especially when he produced a sheathed daitu sword from behind his back. They might slow him down a little, though, give her time to figure out what he intended to do, and give Rick time to realize Toombs was in the house.

"Your gate was open. You seem to be doing some garden landscaping."

"Yes, it was time for an upgrade. And hey, I know dinner last night was a little dull, but that wasn't my fault."

He nodded. "I think it was. I talked to August and Yvette last night, after you left. You wouldn't steal it for me, so who convinced you to take it?"

"What?"

"The Minamoto Yoritomo armor and swords. The first shogun. The statute of limitations expired three years ago. The same time I discovered you."

Toombs stepped farther into the room, and she backed away from Reinaldo. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you do. Don't insult me. You know I've been… studying you, because you pursued my car. I let you see it last night."

"Your car?"

"As I said, I've been studying you, Samantha Elizabeth Jellicoe. In our modern world, you are a samurai. You were a ronin, until I took the reins. Do you even know how many items I had you steal for me? I controlled where you went and what you did. And now when we finally meet face-to-face, I find that you've betrayed me."

Why were all the raving lunatics attracted to her? "I think you have the wrong gal," she said, holding out her hands, letting him know that she figured he was crazy. "Three years ago I was working for the Norton, doing art restoration work. And now I do security. You know that, Wild Bill."

"I could accept that you retired. I kept watch, just in case, and I knew that you'd been keeping up your warrior's regimen."

"Wild Bill, I don't know what's going on, but you're—"

"Don't lie to me," he hissed. "Samurai don't lie. Especially not to their masters."

"Okay, what do you want me to say, then?"

"I want you to tell me who you stole that armor for after you refused to deliver it to me."

"I didn't refuse to do anything, because you've never asked me to do anything—except visit your house for a tour, which I did."

He drew the daitu out of its scabbard and whirled it slowly in the air, letting the sun through the windows catch the razor-sharp blade. "After disappointing his shogun, a true, virtuous samurai would take his own life. Since your crime is betrayal, I assume I will have to assist you in committing sepiku."

"I am not fucking killing myself. And stay away from me with that."

Toombs lunged. Whipping backward, she avoided the blade. Samantha grabbed a stepstool, holding it in front of her like a shield. He tapped it with the blade, testing her for weaknesses. Dammit. With hand-to-hand and even the occasional knife fight she could hold her own, but where swordplay was concerned, she had a lot of weaknesses.

The door latch turned. "Samantha?"

"Rick! Toombs is in here with a sword!" she shrieked, diving sideways as he came at her again.

The solid oak thudded and inched forward, caught by the chair. It thudded again, harder.

"'Ill slice him in half," Toombs warned. "This is about us."

Samantha reached over for a book and threw it at his head. He ducked it. While he was off balance, she hurled the stepstool at his legs. Toombs went down onto one knee. Immediately she swept around, catching him in the side of the face with her foot.

He moved, too, twisting her ankle and shoving her down hard on her bottom. The blade sliced out, catching her across the thigh. She kicked out again, recoiling and scrambling backward. Fuck, that hurt, but she didn't take the time to see how badly she'd been cut.

The door and the chair splintered into the room. Richard dropped the thirty-pound iron mace he'd liberated from a German knight display and charged into the room, lifting one of his own swords as he did so. Reinaldo lay sprawled half beneath the work table. Across the room Samantha limped toward the window, throwing books at Toombs as she retreated. Blood trickled from a slice midway up her right thigh.

Toombs had hurt her. The fury that had been simmering inside him for the last two days erupted. Richard roared. "Toombs!" He swept forward.

Wild Bill swung around to meet him, Japanese daitu sword clanging against English saber. "This isn't about you," Toombs said, shoving out with his shoulder. "Stay out of it"

"You threaten her, it's about me," Richard shot back, elbowing him in the face and twisting out of the way as the daitu sliced through air. He hadn't dueled with a sword since his days at Oxford, but he didn't mean for this to be a fair fight. "Sam, get out!" he growled, slicing at Toombs's chest. Cut, parry, kick, punch—anything to move Toombs away from her.

The second she had the room to move, Samantha rushed forward and slammed a book across the back of Wild Bill's head. Toombs staggered, and she did it again. "You sick fuck,"she yelled, swinging again.

"Back off!"

Toombs went down onto his face. Samantha swept in again—and Toombs twisted, shoving the sword up. Red erupted from Samantha's side.

Richard's heart stopped. Time stopped. Everything went white and ice cold. Shoving with all his strength, Richard propelled his sword through Toombs's shoulder and into the bookcase behind him. With a high-pitched squeal, Wild Bill dropped the daitu and clutched at the pommel of the saber.

Richard ignored him. "God," he muttered over and over, falling onto his knees beside Samantha. "Sam, don't move. Don't move."

She pushed at him, gasping as she ran her own palms down her blood-soaked side. "It's not me," she rasped. "He missed."

"You're in shock. Don't—"

"No." Samantha grabbed his searching hands. "I'm okay."

"There's blood everywhere." His voice caught.

"Look." Freeing one of her red-streaked hands, she held up her jacket pocket. The sliver of a hole pierced it, and blood seeped through the opening to drip onto the floor. "It's that blood pack from yesterday. I'm okay. Really. I'm okay."

It took him a minute to absorb what she was saying. And then he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her against him. "Thank God," he breathed, holding her tightly to his chest and rocking. "You scared me to death."

"Me, too."

"What the hell were you thinking, charging a man holding a sword?"

"I was thinking he might hurt you," she returned, gripping his shoulders hard.

Toombs's whimpering began to sink back into his hearing, and Richard stood, lifting Samantha up in his arms and setting her on the work table to look at her leg. "Its not too bad," he said, relief now making his voice shake. "You'll need some stitches, I think."

"How's Reinaldo?"

"Ay," the housekeeper mumbled, rolling over and gripping the back of his head. "Ay ay ay, that hurt."

Richard pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed Frank Castillo's number.

"Castillo."

"Frank. It's Rick Addison."

"Funny you should call. I was just about to—"

"Frank, Gabriel Toombs is in my library, stuck to a bookcase with a sword. He tried to kill Samantha, and knocked out one of my people. I suggest you send someone to come and get him."

"Christ," the homicide detective muttered. "Is he alive?"

"For now. I need an ambulance for Samantha. He stabbed her."

"Holy—Is she alive?"

"If she wasn't, Toombs wouldn't be, either."

"I'll get some units rolling. Rick, where were you this morning?"

Richard frowned. "Samantha and I slept in. Why?"

"Because I've been listening in to some calls. The fire department's at Gabriel Toombs's house right now. Something about a second-story room going up. Since you and Sam were so interested in him, I can't help wondering if you know anything about it."

Richard glanced at Samantha, but she'd been in bed for longer than he had. "I can't say I'm sorry to hear it, but we had nothing to do with it."

"No, you're more the sword and bullet type. Don't kill anybody until I get there."

"Hurry."

Reinaldo staggered to his feet, and Richard helped him into a chair. Then he buzzed security on the intercom. A minute later two guards were in the library, looking from the door to Toombs to the wreck of the room. Wherever the hell they'd been earlier, he'd worry about later. "Watch him,"he said, and picked up Samantha again.

"I can walk," she protested as they left the library.

"I know. I'm feeling gallant." He brought her into one of the upstairs sitting rooms and lowered her onto the couch. Then he ripped off his shirt and wound it around her thigh "Better?"

"You just wanted an excuse to let me see your bare chest again," she returned, sounding as cool as she always did— except for the hand she kept wrapped around his arm.

"Frank said he was about to call us," he said, kissing her forehead. "Toombs is experiencing a second-story house fire at this very moment."