Falcon's Angel (25 page)

But he didn’t tell Darien any of this. Darien still wanted to do things by the book.

He’d thrown out that book a long time ago.

“It’s not like anybody is going to miss him.”

“Just tell me one thing…was Roman Cardiff involved in this?”

“Are you going to throw my father-in-law in jail? That’s what you really want, right? Someone to pay for the Stradivarius missing all these years?”

Darien leaned his elbow patches on the desk, his brown eyes intense. “I thought that’s what you wanted, to solve this thing.”

Falcon picked up a map of drug houses in the Spanish Quarter. “We solved it. Ruggiero’s going to die in a cell. Luciano is in the English Channel.”

“Not all of him is in the English Channel.”

He glanced over the top of the map. “They found some of him?”

Darien pursed his lips and gave a curt nod.

“Hmm.” He went back to reading the map.

“Falcon,” Darien waited for him to look up from the grid before continuing. Darien’s head was tilted as it was when he was cross-examining a witness he considered a half-wit. “We don’t have all the answers yet. We don’t work like this.”

“We?”

Darien flung his hands up. “Before her, you didn’t work like this!”

Falcon chuckled. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing all these years, consulting my conscience before I kill? I don’t have one, my friend. What was it you called me? An assassin?”

Darien went pale. “This anger, it’s not like you. It’s dangerous.”

Falcon put down the street grid. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“All right. It’s going to take the rest of my life, but I’m going to hunt every last one of these fuckers down.”

“Why?”

Falcon leaned across the desk and said quietly, “One day, I hope you will know.”

“And what will your fiancée do while you are on this killing spree?”

That’s what Falcon didn’t know. Damn, he couldn’t have it both ways. But he couldn’t just go on a honeymoon with his bride knowing
il Dragone
was out there. If he did, he and Angel wouldn’t live happily ever after.

Darien sighed, and stood up. “I guess this means you’re not ready to go back to New York.”

“I’m going to Naples for a few days.”

Darien stared at him with Signor Tarcisio’s eyes, and Falcon was back in
il Dragone
’s ceremonial chamber the night the Duke’s old friend Umberto was killed. Those eyes had pleaded with him not to fight. But he would die fighting.

Darien shook his head and walked to the door. “I’m leaving in a couple of hours. Can I trust you to not kill the better half of Europe before the wedding?”

“Will you be there?”

Darien stopped, but did not turn around. “Of course. Of course, I am coming to the wedding.”

Chapter Sixteen

Falcon paid a visit to Ruggiero in prison but the old man wouldn’t tell him anything he could use in his fight against
il Dragone
. Ruggiero just stared him down.

However, Falcon got lucky in the Spanish Quarter. Not only had he hit Naples, but a thorough search of the formerly corrupt and now dead policeman’s apartment yielded information that led him back to Forlì, and beyond.

He walked with a briefcase full of his collection of
il Dragone
rings, earrings and anklets, not wanting to leave it in the hotel room for any interested parties. He’d lost count of how many members of
il Dragone
he’d hunted and killed, but his system was almost fool-proof now. Relieve them of
il Dragone’s
symbols and they couldn’t scale church walls or disappear into darkness. They were helpless earth-bound devils without the symbols that contained their master’s blood.

After a productive trip to Palermo, he’d killed enough and gathered sufficient information for his next outing, which would have to wait until after the honeymoon.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but he wanted to see for himself that the fire dragon was gone, banished to hell, and that it stayed there. The rubble was just the way they’d left it two months ago, as if no one wanted to go near the place. The fertile ground was cool this early December.

Falcon had a fire going in no time.

Who would guess that hell’s gates had been open on this farmland for centuries? he thought, as the suitcase filled with jewelry burned.

Falcon made it to England with one week to spare before the wedding.

The women were mad at him for staying away so long, but what he’d accomplished in three weeks was worth it.

The only way Angel would meet him in the Wilton room was if he agreed to hand over his cell until after the wedding. He’d thought it was that simple. He even handed over his laptop, but the moment Amelie and his mother left them to supervise the setup of decorations, Angel stopped talking to him.

Technically, she hadn’t been talking to him, but had been engaged in the wedding discussion that ended when their mothers had left the room. Now, she was untouchable in a dark tube dress that molded to her sweet body. Her fork traced circles in the wild rice.

He decided to stick with a topic she couldn’t ignore. “So much for just friends and family,” he commented, looking over the guest lists.

“They are friends and family. Zia Delfina says some of them are coming because they haven’t seen you in so long they don’t believe you’re still alive. They want to see for themselves.” Angel looked pointedly at him. “You’ll have to spend some time with them.”

He looked at the lists again and saw some names he recognized, but most he couldn’t even guess. “Bene. One big, happy family.”

Angel was pushing around what must be an interesting tidbit on her plate.

He put his fork down and covered her hand with his. “One kiss. I promise it will make you feel better.”

Angel slid her hand from underneath his. “Where were you?”

“Just working, baby.”

“You won’t tell me, will you?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“It can’t be this way. I need to know where you are. You said you would call, you promised.”

“I did, but you were on a shopping trip in London.”

“You could have called my cell.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your week.” He lifted her chin so that she met his eyes. “I didn’t have anything good to say.” Now there was understanding in her eyes, and something else. She was thinking about how he’d left her all those years ago. “Hey, stop thinking so much.”

She pulled away to spear some roast chicken, but did not bring the fork to her lips.

“I’m sorry, Angel. When I’m … working, I get focused on … the work, and…”

How do you explain the killing mind?
He didn’t want to explain it to her. She was still a virgin when it came to these things and he wanted her to stay that way.

Falcon drew her to him because he needed that kiss more than she did now.

Angel pulled him by the collar to close the distance.
She must need it, too.

“Todd, is that you?”

Angel blinked and stood up before he could taste her lips. They both turned to the doorway.

Miles came into the room, pulling a petite brunette in behind him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the brunette said, but she sure didn’t look it.

“May I introduce Tara Crawford?”

“Tara,” Falcon stared at the woman dressed in tennis whites. She smiled and came forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Miles looked from Falcon to Tara. “Do you two know each other?”

“We met in New York.” Falcon caught Angel’s eye.

“It’s been too long, Todd.” Tara moved back to Miles, who put an arm around her. “How have you been?”

“But he’s…“ Miles began.

“Todd is family, Tara. What a wonderful coincidence that you know Todd.” Angel gave her brother a quelling look.

Miles closed his mouth.

Falcon was grateful for Angel’s quick thinking. She would never forget Todd, his New York identity and the night she’d tried to maim him with passports. It stood to reason that if Tara thought he was Todd, there must be something wrong about her. However, Angel’s next words made him stiffen.

“How
do
you two know each other?”

“We met at a party.” Tara idly rubbed Miles’s arm. “I lived in the city for a while, but I moved on.” She gave Angel an assessing look before her big brown eyes moved back to Falcon in silent question.

Tara had cut her dark brown hair shoulder length, probably so that it didn’t detract from that body busting out of the tennis whites. With her, every move, every outfit, was more about revealing than concealing.

She hadn’t revealed their affair. He had no idea whether that was for Angel’s or Miles’s benefit. This woman who called herself Tara needn’t have bothered with the pretense. Although he dreaded another confrontation with his hot-tempered bride-to-be, he would have to tell her about the affair. But neither she nor Miles would understand.

Civilians had no idea the lengths special agents and their prey went to in this industry of crime and retribution.

It was clear that Tara didn’t have a clue he had been about to bring her in six months ago. Yes, the smile on her face contained no fear of exposure and it told him that she had not escaped in New York, but had just moved on to the next job.

Falcon felt grim satisfaction that he’d finally found her, but the timing couldn’t be worse. The location was not only regretful, but also suspicious.

How close had the jewel thief gotten to the heir of Cardiff Jewels?

Miles cleared his throat. “Tara is a stock broker.”

“Are you still with the firm on Wall Street?” Tara’s eyes slide once more to Angel.

“No, I’ve moved on also,” Falcon said.

Angel sat back down in her chair with arms folded. She remained silent, but there was a fight brewing in her golden eyes.

Oh yeah, this is going to be a problem.
He’d have to deal with it later. Right now, he needed to find out how far Tara had gotten with Miles.

He met a similar pair of emerald eyes in which the light of recognition finally dawned. “How did you two meet?”

“We met in Aspen a few months ago.” Miles’s words no longer held his signature jaunt, but carefully worded as if the Cardiff heir were giving a speech in his father’s boardroom. “Tara loves to ski as much as I do. We found ourselves on the same team.” He looked to Angel, before adding, “I’ve got a great idea. We were going out to dinner tonight, but Cook is preparing a special meal for, ah, Todd’s return to the fold, so we’re postponing until tomorrow night. Why don’t you two join us for the only private dinner we’ll be allowed before the crowds arrive?”

“I don’t think…” Angel began.

“We’ll be happy to join you tomorrow night,” Falcon responded with the only answer that suited his new agenda. It wasn’t necessary to look at Angel; he could feel her stony gaze burning a hole through his head.

“Wonderful! Sacha, we’ll have to be sure and not tire ourselves out too much before dinner tomorrow,” Tara said.

“Right,” Angel murmured.

“What have you girls got planned?” he asked.

“Sacha has offered to show me the great Cardiff estate on horseback,” Tara said. “We may even go swimming in the River Wharfe.” She winked at Angel. “I’ll let you borrow one of my naughty swimsuits, give the men something to ogle!”

“Men? At the Wharfe?” Angel frowned, and then shot Tara a sage glance. “I have lots of naughty swimsuits.”

Tara didn’t look convinced. “You can borrow one of mine. I need you looking sinful out there, sweetheart.”

Angel crossed her legs, exposing more of that vanilla skin Falcon hadn’t touched in three weeks.

Miles chuckled. Falcon refused to look at him.

“Well, I’ll need to freshen up.” Tara tongued Miles while Falcon and a simmering Angel looked on. She gave them a brilliant smile before sashaying out the door.

Falcon sighed heavily.

“In the library.” Miles led the way.

Falcon leaned against the fireplace’s marble mantle, waiting for Angel to sit down.

Miles, however, couldn’t wait. “Now then, the only business you have in New York City is undercover work, unless you’re taking over the restaurant business, and I know you’d never do that. I can only assume that my girlfriend had something to do with an investigation.”

“The only Tara Crawford with a social security number matching her description in New York died five years ago in a car accident. We don’t know her real name.”

“What has she done?” Miles asked.

“She’s hit several museums in New York. We have evidence that she was in California before that. She has eluded the Organization for some time now. She’s a thief and she’s known as the Jeweler.”

Miles shook his head in disgust. “She’s been here for two days now.”

“Has she been with you the whole time?”

“Just about, except in the bath.”

“What has she learned in those two days?” he asked.

“Nothing really. She had some questions about the Sacha Collection.”

Falcon looked at Angel and she explained. “My father launched a new line in honor of my twenty-first birthday. Tara asked to see my bangle. It’s the first piece from the collection, one of a kind and set with canary yellow diamonds.”

“You wore it that day with the gold skirt.” His eyes slid down her body with the memory. When their eyes met again, the day he’d taken her against the apartment door was in her eyes.

She looked away. “I showed her the bangle.”

“What day with the gold skirt?” Miles was grinning.

Falcon sat in a wingback chair because if he didn’t, he was going to pick Angel up and take her to his bed. The last weekend before the wedding, possibly the only opportunity he was going to get to touch her before they were each held hostage by their respective families.

“Tara’s vanity won’t allow her to leave without the bangle, and it won’t be the only thing she’ll take. She knows about the vault. That’s why she’s here.”

“Miles, you must tell her to leave.”

“No, Angel. She needs to stay here where we can watch her. Miles, I’ve got a plan. It would help if you would go on as before. We don’t want her getting nervous.”

“Pity,” Miles muttered. “She has a set of knockers on her that could provide nourishment for an entire third world nation.”

“She hasn’t got anything over Angel,” Falcon countered.

“Excuse me, I’m sitting right here.” Angel glared at him.

Falcon cleared his throat and got his brain out of Angel’s bodice. “Here’s what we’re going to do…”

“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Angel’s blunt question wiped the grin off her brother’s face.

Falcon took a deep breath. “It was business.”

“Business? That seems to be a recurring theme with you, doesn’t it?” Angel gritted out. “I knew it!”

Miles paced the floor. “You slept with my girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t your girlfriend when I slept with her. Now, calm down. We’re going to have a rational conversation about this.”

“Will that rational conversation include your reason for sleeping with a suspect? My girlfriend?”

“She’s not your girlfriend, she’s a jewel thief! Miles, I don’t want this to end with the two of us going after each other. You’re family.”

Right now, his family was exchanging smirks, but they kept silent.

“We’re talking about a calculating criminal. Everything she does is for a reason.” Falcon turned to Angel. “It is my job to bring her in to headquarters by any means necessary. Very often those means dictate themselves, and you act on the natural order of enfolding events.”

Angel stood upright in fury. “Natural order? I’m sorry, do you mean to say that your tactics take a deviant turn when a woman is involved? Rather like that of a bloodhound in the hunt, isn’t it? No wonder you love your work!”

“Now hold on just a minute, she came on to me! And it fit the plan. I was able to watch her.”

“In your New York apartment?” Angel sneered.

“You lived with my girlfriend?” Miles had to ask.

“Miles, she’s the Jeweler. And I only lived with her a couple of weeks. I was building a case against her. One day I came home and she was gone. I thought she had found me out, but I see now that she just went on to the next mark.”

Miles finally seemed to be aware of the real issue at hand. He went over to the side bar and poured a shot of bourbon. He held it out to Falcon.

Falcon shook his head. “I think better sober.”

Not even glancing at Angel, Miles downed the drink in one gulp.

Angel rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Muddy, I don’t like bourbon anyway. And no, my nerves are not perfectly shot, either.”

Ignoring Angel, Miles sat down next to her on the sofa and looked at Falcon. “What do you have in mind?”

“What has she told you?”

“She graduated from USC and moved to New York a few years ago. She has a flat in London.”

“Convenient.” Falcon nodded. “She’s still masquerading as a stock broker. Have you been to her office?”