In Plain Sight (Stolen Hearts) (6 page)

Chapter Three

Bridget looked from sister to brother, then turned her attention to Sophie when she opened her eyes. She was, after all, married to that FBI jerk. As much as she instinctively liked Sophie, she couldn’t afford to let anything slip.

“What’s wrong?” Sophie’s eyes brightened.

Her heart pounding, Bridget dug deep and pulled up a smile. She gripped the stones in her hand as if her life depended on it. Hell, her life may well depend on keeping those damned stones out of sight. It was happening again. Only this time, she was the one being set-up, not Darcy. “Nothing. I just realized what time it is. I have to go.”

She desperately needed to change or borrow a sweater or something. If she went outside dressed like this, she’d attract attention. But she had to go.
Now
.

“I just need to…” She twirled her hand and hurried into the bathroom and locked the door.

Damn, damn, damn
. What was she supposed to do now? She blinked back tears as she slowly opened her hand and studied the intriguing assortment of amber stones. One had a small flower embedded into it. The necklace she could design with that.

Rafe pounded on the door. “Brid—Birdie, we need to talk. Now.”

The hell they did. She needed to get out of here, and she needed to dump the stones.
Here
. She’d hide them in Rafe’s apartment. Like he’d said about her earlier, no one would think to look for them here.

And she needed to borrow one of his jackets.

“Birdie. I said now.”

“Is something wrong, Rafe?” When Sophie called out to him from the living room, she heard Rafe move away from the door.

Okay, she’d rush into his bedroom, stash the stones in a pocket of a coat at the back of his closet and snatch another jacket to wear. Then leave. He couldn’t keep her here, could he? Not without causing a scene, and Sophie would ask questions neither of them wanted to answer.

When she heard Rafe talking to his sister in the living room, she yanked open the door, ran for his bedroom and closed the door and locked it.

She found an old Burberry coat at the back of his enormous closet and slipped the stones into an inside pocket. By the time she’d tossed his shirt on the bed, Rafe was at the bedroom door. She grabbed one of his suit jackets, slipped it on and pushed the sleeves up to her elbows. At the last minute, she grabbed a long, cotton scarf that had been tossed on the dresser and wound it around her throat.

Grabbing her shoes in one hand, she whipped open the door. Rafe almost fell into the room from the forward motion. She powered on past him into the living room and straight to the door. “Sorry, love. I’ve got to go. Just talked to my…agent. I completely forgot about a…thing I had tonight. Sophie.” She spared a fleeting smile for the small woman who was frowning at her. “Lovely to meet you.
Salut
.”

She managed to get out of the apartment before Rafe made it across the room. Giving up any pretext of acting normal, she sprinted for the stairs and raced down them at breakneck speed. Trust Pascotto to live on the seventh floor. When she got to the bottom, she lunged for the lobby and the front door.

Leaning against the front door, looking like he wanted to kill someone, Pascotto waited for her.

“So glad I caught up to you, darling. You forgot your purse,” he said for the benefit of the two people entering the building. Wrapping his hand around her arm, he dragged her into the small mailroom off to one side of the lobby and pushed her against the wall. He caged her in with his hands braced on either side of her head.

When she tried to duck under his arm, he pressed his body up against hers. She automatically brought her knee up, but he shifted sideways and blocked her thrust with his thigh. “Damn it, Irish. Would you lay off?”

She bent her head so he couldn’t see her tears. “Let me go.”

“You stole those gems.”

“Amber isn’t a gem,” she said, automatically.

“What?”

She peeked up at him. “It’s fossilized sap from prehistoric trees.”

A look of disbelief crossed Rafe’s face. “And?”

She shrugged. “Just saying, it’s not a gem. And I didn’t steal them. I didn’t even make it to the front of the room where the displays were.”

“So you say.”

“They have security cameras at all the shows. Get someone to check them.”

“Okay. If you didn’t steal them, who did?”

When he pulled back a fraction of an inch, the tightness in her chest eased. Another time and another place, she’d have welcomed the feel of his hard body pressed up against hers. When had her life deteriorated to the point that she had to lust after someone who didn’t even like her?

“It had to be Alphonse Donati. He’s the only person who got close enough to me to slip those stones into my evening bag.” She narrowed her eyes. “And you. I swear to God, if you’re working for Gage and you set me up, I will—”

Rafe covered her mouth with his. She jerked her knee up but halted when she heard a couple enter the room to check their mail. If she kneed Rafe the couple would probably help her escape, but then she wouldn’t know if he’d dumped those stones in her bag or not. She needed the answer to that question.

Strange that he seemed to think he could kiss her whenever the mood struck. Well, she’d give him a taste of his own medicine. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back, darting her tongue into his mouth, withdrawing, then tangling with his again. The kiss shifted, from frustration to possession. She settled into him, and he groaned as his hand dropped to her behind and pulled her up against his erection.

She liked the feel and taste of him. Liked all those hard muscles, and that he smelled like sunlight. What a shame they were adversaries. The thought brought her up short and she pushed him away as the couple left the room.

“Get off me, you lout.”

His face was flushed and his eyes glittered. “I didn’t dump those stones in your purse. So it had to be Donati. Or your girlfriend. What was her name?”

She pushed him back another few inches, not able to catch her breath with him standing so close. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “Claire’s in love with Darcy. We’ve been friends for years.”

“Hard to believe you have any friends, Irish.”

She caught her grin before it appeared. Witty and gorgeous. She hated him.

She slipped under his arm. “I have to go. Say hello to your brother-in-law when you see him. I’m sure he’s on his way as we speak.”

“Not unless Sophie called him. Damn it, Bridget.” He grabbed the scarf draped around her neck and tugged her back. “You can’t keep running. Let me call Gage and you can tell him everything you know.”

“And sit in jail for two years like my brother? I think not. Don’t you have something else to do, like…I don’t know. Another nudie shoot?”

She knew she was hitting low, but he’d almost gotten to her. For one insane second, she’d wanted to crawl into his arms and let him take care of her.

His face hardened. “You don’t pull your punches, do you? Here.” He thrust a fistful of bills into her hands. “Add that to the bill. You already owe me a hundred grand.”

“A hundred thousand dollars? What are you talking about?”

“The ad company is using our ‘escapade’ as a reason to renege on the final payment for the underwear campaign. You know how to fuck things up royally, don’t you?”

Her hands curled around the money as her stomach plummeted. If he hated her now, wait until she told him what she’d done. She’d take the money, though. What choice did she have? And she’d pay back every penny of the loan as soon as she had access to her accounts. She waited until she reached the front door to turn back. He stood motionless, watching her with an intent look in his eyes.

“Why?” She held up the money.

“Damned if I know. Guess I’m a betting man.”

It had been a long time since anyone, other than Darcy, had taken a chance on her. “Thanks, Pascotto.”

He nodded.

Once out the door, she stuck her head back in as she unwound the scarf from her neck. “By the way, in the spirit of giving, I should tell you I hid those stones in your apartment. Be careful what you say to the FBI.”

She slipped the scarf through both door handles and tied them together. Rafe raced toward her and yanked on the doors. She could hear him yelling her name as she jumped into a cab. She stuffed the money into Rafe’s jacket pocket and leaned her head back against the seat as she brought the lapel of the jacket up to her nose and inhaled. She smelled a trace of his cologne, but underneath that she smelled the man. Such a delicious, male smell.

With a sigh she let the jacket fall back into place. He probably hated her now. Hell, he’d hated her when she’d tied him to Dejarnatt’s bed and left him for the vultures. So what was one more strike against her?

She stared sightlessly out the window at the busy city speeding by. She couldn’t afford to let Rafe distract her, because someone was definitely out to destroy her reputation. Dejarnatt? What would he gain by putting her behind bars as well as her brother? She’d thought she was safe, that the bastard had done all the damage necessary. Apparently not. Unless…

Unless someone else wanted to destroy her life. Rafe certainly had the motivation, but...

Oh, no. She was not going to start making excuses for Rafe Pascotto. Whether he was trying to incriminate her or not, he’d gloat if she was found guilty. Wouldn’t he? Why give her the means to escape, then?

Stop thinking about him.

She was on her own. She couldn’t even risk going to see her brother or to send a message to him through Claire. If she contacted her school friend, the FBI would no doubt be on the call in a nanosecond, and it might frighten Claire away from visiting Darcy. Claire’s visits to the jail were probably the only thing he had to look forward to.

She didn’t need anyone. For sure she didn’t need Pascotto’s help. She snuggled further into his jacket and closed her eyes. But that kiss. Wow! It had been a long time since she’d experienced such a toe-curler. She’d finally met a man who could stand up to her, and he hated her. What was she supposed to do about that?

***

Rafe tried to make small talk with his sister when he returned to the apartment, but he wasn’t fooling either of them that his mind was a thousand miles away.

“She’s different,” Sophie dropped into the silence that had blossomed in the last few minutes.

“Yeah.” Rafe didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know who Sophie was talking about. “Are you okay? Want a cushion for your back?” he asked as she wiggled on the couch, obviously trying to get more comfortable.

“Sure.” She sighed and dropped her head against the back of the couch.

He stuffed the pillow behind her back. “You’re tired. You should go home.”

“I took the bus here. Thought I’d call Vince to come and pick me up.”

Not if Rafe could help it. No way did he want his brother-in-law anywhere near his apartment. He’d call a cab for Sophie in a few minutes. First, he had to find a way to ask her not to tell Gage about Bridget being here.

“He wants me to sell my old MG. I know I need something safer to drive when the baby comes, but I love that car.”

He sat on the coffee table and picked up one of his sister’s feet and started massaging again. “I’ll buy the car. That way any time you get the urge to fly away for a few hours, you can borrow it.”

Sophie had a history for speeding, and no doubt Gage would be pissed that the car was still be around. Of course, if he ever found out that Bridget had been here, and Rafe had let her slip through his fingers, buying Sophie’s car would almost come across as a nice thing to do.

Sophie perked up. “Would you? I’ll help pay for parking and everything.”

“S’okay. I can afford a car at this point of my life.”

“Can you? Vince said you lost a hundred thousand dollars because of…” She dimpled. “You know.”

Rafe laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it now, ‘you know’? Don’t worry. I’m going to get paid.”

“So, if you’re not going to model anymore, what are you going to do next?”

“Good question. Haven’t a clue.” He put her foot down and reached for the other one.