Ring of Truth (Devlin Security Force Book 2) (20 page)

“Some. When the FBI arrested Leon and then me for the Gramornia theft, she had to be hospitalized. A wake-up call for Leon, but too late.”

“He must’ve felt remorse.”

Ever the optimist about people, misplaced in Leon’s case, but her words comforted him. “Never knew him to regret a damned thing. When that all went down, I never wanted to see him again. The court kept him locked up but they let me visit my mom in rehab.” He didn’t add he’d been wearing handcuffs and an ankle monitor.

She’d wept in his arms.
“I warned Leon years ago. I begged him. And look what he’s done to you.”

“She got better for a while,” Cort said, “but she was alone. I deserted her. I failed her. By giving in to Leon, I betrayed her. If I’d been with her, I could’ve stopped the slide.” His breath hitched and he couldn’t continue.

“What was your mother’s name?”

“Monica.”

“A good strong name. Cort, your mother started down her self-destructive path when you were little. None of it was your fault, not her drinking, not her death. If you want to blame someone, blame Leon. He betrayed you both, first teaching you to pick locks and then dragging you into the robbery. I wish he wasn’t dead so I could tell him exactly what I think of him.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he felt the tension in his chest ease a bit more. They sat like that until the cable car arrived.

***

Forty-five minutes later Cort held the door to the condo building for Mara. Seeing the city was great but the memory-lane session hit him like three rounds with The Rock. If he could, he’d avoid accompanying Mara tonight. He wanted to hang out in the condo with his feet up.

In the lobby, the security guard hailed them from his circular metal and glass desk.

“Ms. Marton, a guy came by just a few minutes ago with an envelope for you.” The middle-aged guard was thin but with a pot belly that made him look pregnant.

The exhaustion weighing on Cort forgotten like yesterday’s weather, he looked sharp at the guard, as did Mara.

“Where is it?” she asked. “The envelope?”

The guard shook his head. “He wanted to take it on up but I told him you weren’t in and I’d deliver it when you returned. He wouldn’t leave it with me. Said he’d be back.”

Mara nodded and thanked the man. She started across the carpet toward the elevator.

“Wait,” Cort said. “Did this delivery man know the unit number?”

“Nope, he asked me. But I know better’n to give out that information.” He narrowed his eyes. “You think it was some sorta scam?”

“Was he wearing an official uniform, like UPS or Fed Ex?” Mara asked.

He looked upward, thinking. “Blue pants, blue shirt, no insignia.”

Cort’s gut tightened. “What did he look like? Black, white, brown, old, young?”

“White. Thirty, forty. Average height. Nothing special. Couldn’t see his hair ’cause he was wearing a Giants cap. Official, black cap with the orange
S
and
F
.”

Mara blinked at the guard’s statement and opened her mouth, shut it again.

Cort’s fingers curled into his palms. Damn sports fan, the guard remembered the cap better than the phony delivery man’s features. “Did you see his truck?”

“No vehicle. But there was another guy. I noticed him earlier, just standing across the street. Looked at his watch like he was waiting for somebody so I didn’t worry. When the delivery guy left, this other guy sorta followed him. Hung back a bit, you know, then slouched along a ways behind him.” The guard shrugged in a self-deprecating gesture. “I could be wrong.”

“What did this second guy look like?”

“Never got a good look at him. Too far away. But he didn’t wear no cap.”

The knot in Cort’s gut said the Centaur agent named Rousso had found them. Or it could be Colonel Yerik even though Cort had fed him bullshit about having to appear to search to satisfy the FBI.

Cort flexed his fingers and splayed his hands on the desk, giving the guard a hard stare. “I appreciate the heads-up. You did the right thing. Under no circumstances are you to allow anyone to go up to the unit. You got that?”

The man’s eyes widened at the flinty tone. He jerked his head up and down several times in a passable bobble-head-doll imitation.

After an admonishing glare in Cort’s direction, Mara beamed her bone-melting smile. She shook the guard’s hand. “Thank you for being so alert. We feel safe with you on the job. Will you convey Mr. Jones’s instructions to the other security people?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure will. You got it.” His relief at her blandishments was palpable.

Cort hustled her to the elevator before the mutual admiration session got out of hand.

“You didn’t have to yell at him,” she said in a low voice. “Or use the death stare.”

Shit, he might’ve overdone his warning, but she didn’t have to hit on the guy. “Between your good cop and my bad cop, he got the message,” he hissed.

Neither of them spoke in the elevator, although they were alone. Earlier she’d pointed out the security camera and a small mic. Security, crap. Too much like prison.

Once inside the condo, Cort tossed his plastic bag of souvenirs on a nearby chair. He heaved a sigh. Safety. For now. “What was that about the Giants cap?”

Crinkles fanned the edges of her eyes, testament to her worry. “When we were on the wharf, I saw a man wearing a Giants cap under the restaurant awning. He was studying a guide book.”

“Why didn’t you mention him earlier?”

She raised and lowered one shoulder in dismissal. “I didn’t think it was important. He was too far to hear our conversation and he didn’t seem to be paying us any attention. When we walked back toward the street, he was gone. You’re thinking it was maybe the man who killed Danita? Rolf Rousso?”

“It’s possible. They didn’t get her ring piece so maybe they’ve decided to go for mine.”

“Or they think I have one. The envelope was for me, remember.” She shrugged out of her jacket and marched to the kitchen. He followed, noting her trembling hands as she poured a glass of water and began to drink. She collapsed back against the counter, her face pale as paper. “Do you think it was a bomb or something?”

He opened the fridge for one of the bottles of green tea he’d bought earlier. What addressing the package to her meant, he could only guess. The likely threat only doubled his determination to keep her by his side and protect her. Damn the bastards and damn Leon for putting him in this situation. Fear for her scraped his spine.

He should’ve been looking for danger this afternoon. He’d been thinking not with his brain but with another part of his anatomy. He nearly exploded with the burst of profanity caroming inside him. Instead, he downed a healthy slug of tea. He should’ve opened a beer. If he could find any, a shot of whiskey.

A deep breath evened his voice before he trusted himself to speak. “A bomb in an envelope? Maybe. More likely a ploy to get access. Who knows what they’re up to? Or if it’s Rousso or the colonel. But somebody knows where we’re staying. So how the hell did they find out?”

“Someone who knew what he was doing might use my credit card transactions to trace us as far as this street. Other than that, he’d have to ask in every building.”

“The guy across the street. Could your boss have sent somebody to watch over us?”

Her exotic eyes widened and she took a step backward. “A bodyguard? But that doesn’t make sense. How would that man know the delivery was to me? And if he’s protecting me—us—why follow the other man?”

“Good point. But you could call and ask.” There was a second call she should make. Now was a good time to find out if the suspicion prodding him was valid.

She blew out a breath and her mouth thinned. “Okay. It doesn’t hurt to ask.” She retrieved her bag from the chair where she’d deposited it and dug out her phone. “I’m going to freshen up for dinner.” She headed toward the stairs and he followed, enjoying the view.

“There’s another possibility, but you won’t like it,” he said.

She turned on the third step. “André.”

He smiled as he wound a finger in a strand of hair dangling by her ear. “I do like how your mind works. Damn convenient this international mogul hooked up with your sister at this particular time. I wonder if he’s still in town.”

“My mom might have told Cassie we were coming west.”

She looked so guilty he kissed her. “And she’d have told André.”

She looped her arms around his neck, easier because he stood on the step below her. But the anguish in her eyes said romance wasn’t on her mind.

“I should’ve told Mom to keep it quiet. What if her telling Cassie is what led Centaur to Danita Inglish? Then it’s my fault she was killed.”

He kissed her again, a mere brush of lips, but his body reacted as always. Save it for later. “Don’t even think it. They beat us here. Probably found her the same way you did.”

If his words sank in, she didn’t show it. She said nothing as she trudged up the stairs.

***

“You didn’t need to come with me,” Mara said, as Cort left the car behind her aunt and uncle’s restaurant. “I’m safe with my relatives. Although considering my aunt, maybe not.”

“She a tough cookie?” He pocketed the car keys.

She watched as he checked out the shadowed parts of the small parking area, dimming further as dusk fell. “Let’s just say my aunt never lets Mom forget her position. It grates on Mom, being the older sister and having to live with them and work for them. Mom’s sister has always been controlling. She finds little errands, demeaning chores for Mom beyond her hostess duties, just to lord it over her. I want Mom out of there and on her own.” Her knuckles cramped where she gripped her hobo bag tightly, and she flexed her fingers.

“The big reason she needs your father’s pension.”

“Yes. This has gone on way too long. I
have
to prove Dad innocent.”

“To do that you need to be careful. You’ll be okay inside the restaurant. I don’t want Thomas Devlin coming after me if you get hurt. Or worse.”

His veiled concern warmed her, although the threats around them chilled her bones. Their phone calls had borne mixed fruit. Cort couldn’t reach the FBI agent. Devlin had sent no one but ordered her stick close to Cort. The final blow was her sister’s news that André had flown to France to be at his sick father’s bedside. Interesting his need to leave happened at the same time as Mara’s trip to San Francisco.

Too convenient, too coincidental. She made sympathetic noises to her sister even as guilt cinched a band around her chest. After ending the call to Cassie, she’d texted Sandi to check on André’s trip.

As they walked to the front of the white-painted brick building, he slung an arm around her shoulders, making her feel secure. He knew how to watch for danger, how to react, what to do. And yeah, he was hot. He made
her
feel hot—in both senses of the word—and important and feminine, not the ultimate geek. And he made her smile.

Seoul Food was one of a number of Korean and other Asian businesses on Geary Boulevard between the Presidio and Golden Gate Park. A sandwich board in front listed the day’s specials. Aromas of spicy seafood stew and kimchi wafted through a vent.

His grin seemed forced, one he’d manufactured to lighten the mood. “You going to ask your mom about her sex life?”

“I’d rather throw myself under a cable car.” She glared at him, then wilted. “But I will explain about the ring pieces. If she knows anything, she’ll tell me.”

“Fine. Then I’ll mosey down the street and eat. Be back for you at eight thirty.”

“
Mosey
?”

“Hey, we are out west.” He kissed her soundly, a thorough enough kiss to curl her toes. “Don’t leave the restaurant without me. If these guys are after you, don’t give them any openings.”

Speechless, she watched him
mosey
down the street, admiring the way he filled out his jeans and the fluid way he moved, until he disappeared around the corner.

Inside Seoul Food the familiar spices and warmth of Korean hospitality relaxed her. No sign of her uncle, who managed the place by hiding from his wife in the kitchen. Her aunt, seating customers, gave her a lofty look, quite a trick for a woman who stuffed her pudgy feet into heels to lift her to five foot four. A nod directed Mara toward the back.

Her mother rose from the corner table when she entered the private function room. Shorter than Mara, Su Lin Marton reached up to kiss her daughter’s cheek. Mara bent into the Tabu-scented hug, comforted by the familiar. She, not her dad, was the now the one who supplied the perfume.

“Thank God nothing bad happened today. I’ve been worried,” Su Lin said in the slight Korean accent that remained after thirty plus years in the United States.

She scanned Mara as if reassuring herself. At fifty-nine, she maintained her youthful beauty, although with a few wrinkles around her dark eyes. Silver threaded her dark hair, knotted and clasped on the back of her head. She looked chic in tan pants and a pale yellow twinset.

“No need to worry about me, Mom.” Mara wished she felt as confident as her words. “I told you about Cort. He’s with me, and Devlin will send people if we need assistance.”

A young server she didn’t know whisked in with a pot of tea and a plate of appetizers, stuffed deep-fried dumplings.

They took seats side by side at the round table, set with white linen instead of the placemats used in the main dining room. Usually when she visited her mother, she shared her small bedroom and ate most meals at the family’s row house, but Su Lin always treated her to one meal here. Mara felt a twinge of guilt for what she was about to ask.

“I ordered a variety but nothing stuffed with kimchi,” Su Lin said with an indulgent look.

“Thanks, Mom.” At her mother’s thoughtfulness, she relaxed further. She popped a hot dumpling in her mouth and chewed the savory squid.

The older woman poured tea, and looked up from her fragrant cup. “When I talked to Cassie, her voice sounded hoarse. Is she smoking again?”

Thank God her full mouth afforded her time to consider her reply. “I had dinner with her Friday. She wasn’t smoking then. Maybe she has a cold.”

“Uh huh.” No one put anything over on Su Lin. But she didn’t probe further. “Cassie mentioned something about this detecting with the thief’s son.”

Mara recognized that oblique statement as a demand for details. If she intended to quiz her mother about a ring piece, she had better comply.

The server brought their entrees. Mara ordered her usual seafood
dolsot
, rice with stir-fried shellfish and vegetables, and her mother the restaurant’s newest dish,
japchae
, clear noodles with beef and vegetables so she could recommend it to customers.

As they ate, Mara told her story, beginning with the Jeweler’s death and finishing with an explanation of their search for the ring pieces. No hiding Danita’s murder but her mom didn’t need to know the other hazardous aspects of their search. “Cort wants to prove he’s reformed. He wants to return the crown jewels so he can be free of FBI harassment. He’s a talented furniture maker.”

Su Lin dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin. A smile twitched at her lips. “He is more than that to you. I saw you together through the window. Very masculine and rough-looking, but obviously protective of you. And affectionate.” She tilted her head and waited.

Mara felt her cheeks heat. To their right in the kitchen, raised voices battled. In the dining room, silverware clattered. “I think he’s sorry he dragged me into this. But he needs my technical help and Devlin Security Force resources. Finding the ring pieces will help prove Dad wasn’t involved and you can receive his pension.”

“That is your reason for taking part. But there is more to it now. And you want something from me.”

“You’re right, as usual. Do you have anything of Dad’s, boxes of personal items, like jewelry or letters?”

Her mom’s shoulders straightened and she set down her chopsticks. “So you think he might have had a ring piece? He might be guilty?”

The vehemence didn’t surprise her. Her mom might not have loved her husband but she was loyal. Her throat tight, Mara shook her head. “He was innocent but I have to rule out every possibility. And we don’t have much time.”

“And Cort needs the ring pieces to find the jewels.”

Heat flared like a match struck in her emotional tinder. “It’s not about Cort.”

“I think it is, at least in part. You are in love with him. I see it in your eyes when you talk about him, when you defend him.”

Mara blinked away the tears threatening to burst the dam. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t be in love with Cort. So totally the wrong man.

“You and Dad didn’t love each other. What do
you
know about love?” She clapped her hands over her mouth. Tears slopped down her cheeks and dripped into her bowl. “Forgive me, Mother, for being so disrespectful.”