Ring of Truth (Devlin Security Force Book 2) (23 page)

Shayla had handed over the ring piece without a qualm. “Gramma said she hated that ring,” she bawled. Apparently she’d rationalized taking the ring was helping her grandmother. Once she realized Danita wanted it back, she was afraid to say anything.

Until she heard Mara’s story.

As soon as Cort had tried to fit the ring piece with his, his heart dropped like a carpenter’s plum bob. The gap between them and the two jagged edges meant at least two more pieces were out there. At least four, maybe five. Or more.

“I shouldn’t have assumed Leon’s ring was the same as the one he made me years ago.”

“This entire thing is frustrating but what can we do but keep going? We have more suspects back east, don’t we?”

“Little Miss Sunshine,” he groused at her cheery tone. “Good thing you’re useful.”

“And fun to have around.” She propped her elbow on the chair back. “Dealing with frustration is par for the course in my work. Computers are the devil’s invention and don’t get me started on dead ends in research.”

The thin cotton stretching across her breasts diverted his attention from the ring. He twisted in the chair for a better view. “Your brain’s good for more than research. Good call drawing out little Shayla with your story.”

“Thank you, sir. You couldn’t see her face where you sat, but the anxiety in those big eyes reminded me of myself.”

“So your story was true?” At her nod, he said, “
That
was the extent of your—what did you call it?—’youthful mistakes’?”

“I wish. You might as well know. I too was a thief once.”

He choked back a laugh and clutched at his heart. “Tell me it isn’t so.”

Mara swatted him on the arm. “This geek wanted to belong to a gang of popular girls. Joining meant taking a dare. I shoplifted a bottle of nail polish from the local drugstore.”

“How’d you get caught?”

“I think guilt was tattooed on my forehead when I got home.” She grimaced. “Cassie gave me a hard time and I burst into tears. Dad wrung the truth from me.”

“Punishment?”

“Big time. I had to return the polish and apologize. Dad made me work off the amount of a fine he made up. But worse—”

“Was disappointing him.” One of the reasons she tried so hard to be perfect. Hard to imagine any two different fathers than hers and Leon. FBI must’ve had their heads up their asses to think Marton had anything to do with the robbery.

“I wasn’t worthy of his trust. It seemed forever before I saw approval in his eyes.”

“Was the dare worth the punishment?”

“Not even close. And the next day I told the gang I didn’t want to be like them or part of them. But enough about me.” She waggled her shoulders as if shaking off the memory. “Back to recovering the ring piece. Good on you, having us leave in a funk.”

“The bad guys could’ve been watching. Or not. But we need the odds in our favor. If they think we didn’t come up with Danita’s ring piece, we’re one up on all factions.”

And they could fly home. The Oakland detective had phoned with the all-clear.

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, Mara watching the lighted bridge, Cort watching her. His mind blurred as he pictured her without the shirt.

“My feet are cold,” she said. “Do you mind?” She tucked her toes beneath his thigh.

The contact shot heat into him. Breath backed up in his lungs. His jeans were too tight. Was she teasing or seducing? She knew how she affected him. “Mara.”

She cleared her throat. “I’ve thought some more about stuff Mom said yesterday.”

“Yeah?” He circled her slim ankles with his fingers. Her calves lured his touch but he quashed the urge in favor of seeing where she was going.

“Mom respected Dad. She was loyal. She’s still loyal. You should’ve seen her bristle when she thought I might doubt him. Looking at a relationship from the outside isn’t the best way to understand. Everyone fails sometimes.”

Her stare made his stomach twitch. She meant him.

“Sometimes it’s a parent failing a child,” she continued. “Danita thought she was securing her daughter’s future by taking Leon’s deal. Instead, she failed Ellen and herself miserably. All relationships involve risk and work.”

Risk? No shit. He could fail Mara like he’d failed his mom. Like Leon failed her. She learned her parents’ relationship wasn’t what she’d thought. He wasn’t wrong about his parents’. What it meant for him, he’d examine later. Time to throttle back from the brink before she started talking relationship with him. “But you didn’t quiz her about—”

“Their sex life.” Her cheeks probably blazed but the dim light showed him only the way her hands fluttered to them. “No, but I got what I need to know. She said making up after their arguments was one of the good parts of their marriage.”

He couldn’t resist any longer. His fingers slid up her calves—smooth, soft, warm—to rest on her bare knees. “And what did you learn from this revelation, grasshopper?”

She wrinkled her nose. “A Kung Fu master you’re not.” Her arms twined around his neck. The smile she sent him was quicksilver and flirtatious. “I learned I don’t have to be afraid of passion leading me into the wrong relationship.”

“Now you’re talking.” Passion rammed though him with the force of a runaway cable car. “You’re the sexiest woman I know, tempting as hell in that skimpy shirt. Don’t play games. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Cort. Make love with me.” From a small pocket in her shirt, she drew out a foil packet.

“You don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart.” He tugged her onto his lap for better access to the good stuff.

Sensual energy flared like a whirlwind, wild and hot. As his hand moved up her legs, the cotton shirt bunched until she slipped it off. “Damn, you’re beautiful.” He growled when he saw she wore no panties. She tugged at the ribbon binding her hair and shook it loose over her bare shoulders, then twisted around to straddle him, pressing herself against him.

As he feasted on her breasts and his fingers found her center, she made little urgent sounds of delight and need. She stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it behind the chair. When she undid his belt, he slid his jeans and boxers to the floor. She skimmed her soft hands down his chest, his belly, until she closed a fist around him. He groaned with pleasure and lifted her onto him. She sighed and began to move with him.

His whole body tightened at the play of fingers, the strokes of tongues, the sweet and hot surging of their bodies as he thrust away the frustrations, the fears, the lies. When he felt her climax, he let himself go in a hot burst of release and cried out in wonder.

Afterward they left their clothing where it had landed. He carried her up to bed and they made love again. Sated, he tucked her in the curve of his body.
Mine
, he thought, acknowledging a connection with her beyond the physical.

New. Surprising. Shocking. Too tired to wrestle with the notion, he cuddled against her backside and drifted toward sleep.

“Cort,” Mara said sleepily, “you were a kid, trapped in the war between the two of them. Your mother’s death wasn’t your fault. If it was anyone’s fault but hers, it was Leon’s. You couldn’t have stopped her. Trust yourself.”

***

Rousso poured himself a glass of wine from the hotel mini-bar. Too oaky for his taste, like many American wines. But he needed the fortification before his call connected.

“About time. Your attempt at invading their condo was a fucking bust. You’d better have accomplished something this time.” Z was long on demands, short on patience, as usual. He remembered only failures.

Rousso set down his wine and gripped the cell phone with a sweaty hand. “Yes, sir. Covered my tracks in California. Hired help will not talk to the cops or anyone ever again.”

“As expected. And Jones?”

Rousso’s surveillance had paid off. Jones and the woman frowned as they left Inglish’s daughter but arrived at the condo building looking much too pleased with themselves. “I do not know how they accomplished this, but he and the Marton woman returned east with ring of Danita Inglish. They have two.”

There was silence as Z analyzed his announcement. Rousso knew better than to expect praise. “Don’t waste more time. Get their two rings. Then the jewels.”

“I will take care of situation right away.” Nerves were eating away at his English fluency. He had to concentrate.

“Don’t fucking screw this up,” Z ordered, threat dripping blood from fresh kill, “The cops and Feebs are tripping over each other to solve those murders, my sources tell me. If they sniff out your trail, you’re done. Don’t call me until you have success to report.”

With a trembling hand, Rousso closed the phone. Even if he obtained the crown jewels, Z would continue to perceive his difficulties as failures. His chances of moving up in Centaur were nil. If he failed again, Z would have him gutted like a pig.

Time to cut his losses. With enough money, he could disappear and create a new life.

***

“So how was your trip to California with lover boy?” Sandi plunked her butt onto the guest chair beside Mara’s desk.

Mara continued to scroll down the report she was reading on screen. “Productive. Eventful. Saw my mom. Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“Huh-uh, hon. You’re not getting away with the Twitter version.” Her friend sipped from the water bottle she always carried. “I already know the bullet points. I want the details. You did the nasty with him, didn’t you?”

Mara blew out a breath and sucked in another. She slid away the mouse and swiveled to face Sandi. She needed a sounding board that wasn’t her mom.

“Several times. And nasty? Not even close. Amazing, mind-blowing might be a start. He’s so intense, but tender, too, you know? When he looks at me, he really focuses on me and it’s like the world goes away.” She didn’t have the words to describe how sex with Cort made her feel. How
being
with Cort made her feel. What she felt for him was so sharp and intense, it hurt. She dropped her hand as she realized she was rubbing her chest in the area of her heart. “I don’t want to fall for him. That road leads to heartbreak.”

“Get out. Seems like the road’s leading to a relationship. In the meantime you have to put up with the enormous suckatude of a gorgeous hunk who appreciates you and has the hots for you. I should be so lucky. And the problem here is?”

“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want love. His parents loved each other but made each other miserable. For me, it’d be like my parents all over again, in reverse. Except this party will end once our search ends. Then he’s gone, back to the woods.” Where he didn’t have to worry about who to trust and who would trust him. Where he’d be alone again as he’d been for years. The image made her head ache. She pressed fingertips to her eyes.

“For sure, as long as you’re drowning in a pity pool.”

“No, I’ve got to reboot and just enjoy the time I have with him.”

“He’s still here, then? He didn’t go back to Maine?”

She shook her head. “I left him setting up meets with our remaining suspects.” After the former museum director, a curator, and another guard they had nowhere to turn.

“Then use that time. If he’s as intense as you say, the man’s in serious lust. To stick with the road metaphor, for men, great sex is the road that leads to love. I have three brothers. Trust me. You have to show him this route won’t lead to crash and burn.”

“Sure. That’s all.” Cort Jones didn’t trust himself, living under his father’s shadow, fearing his bad seed. How much did
she
trust
him
? Could she? What if the temptation of the crown jewels was too much to pass up? No, no, he wasn’t his father. She wanted to trust him, or maybe it was passion driving her after all.
Frak!

“Excuse me,
chicas.
Here’s a package for Mara.” A grinning Max Rivera deposited a box bigger than her briefcase on her desk.

She thanked him, standing to peer at the package. “But since when do field operatives do mailroom duties?”

“Practicing for an undercover role,” he said with a wink. “Shh. Don’t give me away.”

“Hel-lo, anyone who believes that flunks a gullibility test. Unless it’s
under-the-covers
work with your fiancée.” Sandi shook her empty bottle at him. “More likely you need that report you’ve been bugging me about.”

“Busted.” He hunched his shoulders in a show of contrition. “Since I was on my way here, I offered to deliver. The mail kid’s cart was piled up. Sent in overnight mail.”

“I appreciate it, Max. Thanks again.” For convenience she usually had packages delivered to work rather than home. But overnight? What could be urgent?

“The report is ready. I was getting ready to send it to you. Follow me and you can even have a hard copy.” Sandi stood and Max moved aside. “See you later, Mara. Think about what I said, okay?”

Mara nodded, waving her off as she recognized the return address on the package. Her mother. Could Mom have gone through the stored stuff already? They’d seen each other only yesterday. Mara and Cort arrived in D.C. today at noon, and she immediately came to work to get caught up.

Her fingers shook as she ripped at the tape with a box cutter. Inside the bubble wrap, she found a white envelope with her name in her mother’s writing. With trembling fingers, she opened the letter, handwritten on plain white paper.

I found these things among my stored belongings. I had forgotten about them. The pictures were ones from your father’s Global office, and the big brown envelope was delivered when I was packing up the house. I was such a mess then that I stowed them without looking. I hope what you need is here. I understand you must hurry.

There is one more thing to tell you about your father. Don’t blame Cort Jones or his father. Your father didn’t want you girls to know, but his heart condition was very serious. The doctors prescribed pills but he wouldn’t take them unless he felt bad because they affected the one area we always agreed on. If he had taken his pills, he might still be alive.

Mara couldn’t finish. She set the letter on her desk. Tears clawed her eyes and clogged her throat. Why did her dad have to be so macho? So the drugs made him impotent. He’d still be alive, wouldn’t he? Maybe he could’ve cleared his name. Maybe her mother would have found the courage to tell him she loved him. Maybe—

She pressed her fist to her mouth to stop a sob. Maybes and whys were futile. All she could do now was try to prove him innocent to Global Insurance.

She’d look at the photos later. The bulky padded envelope came out next. An official return address, a law firm in the District. Bickham, Dixon, and Kress. Not one she recognized. Her knees watery, she sank onto her chair.

* * *

Another piece of the puzzle but what the hell did it mean? The FBI didn’t seem to know any more than Cort did.

He closed his cell phone and hit the remote for ESPN. A classic Super Bowl match-up. Peyton Manning, the quarterback Patriots fans love to hate, stomping all over the Bears. Perfect after his day playing phone tag with the former museum director. Nobody wanted to talk to him. There was a shocker.

He’d just stretched out on the sofa when Mara opened the apartment door.

He set down his just-opened bottle of ale and vaulted up. “Hey, what’s this?” He relieved her of the cardboard box with the Fed-Ex shipping label and placed it on the cocktail table.

“Stuff from my mom.” She kicked off her heels and set down her big bag—the one from Chinatown, covered with a red Asian dragon.

He was about to ask but decided to wait when he took a closer look. Her sunny yellow dress was at odds with the wild and puffy aspect of her eyes. Crying?

“I hope you had a better day than I did,” she said, waving her arms like she was signaling with semaphore flags. “We thought finally we’d tracked down the authentic Han horse. You know, the one stolen from the Tate Museum? But it was another copy. Centaur again, damn them. Fingers in every art-crime pie. Is there any wine?”

He trailed in her wake as she whisked to the refrigerator. “A bottle of pinot. Don’t know if you’re supposed to chill it, but it’s in the fridge. The wine merchant said it was excellent.” Cort figured that meant at least decent.

“Whatever.” She bent over to search inside. “What’s this? Shrimp? Chopped veggies?”

He dragged his gaze from the view of her shapely backside. “Um, on my run, I found these shrimp on sale. Thought I’d make shrimp creole.”

The manic look in her eyes softer, she dragged out the wine bottle. She brushed a kiss across his lips. “Cort, that’s so sweet. If I have some of this wine now, will it spoil the dinner?” She slammed open the drawer where she kept the corkscrew.

“No problem.” When she fumbled with the tool, he took the bottle and corkscrew from her. In her state of mind, whatever its source, she’d probably stab herself. What the hell was in the package? He poured a healthy amount into a glass and handed it over. “You gonna tell me what this is all about? Not just the Han horse.”

“Give me a minute.” When he nodded, she took a long pull on the wine, then sighed. “Thanks. I saw a salad in the fridge too.”

He felt his face heat. “Baby greens and grape tomatoes. Bottled balsamic vinaigrette though. A guy can create only so much in a day.” He’d begun taking his turn at kitchen duty. Tonight he’d wanted to impress her with more than his usual basic chicken or spaghetti with bottled sauce but that goal dropped in priority. Now he was worried about her.

Bottle and glass in hand, she marched back to the living room and paced as she downed the wine. She straightened CDs on a shelf. Arranged the throw pillows on the sofa.

“Did you talk to your sister?” Maybe that was what put her in such turmoil.

“Ah, yes, about dear André. Cassie’s floating on clouds. He offered to take her to France next trip. As if. She bragged about him flying by private jet. But I can find no record of that. I’ll search the databases next for other flights. No record of Rozmer, Senior in hospital either.” She drained her goblet. “Any luck with new suspects?”

He returned to his former spot on the sofa, eyeing her as she poured more wine.

“The former director hasn’t returned my calls,” he said. “The guard hung up on me.”

“We’re quite the pair. Drink up,” she said, nodding toward his beer. She hoisted her glass again and took a modest sip before setting it down. “Okay, I’d better get to this before I’m too sloshed to know up from sideways. Jet lag is probably working on me too.”

“The box?” he prompted.

She lowered her head in an almost prayerful pose. “From Mom. She found some things of Dad’s in storage. Pictures from his office.” She unfolded the top flaps and lifted out a lumpy brown envelope. “And this from a law firm in the city. I don’t know them. Addressed to Dad.”