Silken Threats (16 page)

Tucker stood over the hole, a thick shovel poised under the now visible black box. Max chiseled at the concrete still crowding the sides of the metal container, instructing Tucker to lift every few minutes.

“Damn, this is wedged tight,” Tucker muttered as he put more weight under the shovel.

Cassidy knew the need for speed trumped a more delicate approach to whatever was buried in the floor, but she hoped they didn’t damage whatever was inside the box.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, and Cassidy fumbled the dresses under one arm as she pulled out the device. “It’s from Violet.”

GET OUT OF THERE. NOW.

The fear they’d ruin the box was nothing compared to the fear of discovery. “Guys. We need to leave.”

“We almost have it.” Tucker gritted the words, his arms straining as he and Max alternated pressure on either side of the box.

Her phone buzzed once more, and Cassidy pulled her attention from the push-pull taking place over the hole in her floor.

NOW!

She typed a quick
got it
back to Violet and ran to the guys. “We have to go.”

Heat rolled off Tucker’s body in a wave as she reached for him. Her goal was to get through to him about the need to leave, but instead she found herself thrown off balance when he lost his footing, the heavy box coming loose in a hard burst from the ground.

They both tumbled, the concrete floor rising up to meet her in a rush. She moved at the last minute, dropping the gossamer fluff in her arms to cushion their fall, but it didn’t change the fact she’d just hit a layer of concrete with a grown man on top of her.

He rolled off her quickly, cursing as he went, before pulling her close. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m good.” His weight had knocked the air from her lungs, but the dresses had provided a little cushioning for both of them as they tumbled. She shifted, struggling to a seated position, and screamed when a gunshot punctured the front window.

“Get down!”

Tucker covered her once more. He cradled her head with his hands while he matched his body to hers. They both flinched as another shot rang out, and he fitted himself more tightly against her.

The phone in her pocket rang at the same time the office phone kicked in, in time with the whining alarm. Max was closest and grabbed the receiver off Violet’s desk, hollering for help as he rattled off the address before slamming down the phone.

Head down, Max then snatched the dresses and wrapped the box in the thick layers of material while Tucker fired several rounds at the front windows. They all heard a loud grunt, followed by a shout, from the direction of the shattered window.

“Let’s go!” Tucker pulled her to her feet, pressing her forward as soon as she was upright. He kept his body between her and the front windows, pushing them both toward the kitchen and the freedom that awaited them with Lilah’s pink van.

They’d cleared the door that divided the showroom from the kitchen when Max’s shout rang out. “Buck! Down!”

Tucker’s heavy body fell over hers once more, and she struggled to breathe as her face was pressed close to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Cassidy,” he whispered into her ear. “You have to stay down.”

“I won’t move.”

Tucker eased off her, belly-crawling toward the back door. Max stood back, his aim steady on the entryway, ready to lay down a round of protective fire, when it slowly slid open. Tucker let off a round of shots, low through the door, but all any of them saw beyond it was empty air.

“What the hell?” Tucker inched closer to the door, his back to the wall. Cassidy watched each step and prayed nothing stood outside, out of his frame of view.

A wave of nausea threatened her stomach as she imagined any number of horrors waiting for Tucker in the loading dock, but she fought it back.

He’d be okay.

The police were on their way. She, Vi and Lilah had already agreed—if Violet or Lilah saw something on the security feeds they weren’t comfortable with, they would call. And the tripped alarm would provide backup. To hell with whatever was in the floor, their collective safety came first.

“Buck.” Max kept his voice low. “You see anything?”

“Not one damn—” Tucker broke off, the air around him going silent.

Was he hurt?

Was someone there?

Without waiting to find out, Cassidy leaped. Shoving off the floor, she threw herself toward him, dragging him back from the doorway as hard as she could.

It was only when he moved back, his eyes wide, that Cassidy saw what had stopped him midsentence.

Her former brother-in-law lay on the back steps, his sightless eyes staring up at the night sky.

Chapter 14

B
lue and red lights flashed endlessly outside the front of Elegance and Lace as dawn fought its way free, minute by minute, to brighten the early-morning sky.

Tucker stared at those mesmerizing lights through the shattered front window of Elegance and Lace and cursed himself yet again for their suicide mission.

What the hell had they been thinking? And why did any of them think attempting to beat their enemies here was even possible?

He’d sensed from the start they were playing against someone well out of their league but had ignored his gut. Instead, he’d pushed the idea of someone the women knew being the culprit and downgraded the possible threat to all of them.

But the night’s events proved they were battling someone who was not only determined, but who gave no thought to the value of human life.

He was an architect and a former serviceman. And while he had a more-than-passing knowledge of firearms and weaponry, he was no hit man. But what was left on the back steps of Elegance and Lace...

Tucker shuddered.

He’d seen the bodies of enemies and innocents in war. Seen soldiers become the victims of any number of violent atrocities. But the dead body only recently removed by the police had been the victim of a brutal murder.

A
deliberate
and brutal murder.

“Are you okay?” Cassidy sat next to him and took his hand in hers.

“I’m fine.”

“I can’t get over it.” She squeezed his hand once more, and he let her talk. “It’s Leah’s husband. My former brother-in-law. I mean, we were just talking about him. And you kept pressing that it was a family member who’d broken in. He’s got to be the one.”

Words continued to spill from her lips, and he listened, but had no response. All he could picture was Cassidy in place of her brother-in-law. And no matter how he tried to dismiss it, all he saw was her face, those gorgeous, lively blue eyes staring sightlessly ahead, the delicate arch of her neck, covered in blood.

“Mr. Buchanan.” Detective Graystone had arrived an hour before, his competent air only slightly marred by the dark hair that stuck up in tufts over his head.

“Yes?”

“I understand you were the first to see the body.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know it was a relative of Miss Tate?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Please tell me how you found the body.”

Although he’d taken the detective through it, as had Max and Cassidy, Tucker walked through the moments again with the detective. The concerns they felt about whatever was hidden in the floor. The strange request to vacate the property.

“And during any of that time did it cross your mind to call me?”

The detective had maintained his equilibrium fairly well, but it was clear he’d had enough.

So it was no small surprise when Cassidy spoke up next to him, her voice clear and strong. “Then you’re not going to like what else we have to tell you.”

* * *

Cassidy pointed out the hole in the floor near Violet’s desk and walked the detective through the events of the past several days. From the slightly distended carpet they’d noticed after the initial break-in to the final removal of the thick black box the night before, Cassidy shared everything.

“What’s inside the box?”

“We don’t know. We didn’t get that far.”

“So where is it?”

Max spoke up. “I stowed it in the van.”

Although she knew he’d done his best to protect whatever they’d found, Cassidy didn’t recall seeing Max leave the room. “You had it in hand when we discovered...” She stopped, unsure of the correct term to use, but decided to finish her thought. “The body.”

“I stowed it after. When the police were on their way.”

“What were you intending to do with the box, Mr. Baldwin?” The detective’s gaze was cold as he stared down all six feet four inches of Max Baldwin. They were well matched, the detective only an inch or two shorter than Max’s thick frame.

Although she got the distinct sensation the two men were merely sizing each other up, the act held a strange sense of ceremony. It was only when Max took a step back, his posture seeming to deflate, that some of the tension in the room evaporated. “I didn’t know what the women wanted to do with the box and I didn’t feel it was my place to decide.”

“Well, now it’s my place to decide. Show me the van.”

They led the detective through the back door, and Cassidy avoided staring at the dried blood on the stoop.

Would she ever
not
see it?

“We parked the van here last night.”

“Getaway car?”

Graystone’s voice was dry but honest, and Cassidy vowed to give him the same in return. “Cover. If the city really was holding us in violation, we needed to make it look like we’d come back for a job.”

“I’ll be looking into that, by the way. Did the woman who showed up claiming to be a city worker leave any paperwork?”

“She left something.”

“I’d like a copy.”

Cassidy nodded as they filed down the back driveway and toward the loading area where Lilah filled up her van for runs. She turned toward Max. “Where’d you put it?”

“In the back.” He pulled on the back doors, tugging them open, only to find the space empty.

“I’m not amused, Baldwin.”

“I put it right here.”

Max climbed up into the van, crossing through the cavernous space as if somehow looking hard enough would conjure the black box. “It was here. I swear it.”

* * *

Robert Barrington let himself into his apartment overlooking all of downtown and went straight for the kale juice he’d left chilling in the fridge overnight. He laid the twenty-five-thousand-dollar check that had been handed to him upon delivery of the black box and congratulated himself on a job well done.

Although he wouldn’t deny the squeamish factor of Charlie’s body, he had to admit using the body as a distraction was brilliant.

Just like the Duke.

The man knew how to get things
done
. It was a trait he admired. Respected. And, if things worked out like he hoped, something he’d emulate on his own road to success.

The amazing part was how it had all come together. He’d stayed in touch with Charlie off and on since he’d ditched Cassidy. The guy was a pain most of the time but he had his uses, and Robert had found him worthwhile to keep around.

And then late one night, after way too many martinis downed in the Cliff, Charlie started in on a fantastical tale about hidden jewels from World War II. Apparently Leah, his late wife, had gotten some hazy details from a family friend when she was a teenager. When he started talking about Cassidy’s beloved Josephine Beauregard, Robert had his connection.

Then a mutual friend connected him with the Duke, and bam. He had a very lucrative gig going.

The man threw money around like it was water. A hundred grand for the information. Twenty-five for last night’s delivery. And a cool million if he stayed in this until the end, fencing what they undoubtedly had found in the box.

Robert laughed as he poured the thick liquid into a glass and took a sip. The cool, crisp taste slid down his throat like the finest of wines. Better, really, because this wasn’t toxic to his liver.

He hated toxic things.

He drank socially because it was expected of him and because it got him information, his late-night bender with Charlie McCallum a prime example. But it wasn’t his preferred drug of choice.

Clean living and a well-thought-out plan for his future beat any substance, any day.

His door buzzed and he wondered at it. No one in the lobby had called up and he paid well for the advance notice. Phone in hand, he called the lobby on speed dial before he even had the door open.

At the sight of the Duke, Alex and Trey on the other side of his front door, Robert lowered the phone. Before he could turn it off, Trey’s hand snaked out and grabbed the phone. He flipped it off and shoved it into his pocket before barreling his way through the door.

“What’s the matter?”

Images of the evening before at the Duke’s home flashed through his mind. Charlie had been caught off guard and manhandled the moment he’d walked in. Of course, the idiot deserved it, his repeated fumbling having become an increasing liability.

But Robert had done nothing. Hell, he hadn’t been out of their sight more than a half hour.

What was going on?

Alex shoved him, and Robert stumbled backward. The man was on him like a suit and had his back pressed against his high marble bar before Robert could even get his footing. The unmistakable sound of a switchblade met his ears moments before the knife flashed in his peripheral vision.

What the
hell
?

“I did what you asked!” Robert grunted the words, the hand at his windpipe making it hard to speak.

“I’m afraid not.”

Robert saw the Duke move into the other side of his peripheral vision and risked a glance away from the knife and onto the man he’d come to admire and respect in so short a time.

“I didn’t do anything.” Alex squeezed harder on his Adam’s apple, and Robert gasped for breath. “I. Didn’t.”

“Let him speak, Alex.” The Duke waved a hand to indicate his wishes, but other than that small gesture, he didn’t move from his position. His eyes were uncovered and Robert stared into the pale green orbs.

There was no warmth there. No humor. No humanity.

There was absolutely nothing.

And for the first time since the night Charlie had chewed his ear off in a noisy bar, Robert acknowledged he might have made a poor choice. He considered himself an enterprising businessman, but perhaps entering into a business arrangement with a man whose reputation in Dallas was legendary wasn’t the best idea.

But damn it, he’d done all he was asked. Had delivered every step of the way.

“You have one opportunity to tell me the truth.”

Robert nodded, mesmerized by the Duke’s reptilian eyes.

“Where are the contents of the box?”

“I delivered them to you.”

Alex ran the blade across the thin skin of his upper chest, and Robert screamed as the metal sliced flesh.

“I’m not a man of great patience, Mr. Barrington.”

Robert shook his head, desperate to spill as much information as he could from a mouth that had gone dry as cotton. On a hard swallow, he kept his gaze level with the Duke’s and hoped like hell he could make the man understand.

“I secured the box just as I told you. I grabbed it from the back of the pink van and ran. I came straight to your home. I never opened it.”

“Not once?”

Tears rolled freely now, spilling over his cheeks with the same cadence as the blood that rolled over his collarbone and dripped onto his pale marble countertop. “It wasn’t mine to open.”

Alex lifted the knife once more, and Robert screamed, now crying freely. “It wasn’t mine to open!”

The Duke pushed Alex out of the way and replaced the goon’s hand with his own. He was a slender man but his grip was surprisingly strong.

“There is a major piece of the collection missing. You have forty-eight hours to get it back. Nod if you understand.”

Robert nodded, willing to agree to anything. “I understand.”

The Duke’s grip remained iron-tight, his gaze just as unyielding.

Although he feared any further reprisal, Robert pushed on. Ignorance had put him in this position and he’d be a fool not to get as much detail as he could. “What piece is it? What am I looking for?”

“Wrong question, Mr. Barrington.”

The Duke never let up the pressure on his chest. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of shirt and rubbed it over the now gaping wound.

Fire erupted over his skin, and Robert screamed once more, unable to stop the noise that seemed to be dragged from the very depths of his body.

“I think it goes without saying, you’ll know it when you see it.”

Robert gulped for air, raw fire painted over his chest. As he fought to surface through the pain, one thought filled his mind.

“Cassidy?”

“Ah. Now, there’s a question, Mr. Barrington. I think you might be catching on.”

Robert reran the night before through his mind. He’d seen Cassidy and her group of boyfriends enter the building. Had followed up with Charlie’s body while they did the hard work of digging up the floor.

He’d timed it perfectly, allowing Trey and Alex to hit the front door, pushing the lot of them out the back.

Cassidy had whatever piece it was that had gone missing. That had to be it. Someone had removed it before putting it in the van.

The Duke stepped back, the pristine white cuffs of his shirt still the same pure ivory as when he’d walked in. “I suggest you become reacquainted with your former fiancée. By any means necessary.”

* * *

Cassidy stood in the center of Elegance and Lace, broom and dustpan in hand, and wondered how she could possibly be doing cleanup duty mere days after doing it for the first time. She’d already taken count of her stock, pleased to see it was blessedly untouched.

Other than the dresses she’d taken the previous evening from her office, everything was intact.

Under her breath, she muttered, “Not that anyone’s going to want to buy a dress with the lingering smell of gunpowder clinging to the silk.”

The tears that had threatened a few days before were nowhere in evidence as she took to the floor with a vengeance. Although the night before had been far more shocking than the initial break-in, she had more information this time.

More knowledge.

And knowledge was power.

Whatever was going on was clearly linked to her former brother-in-law. Cassidy knew it was unkind to think ill of the dead, but try as she might she couldn’t conjure up too many sad feelings for Charlie McCallum. He’d made his decisions and bore the consequences.

Of course, none of it changed the fact that he’d left a mark on her business. Left the residue of his broken life that she, Violet and Lilah would now bear as they worked to move forward.

They’d clean up, of course. Fix the broken windows and scrub the blood off the back stairs. But none of it could remove the lingering smear on their business.