Stolen Heat (24 page)

His heart was pounding a mile a minute as he leaned forward and flipped on the small tabletop lamp, then reached for the phone. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was almost midnight, but he didn’t care. He paid his lawyer in Miami an insanely embarrassing retainer for moments just like this. The guy could get his ass out of bed for all Pete cared.

Twenty minutes later, with the weight of his decision on his shoulders and no thought of turning back, he clicked off the cordless phone, turned it on again and dialed the number his lawyer had grudgingly dug up for him.

He was routed all over hell and back, then told to hang tight. He clicked off the phone one more time, sat back and waited.

Minutes passed before the damn thing rang. He picked it up on the second shrill note. “That was fast, even for you.”

“Where’s Kat?” Martin Slade’s voice had that same superior clip Pete remembered from the one time he’d met the guy in Cairo. And it sure the hell didn’t endear the SOB to Pete any now.

“She’s fine,” Pete said, working to keep his tone even and calm. “Sleeping. I don’t have to tell you she’s been through the wringer the past few days. No thanks to you.”

“I had no idea Halloway was in contact with Bertrand or that he’d pass on the info I gave him about Kat’s location. Surely Kat doesn’t believe—”

“She’s not sure what to believe right now,” Pete snapped. “Any way you look at it, the government’s fucked her twice now. Why the hell should she trust you?”

“Because she doesn’t have many other options, does she? It’s only a matter of time before Minyawi finds you both. Neither of you have any idea what you’re dealing with here. This goes deeper than she could imagine.”

“She already knows.”

“How—”

“I’ve got contacts, too, Slade. And the how isn’t really important. What is important is keeping Kat safe. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure she stays out of harm’s way and that this finally ends for her because I know I played a part in it from the beginning. But what about you? She gave up six years of her life because you convinced her it was the only way. And now she’s right back where she was before. Only this time there’s no easy way out. What are you willing to do to make things right for her?”

Silence.

Pete ground his teeth and though he knew it was useless, just couldn’t quite keep the contempt from his voice. “You fucking owe her, you son of a bitch.”

More silence, then finally when Pete was sure Slade wasn’t going to answer, the man said, “She has to come in. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure she gets a fair shake. If she cooperates, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get extradited back to Egypt. But there are going to be questions—even I can’t get her around those.”

“And what about you?” Pete asked. “You’re just going to skate free like nothing happened?”

“No.” For the first time, Pete heard regret in Slade’s voice. “No. If she comes in, I’m going to have to fess up to what I did to help her. Christ, it’ll probably make it worse, but I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier on her. I swear it.”

Pete realized in that moment that Slade was telling the truth. In his own way, he did care for Kat. Or felt guilty or maybe a little responsible. And in that same moment, Pete also realized the guy didn’t know about the evidence Kat had stored in the pendant. If he did, he’d have convinced her to come out of hiding years ago.

He also sensed Slade didn’t completely understand Minyawi’s connection to Busir. Or know about Ramirez’s involvement with the ELA. And those were two major bargaining chips Pete was willing to cultivate in any way he could.

Pete braced his hand on the desk and knew this was the jumping-off point for him. Once it was out, there was no turning back. “She’ll come in. But on one condition.”

“Are you trying to deal with me, Kauffman? You don’t have a leg to stand o—”

“You bet your ass I’m dealing. And if you’re smart you’ll take what I give you because it’s the best damn offer you’re going to get. Kat will come in on one condition,” he repeated. “She’s cleared of all the charges against her. No questions about Ramirez’s or Driscoll’s deaths or any link back to her. You and I both know she didn’t have a hand in either one.”

“
Fuck,
” Slade exclaimed. “I know she didn’t, but she’s got no proof. She never
had
any proof, which was one of the goddamn problems from the very beginning. The Egyptian government isn’t as lenient on murder suspects as we are here in the States. And rogue Egyptologists who hook up with known felons linked to art theft and smuggling operations aren’t people the U.S. is eager to get back in the country. The only thing she’s got going for her right now is the fact she’s on U.S. soil and she’s willing to cooperate.”

“That’s not all she’s got. She’s got me.”

“What the hell does that me—”

“Here’s the deal, Slade. Kat comes in for safety reasons only and is cleared of all the charges. In exchange, I’ll turn myself in. You wanna know how Minyawi’s linked to the smuggling ring? I’m your guy.”

Silence.

Well, that got the man’s fucking attention, didn’t it?

“You’re serious?” Slade asked skeptically.

Yeah, he was serious. Deadly-frickin’-serious. More serious about this than he’d been about anything in his life. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Names, locations, contacts in half a dozen countries that trade on the black market. I know who the weak link was at Kat’s tomb, I know who the man dealt with, and I know how the pieces got out of the country. You keep Kat out of this, make sure she’s safe, and I’ll give you everything I know.”

“And what about you?” Slade asked warily.

Pete leaned back in his chair. He was making a deal with the devil himself, and this time, there was no turning back. “I guess that’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question now, isn’t it?”

He was surprisingly steady for a man who’d just cashed in his own
go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars
ticket. After signing all the papers his lawyer had faxed over and stuffing them back into the fax machine, Pete picked up the phone one more time and dialed the one person he knew was going to shit bricks when he heard the news.

The line rang three times before Rafe Sullivan answered in Puerto Rico, sounding groggy as hell and the slightest bit pissed at being pulled out of bed at—Pete glanced at the clock—1:30 a.m.

“¿Qué?”
Rafe grumbled.

Despite everything else, Pete cracked a wan smile. “I hope that beat-to-shit voice of yours means you were asleep, not that you were about to get it on with your lady.”

A soft chuckle came over the line, then a rasp of cloth, like Rafe was moving around in bed. “Already did the second. Was halfway into the first before you rudely interrupted me. Where are you, my man?”

Pete grinned. Damn, but he was seriously going to miss his best friend when all was said and done.

In the background he could just make out Lisa’s voice ask, “Who the hell is that?”

“ ‘S okay,
querida,
” Rafe said in a muffled tone. “It’s just Pete. Go back to sleep.”

There was grunting, and more shifting around, then the sound of a door closing somewhere in the distance.

“I can talk now,” Rafe said, his voice stronger. Footsteps echoed across the line, and Pete imagined Rafe walking through that big house he and Lisa had bought in Puerto Rico where they were getting the sister branch of Odyssey up and running in San Juan. He yawned as he said, “We’ve been at the hospital all day. Lisa’s wiped.”

Pete’s chest tightened in a way that made his problems seem miniscule compared to what Rafe was going through. “How’s Teresa?”

Rafe heaved out a heavy sigh, one that said the whole situation was pure shit. “Holding on. Every time I think that’s it, you know, something happens and she perks up. She’s been asking about you.”

Pete leaned forward and ran a hand over his hair. “You know I’d be there if I could, don’t you? Man, I just…” He hesitated, unsure what to say. Losing his parents or his grandparents had never been like this, mainly because he hadn’t been particularly close to them. Teresa had a way of drawing everyone to her. You couldn’t help loving Rafe’s mother. Everyone did.

“It’s okay, buddy. I know. Means a lot you called, though. But I gotta say, if it weren’t for everything happening with
Mamá,
I’d be on the first plane up to New York. You know that, right?”

Touched, Pete smiled again. “Hailey blabbed, huh?”

“You bet your ass she did. She’s worried about you. So’s Lisa. We all are, for that matter. Pete, man, what the fuck’s going on?”

Pete rubbed his free hand over his eyes. Eyes that were dog tired and scratchy from lack of sleep. “Hailey told you about Kat’s necklace, right?”

“Yeah. Said you were both on your way up to get it. And can I just say, holy hell, is the woman really alive?”

That brought a reluctant chuckle from Pete. He’d told Rafe about Kat. Once. When he’d been drunk and pissed and feeling sorry enough about himself to open his big fat
mouth. Obviously, Rafe hadn’t forgotten. “Yeah, she is. I gave Maria the pendant just before the auction. Just our luck, though, Maria doesn’t have it anymore.” He told Rafe about the break-in at the warehouse and his suspicions as to who’d been behind it.

“Shit. You can’t keep running from these guys,” Rafe said in all seriousness. “We’re talking about whacked-out jihad extremists here. The kind who shoot people on sight and don’t give a flying fuck who lives and who dies, even themselves.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve been over and around this every way there is. She’s got to turn herself in to the Feds. It’s the only chance she’s got.”

“Which means what?” Rafe asked.

Now it was Pete’s turn to blow out a breath. “Which means I need a favor.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, Pete. What do you need?”

Pete pursed his lips, then decided, fuck it. “I just faxed you what I want done.” He heard footsteps again, like Rafe was going into his office, then the crinkle of papers, like he’d pulled them from the fax machine. Before his friend could utter a word, Pete added, “Don’t try to talk me out of it. Jerry and I have already been over it. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“
Fuck. Me.
” The springs in what had to be Rafe’s desk chair squeaked over the line. “Tell me this is a joke.”

“No joke, Rafe. All of it goes to her. Jerry’s transferring all my assets into accounts in her name. I already signed over the deed to Odyssey and faxed both you and Jerry a copy. Jerry assures me the Puerto Rico branch won’t be affected because of the nature of our partnership agreement. You and Lisa own the building outright. Any link to the Miami gallery is in name only.”

“Pete, shit, listen—”

“Things are gonna get hot for me, but I don’t want you
to worry. Anything I might admit to being involved with happened long before you and I partnered up. And everything since then has pretty much been on the up-and-up. Nothing you ever did can be traced back to me or Odyssey. The Feds’ll probably come sniffing around. I just want you to be warned. I’m not gonna turn over anything even remotely related to you. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. Christ. This is…isn’t there another way?”

Pete braced his elbow on the shiny desk. “I wish to hell there was, but I can’t think of one. If Kat goes in alone, the Feds will rip her to shreds. She’s already been through enough.” Softer, he added, “I already made the deal with Slade, Rafe, so there’s no sense trying to talk me out of it.”

Silence. Then Rafe asked, “Is she worth it?”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation.”

“None.”

“God, Pete. You could be looking at doing time.”

Pete rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, I know.”

“And shit, with all this, when you get out you’ll have nothing.”

Pete knew that, too. His future was a vast array of emptiness. Everything he’d worked for, gone. He had no idea how long he’d be sent up, but he knew one thing for sure: he owed her. This was his one chance to make up for all the shitty things he’d done before. If he hadn’t screwed things up with her so bad, she wouldn’t be in this mess to start with.

He shifted in his seat, hoping to help his friend understand. “Let me ask you something, Rafe. If it were Lisa on the line here? If she had to choose between running for the rest of her life or face being screwed by the government over something she didn’t do, what would you do?”

Silence.

Finally Rafe sighed. “I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. I’d give up everything I have to make sure of it. I’d even sacrifice my own freedom for her. No questions asked.”

Pete closed his eyes and swallowed back the rush of emotions he felt. His life may have been for shit up until this point, but there were two people who’d changed it for the better. One was upstairs asleep. The other was on the opposite end of this line.

“I have one other favor to ask.” Pete pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from sounding like the pansy he was becoming. “I won’t be around to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. And she tends to have a knack for it.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. She could sell Odyssey,” Rafe pointed out.

Pete dropped his hand. “It’s hers to do with what she wants. If she wants to sell it, don’t try to stop her. I don’t care.”

“Jesus, Pete. You’ve only been with her for two days.”

Six years, six months and twenty-two days to be exact. Pete just wished he had the last two days to do over.

“You must really love her,” Rafe said quietly when Pete didn’t answer.

Pete looked toward the ceiling where he imagined Kat was sleeping. And his heart cinched tight. “You think that makes me a fool, don’t you?”

“No. I think that makes you human.”

To his credit, Rafe didn’t try to talk Pete out of his decision again, and by the time they hung up a few minutes later, Pete knew his friend would do everything he’d asked. Even amid the turmoil of his own mother’s illness, Rafe was the kind of friend a guy could count on. Even if he thought you were out of your frickin’ mind.

It was well after two a.m. when Pete finally clicked off the light and headed for the stairs. With his decisions
made, he had one last person he needed to talk to before morning hit and his deal with Slade became reality.

Hanif Busir looked up from where he was seated on the ratty couch and eyed Minyawi across the room. His nerves were shot to hell and back from lack of sleep the past few days, too many road and plane trips and trying to outwit one inconsequential Egyptologist.

They were holed up in a dive motel somewhere in Newark, waiting for news from Kalim. The walls of the room were a dingy yellow, and the stale stench of cigarette smoke felt like it was seeping into Busir’s pores. But that wasn’t what had him on edge. No, it was the look of pure malevolence in Minyawi’s coal black eyes as he stared at Lauren Kauffman on the floor in the corner of the room, gagged with her hands and feet bound, her slacks riding low on her lean hips, her blouse pulled taut over perky breasts.

There was rank hunger in Minyawi’s eyes, coupled with the kind of rage that fueled rapists and serial killers. Busir had heard stories of what Minyawi had done to women and children who’d gotten in his way over the years. Graphic, disgusting accounts of how Minyawi seemed to take pleasure in the torture. He also knew the man had something equally as horrendous planned for Katherine Meyer. But as they waited, he seemed to be contemplating practicing those moves on the blonde model in the corner of the room. And that didn’t sit well with Busir.

She’d come to a few times after the drugs had worn off but was now asleep again, her head tipped to the side, resting on the grimy wall. Her breaths were even and slow, lifting her perfect breasts and dropping them in rhythmic succession. There were fresh bruises on her face from where she’d fought back and ultimately lost, but that hadn’t slowed her. The woman was a fighter.

Of course, she was nothing to Busir. Frankly, he didn’t care if she lived or died, but Kalim had very clear instructions she be left alone. And Busir didn’t want to do anything to screw up this hit so they could finally end this fucking job. He certainly didn’t want to watch as Minyawi used the girl for his own perverse deviances and then have to explain it all to Kalim later.

And he had a sinking suspicion if something didn’t change soon, he’d have no other choice but to do both.

Minyawi stood from where he’d been seated on the opposite bed, staring at Lauren Kauffman, and moved forward. He crouched down close to her and ran his finger down her neck, across her collar bone, lower to the tip of her breast. Eyes closed and still half-drugged, the model moaned and tried to shift away from the hand that was groping her. Minyawi only chuckled.

Busir stood quickly. “
Kifaaya!
Don’t touch her.”

Minyawi turned those soulless eyes Busir’s way and tightened his jaw. “What did you say to me?”

“She’s not to be harmed.”

“I’m not going to harm her,” Minyawi said in an icy voice, shifting his attention back to the model. “I’m just going to have a little fun with her.” His hand slid down to the model’s slacks, and he used his finger to pull the cotton lower on her hip, revealing her creamy skin.

Minyawi’s laugh deepened. And Busir saw their chance to finally end this shit assignment slide right down the drain because of Minyawi’s volatility and unpredictability. He moved in a rage with barely a thought, kicked Minyawi in the kidneys and readied himself for a good knock-down, drag-out fight. He’d had it with this guy and every lost chance they’d had up until this point.

Minyawi rounded on him fast, but what Busir hadn’t calculated was the knife Minyawi kept strapped to his thigh. Metal flashed, just before the blade sliced through
Busir’s throat and a gush of liquid spilled from his body. He slumped to the mattress. Shocked. Immobilized. Eyes wide as he choked on his own blood.

Minyawi glared down at him and wiped the blade of the knife on his dirty camo pants. “No one tells me what to do.”

Dimly, Busir heard a phone ring, and saw, though increasing darkness, Minyawi lift his cell to his ear.

“Yes,” Minyawi said firmly, eyes still on Busir. “You’re sure? They’re alone in Dr. Gotsi’s apartment?” A slow, victorious smile slid across his face as he nodded. “We will be there shortly. Busir? No. He’s indisposed at the moment. Yes. It will be finished tonight. I guarantee it.”

Busir opened his mouth to yell, just as his world went silent.

Okay, enough was enough.

Kat threw back the covers on the gigantic four-poster bed, clicked on the bedside lamp and scrambled out from between the sheets. The clock across the room read 2:10 a.m. as she dragged on her jeans and slid her feet into her shoes.

She’d been lying here for the past two hours, listening to the sounds of the rain pounding the city, waiting for God-only-knows-what. She was done waiting.

The dainty Victorian furnishings with their Queen Anne legs and that delicate rose wallpaper surrounding everything was making her head swim. And every time she looked up at the lace canopy above the monster bed she’d been laying in with its intricate carvings and wide posts, she wanted to puke because it made her think of Pete and what he was doing in another room in this enormous apartment right now.

She’d been stupid to think he would come to her. Obviously, what had happened between them in that motel room last night had been all about sexual tension, time
and place and leftover hormones from being at that strip club. And his following her to North Carolina? Not about her, but about watching his back.

It didn’t even bother him that she was up here and he was down there, with that…piranha.

She turned for the door, not caring that it was pouring outside, or that she had no idea where she’d go from here, or that Minyawi and his goons could be out there waiting for her right this very minute. If she spent another second in this penthouse, she was pretty sure she was going to lose it.