U.S. Male (18 page)

J
OSS WAS
a pacer from way back. Sitting still made her want to scream. When she was upset, she had to move. Stay away from the window, Bax had told her, so she moved from the bathroom to the bed and back, four steps, turn, four steps, turn. It kept her from going crazy.

It kept her from worrying about Oskar.

Across the room, Bax cursed. “Dammit, Rolf.” He tossed Joss’s cell phone on the bed. He’d been using it to stay off his own, which remained stubbornly silent. “Your big chance to nail Silverhielm and where are you?”

Four steps, turn, four steps, turn. “Forget about Rolf,” she told him. “Call the police directly.”

“I’ve been trying to. It’s nearly midnight. The people I need to talk to aren’t exactly at their desks.”

“You swore to me that if we got back here we could find a way to help Oskar.” She rounded on him, her voice tight with anguish. “We have to do it.”

“They’ll call, Joss. Trust me.”

“Why should I trust you about anything? You left him there, just to save your own skin.”

“Looks to me like your skin is in one piece, as well. They’re not going to do anything to Oskar. At least not yet.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Oskar is leverage. You don’t hurt leverage, you use it.”

The electronic burble of the phone broke into their conversation, silencing them momentarily. Joss stared at Bax. Stiffly, she walked over to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Chastain. Did you enjoy your trip back to Stockholm?” It was Silverhielm.

“Perhaps if someone hadn’t been shooting at us.”

“It added to the excitement, did it not? By the way, please pass my compliments to your associate for his maneuver with the ferry. I’m told it deeply frustrated our captain.”

“You didn’t call to discuss his piloting skills.”

“Of course not. I called to discuss a meeting. After all, we have something of yours and you have something of ours. Your forgeries were good, but not good enough.”

“We don’t have anything of yours.” An edge entered her voice. “The Post Office Mauritius set is stolen goods. They belong to my grandfather.”

“An interesting assertion. Would you care to hear what your young friend Oskar thinks?” There was a muffled curse by the phone.

“What are you doing to him?” Joss demanded.

“Nothing permanent.” Silverhielm’s voice was smooth and lightly amused. “We can do worse, though. You know that.”

“What do you want?”

“A swap. You bring the stamps, we will bring Oskar. If the stamps are authentic, we will release him to you.”

“And what is to stop you from killing us as you tried to do on the way back to Stockholm?” she asked hotly.

“I want only the stamps.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Whether you do or don’t is irrelevant, Ms. Chastain.” An edge entered his voice. “We are wasting time and your friend does not have much of it.”

“If you want the stamps, you will see to it that nothing further happens to Oskar,” she said steadily. The blood pounded in her temples but she felt curiously calm.

“He will not be harmed, I assure you. What is your decision?”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Tonight, then.”

“Where?” She motioned to Bax, who leaned close enough to hear.

“The Djurgården, behind the restaurant Ulla Winbladh.”

Bax shook his head violently again and held out his hand for the receiver. “Silverhielm? You know who this is. I want someplace inside, neutral ground.”

Joss put her ear near enough to the phone to hear Silverhielm’s reply. “Neutral ground? But what is the Djurgården?”

“A good place to get shot. Inside, Silverhielm, where there’s people.”

“My Slussen office, then.”

“Stop wasting my time,” Bax said impatiently. “Neutral ground. You come in with Oskar, you and Markus alone. If I like the look of things, Joss comes in with the stamps. We trade, everyone goes home happy.”

“Very well. Erik’s Gondolen, in Slussen,” Silverhielm said finally. “One hour.”

Bax tensed as though to protest and Joss could almost see when he decided not to. “All right. We’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone.

“But that’s the bar in the building where Silverhielm’s office is. It can’t possibly be neutral ground.”

“It won’t be.”

“Then what are you thinking of, setting up a meet there?”

“I’ll tell you.”

G
ONDOLEN LOOKED
like the sort of place Silverhielm would like. Stylish and sleek, it oozed sophistication, from the dark and light wood parquet floor to the wavering chrome bars of the railings that separated the bar area from the restaurant.

Bax had been there for more than half an hour, using the faint reflections of the windows to monitor the people moving in and out. The goons had been there before him, sitting uncomfortably at a table near the entrance of the bar. They tried, he’d give them that. But even in an upscale establishment like Gondolen, where sport coats were de rigueur and not merely worn to cover up guns, they stood out. It wasn’t just the dress. They were too big, too bulky, too rough-looking.

Bax checked his watch. Almost showtime.

A moment or two later, Markus and Silverhielm walked in. They didn’t look around but came directly for him. Bax took another swallow of his beer. “Right on time, gentlemen.”

Silverhielm looked around. “Where is Chastain?”

“No Ms.? You’re losing your manners.”

“And you will lose your young friend if you are not careful.” Silverhielm dropped his hands to rest on the back of the wood barstool. “Where is she? Where are my stamps?”

“The stamps, and Ms. Chastain, are in another location.” Bax finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. “Where is Oskar?”

“Your young friend will appear when the stamps appear.”

Bax rose. “He appears now. You, Markus, Oskar and I go together to the meeting place or I don’t take you.”

Silverhielm’s face darkened. “I will not be threatened.”

“Do you want the stamps?”

“Do you want to ensure that nobody dies?”

“I’m doing my best. Now are you coming?”

Markus spoke up. “It would be well to let him have his way this time.”

The back of the chair creaked under Silverhielm’s fingers as he glowered. Finally, slowly, he released his hold. “All right. We will take my car.”

“We walk,” Bax interrupted.

“What?”

“It’s only half a mile. We’ll walk.” He gave a friendly smile. “Safer that way.”

“And where are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

J
OSS SAT
in Pelikan, at a table near the entrance, her back to the wall that separated the beerhall from Kristallen. She glanced at her watch. Midnight, the witching hour. She wished she were a witch, that she could make Silverhielm and his men into rabbits, or their guns into harmless water pistols.

Instead, she could only wait for them to arrive.

In her purse was the glassine envelope that held the Post Office Mauritius pair. Nothing had ever mattered to her less. Bax hadn’t been able to reach Rolf Johansson for assistance, so their best chance of saving Oskar was for her to hand over both of the Post Office Mauritius stamps. It didn’t matter. Next to a man’s life, stamps and money meant nothing.

At this hour, both Kristallen and Pelikan were still busy with the usual young crowd, but things were beginning to wind down. The electronic music from Kristallen throbbed against the wall behind her shoulder blades. She heard a shout and looked over to see Bax walk in, followed by Silverhielm, Oskar and Markus.

Oskar’s face looked pale and pinched. A dark thread on his neck looked like dried blood. From the stiff way Oskar held himself, Joss had a pretty good idea Markus had him in a come-along hold. Her heart went out to him.

Joss raised her hand. Silverhielm and Bax headed her way.

“Ah, Ms. Chastain, so we meet again.” Silverhielm took a seat across from her. “We have brought your young friend. And you, have you brought my property?”

Joss’s heart hammered against her ribs. “Perhaps.” She looked over to where Oskar stood with Markus next to the door. “Bring Oskar over here so that I can be sure he’s all right.”

“Show me the stamps,” Silverhielm countered.

Bax sat down beside her. “Oskar seems to be okay.”

“What do you mean, okay?” Joss demanded. “He’s bleeding.”

“Do you wish me to make it worse, Ms. Chastain?” Silverhielm asked gently.

Just then, the pretty girl they had seen Oskar with during their earlier visit peeked around the barrier and cried out in mixed pleasure and concern. She ran across to Oskar, jostling Markus as she put her fingers to Oskar’s neck. Others came around the barrier from Kristallen. In moments, Oskar was surrounded by a barrier formed of his friends.

“Who are those people?” Silverhielm demanded, half-rising from his seat. “What are they doing here?”

“I can’t imagine,” Bax drawled.

Silverhielm’s eyes narrowed in fury and there was a sudden, metallic click. “No one betrays me,” he growled.

Joss tensed.

“You are not the only person who can call for a change of locations, my friend,” Silverhielm said, jerking his head
at Markus, then nodding toward the door. “We are going outside.”

“Hey, what are you doing,” one of Oskar’s friends cried.

Silverhielm looked over to the door and in that instant, Joss shoved the table at him. The heavy wood caught him in the chest as he was rising from his chair and sent him tipping over backward. There was a deafening explosion and Bax spun away.

Joss dived over on top of Silverhielm, adding her weight to that of the table, pinning him against the floor and his chair. As he struck out at her, she jerked her head back out of his way. Where was Bax? What had happened with the shot? Silverhielm landed a punch and pain exploded through her head.

Then she heard shouts and hands were on her, pulling her away.

“No,” Joss screamed desperately as they lifted her up, kicking. “Let me go. You don’t understand. He’s a killer.”

“We know,” said an urgent voice and she turned to see Rolf, surrounded by a phalanx of officers.

And behind him she saw Bax lying on the floor, a red stain spreading across his side.

H
OSPITALS LOOKED
the same no matter where you went, Joss thought as she walked down the ward. Clean, cheerful walls, purposeful doctors and nurses, ranks of rooms, ranks of beds.

And always the underlying sense of crisis and disaster, because except for childbirth, no one would be in a hospital by choice.

She waved to the ICU nurses she’d grown to know well in the previous days and ducked into Bax’s room. He was asleep, his face relaxed in the way it so rarely was when he was awake. His lashes formed little fans on his cheeks; she’d never realized before how long they were.

She couldn’t bear to walk away from him.

She had to.

Bax stirred, his mouth tightening slightly in pain as he awoke. Then he opened his eyes. For a moment or two, he frowned in puzzlement that cleared when he saw Joss.

“Hey,” she said softly. Without thinking about it, she sat in the chair she’d grown all too used to. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been kicked by a mule.”

“You get kicked by mules a lot?”

He smiled crookedly at her. “No, but I’ve got a vivid imagination.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve definitely
been having some weird dreams. How long have I been in here, two or three days?”

Joss swallowed. “Try a week.”

I
F HE THOUGHT
about it, it would make him crazy, so Bax did his best not to. All right, so he’d lost a week, a week of days blurred into nights, waking in pain, sliding back down into the sweet oblivion of medication. A week of his life and he remembered nothing of it. Or almost nothing, he corrected himself. There was one thing there, always. A hand in his, soft, strong, determined. A hand that wouldn’t let him go.

“You were here,” he said.

“I might have checked in on you now and again.” Joss looked back at him and he saw the lines of exhaustion carved into her face. And a dark smudge under one eye that was more than lack of sleep.

Bax frowned in concern at the bruise. “How did you get hurt?”

“Silverhielm caught me a pretty good one when I was trying to pin him down.” Her smile was shaky. “I didn’t want him to get loose. I didn’t know what he’d do to you.”

“What happened? I remember noise from Oskar’s friends and the table going over and that’s pretty much it.”

Joss slid the chair to the side of the bed with the ease of long familiarity. “You didn’t miss much. When I shoved the table at Silverhielm, his gun went off, which is how you got shot. It was a good wound, or so the doctors tell me. Went through your side without hitting anything important.”

“Nice to know so much of me is irrelevant.”

“It’s a good thing,” she agreed. “Anyway, I jumped on top of Silverhielm and the table to keep him down, which is how I got pasted. Dinged up a couple of his ribs, too, I’m told,” she said, grinning unrepentantly.

“Where was Markus in all of this?”

She shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. Oskar’s friends were too busy pushing him away and he backed out the door.”

“Markus, back away from a bunch of kids?”

“Maybe he felt sorry for them.” She smiled faintly. “By the time Rolf and his team showed up, he was gone.”

“And Silverhielm?”

“In jail under charges of kidnapping and assault, not to mention the Swedish equivalent of grand larceny. Rolf got his search warrant. Now that he’s got access to Silverhielm’s records, he’s expecting to put him away on stronger charges for a good, long time.”

“And the stamps?”

“Got them both. The police have to hold on to the one-penny Mauritius for a while until they prosecute Silverhielm. The Blue Mauritius is back in the vault for the time being.”

Bax nodded, suddenly exhausted. He fought to keep his eyes open, to focus on her face. When his lids drifted closed, she was the last thing he saw and she followed him into his dreams.

When he awoke again, he was in another bed in another ward. But one thing was the same—Joss was there.

“Awake now?”

He stirred a little bit and for the first time felt the itch of healing on his side instead of the merciless whip of pain. “Now. When is it?”

“A day later than last time.”

He glanced around. “The room looks different.”

“You’re in a medical ward, now. No more ICU. The doctor said you’ve bounced back amazingly well.”

He smiled wryly. “That’s me, star of the class.” He studied her. She looked different too. She wore her red jacket; her battered leather satchel sat in a heap on the
floor by the foot of the bed. Bax felt a quick spurt of alarm. “Are you going somewhere?”

She nodded. “You’re on the mend. The doctors expect you to be up and around in a week or so.” Her voice was falsely bright.

“So you’re going back to San Francisco?”

She glanced away. “Time to get on with life, don’t you think?”

There was a time he’d have been relieved. There was a time he’d have been happy at the prospect of being on his own again.

But that time was long past.

J
OSS STOOD
by the bed where Bax stared up at her.

“Don’t go,” he said. “We’ve got things to talk about.”

But if she didn’t go now, she’d never be able to. “It’s time, Bax.”

“No. That night at Silverhielm’s, when I saw Markus with his gun on you, I realized—”

“Don’t,” she said sharply. She wouldn’t let herself listen, she couldn’t. She knew what would happen later, after he’d gotten out of the hospital, after he’d recovered. “Until everything went to hell in a handbasket, you knew what you wanted. And when I’m no longer your bedside companion or your damsel in distress—”

“I was wrong, before.”

She wanted to listen, she wanted to believe him, but she knew it was only temporary. “How can you be sure things are different?” she demanded. “How can I?”

“Trust me.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes softened. “Right now, you’re feeling like you want me to be a part of your life because you’re hurt. I’m not going to take advantage of that. Take your time. Heal and get past this and then we’ll see.”

“I’m thinking just fine, Joss. I don’t need to get out of this hospital bed to know how I feel about you.”

“You need time, Bax, we both do. I’ve got to get my life straightened out, too. On my own. You told me once you couldn’t be my salvation, remember? You were right.” She smiled and tried to pretend her heart wasn’t breaking.

“So that’s it? You’re saying goodbye?”

“I’m saying goodbye for now.” She would not cry, not now, she told herself fiercely and rose. “Maybe one of these days…” Her voice caught. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, smoothing his hair back. “Be well, Bax.”

And she made herself walk out.

“H
AS IT LANDED
, yet?”

Joss and Gwen stood in front of the monitor in the international arrivals hall at the San Francisco airport, checking the screen for their grandparents’ flight from Sydney. Only days before, Joss had walked out of the gates from customs herself, coming home from Stockholm.

Having left everything that mattered behind.

Joss skimmed the list of world capitals until she spied their listing. And then stared helplessly at the listing for a flight from Stockholm just above it. For a moment she missed Bax so badly it was like a physical pain. If she’d been at home, she could have curled up into a ball of misery. Here, she was in public so she just stood woodenly and stared at the letters as though the sight of them would prop her up.

“Hey,” Gwen said softly. “You okay?”

Joss gave a quick, empty smile. “Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gwen slung an arm around Joss’s shoulders and
squeezed. “I was just where you are not too long ago, remember? Don’t try to hide from me.”

“Ah, hell, Gwen, what am I supposed to do, keep being a basket-case every time I see anything that reminds me of him?”

“No. On the other hand, you’ve only been home a week. Cut yourself some slack. It’s going to take longer than that, you know.”

“I know,” Joss agreed. It was going to take a lot longer than that.

It felt like it was going to take forever.

“Anyway, there are better things to think about,” she said briskly, moving to the sliding glass doors that shuttered the hall from Customs. “Gramma and Grampa are home and we’ve got good news instead of bad. How great is that?”

“God, I’ve been dreading this moment for two and a half months, ever since Jerry stole the stamps,” Gwen said. “I couldn’t imagine telling Grampa about it. I can’t believe we got them back.”

“You can’t? Since when have we set our minds to something and not done it?”

“The Chastain sisters, a force to be reckoned with?”

“Damned straight,” Joss agreed. “Look, there they are!”

Their grandparents came through the doorway looking tanned and healthy and about a decade younger than when they’d left.

“Over here,” Gwen said, waving to them and then running up to greet them with hugs.

“You girls are a sight for sore eyes,” said Hugh Chastain, blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh, we’ve had the most fun, you can’t imagine,” said his wife, kissing Joss on the cheek. “We’ve got so much to tell you.”

“So do we,” Joss murmured. “So do we.”

A
NEW LIFE
. She’d come back from Stockholm knowing what she wanted to do with her life. Now, she had a career to pursue. Now, she had a goal. And if hours and minutes of her new life dragged every time she thought about Bax, she had plenty to distract her. In fact, she’d packed her schedule with so many classes and practice sessions and study hours that she barely had a minute to herself.

How then, was it that she still found time to miss him?

Joss shook her head impatiently. It had been weeks. Weeks, and the hurt was still as fresh as it had been. She ought to be able to get past it. This was her new life. She shouldn’t be spending most of it thinking about the old.

Gwen walked into the empty showroom. “Grampa’s headed out for the night. Are you just about ready to shut down, here?”

Joss stirred. “Just about. Can you close out the register? I’ve got to get going, tonight. I’ve got an early Tae Kwon Do class.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to do too much?”

“I’m fine,” Joss replied quickly. “The more I take, the faster I’ll get my P.I. license.”

“Yeah, but it won’t do you any good to have a license if you run yourself into the ground before you get your first client. Work doesn’t make it go away, Joss.”

“I know, but it beats Parcheesi.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Get out of here. I’ll take care of things.” She glanced up at the chime of the front door. “Whoops, actually, let me check something in the back, first.”

“Hurry, Gwen,” Joss said over her shoulder as Gwen walked into the back. “I don’t have much time.”

“Do you have time to talk to me?” asked a familiar voice.

And she turned to see Bax.

For a moment, she simply stared. He stood at the counter leaning on a cane, which looked incongruously dapper with his T-shirt and jeans. He’d grown thinner, she noticed, so that the bones stood out strongly in his face.

“When did you get back?”

“About three weeks ago.” He watched her closely.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Everything seems to be working all right. I should be able to get rid of the cane, soon.”

He’d want to set it aside as soon as humanly possible, she knew. He’d look at it as a challenge, a barrier to be surmounted. And he wouldn’t give up until he had.

“So how have you been?” he asked now.

“Okay. I’ve started martial arts training and I’m taking a course in the penal code. I’m working here while I get my investigator’s license.”

He raised his eyebrows. “So you were serious about that.”

“I told you I was,” she said shortly.

“Yes, you did. I should have listened. I screwed up that night. I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have.” He looked down at his cane and twisted it slightly back and forth. “And I missed saying a lot more that I should have.”

“You did what you needed to do.”

“No, I didn’t. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“I have a class to get to.”

“Where is it?”

“Up the street.”

“Well, then, can I walk you there?

“You don’t look like walking’s the best thing for you. We can talk here for a little while, if you want.” She opened the register drawer and got out the spare key for the door. “Just let me lock up.”

If she took long enough with the security gates and the door, maybe she could figure out how she felt about him showing up here. She didn’t want gratitude. She didn’t want guilt. It was impossible to squelch hope, but it was equally impossible to forget what they’d been through.

What she was still going through every minute of every day.

“There are chairs,” she told him, pulling one over for him before she walked behind the counter. Keep the distance, she thought. “So, what’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he was silent, just looking at her like a man stranded in the desert looks at water. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I spent weeks in that hospital bed after you left with nothing much to do but think. About you and me, about the baggage you keep and the baggage you throw away.” He rubbed his thumb along the chrome edge of the display case. “I know I said some bad things to you that night in the hotel. It wasn’t about you. It was about me trying to run away.” He gave a humorless smile. “But you know how that goes. You can’t run away from yourself. And you can’t run away from truths.” He took a breath. “I love you, Joss, and that’s the truest thing I know.”

“You don’t,” she countered, panicked because she wanted to believe him. Panicked because she didn’t think her heart could survive being broken again. “You just think you do. You’re confusing love with gratitude and protectiveness.”

“I’m not getting anything confused. I’m really, really clear now. You’ve got a right to be upset with me. I blew it. Getting involved with you scared the hell out of me and my knee-jerk reaction was to bolt. But that’s over with. I don’t want to run from it now.” He smiled slightly and raised his cane from the ground. “Even if I could.”