Elizabeth Lowell - Innocent as Sin

Well within screaming distance.

She just wished that Bertone wasn’t a crook. But then, he wasn’t the only ruthless man in the private-banking world. He was simply the one who was her client.

Big honking deal, she told herself roughly. Settle down. Even the lapdog artist has real teeth.

She’d seen them a few minutes ago, when Rand watched Andre Bertone walk away from them. Rand’s words echoed in her mind: You have no idea what’s at stake.

Hardly the reassurance she needed.

Hardly the words of a foot-licking lapdog.

Uneasiness crawled over Kayla. She couldn’t just stand and wait for the Bertones to schmooze their way through the guests and down to the garden. Impatiently she paced the flagstones, light blooming softly in front of her and then fading behind her into scented darkness.

Disturbed by her passage, a canyon wren sang from the flowering vines growing thickly on the far garden wall. After a few moments the bird settled into an irritable kind of silence.

She looked at her watch. Seven after seven.

Overhead a billion stars glittered through the ambient radiance of the city night. She considered counting them to pass the time.

The hell with this. I’m not waiting around like some kind of goat staked out for the tiger’s gloating pleasure.

As she turned toward the wooden gate, the lights went out. The metal-on-metal sound of the gate’s padlock closing came like a gunshot.

Silence.

Then came the soft whine of hinges moving, a hidden garden door opening. The wren shrieked and exploded into the night, flying as rapidly as Kayla’s wild heartbeat. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

A figure stepped from behind the vines into the faint radiance cast by a wall of pale flowers. The man was too thin to be Andre Bertone, too thin to be anyone Kayla recognized. He pulled the door shut behind him and stood motionless, letting his own eyes adjust to the faint light.

Kayla shrank back into a dark alcove, grateful she’d worn a black linen suit. Part of her waited to hear him call her name and tell her the Bertones had decided to delay the meeting.

The rest of her fought not to scream.

The man didn’t call out. Instead he prowled the garden like a skeletal ghost, poking at the tallest bushes.

He’s looking for me.

Kayla opened her mouth to scream for help, but before she could, rock music from the party crashed over the garden like thunder. Someone had ramped up the garden’s sound system to the point of pain.

If she screamed, the only one who would hear her was the man stalking her.

Slowly she put her hand in her purse and pulled out the Lady-Bug she used for opening envelopes and pulling staples. At three inches long, the little folding knife wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than fingernails and teeth.

She hoped.

Castillo del Cielo

Saturday

7:07 P.M. MST

Rand broke into a run as soon as he saw the lights go out by the garage.

“Where’s Jimmy?” he asked. “The lights just went out.”

“I’m driving toward the garage. He’s bringing an ATV from the back. He’s in uniform, so don’t-What the hell is that?”

“Music.”

“Sounds like a train wreck.”

“Louder than a scream,” Rand said roughly. He hurdled some plants to straighten out the meandering walkway.

“Not good.”

All Rand said was, “Light a fire and get there!”

“Limos are cluttering up the drive.”

“Put it in low range and make your own road,” Rand snarled. “Is the garden wall set to stun?”

A pause while Faroe radioed Hamm, then Faroe said, “Not electrified.”

“Thank you, God.”

“You’re welcome.”

Rand hit the gate at a run, grabbed the top, and vaulted over. The backpack caught on vines, pulling him off balance. He landed hard, went to his knees, and scrambled upright again.

“Talk to me.”

Rand didn’t answer. He didn’t know where his enemy was, but he was certain an enemy was there, waiting in the scented darkness.

“Two minutes to backup.”

When Rand spotted the thin figure against a bank of pale flowers, he knew Kayla didn’t have two minutes. He shucked his backpack, reached in, and pulled out a wicked folding knife. He opened it with a flick of his thumb. His other hand held a big, dark flashlight.

“One bogey,” he murmured. “I’m going in.”

“Wait for backup.”

Rand ignored his boss and shouted, “Kayla, stay hidden!”

Kayla heard Rand, but couldn’t see him. All she could see was the thin man coming closer to her with each step. She would rather have run, but she was cornered. Grimly she held on to her little knife and waited. She’d only get one swipe at the man. She wanted it to count.

Light speared out, pinning the thin man’s face in its blinding beam. He flinched and covered his eyes. He was wearing thin black leather gloves. Metal flashed in his hand.

A knife, not a gun.

Kayla didn’t wait for a better chance. She sprang out of cover and ran in the direction Rand’s voice had come from.

Rand turned off the light, opened his eyes, and went down the pathway with the gliding strides of a hunter.

The thin man went into a knife fighter’s crouch. Rand kept on coming. The man saw the gleam of metal in Rand’s hand, the length of his opponent’s arms, and decided to fight another day. He spun and ran.

Rand took off after him. Before he could gain any ground, the thin man scrambled up the vines, went over the fence, and vanished. Rand thought about going after him, but didn’t want to leave Kayla alone. No doubt Bertone had more than one killer on the payroll.

The screaming feedback from the speakers went silent.

“Jimmy killed the speakers. What’s your status?”

“One bogey over the fence, west side of garden. Can Jimmy get him?”

“He’s on the east, but he’ll try. How’s Kayla?”

Rand switched on the flashlight and ran it over Kayla. Pale, trembling a little, breathing hard. “No blood.” Then he smiled slightly. “Nice knife, honey. Just big enough to get the job done. You can put it away now.”

Kayla looked at the knife in his hand.

He folded it with a swift motion and put it in his pocket. “See? Totally harmless.”

She gave him a look of disbelief, but she folded her knife.

And waited.

“Jimmy says the bogey is gone. Poof.”

“Probably went home to Poppa,” Rand said.

Kayla started to say something, realized he wasn’t talking to her, and shut up.

“What?” Faroe asked.

“He’s Bertone’s. I saw the pass-off when Bertone sent him after Kayla.”

“What a sweet cluster this has become.”

“Ya think?”

The lights in the garden came on again.

“It’s Hamm,” a voice called out. “I’m coming in.”

Kayla flinched and opened her knife again.

“Easy,” Rand said, grabbing her wrist. “Hamm is on the side of the angels.”

“He works for Bertone.”

She yanked back suddenly, trying to free her wrist. Rand didn’t let go. Kayla went still, waiting for a chance to run.

Again.

Castillo del Cielo

Saturday

7:09 P.M. MST

Move slow,” Rand said clearly. “Kayla’s still on edge. She thinks you’re one of the bad guys. But don’t get all teary about it. She doesn’t trust me either, and I just saved her life.” He looked at her, smiled slightly. “You can say ‘Thank you.’ Really, I won’t faint.”

Kayla slanted him a glance that told him how not funny he was.

“We’re on the same side,” Rand said. “What other proof do you need?”

She looked at his hand clamped around her wrist. “I don’t trust either of you. I’m not sure I trust anybody in this.”

“Finally, she understands,” Rand said. “Too late, but hey, better late than dead, right?”

His eyes were as hard as his voice, as bitter as his words. Instantly her adrenaline flashed into anger.

“How do I know the skinny dude wasn’t after you?” she shot back. “He didn’t say a word, didn’t call out to me, nothing. Hell, he might have just been smelling the flowers.”

“With a seven-inch blade in his hand?” Rand made a disgusted sound. “I take back what I said about you understanding.”

Hamm trotted up, dogged by motion sensor lights. “You okay, babe?” he asked Kayla.

“I’m not a babe,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Adrenaline,” Rand said to Hamm. “Never can tell how it will hit someone. Right now, Kayla is channeling her inner bitch.”

“Quit yapping and get her the hell out of that garden trap,” Faroe said impatiently.

He must have said the same to Hamm, because the guard touched his ear and looked hard at Rand. “The Man says to get moving. She’s not safe here anymore.”

Kayla looked from Rand’s earpiece to Hamm’s. His wasn’t an iPod, but apparently they were talking to the same person. The Man, whoever that was.

She was terrified that it was Bertone.

“Let’s go,” Rand said.

“I’m not going anyplace, not with you and not with him,” Kayla said. “For all I know it’s Bertone whispering in your ear.”

Rand pulled out his earpiece and screwed it into Kayla’s ear. “Say hello, Joe. The lady thinks you’re Bertone.”

“Christ Jesus, I should have left you painting flowers in the rain,” Faroe snarled. “Now get your ass out of there.”

Kayla blinked. “He’s not a happy camper.”

“That’s our Joe,” Rand said, taking back the earpiece.

“You’re burning a lot of bridges, McCree. If she’s Bertone’s stalking horse, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Oh, yeah, talk dirty to me, you know it turns me on,” Rand said. Then, to Kayla, “Have you ever seen our skinny pal before?”

“No.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again? As in a mug shot?”

“Are you a cop?” Kayla asked, startled.

“No. Would you?”

“You’re the one who jacklighted him,” she said.

“I kept my eyes closed so I wouldn’t lose night vision.”

“Yes, I’d recognize him.” She shivered and stopped trying to free herself from Rand’s grasp. “I think he dropped something before he climbed the wall.”

“He was carrying a small duffel when I saw him head for the garden,” Rand said. “He didn’t have it when he went over the top.”

Hamm clicked on a flashlight and ran its beam along the base of the west wall. The spear of light picked out a dark, shapeless blob.

“Get it,” Rand said to Hamm. Then, to Kayla, “What did the guy look like?”

“He was dark, mestizo,” Kayla said, “not much taller than me, really thin but ropy, too, like he’d put on all the muscle he could. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Bertone has. He sent him after you.”

“There’s no reason for him to,” Kayla said bitterly. “He’s the blackmailer, not me.”

Hamm trotted up with the small bag. “You’re gonna love this.”

He tossed the bag to Rand, who caught it without letting go of Kayla. “What is it?”

“A handy-dandy kidnap kit,” Hamm said. He looked at Kayla and shook his head. “You were lucky, babe.”

“Christ. Get her out of there NOW,” Faroe snarled. “Bertone has a lot of thugs working for him.”

Rand looked at his hand on Kayla’s wrist. “You going to run if I let go, ma petite?”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there. Not worth a rerun.”

Rand waited.

Kayla looked at him for a long moment. Nothing about him made her nerves curdle the way they did when Bertone was near. And Rand had indeed been ready, willing, and frighteningly able to fight for her.

Some artist.

Hey, you wanted a third option, Kayla told herself bitterly. Looks like Rand is it.

Oh, lucky, lucky me.

“I won’t run,” she said. For now.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

Rand dropped her wrist and started walking quickly toward the wooden gate. As he walked, he rummaged in the duffel. His hand reappeared holding a small black pistol with a silencer screwed on, ready to go.

“Sweet.” Rand smiled rather fiercely. “Bet it’s stone-cold, too. Thanks, Bertone. I’ll put your gift to good use.” He shoved it in his waistband at the small of his back, right next to the taped area that was chewing on him.