Barbara Dunlop - Thunderbolt over Texas

“Really, Rupert-” Sydney began, trying not to gasp for air. “It’s a family heirloom.”

Rupert shook his head. “And I give a damn, because?”

Should she tell him the truth? That his mother was an extortionist? Put her cards on the table and betray Grandma?

Betraying Grandma would be better than losing the Thunderbolt forever. Wouldn’t it?

Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating. She needed time to think. Somewhere out of the heat, away from that infernal coffee grinder.

Rupert started for the door.

“Wait!” she called in a dry, hoarse voice.

He turned and gave her a salute. “I need it for Milan, Sydney. Milan and beyond.”

The fake! The idea slammed into her brain with the force of an anvil.

“I can replace it,” she blurted.

He paused with his hand on the knob.

She moved toward him. “I have a replica.”

His brow furrowed.

“It’s good,” she assured him. “It’s very good. Flawless diamonds, five-carat rubies. You could have the cash and the Thunderbolt.”

“Half a million,” drawled Bradley.

“I’d have to see it,” Rupert said to Sydney.

“I’ll have it here this afternoon.”

Bradley stood up, clattering his chair against the floor. “For half a million you can make two fakes, and then some.”

Rupert arched a brow. “Within the week?”

A muscle ticked in Bradley’s jaw, and his eyes beaded down to brown dots.

Rupert shook a warning finger at Sydney. “I’ll look at it, but it would have to be perfect.”

“It’s perfect,” said Sydney, counting on the fact that the faceted diamonds were only a historical flaw.

He hesitated for a long minute. Then he nodded his head. “Here. Two o’clock. Right now, I have a conference call.”

As soon as he disappeared, Sydney groped for her cell phone. Bradley pulled his out of his pocket and left the café. Calling Oslo no doubt. He’d be back with a higher offer this afternoon.

Never mind Norway, thought Sydney as she punched in Grandma’s number.

By two o’clock, Cole was forced to face the fact that he’d been duped.

Sydney wasn’t coming back. Whatever it was that had brought her flying to Miami must have been a damn good lead. She’d obviously decided she didn’t need him anymore, and she’d had no compunction about ditching him.

Maybe she was going to sell the Thunderbolt on the black market. Maybe she’d decided that one big score was worth giving up her career. Maybe she’d never been from the Laurent Museum in the first place.

Lies upon lies upon lies.

Whatever it was she’d decided, it definitely included screwing him.

He stood up from the sofa and crossed the room to retrieve the address from the wastepaper basket. Twenty-seven thirteen Harper View Road. There wasn’t an explanation in the world that would get her out of this one.

One of Joseph Neely’s clerks personally delivered the fake Thunderbolt to the Miami airport. Sydney met him there and made it back to the café with less than five minutes to spare. Where, to her surprise, Rupert pulled out a jeweler’s loupe and began inspecting the brooch.

Bradley sat next to her, drumming his fingers against the plastic tablecloth, all traces of his flirtatious persona gone.

“Five hundred and fifty thousand,” he ventured, and she knew his profit margin was diminishing. He was going for pride now, pure and simple.

Sydney stared directly into Bradley’s eyes. “Four hundred thousand, plus the replica.”

Rupert paused, looking up from his inspection. “Will you two stop.”

The muscle in Bradley’s jaw began ticking again.

After an excruciating fifteen minutes, Rupert returned the loupe to his jacket pocket. He closed the case on the fake Thunderbolt, and Sydney held her breath.

Finally, he put his hand out to Sydney, palm up. “Four hundred thousand.”

“A cashier’s check?” she asked, her heart smacking against her rib cage.

Bradley swore, but Rupert silenced him with a glare.

“A cashier’s check will be fine.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from his breast pocket. “And you can sign here.”

It was Sydney’s turn to hold out her hand, palm up.

Rupert smiled his admiration, then he reached into the same pocket and pulled out a worn jewelry case.

She clicked it open, and her entire body shuddered in relief.

“May I?” she asked, pointing to the pocket that held the loupe.

He retrieved it. “Be my guest.”

She checked the jewels, then she turned the brooch over to check the casting. A deep sense of satisfaction settled in the pit of her stomach. The Thunderbolt was going home.

She pulled out the envelope containing the two cashiers’ checks-one from Grandma’s line of credit, the other from Sydney’s savings account.

Rupert handed her the pen.

Bradley smacked his fist down on the table.

The transaction was over with surprising speed, and all three of them stood.

“You need an escort to a taxi?” asked Rupert, slanting a glance at Bradley.

Sydney chuckled, enjoying the moment. Glad to have thwarted Bradley, excited about telling Cole, and absolutely thrilled for Grandma.

“I don’t think he’ll mug me,” she answered.

“Man,” muttered Bradley. “You’re a freakin’ lunatic,” he said to Rupert.

“It was interesting to meet you, Sydney,” said Rupert, ignoring Bradley’s pithy comment and striding for the door.

Sydney zipped her purse securely shut and tucked it under her arm.

“Don’t look so smug,” said Bradley.

“I’m not smug,” she returned as they paced for the exit. “I’m happy for the Erickson family.”

“Don’t you ever gag over all that syrupy sweetness you call a personality?”

Sydney opened the glass door and glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Been nice doing business with you, Bradley.” Then she turned her head and took a step, walking straight into Cole’s broad chest.

He grabbed her by the upper arms and put her away from him. “You lying, cheating, little-”

“Cole!”

He was dressed like Texas again. A denim shirt, his sleeves rolled up, with faded blue jeans riding low on his hips. His boots gave him an extra inch, and he looked truly dangerous.

He glared past her, eyes hardening on Bradley. “Looks like you changed your mind about slitting your wrists.”

No. Oh, no.

Her stomach turned to a block of concrete. She had to explain. She had to make him understand. “It’s not-”

Cole shut her up with a look of ice. “Don’t even bother.”

“But-”

“Do you actually think I’d listen to anything you have to say right now?”

Bradley made a move.

“Keep walking,” Cole barked, squaring his shoulders and shifting himself between Sydney and Bradley.

Bradley hesitated for a split second. Then he held up his palms and took a step back. “Hey. Nothing to do with me. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” He turned to walk away.

“Hand it over,” Cole demanded in a cold voice.

“You have to let me explain,” she pleaded, searching her brain for something that would work as an explanation. She still couldn’t give Grandma away.

“Explain?” He laughed coldly. “Explain why you ditched me in a hotel and bought the Thunderbolt for yourself.”

“It’s not for-”

“You’ve been stringing me along from the beginning.”

“Will you listen to me?” What could she say? What would make sense? If only Bradley hadn’t shown up. If only Cole had stayed back at the hotel.

He threw up his hands. “I can actually see you making up the lies.”

“I’m not-” Okay, well, actually, she was.

He shook his head. Then he swiped his thumb across her bottom lip. “As far as I’m concerned, every word that comes out of your pretty little mouth is a lie.”

“I never lied to you.”

“Yeah? Then what the hell happened to ‘Cole. I’ve got a lead on the brooch. I know who’s got it. We can buy it back.’ Did I miss that part? Was I not paying attention?”

“It’s not that simple.”

He folded his arms over his chest, gazing down at her with contempt. “It’s exactly that simple. Now hand it over before I call the cops.”

“You’d have me arrested?”

His blue eyes glittered like frozen sapphires. “Damn straight.”

“What if-” What could she say? How could she explain it without betraying Grandma?

“You going to give me another logical story, Sydney? Been there. Done that.” He held out his hand. “Give.”

Sydney’s shoulders drooped. It didn’t matter what she said. It didn’t matter what she did. “You’ve tried, convicted and executed me, haven’t you?”

“I may be a little slow on the uptake, but I like to think I’m not a complete idiot.”

Sydney yanked the purse from under her arm, fighting back a surge of stinging tears. At least Grandma would have the brooch, she told herself. And Cole would have his inheritance.

She dragged open the zipper. Maybe he would get married someday. Maybe some beautiful bride would give him beautiful children, and he’d pass all the traditions on to them.

She should be happy about that. But she just felt hollow and nauseous as she retrieved the jewel case.

“This the real one?” he asked with a derisive sneer.

She glared at him without speaking.

His voice dropped to a menacing growl as he clicked open the case. “If it’s not, you know I’ll come after you.”

She wasn’t about to dignify his accusation. “Tell Grandma…” She stuffed her purse back under her arm, squeezing it down tight. “Tell your grandmother I’m sorry.”

His blue eyes hardened to stone in the bright sunshine, and he snapped the case shut. “I don’t think so.”

Sydney winced.

She’d lost the Thunderbolt. And she’d lost Cole.

Her body suddenly felt too heavy for her frame.

She searched his face, but there wasn’t a crack of compassion, no sign of conciliation. Anything she said now would be a waste of breath.

She blinked once, then turned away. She took a couple of wooden steps toward the curb and put up her hand to hail a cab.

Cole didn’t call her name, and she didn’t look back.

Cole wheeled his pickup into a wide spot in front of Grandma’s house. The flowers were still blooming. The barns were still standing. And the horses still grazed in the fields.

He’d been to Heaven, then Hell, then home again, but the Texas landscape stuck to its own rhythm, not even missing his presence. He killed the engine, trying to shake the vacant feeling that had built up inside him, forcing himself to drum up some enthusiasm for the good news he was about to give his grandma.

He felt the breast pocket of his shirt for the hard, rectangular package, reassuring himself that the last four days hadn’t been a dream-or a nightmare.

He kicked open the driver’s door, snapping himself out of his mood. Nobody needed to know he’d been taken for a fool. They only needed to know the brooch was back. He’d gloss over Sydney’s betrayal and gloss over his own gullibility.

He crossed the dirt driveway and took the front stairs two at a time.

“Grandma?” he called as he opened the door.

She appeared in the foyer, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I heard your truck. Do you have news?”

He forced himself to smile as he slipped the case out of his shirt pocket. “I have great news. I found it.”

She searched his face for a moment. “And everything’s okay?”

That wasn’t exactly the reaction he was expecting. He smiled wider. “Of course it’s okay. We have the Thunderbolt.” He held the case out to her.

Her pale blue eyes shimmered with tears and she reached for the case, opening it carefully to gaze at the brooch. “Where’s Sydney?” she asked, glancing to the open doorway behind him.

Cole inhaled, turning to close the door. “She’s in New York.”

Grandma stilled. “Why? Why didn’t she come home?”

“She had things to do.”

“What things?”

“Grandma…”

“What things? Cole Nathaniel? This is her triumph-”

Cole winced and bit back a sharp denial.

“-her achievement-”

He clenched his jaw tight to keep himself silent.

“She needs to be here with us to celebrate.”

“Grandma.”

“Don’t you ‘Grandma’ me.” She snapped the case shut.

“She’s gone.”

“What did you do?”

“Sydney is not our friend,” he said as gently as he could.

His grandmother glared up at him, waving the Thunderbolt case. “That’s ridiculous. You’re marrying her.”

Cole ran a hand through his hair, gripping the base of his neck. He needed to get out of here. He needed some air. He needed not to be answering questions about Sydney right now. “No, I’m not marrying her.”