Thieves Like Us Read online

  fluid igniting on a charcoal grill. Not a sound he expected from his kitchen.

  “Janet?”

  She didn’t answer, causing small tentacles of worry to clutch at his ribs and make him hurry to the kitchen. Their hold tightened when he saw her lying on the floor in front of the sink.

  “Janet!” He dropped to her side. “Wake up!” Heart thundering and cold sweat gathering at every pore, he brushed her bangs aside and stroked her cheeks, repeating her name. Her eyelids fluttered. The roaring pulse in his ears eased a fraction, and he resisted the urge to yell and shake her. Leaning close, he held her pale face between his hands, slightly reassured by the warmth of her skin.

  “Janet. Janet.”

  Her eyes opened, slowly focusing on him. Confusion drew her brows together. “Rocky?”

  Her voice was groggy, but her eyes were clear. Sighing, he dropped a grateful kiss on her forehead. Controlling the nervous quiver that tried to grip his voice, he asked, “Do you remember what happened? I found you lying here on the floor. Did you trip?”

  Her gaze drifted around the room as she thought, stopping at the sink. “I remember. The box. It made a sound and it started smelling funny. I put it in the sink.” When he started to rise, she grabbed his hand. “Wait! Don’t get too close. I think it exploded or something.” She propped herself on her elbows.

  “Just lie still. Don’t get up yet.” His order had no effect, as she propped herself against a cupboard door and massaged her temples. “Or just ignore me and take a chance on passing out again.” He pushed her hand aside and lifted her chin, letting light from the window fall on her face. Color was returning to her cheeks. “Stubborn as usual. How are you feeling?”

  “A little better.” He must not have looked relieved because she clutched his hand and squeezed it. “Honest, I’m okay. You can check the box, Rocky. But if you smell something, hold your breath. Whatever it is, I think it’s what got to me.”

  Cautiously, he stood and approached the sink. Tatters of cardboard flecked the countertop, and a blackened box sat in the stainless steel basin, its top flaps nothing but shredded edges. Inside, cushioned in ash-coated packing peanuts, wires connected a small box that looked like a kitchen timer to a broken glass jar. An acrid smell assaulted him, making him faintly dizzy, but it had dissipated enough to have lost its intended effect. Just to make sure, he bypassed the security system and opened the window above the sink, then ran water over the debris and threw a dish towel over the soggy ruins.

  “It’s some sort of bomb, isn’t it,” Janet said from the floor. It wasn’t a question. Her eyes squinted and he was pretty sure she was feeling the beginnings of a nasty headache. “Why is someone sending you a bomb?”

  Good question. But what really unnerved him was that Janet had been on the receiving end, not him. The only thing keeping him halfway calm was that she was all right.

  He squatted in front of her and picked a couple flakes of cardboard out of her hair, wondering how much of an argument she was going to put up when he suggested she see a doctor. “You’re right. It looks like it was rigged to blow open the box and release whatever gas knocked you out. It had some sort of timer.”

  “Why? Who have you been pissing off?”

  “I don’t know.” Not for sure. The box had been sent to him with no return address—he’d seen that much before Janet had taken it from his hands. And he’d seen enough of its contents just now to know someone had intended to either knock him out or worse. He wasn’t sure why, but he could make a good guess about who.

  The obvious answer was one of the shady characters he’d been in touch with recently. Not the sleazy bottom-feeder at Lost and Found Treasures; the man couldn’t have tracked him down that fast even if he had a reason, which he didn’t. It would have to be from his visit to the Detroit Barber Shop. He’d given Vasili no reason to attack him; if anything, the local representative of the Russian Mafia was a little too fond of him. And his associates would never act without his approval. There’d been no potential for conflict in that visit, except for—

  “Damn. Easy Joey.”

  She looked up from brushing off the shredded flakes clinging to her shirt. “Who?”

  “A guy I ran into yesterday. Pretty good burglar, pretty lousy human being. He’s invented some vendetta, and thinks he needs to steal something from me. He’s all attitude and ego, but probably clever enough to rig a device like this. Except I don’t see what good it would do him to knock me unconscious.”

  A second later, he did. A chill touched the back of his neck, like icy fingers tickling his skin. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.

  “What?” She’d picked up on his fear; her eyes wide and her voice low.

  He listened for several seconds before answering. The house was silent. Far from reassured, he spoke so softly she had to lean forward to hear him. “He wants to break in here. I assumed it would be while I was gone. But the little bastard thinks he has something to prove. He might have the balls to try it when I’m here. In fact, that sounds exactly like his style—risky and overconfident.”

  She shrank back against the cabinet. “You mean he’s trying to break in here right now?”

  Instead of answering, Rocky put his finger to his lips and cocked his head.

  Janet froze, biting her lip. The luscious lower lip he should be nibbling on right now. When he got his hands on Easy Joey, the little asshole was going to find burglary a bit more difficult with a couple broken limbs.

  Rocky had to be right. Any second now Easy would trip an alarm. Both doors and windows had backup systems, a precaution the arrogant little twerp would never think to look for. And even if he got past them, Rocky would be there to catch him. In fact, catching him inside might be more rewarding than keeping him out. If he could just figure out the point of entry.

  In the garage something metal clattered to the floor.

  He smiled. Easy was going down.

  Standing, he motioned for Janet to stay down, and he was mildly surprised when she did. That headache must be coming on strong; automatic obedience from her was something he’d learned not to take for granted.

  He moved slowly, then paused with his back to the refrigerator, and tried not to think about how he’d pressed Janet to the same spot not long before, losing himself in her intoxicating taste and her soft skin. Instead, he thought about the giant error Easy had made when he was careless enough to get Janet involved in this feud. Rocky could tolerate teaching the guy a lesson in humility, if that’s what he needed, but Easy had crossed the line.

  Around the corner in the laundry room, a faint scraping came from the door. Someone was working the lock. With a quick move, Rocky killed the power on the keypad on the wall. Couldn’t risk the backup alarm scaring Easy into running. He wanted the punk to walk into the condo. After that, Easy Joey would be breaking and entering, and the tools in his hand and the box in the sink clearly indicated his intention to do harm. A homeowner was entitled to defend himself. In another minute, Easy would be fair game.

  With a barely audible click, the deadbolt slid open. Rocky plastered himself to the refrigerator. He couldn’t hear him, but he could picture Easy creeping into the shadowy laundry room. A tiny metallic sound signaled the lock mechanism falling into place. Then nothing but silence. Easy was listening.

  Rocky tensed, ready. Come on, asshole, three more steps.

  He counted the seconds to himself, wondering how cautious the little prick would be.

  With a soft thud, something hit the washing machine. A man’s voice yelled a frightened profanity. Rocky understood instantly, and darted out, diving toward the laundry room in two quick strides, right into the path of his terrified cat.

  A ball of white fur hit his ankle at the same moment he tried to widen his step to avoid the fast-moving animal. Losing his balance, he lunged forward, bouncing against the wall and falling to his knees. Three steps ahead of him, Easy Joey yanked the door open and ran into the garage.

  Spitting a
few profanities of his own, Rocky scrambled to his feet and followed. Easy was already through the side door, racing across Mrs. Garfield’s drive. Three doors down, Rocky spotted the yellow Corvette idling by the curb, as if someone had left it for a moment while they dropped something off. Or stole something.

  Easy vaulted the car door, slammed the vehicle into gear, and squealed his tires as he shot down the road. Rocky cleared the garage in time to inhale hot exhaust fumes and watch the car roar around the buildings, out of sight.

  “Shit!”

  He hadn’t even had time to put a few dents in the shiny yellow car, much less its owner. And he couldn’t chase him down, not with Janet sitting on his kitchen floor looking like she could use a half dozen Advil. Putting his anger aside for the moment, he hurried back inside.

  Janet was on her feet, leaning against the counter. Her wobbly stance shot a fresh jolt of concern through him; he shouldn’t have left her, even for a minute. He slung an arm around her and led her to a chair. “Sit. No standing. How are you feeling?”

  She managed a weak smile. “My stomach’s fine. My head, not so much.”

  “We’ll get you to a doctor. Would you like a drink of water first?”

  “I don’t need a doctor, but water sounds good.”

  He bent down to look her in the eyes. “Janet, you’re going to a doctor. For me, if not for you. Save the arguments.”

  He must have looked stern enough, or else her head was beginning to ache enough. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Just get me a drink first.”

  He kissed the top of her head and fetched a glass of water along with a washcloth soaked in cold water. When he laid it on her forehead, she raised grateful eyes. “Thanks. I’m sorry I’m being difficult. You’d make a good mom.”

  He smiled. “That’s not exactly the position I was looking to fill.”

  She tipped her head, squinting a warning look through her pain. “Are you still trying for something more permanent? ’Cause one session of hot sex doesn’t constitute a relationship.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, willing to keep it light if that’s what she wanted. “I was going for two when we got interrupted.”

  Beneath the washcloth, the edges of her eyes crinkled. “I know. But I don’t think I’m up for it right now.”

  He grabbed her free hand, making sure she looked at him. Making sure he didn’t laugh at her serious expression. “Babe, I didn’t mean I was waiting to resume the action. We’re taking you out of the game for the rest of the day. Maybe two. Okay?”

  She sighed her disappointment. “Yeah.”

  He did smile then, and reached out to wipe a trail of water that dripped from the washcloth past her temple and down her jaw. He’d kissed those places just a short time ago and found himself tempted to kiss them again. To caress her skin with his lips, to massage the tension out of her neck before letting his hands skim down her sides. His fingers ached to touch her.

  What kind of sick bastard would have erotic thoughts about a woman who was so obviously in pain? He stood, banishing all thoughts of sex. “Come on.”

  She let him help her without protest, and he tucked her against his body, supporting her weight. Putting his arm around her was beginning to feel right, which could be a very dangerous thing. He wondered how well he’d be able to hide his feelings from her. She probably thought this had been no-strings sex, but for once in his life he wanted a few strings. And stubborn, relationship-shy Janet Aims was not going to like that one bit.

  Janet slumped in the passenger seat on the way back from the ER. Everything had gone to hell. Right now she should have been lying in Rocky’s bed, exhausted and sexually sated. Or on his kitchen counter, equally sated. That one really would have been interesting. But instead she was nursing a toxic gas induced migraine while he drove her back to Elizabeth’s house to sleep in her own bed. Alone.

  His hand stroked her cheek in a way she was beginning to love. “Hey, babe, you awake? You’re home.”

  She cracked an eyelid. “Yippee.”

  He came around the car and helped her out. “I know, it’s been a long afternoon for you. Let’s get you inside and into bed.”

  “If I could locate my sense of humor I’d make a saucy remark about that line.”

  He chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

  She should have warned him to be careful with that phrase, but it sounded good right now, and having a deep conversation about relationships didn’t. Her mind was fully occupied just watching the ground as she put one shaky foot ahead of the other.

  He held her elbow as she negotiated the front steps in a terribly sweet gesture of concern. She turned her bleary gaze on him as he used her key to unlock the front door. “Just for the record, I think you’re really nice,” she said quietly.

  “Thanks.”

  “Cute, too.”

  He grinned, ushering her inside. “I prefer handsome.”

  She nodded agreement. “That, too. I’ve had a lot of pain meds, haven’t I?”

  “Just enough. How’s your head?”

  “Still hurts.”

  He looked so upset at that she wished she’d lied and said she could hardly feel it. She hated that he felt responsible for what had happened. But all his solicitous hand holding was what had gotten her through the afternoon at the ER without collapsing into a whimpering ball of pain. He hadn’t left her side for a minute. And she hadn’t wanted him to. No one she knew could have made her feel more reassured or cared for. Not Ellie, not Elizabeth, not even her parents. That was something she needed to examine further—when her head didn’t hurt so much.

  He guided her up the long, sweeping staircase to the second floor. They reached her bedroom just as Mr. Peters was leaving it.

  The butler dipped his head in greeting. “I’m relieved to see you looking so well, Miss Aims. Nevertheless, I have drawn your blinds and turned down your bed, should you wish to relax a bit.”

  She had no idea how Elizabeth Westfield had found this living monument to British gentility in metropolitan Detroit, but she’d never appreciated him more. “You’re such a liar, Mr. Peters, but I love you anyway. Thank you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I bring you anything? Tea, perhaps?”

  “No, thanks. I just want to take a nap.”

  “A sensible plan.”

  Rocky jerked her aside as she stepped forward. “Watch out for Jingles,” he warned. The big black-and-white cat had flopped onto the carpet in front of her, stretching to his full length with a playful meow.

  Mr. Peters scooped him up with a startled vocal protest from Jingles. “I’ll remove the cat until you feel better,” he offered.

  “No!” She smiled to offset the anxiety in her voice. “He can stay.” Curling up with Jingles sounded as reassuring right now as her security blanket had when she was four years old.

  “Very well.” He deposited the cat on the carpet, where Jingles did his best to look regally offended. “Call if you need anything.” She saw him pull a lint brush from his pocket and swipe at the stray cat hairs on his suit before closing the door behind him.

  Pausing only long enough to remove her shoes, she crawled under the covers and sank onto the soft pillow with a sigh. Jingles jumped onto the bed, purring his pleasure that his owner had finally caught onto the obvious genius of sleeping during the day. She drew him against her, petting his back. “How’s my big sexy boy?” she murmured into his ear.

  “Hey! He’s sexy and I’m just cute?”

  She smiled at Rocky’s indignant expression. “He’s been the only man in my life for the past year.”

  “The competition, eh?” He gave Jingles a warning glare. “I’m calling you out, cat. Get ready.”

  An actual giggle burbled at the back of her throat, momentarily relieving the pain in her skull. Rocky could threaten her cat all day and it would never worry her, while one cold glance from Banner had convinced her to send Jingles to her parents’ house.

  The thought reminded her of something that had b
een bothering her since they left the pawnshop.

  “Rocky, I think I should go see Banner.”

  His brows slammed together in a hard stare. “No, you shouldn’t. And how the hell did he get into this discussion?”

  She winced at the increased volume. “Relax. I was just thinking that I should talk to him about the jewelry he bought from that guy. Maybe I can get some information out of him.”

  She gave him points for the obvious effort he made to remain calm, but if he clenched his jaw any tighter, he’d crack a molar. “Janet, Banner tried to have you killed. I don’t want you anywhere near him, even if he is in jail. He’s not powerless just because he’s behind bars. He has money and contacts, and I’d rather he forgot about you.”

  “But what if he really did buy all of the Pellinni Jewels, like Sleazy said?”

  “Sleazy? Perfect.” He snorted in dry amusement at the name she’d given the owner of Lost and Found Treasures. “You said you searched everywhere and Banner didn’t have them.”

  “He doesn’t. Not in the safe here, not in the one at work, and not in the bank. But he doesn’t appear to have the diamonds Sleazy said he bought, either. So what if he really did have the rest of the jewelry, and it went to whoever got the diamonds?”

  He frowned, and she knew he’d followed her logic. To stop the attacks on her, they needed to find the rest of the jewelry, and Banner might know where it was. If Rocky looked that irritated, it must mean he agreed that she had to see Banner.

  “We’ll fight about this when you feel better.”

  “Fine, talking about Banner only makes my head hurt more. But I’m right.”

  He raised a cautionary eyebrow, and she decided not to tell him that he was far sexier than Jingles, even when he disagreed with her. Instead, she reached up to catch a handful of his shirt, pulling him toward her. “Kiss me good-bye. Then go do something about your cat. Just don’t take her back home; I don’t trust that friend of yours not to hurt her, too.”

  “Easy isn’t my friend. He isn’t anyone’s friend.” But his expression softened as he leaned close to her and laid a hand against her face. “Feel better. And call me when you wake up.”