Thieves Like Us Read online

  Listening for footsteps before stepping into the deserted hall, she hurried to a locked room at the far end. Using the key she’d taken from the custodian’s desk, she slipped inside. The room housed a collection of unused furniture, accessories, and electronics, along with seven nondescript cardboard boxes containing the personal effects from Banner’s office.

  She’d seen what was in them. Heck, she even helped pack them. But she’d been married to him at the time and had had a right to handle his possessions, even if she’d done it in the presence of his attorney. Now she was his ex-wife and the future star witness in the government’s case against him. Getting caught searching through his personal belongings probably wouldn’t be a good thing.

  She was also breaking Rocky’s and Ben’s stern warnings to stay home. That part couldn’t be helped—she had a business to run and a crime to solve. If she got back to Elizabeth’s before six as planned, they’d never even know.

  That gave her an hour to go through the seven boxes again. When they’d packed them away she’d only made sure they didn’t contain personal items like photographs or credit cards. This time she was looking for receipts or jewelry boxes, anything that might be related to the Pellinni Jewels.

  She dragged a chair to the boxes, opened the first one, and dug in.

  Forty minutes later Janet sighed with frustration as she opened the last box. At least this one didn’t have any tedious stacks of paper or loose leaf binders. It also didn’t have any likely connections to the missing jewelry. One by one, she lifted out the knickknacks that had decorated Banner’s desk and shelves—a chunk of polished stone littered with trilobite fossils, a broken piece of Aztec pottery that probably belonged in a museum, a trophy won in a sailing race on Lake Michigan, and a half dozen other unsuspicious mementos.

  She pulled out the last object—a wooden humidor, inlaid with ivory. She’d seen it before, it was where Banner kept his cigars. This time it rattled when she picked it up. She held it on her lap and yanked at the tight lid. It opened with a pop, spilling the contents into her lap—eight golden golf balls.

  She picked one up. It was obviously gold plated; it felt too light to be solid. A tiny flat base allowed each ball to sit so that the black lettering across the top could be read: Westfield-Benton Charity Golf Classic. Souvenirs for the top players at the company-sponsored annual golf event.

  Disappointed, she gathered the balls and put them back in the box. One dropped from her lap and rolled across the cement floor. Janet muttered a curse as she retrieved it from beneath a desk, blowing off dust and cobwebs. She rubbed her finger along a dirty line, but it wouldn’t come off. Using her fingernail, she scraped it. Her nail caught in a groove.

  Hope fluttered in her chest as she wedged her thumb nails into the groove and pried. The ball fell open in two halves, revealing a hollow interior. No secret prize, no hidden jewelry. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting; it wasn’t big enough to hold one of the ornate Pellinni Jewels, anyway. It was just another cheaply made promotional gift.

  To remove any doubt, she opened each one. All empty.

  Disappointed, she packed them away with the other items. Closing the last box, Janet sighed. Whatever had happened to the rest of the Pellinni Jewels, Banner didn’t seem to be involved.

  She returned the key and headed to her rental car. The Westfield-Benton parking lot had emptied considerably, and only one other car pulled out when she did—a black Escalade that turned in the same direction. When she stopped for gas, it kept going.

  She filled her tank and got back on the road. She looked in her rearview mirror as she changed lanes and noticed a black Escalade a couple cars back. When she turned onto the I-75 entrance ramp, she watched the mirror again. The Escalade was still there.

  That didn’t mean it was following her, she told herself. I-75 was the major traffic corridor in Oakland County; a whole string of commuters had taken the same entrance ramp. Plus, her little rental car made her blend in while the BMW was at the shop. But the way the Escalade hung in her rearview mirror made the skin on the back of her neck quiver with apprehension.

  Her fears eased a bit as she passed Chrysler’s headquarters and the Escalade pulled into the second lane and sped up. If she stayed where she was in the right lane, she’d know soon enough if the driver was tailing her.

  The man behind the wheel was drawing even when she moved into the long exit lane for Square Lake Road. He moved right, too, hanging in her blind spot. But he wasn’t in the exit lane. She breathed a sigh of relief. Rocky’s fears had her imagination working overtime.

  The next second, a sharp jolt sent her car skidding toward the abutment of the upcoming overpass.

  She jerked the wheel left, instinctively steering away from the cement wall. The little rental car fishtailed on grass and gravel, sliding toward the embankment and scrub growth beyond the expressway. In the slow motion she’d often heard accident victims relate, she saw the car ahead of her pull to the right, ready to aid the potentially injured, while the car slightly ahead in the next lane swerved even farther away, causing a sharp blare of horns that cascaded across the expressway in a chain reaction.

  The Escalade was still in her blind spot, but probably close, waiting to send her down the slight embankment if she pulled out of the skid. Not a deadly drop, but at this speed, enough to cause significant injury. The car slid on weeds as she fought for control. She stepped on the gas and the car lurched, front wheels catching on asphalt, then shooting forward as she regained the road.

  Speed seemed like a good idea. Her compact car was no match for the powerful Cadillac SUV, but she wasn’t about to stick around to see what it would do next. Darting around the concerned citizen who had pulled over ahead of her, she hit the gas. Behind her, the Escalade gave chase.

  For once, Janet was thankful for the congested traffic on Square Lake. Her car dodged nimbly between vehicles, but the Cadillac was closing the gap, roaring up the center lane behind her. Its driver had the advantage of not caring what he hit.

  She couldn’t outrun him. The light ahead at heavily traveled Woodward Avenue turned yellow, and she laid on the horn, while saying a silent prayer that the car ahead of her was aggressive enough to speed through. It was. She followed, cutting sharply left into the center turn lane. If she couldn’t escape her pursuer, she might at least find safety in numbers.

  The U-turn exchange across the divided highway took her back to the light at Woodward. With a screech of tires, she cut across lanes and took a sharp right south bound, tearing up flowers as she careened over the curb. Horns blared and cars swerved as she wedged into a gap between vehicles, pissing off drivers for a good fifty yards behind her. A quick glance in the mirror showed the black Escalade following, bouncing over the curb and plowing through traffic. Cars scattered, opening the center lane, giving the driver a clear path. Damn. The Escalade leapt forward, accelerating with a high-pitched whine as it tore toward her. She couldn’t outrun it. Her only choice was to find someplace safe, and quickly.

  A police station would have been ideal. No such luck—the next mile of Woodward was a tree-lined boulevard. The few quiet side streets offered nothing but palatial mansions. The only exception was the long drive ahead on her right, leading to Cranbrook Academy. Several cars were slowing in the right lane, turning into the school. There must be a function tonight.

  A crowd of people would provide protection, but she didn’t have time to follow a stately line of cars down a winding lane. There was only one option. With a sharp swerve, she cut the line, wedging the little rental between a Land Rover and the Volvo ahead of it. A cacophony of blaring horns arose, aimed both at her and the Escalade as it tried to follow, forcing its way between indignant drivers.

  They were about to get even more indignant. As soon as she turned into the drive, she angled the car to block as much of the road as possible, and then stopped.

  Cars braked behind her. Horns honked. The driver of the Land Rover slammed out of his v
ehicle and stalked toward her. But most importantly, the Escalade backed out of the expanding traffic jam before it could get trapped, laying rubber as it sped off.

  Relief was a cool wave sweeping over Janet from head to toe. Giving the furious Land Rover driver an apologetic wave, she put the car in gear and straightened out. Before she could find a way to turn around, the loud whoop of a siren sounded behind her and red and blue lights flashed in her mirror.

  Pulling two wheels over the curb, she moved aside enough for traffic to pass her. Hopefully, flattening the immaculate Cranbrook lawn wouldn’t be included on her long list of violations.

  At least no one was hurt.

  “What were you thinking?! You were supposed to stay here where you’d be safe!”

  Janet narrowed her eyes at Rocky from across Elizabeth Westfield’s living room. “I was thinking I have a job and it might be nice if I did it before the company tanked. I was thinking I wasn’t going to work my butt off to save Aims Air Freight only to lose it because you want me to be a virtual prisoner in this house. That’s what I was thinking.”

  Her answer did nothing to quiet the storm roiling across his face. “You knew people were after you!”

  He hadn’t lowered his voice, so she raised hers to match. “I knew they were after the jewelry! I don’t have the jewelry!”

  She would have used stronger language, but Libby was listening, watching the argument from the sofa with the attention she might give a championship tennis match. Janet saw her expectant gaze dart back to Rocky for the return volley, but Elizabeth interrupted the tirade.

  “I’m sorry, Roberto. It’s partly my fault. I should have stayed with her.”

  They all started to contradict her, but it was Ben who spoke first. “It’s not your fault, Liz. Janet’s a big girl.”

  “Thank you.” At least someone didn’t want to treat her like a child.

  “She can take responsibility for her own stupid choices.”

  She shot Ben an angry glare, one that clearly demanded to know whose side he was on. He stared back in cop mode, arms crossed, implacable gaze drilling holes through her, making the answer clear. He was on Rocky’s side.

  She threw up her arms. “Doesn’t anyone care that I stayed calm and got myself out of a very dangerous situation? And what do I get for it? Two traffic tickets and a lecture!”

  In the hostile silence that followed, Libby finally offered, “I think what you did was way cool.”

  Janet gave her a halfhearted smile. “Thanks.”

  Elizabeth touched her arm, forcing her to meet the firm parental look. “We’re all grateful that you were quick witted enough to survive, Janet. We care about you.”

  Elizabeth was as collected as ever, even though Janet knew she loved her like a daughter. At least she treated her like one. And she supposed her own father would react to her brush with death a lot like Ben had, with relief followed by barely restrained anger. The depth of his concern warmed her even as it made her feel guilty. But Rocky . . .

  She raised her eyes under lowered brows, taking in the flushed complexion and firmly clenched jaw that revealed his simmering temper. She’d never seen him so furious. She knew he cared about her, but she hadn’t realized just how much.

  With an impatient sigh, she said what she knew she had to say, whether she meant it or not. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Rocky said.

  She fixed him with a cool look, keeping her voice low. “Don’t press your luck, Hernandez.”

  Ben interrupted their glaring contest. “Janet, part of the reason we’re worried is the way they went about this. This was more than a warning. It was bold and daring, an attack in broad daylight that could have injured or even killed you. That’s not what I would expect from some cat burglar looking to find the remaining Pellinni Jewels.”

  “Exactly,” Rocky said with a fierce nod. “There’s something else going on here.”

  They were the experts on crime and criminals, so she’d take their word for it. She turned to Ben, who seemed the friendlier of the two at the moment. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” But the quick look he threw at Rocky said he had an idea, and Rocky knew about it. She darted suspicious glances at each of them, but both had their lips pressed into tight lines, obviously not willing to share with the others.

  She gave a toss of her head, forgetting there was no hair left to swing in a haughty arc. Flipping her bangs probably reduced the dramatic effect. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I leave. I missed dinner and I’m starving.” She made sure Rocky received the brunt of her disdainful look before she stalked out.

  Rocky left in the opposite direction, stomping outside where he stood in the dark beside his car, arms folded, fuming over Janet’s stubborn attitude. He doubted all their lecturing had made any difference—she would still follow up on the next idea that popped into her head, no matter how dangerous.

  She’d always been that way. It had worked for her—a risky, bold maneuver had saved her life when Banner had tried to have her killed. Another one had helped bring his illegal schemes to an end. There was no reason to think she’d change her ways now. Rocky would be better off keeping her close and watching out for her than trying to dissuade her from helping.

  But damn it, she could get hurt. Or worse. And he couldn’t live with that.

  He also couldn’t control her actions—Janet would never speak to him again if he tried. Besides, he wouldn’t be nearly so attracted to her if she were the type to wait for guidance every time there was a crisis. He liked her initiative and courage. It’s just that it was killing him.

  Perhaps his only option was to admit it.

  The kitchen was silent except for the low hum and swish of the dishwasher. Janet flipped on the low wattage lights that ran beneath a cabinet, enough to find a plate and silverware while still letting her stew in the gloom that suited her mood. Light reflected dully off stainless steel appliances and floated in a dim glow over the granite countertops. The semidark was a soothing balm after the tension in the brightly lit living room.

  Knowing that Michael, Elizabeth’s high-priced chef, would have saved leftovers for her, she rooted through the covered dishes in the refrigerator, coming out with something that looked like wild mushroom risotto with chicken. She lifted the lid and sniffed—finally, something good about her day. She spooned some onto a plate, nuked it, and poured herself a glass of white wine. The barstools at the island countertop seemed to suit solitary dining better than the dining room table. Settling in, she took a large forkful and closed her eyes, appreciating Michael’s culinary artistry.

  “Janet.”

  She nearly choked, and quickly gulped some wine before she could speak. “You scared me,” she accused.

  Rocky crossed the shadowy kitchen. The dim room matched his black hair, dark eyes, and generally pissy mood.

  He stopped beside her, the tall barstool putting them at nearly the same eye level. She took another bite of risotto to hide her discomfort.

  “You’re mad at me,” he observed.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  The side of his mouth twitched, but she couldn’t tell if it was amusement or irritation. She stabbed more food with her fork.

  “You scared the hell out of me.”

  She stopped with the fork halfway to her mouth, then slowly lowered it. She hadn’t expected to hear that admission, and his quiet statement held more power than if he’d yelled it. “Um . . .” She swallowed. Um, what? She wasn’t about to apologize for saving her own life. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know, you can’t help it.” He watched her closely, the low light enough to cast a gleam on his eyes, giving them an intensity she hadn’t noticed earlier. It was slightly mesmerizing. “You don’t panic in a crisis, and you don’t wait for someone to save you. You take charge and save yourself. You always have.” His gaze roamed her face, as if memorizing the details of each feature. She
wanted to seem unimpressed by his attention, but she couldn’t look away. “Last year, when I first listened to you tell us about how you escaped the drug dealers in Colombia, the ones who were supposed to kill you, I admired your self-reliance and determination.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded slightly, almost to himself. “I don’t anymore.”

  “What?” She set her fork aside, forgetting about the risotto. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s hard to admire what scares me to death. You’re risking your life.” His voice was low, almost grave. “I need you to stop it.”

  Her gaze kept drifting to his mouth, distracting her with the memory of what it felt like to be kissed by those lips. They were far more clever at scrambling her brain than she would have guessed. She wondered if they would have the same effect now, as irritated as he was with her. The thought distracted her from what he’d been saying. “Stop what?”

  “Stop putting yourself in danger. Stop trying to handle everything yourself instead of trusting me to help you.” His gaze wandered, too, lingering on her mouth, her hair, even her breasts, leaving tingling sensations everywhere it touched. Shadows moved along his jaw as muscles tensed. “Stop making me crazy, Janet.”

  She shook her head as if she were confused about what he meant. But she knew. She was starting to feel a little crazy herself.

  He held her eyes with his, a force too strong to look away. With a start of recognition, she knew what would happen next. She felt it growing between them like a volcanic eruption, building deep below the surface and getting stronger as it surged upward. The longer they waited, the stronger it got. She trembled, wanting him to do it now, wanting him . . .

  But he wouldn’t. He’d told her long ago that it had to be her move.

  Someone had inched closer, maybe both of them. His face was nearer, his breaths faster and deeper than hers. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she was breathing at all. But who needed air? The energy between them was more than enough to sustain her.