“Room for Daniels,” Malcolm said, and dropped her bag to the floor so he could pull out his wallet.
The woman behind the counter gazed at her computer and began typing before she looked up. Her eyes went wide and she quickly studied the computer again. Malcolm frowned. What the fuck now?
“Smile,” Marie whispered against his arm, as she rubbed a hand over the small of his back.
Shit. Right. He forced himself to relax. And then he smiled.
“More nicer,” she said, and he laughed. “Sorry,” she told the lady at the desk. “We’ve had a long flight. And on our way here, some guy attacked us. On the street!”
Malcolm wanted to groan.
“He needs a nap.”
The lady’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“As a matter of fact, do you have a first-aid kit?” Marie smiled sweetly. “His hands,” she said, and he actually looked at his hands and found that, indeed, he was bleeding.
“Oh my.”
Malcolm put his hand behind his back. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he said to Marie, and then grabbed the keys. “Thank you.”
He stopped outside the elevator. “Do you think you could not tell everyone we meet about what happened?”
“Are you embarrassed?”
“What?” He frowned. “No. I don’t want the police involved. That would mean time. Time we don’t have if we want to get out of here tomorrow afternoon. We’re fine. You’re fine. Aren’t you?”
He looked her up and down. He’d assumed she was fine. Their attacker hadn’t gotten to her. But—
“I’m fine. You’re right.” She entered the elevator and pushed a button. “Of course. Probably some junkie. Or something.” She was biting her lip again—for the love of God. “We’ll meet with the client for dinner tonight. Then drive out to run security checks tomorrow. And be home before dark.”
He eyed her suspiciously, not liking the way she sounded, as if she was humoring him. But then she sighed and stamped her booted foot. “Actually, I’m going to stay a few extra days.” She shrugged. “If we’re going to talk about the hassle that this weekend has become—for you—I might as well tell you. I’m happy to be here. I’m glad I got picked to come with you. Aside from enjoying your company—”
“You do?” he asked, a little blindsided.
“—my uncle lives on the coast not far from here, and I plan to visit him for the first time in over a year.”
“Okay,” he said.
The elevator doors opened and they exited together, him going one way, her the other. “Clear,” they both said at the same time.
“Room?”
Malcolm looked up at the sign on the wall and pointed to the right. He really hated hotel living. It wasn’t the luxury some people claimed it to be. He’d actually rather rent a dumpy bungalow or travel in an RV.
Opening the door to their room, he stepped in and made a visual assessment of their surroundings. He checked the bathroom and opened each of the closet doors. “Clear.”
Marie had dropped her bags on the desktop, toed off her boots, and crashed on one of the queen-sized beds, flat on her back. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even. He stood there, watching. Had she really fallen asleep?
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Not a sound or movement from her.
He quietly put his things on the bed and went to take a shower. Dinner was in two hours.
After their crazy experience on the way there and travelling in general, he could use a little unwinding.
***
Marie woke without moving. Her stomach growled and she listened to the soothing sounds of the television’s low volume combined with the soft clacking of Malcolm on his laptop.
She blinked her eyes open to low lighting and then stretched.
Malcolm’s laptop snapped closed. His silence had her sitting up to look at him. “Hi,” she said.
He grunted and then got up, moving around to get ready to go. “I was about to wake you up.”
Standing, she picked up her duffel and set it on the bed. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
Before hitting the bathroom, she crossed to the windows. The sun was setting, the orange glow warming her view. “We should rent a motorcycle.”
Across the way there was a glass-top roof, an atrium of some kind, and she stood on tiptoes to get a better look. But the windows were too dark to see in.
“Dimitru’s driver is picking us up.”
“Hm.” She’d worked at playing it cool after the attack. He seemed to take it in stride, as if it was nothing new, but she was pissed. Would Dimitru know who she was? “Do you know where we’re going?”
“I assume a restaurant of some kind,” Malcolm said as he armed himself—like, to the teeth. A knife in his boot and one at his waist. And she wasn’t positive, but she could have sworn there was another knife tucked into his cargo pants pocket.
Marie frowned. “Are you worried about something? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“I don’t know. Is there something you aren’t telling me?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, knowing it was a lie, hoping it wouldn’t matter in the end.
Crap. She was going to kill Uncle Bert. He’d pulled her into his thieving ways for the last time. She never should have taken a job with Hawk Elite. Her purpose had only ever been to get closer to Dimitru. Instead, she’d gotten close to everyone else. Made friends, even. This weekend, she could very well lose them all.
When the phone next to the bed rang, she buried the regret and pain and picked it up.
“Good afternoon, this is the front desk calling. Your car is here.”
“Thank you.” Turning, she found Malcolm watching her, which sent her pulse racing. “The car. I’ll just”—she sidled by him—“get ready, real quick.”
Nerves settled in her stomach. Excitement, too. Finally, she was going to be able to put an end to this missing heirloom fiasco, because she was going to get it back and then she was going to donate the thing to the nearest frickin’ museum. And she wasn’t going to let family sentiment stop her from being practical and reasonable.
She dressed to blend in, wearing a conservative pair of slacks and her boots. She humored her fashion sense with the black lace top and a colorful silk shawl, which was cinched at the waist with the leather belt her great-grandmother had brought over from the old country. The buckle had been handmade by her grandfather almost a century ago. Uncle Bert’s brother. And her earrings had been a gift from her mother, the true Bălan. The one who had passed down the truth about life.
The only piece missing from her ensemble was the gold arm wrap, which was probably a good thing—aside from the fact Dimitru had it, of course.
The family heirloom. It was more than a pretty piece with monetary value. If you asked her uncle, he’d say it held power. The part of her raised to be proud wished Dimitru would look at her and see everything he ever wanted and could never have—roots, family. Romanian blood.
She suppressed the urge, because if Malcolm knew, he’d tie her up and toss her in the closet while he took care of business.
She didn’t want to steal—not like this—so blatantly. But this time, for this piece, she was going to go back. She was going to take back what belonged to her family.
“You look beautiful.”
Surprised, Marie glanced over at Malcolm as heat rushed to her cheeks. She’d worn her hair down and had applied makeup to show off her Bălan eyes. “Thank you.”
He reached out and ran a hand through the length of her hair.
Her breath caught in her throat at the slight tug and the brush of his fingers against her shoulder and chest.
“It looks soft tonight.”
“You’re used to it being up for work.”
“Maybe.” He studied her another minute, his hand still tangled in her hair. “I wish I could figure what was going on in your mind, though. You’re up to something.”
“I—”
He shushed her with a hand on her lips. “Don’t ruin it by lying. Know that if things go south, I’ve got your back. Will you have mine?”
“Of course,” she answered, indignation washing through the frou-frou feelings he created inside of her. “You can trust me.”
He winced. “I like you, Marie. I’m even a little attracted to you on a very basic level, and would love to get you into bed. But I’m not sure trust is part of the equation.”
“Yet,” she added for him, as her heartbeat sped up. Shit. He was so straightforward. She should appreciate him, as it seemed half the men she’d dated over the years tiptoed around what they really wanted. Her uncle told her it was because she was petite and somehow vulnerable, which she assumed meant they thought she was weak. Phooey. She couldn’t help her size, and she was far from weak.
“You can trust me to watch your back. I would never let anything happen to you.” She rested her hand on his chest, right where she knew his scar cut across his muscle.
He placed his hand across hers and leaned in, constantly watching her with those intelligent eyes as if deciding what to do next. So she stood on her tiptoes and touched his lips with hers. His hold tightened, and he took her kiss into that wonderful nibble stage, as if tasting her and testing her. She gave back this time, enjoying the rush of a first kiss.
When he broke away, they were both breathing deeply.
“I promise,” she said, the quiet of her voice circling them.
He nodded. “Okay. Let’s go meet Dimitru Douchebag.”
“Ha. Yeah. Totally.”
***
The limousine took them to the outskirts of town and down a country road toward the Dimitru estates.
“I’m not surprised,” Marie said, her gaze watching the passing scenery. “Guys like this always want to show off.”
“True.” When Marie pulled out her phone, Malcolm did the same, contacting Hawk to give him an update. “I don’t know exactly what we’re walking into,” he said. “The attack on the sidewalk seemed too planned. The guy wasn’t some druggie or homeless. He was scared, but he had sharp eyes.”
“You say anything to Marie about this?”
Malcolm quashed his guilt. “I didn’t confide my feelings on this topic, but I got a bad feeling, Hawk. Like there’s something going on I don’t know about.”
“You do what’s necessary to protect her, Malcolm. She’s familiar with the area.”
“I know. I know. But…” He hesitated. Hawk trusted Marie. Malcolm was learning to trust her. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”
The car had gone quiet, and before Hawk could answer, Malcolm said, “Look, if anything comes up, I’ll call again. Hopefully we’ll be done before dinner tomorrow. I’ll be on my way back across the country.”
“Take care of yourself, Malcolm.”
“Will do.” He hung up and slipped his phone into the cargo pocket on his pants. He hadn’t gone out of his way to dress up. This was business, and his business was checking security not humoring idiot clients.
The limo pulled through a set of gates and drove up to the main house. Several outbuildings surrounded it. Made of stone, the house was set amidst the fall foliage of surrounding oaks and sequoias. Malcolm saw issues of security in the placement of the home, but he imagined the structure had probably been there for decades. Still, if it was his place, he’d probably clear some of the thicker stands of trees for visual purposes.
“Kind of creepy, isn’t it?” Marie was looking up and out the window. “But in a good way, like a cemetery can be fun to walk through.”
“Looks like there might be a dungeon in there, and I do not want to end up in it.” When the car stopped, he opened the door and held out his hand. “So be good.”
She fake sighed, making him smile. “Too bad. I could definitely have fun in here.”
When they turned to the house, a tall man with dark, assessing eyes stood at the door. His salt-and-pepper hair, a tad longer than expected, complemented the expensive Italian suit, gray with a red tie pinned down. A flower was stuck in the lapel. Black pointed shoes finished the look.
Vladimir Dimitru looked like his profile picture—waxy, pompous, and uptight.
Malcolm smiled and stepped forward. “Mr. Dimitru. It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Malcolm Daniels.”
The man barely cracked a smile and nodded.
Taking a half step back as Marie ascended the final step, Malcolm introduced her: “Marie Feur, my associate.”
A light of interest flared in Dimitru’s eyes and his remote smile warmed, cinching Malcolm’s complete dislike of the fellow. Dimitru leaned forward, took her offered hand, and bent over it. Tool. “I’m honored to share my home with such beauty.” He studied her too long. “You have Romanian blood.”
Marie froze for a split second. Her entire demeanor screamed “tense with anticipation.”
“Can’t deny the looks,” she said, laughing nonchalantly, but she didn’t fool Malcolm. “Born right here in the States, though. Not far from here, actually.”
“What a coincidence.”
She shrugged, and Malcolm was getting the feeling it meant more than she was letting on. As if the shrug was hiding her real feelings and she did it to seem blasé, to convey a message of devil-may-care. He wasn’t sure he liked the deception. It spoke of duplicity and surprises that would pop up at any time…like the attack yesterday. Shit.
“Come in. I’ve been looking forward to this visit. We will relax tonight. It is a good way to start. Business is for tomorrow.” Dimitru showed them through the entranceway, a large room with six doors leading off it, doors like the front door—large, heavy, wooden. The modern amenities didn’t detract from the stone castle feel of the home, but they were there in the wrought iron sconces and in the small surveillance cameras in each corner.
Malcolm hadn’t installed the system, but recognized it and knew somewhere in the structure was a room filled with screens and video and audio feeds. And probably the staff to work it, which should make him feel safer, but it didn’t. “This is impressive. How long have you owned your home here, sir?”
“Please, call me Vladimir.” Dimitru waved them through the open doorway, taking them down a hall toward the back of the house. The hardwood ceiling above them was lighter grained—hickory or oak, letting light spread through the corridor. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to show you my collection before we dine. Cook says we’ve got about forty minutes.”
He stopped and turned to them. “I guess you could say you helped complete this venture of mine last year.” A true smile showed on his face—the first since they’d reached the front door. “It’s the largest private collection of Romanian artifacts in the United States today.”
Marie tensed next to him, like a caged cat about to be let free.
Dimitru accessed the room through the keypad next to the door.
Malcolm seemed to be synced to Marie’s every nuance. She was curious. She wanted to see. She wanted in almost as much as Dimitru wanted them in.
Malcolm put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into his side. It was a silent warning to cool her jets. He even turned his head and breathed two words into her ear: “Ease up.”
Like magic, she slowed her breathing and relaxed against him, then pulled away. Dimitru finished the string of verifications, including the biometric entry using his thumbprint, and the door swung open. When he turned to them, Marie was standing on her own, her face only slightly flushed.
“Nice system you’ve got.” Malcolm eyed the hardware with professional interest. “Who installed it?”
“Small company out of California. Sacramento. Like yourselves, they are mostly ex-military.”
Former military. Retired military. Veteran, Malcolm said in his head. Prick. “You didn’t stay with them?”
“They were incompetent.”
“Sorry to hear that.” With the military community being so close, and the security industry even smaller, Malcolm had a good idea who was in the Sacramento area. And incompetent wasn’t the word he would use for Zack Benson.
Another phone call to make later.
Dimitru flipped a switch, and the cavernous room glowed from the floor up.
Marie sucked in a breath.
Hidden lights accentuated several different podiums, all draped in velvet…and gold.
The room wasn’t empty, either. Guards stood off to the sides. Malcolm imagined that when no one was in here, the guards also disappeared.
Marie left his side to view some of the pieces more closely. He kept one eye on her, one on the man in charge. “This is impressive. Romania must be pleased to have this collection within reach. Do you take them back often?”
“Every two years. And if I’m lucky, I acquire a piece or two to come back with. Like this past year, when I travelled home with the armband.” He waved Malcolm into the back corner, where the ornate gold band rested against heavy burgundy tapestry. “The tapestry itself is over two hundred years old.”
Marie came up to the display, finished with her singular wanderings, and gripped his arm at the sight. “It’s gorgeous.”
Malcolm heard the reserve in her voice, heard the breathless anticipation, and he almost sighed.
“Isn’t it?” Dimitru smiled knowingly. “The women do love this piece. Would you like to try it on?”
“Me?” The excitement ringing through her one word had every red flag waving in Malcolm’s mind. This was it. This was why she was here. Something about this piece, the gold they’d been safeguarding when she just happened to pop up on their radar. Coincidence? No.
Dimitru picked up the antique. “It has a story, of course, like most of the items in this room.”
He handed it off to Marie, who didn’t seem to be breathing anymore. Malcolm watched her face, watched her shaking hands as she slipped her arm through the circular band of gold. It wound around her arm three times and rested against her tanned skin. Rested wasn’t the right word, though.
The damn thing came alive against her skin.
Dimitru looked sharply into Marie’s face. “Extraordinary. You—”
She quickly removed the bracelet. “It’s nice.”
“Nice.” Dimitru laughed, his gaze remaining on her face as if he was putting pieces of an intricate puzzle together. “My dear, this one holds stories of old that would make kings weep. It holds the power of unity, of passion—of immortality. It—” He shook his head. “It’s the most beautiful piece I have in this collection.”
“There are many stories from the old country,” Marie said as she handed the bracelet back to Dimitru. “I’ve heard most of them, and they are—in a word—myth. Fun for the old folks to tell and keep young children spellbound, but no more.”
Malcolm couldn’t help staring at her, though. He really hoped dinner didn’t last too long, because it was time for a heart-to-heart with Marie.
She might not believe in magic or old myths, but he’d felt something when she put the amulet on her arm.
Like hell if he wasn’t going to get to the bottom of exactly what her deal was with Hawk Elite Security.
And Vladimir Dimitru.