Kristin Hardy - Sealed With A Kiss

Gwen mulled it over as the waiter set her grilled trout in front of her. “I feel like I should be the one doing it, but I just can’t.” She swallowed. “Do you understand?”

Gwen had always been so self-sufficient that she sometimes seemed more the grown-up than Joss. Seeing her vulnerability now, Joss felt fury at Stewart Oakes anew. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.” She stared at her sister. “I’m going to bring back the one-penny Mauritius, Gwen, I swear it.”

“Well, you’d better be quick about it. Grandma and Grampa are due back in a month.”

Joss grinned. “Hey, with me and Superhunk on the case, it’s a done deal.”

JOSS SAT in the visitation room at the Clark County jail, waiting for Stewart. Even though she was on the outside, there was a heaviness in the air that made her shiver a little as she sat in front of the Plexiglas window at her assigned booth. She was here voluntarily. She could leave at any time. What must it be like to be inside, to be without a choice?

Except that an inmate like Stewart Oakes had made his choice long since.

Around her, the faces of the other visitors largely mirrored her unease. The expressions were sober, mostly, and distracted. It wasn’t a happy room. People came here because there was trouble. Only the children seemed blithely unaware of the tension in the air.

For a while, nothing happened. Then she heard the faint sound of a door opening and the prisoners began to file into the visiting area on the other side of the Plexiglas, under the watchful eyes of the guards.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d had no recent connection with Stewart as Gwen had had. Then again, knowing him hadn’t protected Gwen from nearly being shot, so Joss wasn’t sure it really mattered. He’d either show or he wouldn’t, he’d talk or he wouldn’t. Either way, she’d at least know she’d tried.

The man who sat down, wearing tired-looking orange coveralls, looked nothing like she remembered. Joss had seen a photo of Stewart pinned to the office bulletin board. In it, he’d been laughing, his arms around Gwen and their grandfather. Despite the streaks of gray at his temples, he’d looked young, lighthearted.

He didn’t look lighthearted now. Jail had not been kind to him. Age sat heavy on his shoulders. Dark smudges underlay his eyes and his skin looked grainy, his expression defeated. Some of her anger morphed to pity. She picked up the phone on her side of the transparent barrier.

Stewart blinked at her and scowled, picking up his phone in turn. “What do you want?”

“I’m Gwen’s sister Joss. I was hoping we could talk.”

He studied her. “Is Gwen here?”

Joss shook her head. The disappointment that flickered over his face erased her pity and aroused her anger all over again. “Are you surprised? Stewart, you held a gun on her.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head. “I wrote her a letter. Did she get it?”

“I don’t know.” She wasn’t going to give him an inch, not here. After the damage he’d wrought, a letter of apology was laughable. “You put her through the wringer. She’s still getting over it.” Joss watched him rub his temples. “It looks like you’re doing the same.”

He gave a humorless grimace that might have been a smile. “That’s all right. I’ve got lots of time to work on it. But then, you’re probably not here to talk about me.” He frowned. “Exactly why are you here?”

Joss studied him. “Trying to undo some of the damage. I’m hoping you might be able to help.”

Before she even finished the words, he was shaking his head. “No. No way. Not without a lawyer.”

“Stewart, you’re already pleading guilty. It’s all over but the shouting.”

“Yeah, well, that shouting you’re talking about could mean the difference between doing a year or rotting in here for five to ten. Besides, like I already told the detectives and inspectors, I don’t know anything.”

“Maybe you know more than you think, something that could help us.”

“You got no business coming here.” His voice rose and he started to get up.

“I’ve got no business coming here?” Joss snapped like the crack of a whip. “You threatened to kill my sister, you stole millions from my grandfather, you betrayed us all and I’ve got no business coming here?” She clenched the phone receiver, fury making her dizzy. “I don’t give a damn what kind of a sentence they hand down to you. That’s not why I’m asking. I’m trying to undo the damage that you’ve done. I’m trying to get back the one-penny Mauritius and you’re the only one who can help me.”

“How do I know you’re not taping this?” he demanded.

“How could I be?” She gestured at the phone. “Anyway, what would be the point? It wouldn’t affect your case, except to help you. You think they’re not going to look a little more kindly on you if my grandfather has back all his property? Come on, use your brain.”

“My lawyer would kill me.”

“Your lawyer’s not here now and neither is the D.A. It’s just you and me, Stewart,” she said persuasively. “You can’t erase what you did to Gwen but you can help make things better. Don’t you want to? Don’t you want to try to fix it?”

She waited in silence, hoping that she’d read him right.

Finally, Stewart sat back down and rubbed his eyes wearily. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t help if I wanted to. I dealt with an intermediary the whole time. I never even found out the client’s name.”

“Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t at least have an idea. Gwen thinks it might be Karl Silverhielm.”

Stewart’s gaze skated off to one side. “I told you, I don’t know. I only dealt with my contact.”

“What did he look like?”

“It’s all in the police report.”

“Save me some work. What did he look like?” she repeated.

Stewart shrugged. “Light hair, tall, blue eyes. One of those Nordic faces.”

“What was his name?”

Stewart snorted. “Do you think for a minute he gave me his real name? You can bet it was a fake.”

“What was it?”

“Michael Houseman.” When she rolled her eyes, he shrugged. “I told you, there’s nothing I can give to help you.”

“Was there anything else about him, anything that would let us identify him?” Joss persisted. “Think about how he moved.”

“He didn’t look like a thug. He was smooth, classy, even. And he moved like he was trained, like a boxer or something.”

“Can you remember anything about him that couldn’t be changed, his ears, maybe, or the shape of his fingers?”

“Nothing that stands out. His features were normal, nothing unusual about them. His hands were—” He stopped.

“What?”

“Well, it might not be important.”

“Let me decide that. What?”

“His right hand. There was a scar on it, between the thumb and the forefinger. I noticed it when we were shaking hands.”

“What was it shaped like?”

“A jagged line, like a knife had slipped or something.”

“Nice company you keep,” she said dryly.

He bristled. “Look, you wanted me to help, I’m helping.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Look, you’ve given me something that might be useful.”

“And my lawyer would knock me in the head if he knew I was talking to you.”

“You did the right thing, if it helps.”

He gave a brooding stare. “Little enough of that lately.”

“Stewart.” Joss hesitated. “This’ll mean something to Gwen.”

“Tell her…” The tone signaling the end of the visiting period rang. He waited until it was silent. “I’d give anything to have done things differently,” he said finally. “Tell her that, would you?”

4

BAX SAT in his chair with his feet up on his desk, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d spent too much time on the phone that day, trying to clear up business so he could leave for Stockholm. And wondering if he were nuts. Now, as the afternoon bled away, he was trying to decide whether to write up his notes or just call it a night. He hadn’t slept well the night before, waking in the darkness from dreams of unfulfilled cravings and dangerous pursuit.

And Joss Chastain.

The bargain they’d struck the previous day had been absurd, he knew that. He’d given her his word that he’d take on the case and he’d hold to it, but there’d be no charades of being lovers, no charades of being partners. His better judgment might have been overruled at the time but it had reappeared and he needed to do the responsible thing.

With a thump, Bax dropped his feet to the floor just as Joss swept through the door, all color and light in a pleated royal blue miniskirt and a stretchy blue and silver striped shirt that wound around her body.

“I’ve found something,” she announced.

She was something, something he’d fought all day not to dwell on. Now, with her standing in his office practically vibrating with energy, their agreement seemed just a way to make a formality of the chemistry that flowed between them. The wide ebullience of her grin tempted him to taste. The curve of her waist begged him to touch. In a whirlwind second, she filled the room with her presence and completely destroyed his concentration.

And it pissed him off. “Now what?”

“I just got back from Las Vegas and I’ve got a clue.”

“Let me guess. You figured out that we’ll all be better off if you leave me alone to do my job?”

“Not that kind of clue.” She gave him a withering stare and sat in his client chair, taking her time getting comfortable. The getting comfortable involved lots of shifting and stretching that made him only more aware of her body. “Now, if you’re nice, I’ll share with you. If not, I’ll just keep quiet and let you tell me what you found out today.”

Irritating, he thought. “Let’s get something straight—”

“As your client, I’ve got a right to a report on anything you’ve found out,” she reminded him serenely.

What she didn’t have was a right to blow in here smelling of summer and seduction and completely fracturing his ability to think. “As my client, you pay me to do the investigating. That means if anyone was going to Vegas, it should have been me.”

She didn’t rise to his tone. Instead, she gave him a smile that made his pulse bump. “Some things need a woman’s touch. Anyway, in two days we’ll be flying all the way to Stockholm. Vegas is small change, by comparison.”

“You still should have told me before you went. I’ve already got the police report.” He held up a thick bundle of paper and slapped it back down on his empty desktop. “You wasted your time.”

“Not at all. I went to the Las Vegas jail to visit Stewart Oakes.”

“Who told you to take a flying leap, I hope.” Bax frowned. “His case is still in progress. You shouldn’t be talking to him.”

“His case is a formality at this point. He’s copping a plea on both sets of charges. Talking to me won’t change that. Besides, I can be persuasive when I want to be.”

Didn’t he know it, Bax thought, tearing his gaze away from her mouth. “All right, Nancy Drew, what did he tell you?”

Amusement crossed her face. She obviously knew where he’d been looking. “Well, I tried to get him to say something about the Swedish collector, but he played dumb.”

“Now there’s a surprise.”

“Not dumb enough. I mentioned Silverhielm’s name and his eyes shifted. Even if he doesn’t know for sure it was Silverhielm, he believes it is.”