Chapter 4
Lena followed Nash up the stairs to the apartment entrance, but her stance on the small landing clearly communicated she had no intention of crossing the threshold.
Fine. He'd take what he could get. At least they could have a semi-private conversation here.
Manny and Frank couldn't see his doorway from their shack or from their security cameras.
He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.
She took a half-step toward the doorway.
The kitchen's under-cabinet lighting reflected in her eyes. Intelligent eyes. Scanning his apartment.
Apprehension stiffened her movements, but the dim light from the kitchen softened her features. Wisps of long blonde hair framed her face—and her calculating gaze.
"Does Nutmeg want some water?" he asked.
Her eyebrows lifted. She glanced at Nutmeg, then at Nash, apparently trying to decide if it was safe to accept a bowl of water. Wow. No trust yet.
"Lena, it's just water. Here." He took a cereal bowl from a kitchen cabinet, filled it with water from the sink, and approached just short of Nutmeg. He lifted the bowl. "Is it okay?"
"I . . . I guess so."
He set the bowl in front of the curly-haired, dark-eyed ball of fur, who looked more like a teddy bear than a dog.
Nutmeg needed no prompting. He lapped the water so fast Nash was sure he'd need a refill in about thirty seconds.
“How do you know my name?” Lena asked, a curious mix of fear and determination lacing her words.
Okay, here we go. “I’m going to be honest with you, and I need you to trust me. I know you’re here looking for your cousin. But you’re in way over your head. This is dangerous, and you need to get out of here.”
Her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t flee down the steps. “You didn’t tell me how you know my name.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’m here working undercover for a private security firm. We’re investigating Emil Van Horn on behalf of interested private parties. I know his girlfriend, Cassidy, flew to the Caribbean with him a week ago. That’s your cousin, right?”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she was breathing. Some of the color left her face. “Is she . . . is she okay?”
The tremor in her voice pricked his conscience. Maybe he should soften his tone.
“I can’t promise you that,” Nash said as gently as possible. “I’m not sure exactly where she is, but I suspect she’s on his yacht. I haven’t been able to confirm that, though.”
That news seemed to infuse a little hope. At least she appeared to be breathing again.
“Then you need to take me there." She took another half-step closer to the doorway. “I have to find her.”
“Whoa,” he said. “I'm not going to do that. I understand you’re concerned about your cousin, but you need to let us handle this.”
"Us?"
“I’m the only one on the premises at the moment, but I have a team behind me gathering information, and I have backup I can call.
We’re arranging a flight to fly you home in the morning.
I’ll take you to the airport. I can provide Delphine a very convincing story.
She won’t think anything of it. Nutmeg will still be taken care of.
Delphine and I can look after him until Victoria gets back or wants to hire another dog-sitter. ”
Exasperation flashed on her face, but he changed the subject before she could protest. “I’m not even going to ask how you engineered your way into this job. But I'm curious, why not just show up and knock on the door with your real name?”
Her momentary anger fizzled. She bit her lower lip. Interesting.
“Look, I’ve been very honest with you,” he said.
“Why don’t you tell me what you know? Maybe you could help us.
To be clear, we weren’t hired to find your cousin, only to investigate Emil.
But I promise you I won’t leave here until we locate your cousin and you get a chance to talk to her on the phone.
That's all I can promise you, though. If she doesn’t want to leave Emil, we can’t force her.
But I will find her and make sure that she’s all right. ”
The slow shake of her head revealed a deep weariness of the subject. “You won’t be able to force her to go. If she hasn’t figured out Emil’s true colors yet, she won’t want to leave. I’ve been trying to get her to break up with him for weeks.”
“You don't trust him?"
"No."
"What do you see that she doesn’t?”
Her mouth flattened into a hard line. “It's not just one thing. I know several people in his circle of friends. At best, they’re ruthless businessmen. At worst . . . well, I don’t think highly of them.
I’ve suspected for a long time that they’re dangerous.
And Emil doesn’t seem genuine. He’s nice to Cassidy.
Very nice. He acts like he adores her. Maybe he does.
Maybe he loves her. But I don’t trust him.
” Something jolted in her gaze, and her body froze.
“Oh, I know why you’re here. You’re looking for the jewels. ”
So she did know something. “Go on." He motioned for her to keep talking. “What do you know about the jewels?”
Her shoulders straightened. “I know Cassidy didn’t steal them. But since you said you’re not looking for her, then I know Sebastian Ruben didn’t hire you. He's been telling people he suspects Cassidy took them.” Her jaw clenched. "But. She. Didn't."
He threw both hands in the air. "We don't suspect Cassidy. I believe you." His hands rested on his hips. "How do you know Ruben?"
An irked huff escaped her lips. “For better or worse, I know a lot of people. I don't trust many of them.” She said it like maybe she didn't trust any of them.
This conversation was proving productive for his investigation. But there was something—something he couldn't name—about her that sparked a genuine fascination in him. He waited for her to go on.
She pointed to the small kitchen table and chairs a few feet inside the apartment. "Maybe I could . . ."
"Yes, of course. Please come in." He pulled a chair out for her.
"Want something to drink? I have . . . " He opened his refrigerator.
"Well, I just have water. But I do have an ice machine.
So, mademoiselle, would you like chilled water or chilled water with ice?
" He may have added a little flourish to his words.
He wasn't flirting. Definitely wasn't flirting.
But the growing smile on her face suggested she was beginning to trust him.
And he enjoyed that feeling more than he wanted to admit.
"Water without ice is fine. Thank you."
While he filled two glasses with water, she shut the apartment door and sat at the kitchen table, still gripping the leash, trying to keep a rein on the little furball.
Nutmeg ran in a circle around her chair, tangling the leash.
"You can let him off the leash if you want. It's not a big place. You're not going to lose him."
Her mouth quirked. "Are you sure? Victoria said he's outgrown the chewing phase, but he sure enjoyed gnawing on one of my socks today."
He handed her a glass of water and took the seat across from her. "I'm not worried. Let him run around."
"Okay. Your risk." She bent down and unclipped the leash. The teddy bear dog sprinted across the apartment like he thought a big, juicy steak—or whatever it is dogs live for—was waiting on the other side of the living area. He was probably disappointed to find books. And an empty suitcase.
Nash infused as much patience into his tone as possible. "So, you were saying?"
She took a sip of her water and stared at the glass.
“I doubt I know anything that you don't. I know that the jewels belong to Stanton Hightower.
" She ran a finger down her glass, the weariness returning to her voice.
"They were stolen a little over a week ago from Sebastian Ruben's hotel, where they were on display during a fundraiser gala.
No one noticed they were missing until most of the guests had left.
" Her eyes sparked with new intensity. "I know neither Stanton nor Sebastian reported anything to the police, which should tell you a whole lot right there. "
"Their first names."
"Huh?"
"You refer to Sebastian Ruben and Stanton Hightower by their first names. I find that interesting."
Confusion furrowed her brow until something dark chased it away.
Her defenses walled around her. The trusting look evaporated.
"You know my name. Who my cousin is. Who my family is.
You obviously looked me up. Don't play games with me.
" She stood. "I told you I don't know anything that you don't. I—"
A flood of light bursting through the living room windows halted her speech. Nutmeg scuttled behind Lena's legs because apparently bright lights are scary. Brave one, that dog.
Nash walked to the window in time to see Frank and Manny running to the back of the main house, illuminated by the security floodlights.
"What's going on?" Lena asked.
"I'm not—" Nash's phone vibrated. Knox calling. "Hang on a sec," he said to Lena. He answered the call. "Hey. Any idea what's going on at the house?"
"Silent alarm triggered. Wanted to see if that was you, buddy," Knox said, sarcasm oozing through his feigned concern.
"Uh, huh. Because I go around setting off alarms."
"Well, somebody did. Wanted to make sure you knew about it."
"Yeah, we see it." Nash held the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he withdrew his Glock from a desk drawer and holstered it in the small of his back. "The floodlights triggered with the alarm. I'll go check it out."
"You said 'we.'"
"Lena's at my apartment."
"Oh. Okay, then." Nash was very grateful Lena couldn't hear the inflection in Knox's response.
"I'll check in later." He ended the call without giving Knox another opportunity to comment and turned to Lena. "Stay here. I'm going to see what's going on."
"Wait, what?"
"Stay here. I'll be back."