CHAPTER 4
A sort of numbness pressed through her when she took the blue bag. It was like the one Evie had had with her that was retrieved from the museum bathroom. The same one Bruce had stuffed in his glove box.
Bruce had taken the blue velvet bag from her flat.
Chloe stood a moment at the counter across from the woman trying to make sense of it all. Then she asked, “How did you know my last name was Sinclair?”
Moira gave her a little smile. “I know your sister.”
Hope exploded through her as her chest tightened. “Evie. Did you give one of these to Evie?”
“You must be Chloe,” she said, ignoring her question. She walked around the counter. “You’ll want to be careful with that. It’s a powerful thing.”
Chloe gripped the bag tighter in her hand. “Someone else wants it?”
Moira’s face turned serious then. “There are those who would kill for it. Never let it out of your sight.” Then she changed the subject and motioned her toward the door. “I must be closing for the night now.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to keep you.”
Chloe followed her to the front of the shop. As the woman reached for the door, she turned back to her. She looked her over, as though she was memorizing her face.
“Good luck to you, Sinclair.”
Then she opened the door and stepped aside. Chloe’s only response was to nod as she stepped out into the crisp evening. Moira closed the door after her and flipped the lock.
She stood on the sidewalk, gripping the bag with that eerie sensation still piercing through her. It was the oddest conversation she had ever had with anyone.
Chloe put the bag in her pocket as she headed for her car.
***
Three hours later, she perched on the edge of her sofa staring at the bag sitting next to Evie’s handbag. The stone rested on top of the bag as it continued to quietly hum.
Her mind was so befuddled she hadn’t thought to ask Moira what the stone was. All she knew was that it was part of something larger. Another piece perhaps. But the way it was broken indicated to her that it must be part of two larger pieces.
Did Evie have one of the pieces? She must have. She must still have it, wherever she was, because her bag was empty.
Which made her wonder why Bruce was so interested in it.
Exhaustion pounded through her. She lay on the couch, tucking her legs up. Her eyes became heavy as she stared at the humming stone, the bag, and her sister’s purse. The strange vision she had had in the shop came back to her. The one of the castle and the man she had never seen before.
It was the last thing she thought of when she drifted off to sleep.
The dream started immediately. The man had chiseled features with the most incredible sea- green eyes she had ever seen.
Firelight flickered over his face as he sat with his massive forearms crossed over his chest. The expression on his handsome face was pensive.
His gaze flickered to hers and his expression softened as he looked at her.
He held his arms out to her in invitation.
She slid into his arms as he wrapped them around her, surrounding her in his warmth.
“Och, lass, I cannae resist ye.”
His words were sweet as they rumbled through his broad chest. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. As his lips met hers, she startled awake. She sat up, her mind foggy, as she peered into the shadowy darkness of her flat, feeling a bit off kilter.
Who was the man she dreamed of? He was the same one in the vision she had had in the antique store.
She pressed cold shaking fingertips to her lips but the kiss wasn’t real. It was merely a dream.
The humming of the stone had grown louder, drawing her attention. She reached for it, picking it up and saw the lines on the stone faintly glowed. Her brows drew together as she peered down at it.
As she was about to run her finger over the stone, there was a pounding on her front door, startling her. She clasped the stone in her hand as a gasp escaped her and she shot to her feet. A quick glance at her watch told her it was nearly one in the morning.
Who would be at her door at this time of night?
Her heart raced as she stared at the door. There was silence. Had she imagined it in her post-sleep haze? She took a deep breath and expelled it, trying to calm her ragged nerves. She needed to go to bed and sleep.
Chloe turned toward her bedroom. As she did, there was a loud crack, like wood splintering. She spun to face her front door as it flew open. Two masked men rushed inside. She didn’t have time to react as one of them grabbed her, pulling her to him and wrapping her in his arms.
She thought of that night at the museum. These men were dressed like the ones who had invaded the night of the gala.
“I’ll hold her. Ye look for it,” he said.
The second man went directly to her bedroom.
Her heart rammed hard in her chest as she stood there, shivering with fear.
Sounds of things hitting the floor and drawers opening came from her room while the first man held her clutched against his heated body.
His shallow breathing shuddered in and out, as if nervous and on edge.
The second man came out of the bedroom, halting in the doorway and something about the way he stood there holding his head sent a shudder of familiarity through her. He turned his head in the light in a way that she got a glimpse of his bright, piercing blue eyes.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Bruce?” His name quivered from her.
Across from her, he stiffened. His entire body went rigid.
Behind her the man holding her barked, “Keep looking.”
“It’s not here,” the other replied.
As soon as he spoke, she knew she was right.
“Bruce, why?” was all she could think to say.
He stood motionless for a heartbeat, then reached up and pulled off the mask, revealing his familiar face. Those piercing blue eyes met hers and her heart sank to her shoes.
Evie had sensed something about him, something she didn’t like. She had tried to tell Chloe but she wouldn’t listen. She had thought she was in love with him. She had thought he might be the one. Now she knew he wasn’t.
He was the one who had stolen the bag off her coffee table. He was the one who had hidden it in his glove box. Was he also the one who had chased Evie up the museum steps that night?
“I know it’s here, lass,” Bruce said.
She didn’t know what he meant but she had a sudden suspicion he was looking for the stone. The one Moira gave her. The one clutched in her hand, the jagged edges biting her palm.
“What are you talking about?” She tried to play dumb.
The man holding her twisted then. He looked down at the table and saw the other blue velvet bag. “There’s the bag.” He turned back to Bruce. “Find it.”
“I don’t have to. She has it.” His gaze flickered to her clenched hand by her side.
Hot, wild fear pumped through her as she stared at the man she had thought she loved. He took two steps, closing the distance between them.
“Let her go,” he said to the one holding her.
He didn’t ease up on his grasp. “Are you mad? If I let her go, she’ll bolt.”
“She’s not going to,” Bruce said, his gaze never leaving her face. “Are you, Chloe?”
She decided there was only one way out of this and that was to comply. Moira had told her, though, to never let the stone out of her sight.
There are those who would kill for it.
Her words rang back to her. But if she didn’t comply, was she risking her life? She didn’t think Bruce would hurt her, but now she wasn’t sure.
“No,” she finally said, her voice weak and rough.
The man released her and stepped back. Bruce motioned to the sofa for her to sit.
She kept her hand clenched as she perched on the edge of the cushion.
She placed her hands in her lap. Her fingers were still tightly clasped around the stone.
He sat next to her. How many times had they spent in her flat doing that?
She didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
“You have something in your hand, don’t ye?”
“What if I do?” she asked.
“I need ye to give that stone to me. That’s what ye have, isn’t it? A wee stone?” he said.
Her heart pounded harder. She tried to ignore the flat door that was wide open. It was her only escape route and the other man stood between it and her. The chilly night air spilled inside.
“It calls to us,” he said. “We can hear it.”
In her palm, the stone hummed a little louder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Christ’s sake, Bruce, take the bloody thing from her, will ye?” the second man said, his tone laced with annoyed impatience.
“Don’t be like yer sister, lass,” Bruce said.
She straightened a little. “Where is Evie? What did you to do her?”
He chuckled. “I did nothing to her.”
“Then where is she?”
Now she was convinced Bruce had something to do with Evie’s disappearance. Had he taken her? Or, worse, killed her? Where was she?
“Give me the stone and I’ll tell ye where she is.”
A trade. She clutched her hand tighter around the stone. Did she dare trade the strange looking stone in her hand for Evie? He wasn’t giving her a choice. Likely, he knew she would do anything to get her sister back. She tipped her head down to look at her clenched fist.
“Och, this is taking too bloody long,” the other man snapped.
“Patience,” Bruce replied, his tone hard and unforgiving. Then to Chloe, he said, “I know ye want to know where she is. I can help ye find her.”
She wanted to believe him, but she didn’t.
There are those who would kill for it.
She had to think and quickly. She cut a glance at the other man who was edgy as he stood near the door. If she was fast enough, she could bolt around him and out the door. She still had on her sneakers. She could make a run for it. But then what? Where would she go?
She decided it was worth the risk. One step at a time. She’d jump to her feet, make a mad dash for the open door, and pray she’d make it.
“All right,” she said, as though she were agreeing to hand over the stone. Never let it out of your sight.
She took a deep breath, expelled it, and then gathered all her courage.
She shot to her feet and turned in one motion, taking two steps toward the open door.
The second man tried to block her but she used her fisted hand to deliver an uppercut.
Her hand exploded in pain but she managed to keep her grip on the stone.
He was so surprised by her punch, he stumbled back a step and crashed into the bar, knocking over a vase of flowers.
That gave her enough time to go for the door again.
But then she was tackled from behind. She lost her balance and started to pitch forward.
Bruce had his arms wrapped around her, holding her upper torso in his muscular arms, arms that had once held her with tender care.
She started to go down, taking him with her.
She crashed against the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table, jarring her and rattling all her teeth.
Her elbow cracked against the floor, the thin carpet not much cushion.
He was on top of her now, reaching for her fisted hand and trying to claw her fingers open.
With her other elbow, she jabbed him backward as hard as she could. It connected with him and he emitted a muffled oof. He refused to let go, though.
Bruce flew backward off her. She clawed her way to her feet and glanced back in time to see the second man had had enough of Bruce and was coming after her himself.
Bruce shoved him out of the way. He stumbled, fell, landing on the coffee table with an audible crack.
Chloe bolted outside, running down the street, her leg muscles screaming in agony.
His feet pounded the pavement behind her.
She didn’t understand why he wanted the stone or why it was so important.
She didn’t understand why it continued to hum in her hand.
Bruce caught up to her, grabbing her from behind and dragging her to him.
They stumbled backward into the shadowy night, away from prying eyes in case anyone happened to look out their window.
He held her against him, his breathing heavy and his heart pounding against her back.
“Give it to me,” he panted, “and I’ll let you go.”
She glanced down at her hand and saw with some shock light seeping from around her fingers.
She didn’t know what to make of that. A burning sensation pierced her palm.
She opened her fingers enough to see the lines on the stone lit up.
She sucked in a sharp breath as a sudden need to touch those lines pounded through her.
She swiped her forefinger over the lines.
The world fell away from beneath her feet and then she was falling. Cold wind sucked the breath out of her lungs and for a moment she was unable to breathe. It was as though she were drowning. Bruce was no longer there as she tumbled into a free fall.
Then there was nothing at all.