rain. When he tied up the boat, she disdained his help and clambered out on her own. It made him nervous.
Once in the car, he fired up the engine and turned the heat up to full blast. “So?” he demanded.
She gave him a confused little shrug.
His patience was wearing eggshell thin. 'Hey.” He waved a hand in front of her eyes. “Anybody home in there? Tell me what happened.”
“It went all right.” Her voice was completely flat and colorless. “I did exactly what you wanted me to do.”
He was suspicious of the blank, staring look in her eyes. “He told you it was the Corazon?”
She turned away. “Not exactly. It was a Walther PPK, in a plastic bag, housed in a hard plastic case. Recently acquired, and not for him. For a client. He said it was a stolen murder weapon.”
“So far so good,” he said doubtfully.
“He told me that the stain ... was fresh.”
He puzzled over her halting words. “Stain? What stain?”
“Of violence.” Her face was taut with strain.
“Huh.” He pondered that. “That was all he told you?”
She shook her head. “I led him, a little. I pretended to sense that it had been used to murder a woman. His reaction seemed to confirm it, so I went for it I hope I did the right thing.”
He could not believe his luck. Literally. “You planted it?”
“I stuck it under the foam, in the carrying case.”
“And you're sure he didn't see you do it?”
“My hair was draped over my hand, and I was blocking his line of vision with my body. I'm reasonably sure he didn't see me do it.”
He studied her tight, miserable face, his gut clenching with apprehension. “What's wrong?” he demanded. “You should be glad. You want to get this guy, right?”
“I guess so,” she said dully. “It's just that I feel...”
“What?”
She threw up her hands. “More betrayal and double-crossing. I'm sick of it. I just want to be honest. Clear. With Victor, with everyone.”
His teeth clenched at her tone. “Some of us have to compromise our principles just to survive, princess.”
“Oh, God, please don't. Please, not you, too.”
Shit. She was crying again, and it was his own goddamn fault. They didn't have time for this. He tried to pull her into his arms, but she was stiff and unyielding. Finally he let go and put the car in gear, feeling like an asshole. She sat there, shoulders jerking. Tangled locks of blond hair poked out of her hood. She finally noticed their route, and shoved her hood back, alarmed. “Where are you taking me?”
“Someplace safe,” he snapped back. He was grateful she was speaking, in spite of her accusing tone. He preferred her pissed off and snappish to catatonic. Or worse, crying. God, how he hated that.
“I want to go home, Seth. I need some time alone.”
“Dream on. No way am I leaving you alone. Not after today.”
Her eyes blazed. “Seth, I am this far from losing it.” She held up two fingers in a circle that didn't quite close. “Take me home, right now!”
“Home is a piss-poor idea. I can feel it.”
“I feel, too, Seth. Too much. But right now I need to lock myself in my room and lie facedown on my bed for a long time. Completely alone.”
He darted into another lane. “You can lie facedown in the hotel.”
“Not with you around. You take up a lot of psychic space, Seth Mackey. No. Turn this goddamn car around and take me home.”
“You're tormented by the fact that you betrayed your beloved uncle, hmm? And after he gave you that pretty necklace, too.”
She stared down at her shaking hands, and clenched them into white-knuckled fists. “My God, you make me angry.”
“Truth hurts, don't it?” He was unable to keep the sneer from his voice. “Victor may be your uncle, and he may be rich and powerful, and he may give you presents and treat you like a princess, but he's a murdering scumbag who deserves everything that's coming to him. So if you're having a crisis of conscience, hold off. Wait till we get to the hotel. You can have it in the bathroom, where I can't see you.”
“Fine.” She unsnapped her seat belt and shoved her door open.
He was too busy braking on the rain-slicked pavement to grab her. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”
“Someplace where you can't see me.”
Raine slammed the door shut behind her and darted into the traffic. The light went green. Horns blared and traffic surged around him. He tried to follow her gray-clad figure out of his rearview mirror as she climbed over the median and darted across the opposing line of traffic.
He was losing her in the gloom, two lanes too far to the right to turn after her with all these goddamn cars in his way, and by the time he managed to get over to the left and turn around, she was gone.
He was screaming obscenities into the windshield, and other motorists were giving him nervous looks. One was eyeing him while talking urgently into a cell phone. He lunged for his own and rumbled with it, hitting the sequence for Connor.
Connor picked up instantly. “It's about time you got back to me,” he snapped. “I've left you six messages already, and we have to—”
“Connor, do me a favor. Open up the X-Ray Specs on Raine's house. Now, quick. Don't take your eyes off them until I get there.”
There was a startled silence. “The shit must have really hit the fan for you to be calling me Connor,” he said slowly.
“No time for wise-ass bullshit. I'm tailing her home, but she's got too much of a head start on me for the sick feeling in my stomach.”
“Gotcha,” Connor said, with a businesslike air. “Later”
The phone clicked off. Seth grabbed the handheld from the glove compartment. There she was, five kiloms ahead, almost out of range, blipping away. He dropped the monitor to his lap and concentrated on driving too fast, a skill at which he fortunately had a great deal of practice. He wove through traffic, ignoring the cacophony of offended horns, hoping like hell that no cops would spot him.
The cell phone rang. His stomach sank lower than he ever knew a stomach could go. “Yeah?”
“It's a bad scene at Templeton Street.” Connor's voice was hard and tense. “Your lady's got company in the garage. Black ski mask and gun. You're closer than any of us. Floor it.”
She'd thought that getting away from Seth's taunts and jeers would make her feel better, but surprise, surprise ... she felt worse.
She shivered in the back of the cab. Just the short dash to the shelter of the bus stop had drenched her. The beautiful Prada boots were clammy from splashing through puddles, but she barely felt the chill. She couldn't register that sensory information and still think about Victor's revelation.
Her father. How was it possible?
One thing was certain. She didn't dare tell Seth. His reaction to learning that she was Victor's niece had been bad enough. She cringed at the thought of his reaction to finding out she was Victor's daughter.
She stared at the lights that blurred through the rain-streaked glass, hoping that Seth wouldn't storm into her house tonight. She didn't have the strength to deal with his anger. It was all she could do to process the shocking knowledge that touching the Corazon pistol had revealed to her.
She had told Seth that she'd faked her reaction to the gun, but she had lied. The gun had vibrated in her hand, like a trapped animal. Both hot and hideously cold. The memory made her queasy. She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to think of something else. Eagles swooping, snowcapped mountains at sunrise, the ocean.
No image of tranquil beauty was strong enough to cleanse her of the remembered sensation, like a blow to
