Thieves Like Us Part 25

Freddie settled for wagging his tail and whining as Libby folded her arms and thrust out her jaw. Her fiery glare was as intimidating as her grandmother's. "You promised."

She didn't have to say anymore. He'd promised not to hurt Janet, and as far as Libby was concerned, he'd broken that promise.

It also seemed to have hurt Libby, shutting down the open, loving part of her and teaching her at the tender age of thirteen that men couldn't be trusted. Nice going, Hernandez.

He stepped toward her, then stopped, deciding it was safer to heed her rigid body language and keep his distance. Holding his palms up to ward off a lecture, he said, "I know what you think, but I didn't dump her."

"I know, you just don't want to see her anymore."

He scowled. "Who said anymore? It's just until I finish this business dealing with some people who aren't nice enough to meet Janet. I'm trying to keep her safe."

"That's a new one."

With anyone else he might have told them to mind their own business, but Libby's feelings were important to him. "I'm not making it up, and it's not like I don't want to see her."

"Then see her."

It sounded so logical. But he shouldn't spend time sitting around with Janet when he could be doing something about getting rid of at least one of her problems. He stuck his hands in his pockets, more than a little uncomfortable with trying to explain himself to a thirteen-year-old. "It's not that easy, Libby."

She kicked at the ground and muttered, "Seems easy enough to me."

He squinted cautiously. "What did Janet tell you?"

"Nothing, just that you won't see her. But I like Janet-a lot. Ellie and I have been hoping she'd find a boyfriend, and it seemed like she did, except now you went and made her unhappy. And that makes me mad." In case he didn't find that part significant, she added an icy glare. "You have to fix it."

"I will."

"You better."

He couldn't agree more, not only for the sake of his precarious future with Janet, but to erase that heart-wrenching look of betrayal from Libby's face.

G.o.d, when he screwed up, he went all out, p.i.s.sing off two women at once. He didn't even want to imagine what Elizabeth thought of him, because he had a bad feeling she would be angry female number three.

"Janet, sit down and relax." Ben indicated the patio chair across from the glider where he sat with Elizabeth. "They'll call me as soon as they know anything."

"I can't. I'm too nervous." She stopped pacing the flagstones long enough to ask, "How can you just sit there while your officers might be recovering a fortune in hot diamonds at this very moment?"

"They know how to do their jobs without me looking over their shoulders." Turning a page in the real estate booklet, he showed it to Elizabeth who sat next to him on the glider. "What do you think of this one, Liz?"

She looked at the listing. "It has a tennis court. If I keep my club members.h.i.+p, we don't need that."

He looked concerned. "You don't have to give up everything."

"It's my choice, Ben." She laid a hand over his. "And you know it makes sense. Libby's the one who takes lessons, and she doesn't even live with us. We don't need a tennis court."

He nodded, but worry lines still etched his face. "I just don't want you to feel like I'm making you change your lifestyle when you change houses."

"You're not," she a.s.sured him quickly. "I'll still have my clubs and charitable organizations. I just won't have this enormous house. People will have to accept me for who I am and what I do, not for what I have." She allowed a sly smile. "It should be quite interesting to see if anyone disappears from my circle of friends."

"Good riddance if they do," Ben snorted.

Janet agreed, but didn't think it would happen; Elizabeth's friends weren't that superficial.

Her gaze wandered over the property, a bit amazed that the magnificent estate might soon belong to someone else. The imposing mansion had seemed synonymous with the Elizabeth Payton Westfield she'd first met when she married Banner. Of course, that hadn't been the real Elizabeth. She had still been secretive about her renewed love affair with Ben Thatcher, and had not yet known that her older son's jail sentence was unjust-and arranged by her youngest son. The changes in the family over the past two years were mirrored in Elizabeth's relaxed demeanor and easy smile. Janet supposed the grand estate didn't suit the new Elizabeth Payton Westfield. Or-she smiled at the news Elizabeth had shared at dinner-the future Elizabeth Payton Thatcher.

Elizabeth seemed to be pondering other changes as she watched her granddaughter across the lawn, trying to convince Freddie to give up a ball.

"Libby will be losing something, too, in a way. After all, she used my pool and tennis courts more than anyone else. She should have something to make up for it."

Ben's hand stilled where it had been kneading her shoulder. "Liz, I can't afford the kind of luxuries you've had here, and you know Jack and Ellie don't want to spoil her."

"I was thinking of a dog," Elizabeth said, unruffled.

"A dog." Ben's frown turned into a slow smile.

"You know, it's amazing that Jack and Ellie haven't noticed the gaping hole in their daughter's life. I think Freddie would fill it wonderfully."

Ben chuckled. "I can't wait to tell them when they get home. What would they do without grandparents to figure these things out?"

Elizabeth leaned contentedly into the curve of his arm, both of them looking so satisfied Janet felt like she should tiptoe away and give them some privacy. She was about to excuse herself when Ben's cell phone rang. She froze as he dug it out of his pocket.

"Yeah," Ben said. Then nothing else while Janet fidgeted. She tried to catch his eye as he repeated, "Uhhuh, uh-huh," but he studiously avoided her. Finally, he chuckled and said, "Fantastic!"

"What?" she demanded.

He hung up and grinned at her. "You were right. As soon as they told Seabrook the search warrant specifically named a commemorative gold-plated golf ball, he handed it over."

"Yes!" she said, pumping her fist.

"They still had the diamonds in a safe, and couldn't wait to get rid of them once we said Jarod Davis- that's the guy you called Sleazy-had receipts for their sale to Banner. It probably didn't hurt that we implied a couple guys from Colombia were very interested in learning their whereabouts." Tucking the phone in his pocket, he said, "We owe you a big thanks for this one, Janet."

"My pleasure, believe me."

"My guys said Seabrook acted surprised and outraged by the possibility that the diamonds might have been connected to drug money. They're pointing the finger back at Banner, and it looks like there'll be a few counter lawsuits flying back and forth. The upshot is Banner's going to need some new lawyers. And some money."

Elizabeth huffed and folded her arms, which Janet took to mean Banner wouldn't be getting any from her.

Finding the diamonds gave Janet a rush as big as if she had handled the bust herself. Adrenaline flowed through her, ricocheting around with no outlet. She needed to do something. Nearly bouncing on her toes, she asked Ben, "What do we do about the Colombians?"

"We? You don't do anything. The detectives will let them know the diamonds have been confiscated, and my bet is they won't hang around long enough to say good-bye. I'm not sure Banner can quit worrying about them, though." He slid a glance at Elizabeth. "Drug runners are big believers in vengeance, and they lost a lot of money today."

With a grim look, Elizabeth gave a small shrug. Apparently Banner's fate was his own problem.

It couldn't happen to a more deserving guy, Janet thought.

Still br.i.m.m.i.n.g with energy, she s.h.i.+fted her focus- one threat down and one to go. As soon as she located the rest of the Pellinni Jewels, she and Rocky could resume their very hot, very promising relations.h.i.+p. She wouldn't fool herself anymore either-she had fallen for him far more than she wanted to admit. She'd fallen for all of him, from his stupid Hawaiian s.h.i.+rts and his easy grin to the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The way he looked at her with so much warmth when he stroked her cheek . . . and kissed her . . . and cupped his hand under her breast . . . and pushed inside her . . .

She flushed with heat. Maybe she'd even fallen in love. Surprisingly, the word no longer made her want to run and hide; in fact, she was eager to explore just how deep her feelings were. But she couldn't do that if Rocky refused to see her.

She could fix that. If she was able to find the diamonds, she could find the Pellinni Jewels. She just needed to decide where to start. Rocky's shady connections were probably the perfect place, but the only ones she knew were Sleazy, who was dead, and Easy, who was in jail, and in any case not disposed toward helping her.

There was one other possibility. Rocky had mentioned a scarier than h.e.l.l Russian with a fondness for him-perfect. Since he hadn't mentioned the man's name, her only clue was his innocuous-sounding place of business, the Detroit Barber Shop. Surely a place of business would have a listed phone number and address.

Rocky wouldn't like it, but he didn't have to know until it was all over. It didn't require a criminal background to handle his former a.s.sociates. Wits and courage had been enough for her to escape Banner's Colombian friends. How could a Russian barber be any worse?

She cruised by the address several times, unsure where to park. Certainly not by the boarded-up building at the end of the block-the two men loitering in front of it stared each time she drove past, making her nervous. This probably wasn't the best time to have gotten her BMW back from the body shop. It stood out in this neighborhood. The safest place might be the unkempt parking lot across the street from the barber shop. The crumbled pavement was half covered by weeds, but there were three other cars there, snuggled close to the brick wall of the bar next door. Possibly employees- the neighborhood didn't look like it attracted much business. She parked near the other vehicles and walked across the street.

No bell tinkled to announce a new customer coming through the door, but it wasn't necessary. The two burly men in white jackets were staring at her before she cleared the threshold. Barbers, apparently. Big barbers, with hairy forearms and humorless expressions. They might have been Mr. Universe contestants if they'd consent to a full-body wax. There was no way she'd let either of them near her with a pair of scissors.

They sat in the only two barber's chairs, silently watching her.

She cleared her throat, wis.h.i.+ng she'd thought this out a little better. "h.e.l.lo. I'd like to talk to the owner, please."

The man in the first chair got to his feet and approached her slowly. "You want haircut?"

She shook her head. Could this be the guy who considered himself Rocky's friend? The heavy accent was Russian, and if she had to describe him, scary would have been one of the first adjectives that leapt to her mind. All the more reason to act unconcerned.

The man looked her over, ending with a glance at her hair. "You don't need haircut, is short enough. Maybe just little trim."

She folded her arms. "I don't want a haircut. I want to talk to the owner."

"Talk." He took another long look up and down, probably intended to intimidate or at least creep her out. He succeeded at both. "About what?"

He probably screened visitors. The other man hadn't moved, and she didn't see a sign of anyone else. "About selling some jewelry." She'd decided ahead of time that that had to be why Rocky knew him. "I'll save the specifics for your boss."

The last part had been intended to remind him of his place, but it didn't seem to bother him. "Jewelry," he repeated. This called for another up and down scan, maybe to determine if she was wearing any of the merchandise. He gestured at the chair he'd vacated. "Sit."

So he could pin her in place while he intimidated her, or worse? "No, thanks. I'll stand."

His eyes narrowed for a second, like a nervous tic, as he sized her up. He didn't look the least bit impressed. She glanced at the man who still occupied the other chair. He was a bit swarthier, and he stared back at her before giving her a small smile. He looked nicer when he wasn't smiling. The first man moved closer, the smell of onions on his breath mingling with a heavy dose of aftershave. She held her ground.

"No jewelry here. Cut hair." He leaned closer to examine the ends of her hair where they lay beneath her ears, and she forced herself not to flinch. "Could make shorter on neck."

He was either testing her or teasing his prey before eating it. "I like it the way it is." She nodded over his shoulder at the other living tribute to steroids. "Why don't you practice on your friend, there? He could use a trim. But first, call your boss. I don't have all day."

A humorless smirk pulled at his mouth. "Boss busy. You wait." He lifted his hand slowly toward her hair. "We find something to occupy us . . ."

"Don't touch me," she snapped. His hand stopped, inches from her head. "You touch one hair and I promise you'll be sorry."

In silence, he looked her up and down. Giving a derisive snort, he curled his upper lip. "Puny thing. Not worried."

She could see that was true. And she was letting him distract her from her goal. "Look, I came to make a deal. But if you don't want my business, I'll go elsewhere."

He didn't look impressed. "We cut hair. Who tell you we make deals?"

Progress-he'd asked her for information. Since it seemed he needed a name, she gave him one, hoping it wasn't the wrong thing to say. "Rocky told me."

She couldn't tell if the name registered with him, but it must have meant something to the other man because he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed, watching her. They all waited in silence until he finally uttered a rapid monologue in Russian. Then listened. Then pocketed the phone.

"Da."

She didn't know Russian, but she understood that much, especially when accompanied by the head jerk toward the back of the store. Someone wanted her taken back there. She just couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing.

Muscle Man nodded toward the back of the store. "That way." At least he didn't touch her, which seemed sort of like respect.

She took a few steps, then turned to speak to him as she walked slowly toward the back. "Where are we going?" Not that it would make a difference, but it might quiet the wild fluttering in her chest.

"See Vasili." He leered at her. "Talk."

She was pretty sure that by talk he meant something other than talk.

If this was the dangerous element Rocky had wanted to keep her away from, she was ready to agree. They were heading for a door at the back of the shop, an interior room away from the big front window, away from witnesses. She fingered her car keys until one protruded from her closed fist. If she needed to defend herself, it would have to do.

The Neanderthal in the barber's coat opened the door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside a dim room. The door closed at her back.

An overhead light blazed to life and she s.h.i.+elded her face. A second later the blinding glare was eclipsed by the body of a man even larger than the two out front, but softer, his muscles comfortably hidden under a layer of fat. This had to be the guy she was looking for, even though he looked less scary than she'd expected; he was more like a dark version of Santa Claus.

The man settled his hands on his hips. "So. You know my friend Rocky."

She squinted. "Yes. Are you Vasili?"

As if her voice had set it off, she heard wild scrambling behind Vasili. He turned, too, eyebrows lifting in surprise as someone shoved him aside.

"Janet!"

Her heart pounded. "Rocky?"

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing here? Never mind, you're leaving right now."

Emotions swirled like a whirlpool inside her- surprise at seeing him, curiosity about his visit, and most of all, annoyance at being caught. In order to cover up the latter, she tried to distract him. "How did you get here? I didn't see your car."

"You weren't supposed to. I parked in an alley three blocks down. You shouldn't be here." His clipped tone told her he was being more civil than he felt. "Come on, I'll walk you out."

He took her arm, but she shook him off. "No, thanks. I came on business, and I haven't had a chance to conduct it yet."

Vasili smiled with dawning understanding. "Ah! This short dark-hair girl?"

Rocky scowled. "Yeah, that's her."

The Russian drew himself up. "Introduce, please."

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Janet, this is Vasili. Vasili, meet Janet Aims, the most contrary woman on the planet."

Vasili beamed and lifted her hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles. "My big pleasure."

She gave him a hesitant smile. "My pleasure, too." If Rocky thought Vasili was dangerous, she believed him, but at least the big Russian acted friendly. She was willing to go with that.

"What 'contrary' mean?" Vasili asked Rocky.