Dealing Double Page 17

  Charlie, smiling as if he’d just won the lottery, said, “You look amazing, Gabs. And I love your new hair.”

  While the two of them admired each other, Jake picked up Gabby’s two-ton backpack, grabbed his gear, and hopped out of the coffin they’d spent the last eighty-two minutes in. He scanned the private airport, checking for unwanted company, but the place was deserted. Just a few hangars stood open, and a bunch of tied-down small planes lined up like soldiers waiting for their orders. All very tidy and neat. Sort of like Gabby and her English habits.

  After the hugs and kisses—on the mouth, no less—Gabby finally turned and smiled. With her arms still filled with the bodybuilder, she said, “Jake, I’d like you to meet Charles Weathersby the Third. He knows almost as much as I do about archaeology.”

  Great. Should make for scintillating conversation. He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Chuck.”

  He laughed. “No one has called me that since this one here.” He gave Gabby another squeeze. “Must be an American thing, right?”

  “Yeah. Must be. Maybe we should get going?”

  “Right! I’ll just pop your bags into the boot, and then we’re off. Load up, you two.”

  Jake opened the back door of a black Range Rover and stepped aside to let Gabby in first, but she’d already climbed into the front seat. So he’d sit in the back and admire the backs of their brown heads, which oddly matched the fine leather.

  The car smelled brand-new. He usually loved the smell of new leather. Today, not so much.

  After Chuckie III had joined them, he and Gabby started reminiscing in archaeology speak, so Jake tuned out their chatter and concentrated on their plans as he watched to see if they’d been followed.

  Gabby’s father should be in town soon and knew where they’d be staying because Gabby had told him. He had his own agenda, or he’d have locked her up and thrown away the key again. And the people who had Dean might be following Will, so they needed to stay alert. Well, he did anyway. Gabby was too busy laughing and squeezing her buddy’s forearm with each new story Charlie told, in his quiet, sophisticated British accent, of how their classmates had turned out.

  Gabby used to run with a fancy crowd. Did she find Jake too . . . basic? Just a blue-collar cop, whose arm she avoided touching when she laughed because he’d flinch every time she did?

  Maybe sleeping with her had been a mistake. It had made him want to be with her even more. The “spend every day” kind of be with her. A dangerous desire when the chances of her ditching her father and being with him were slim. Her first allegiance would always be with her father, the criminal.

  He glanced over his shoulder again, and a familiar blue car was still behind them. “Hey, Charlie? Do you see that blue sedan behind us?”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. “I’ve had company ever since I inquired about your statues, Gabby. Whatever have you dragged me into?” Charlie smiled at her, not seeming the least bit concerned.

  Which concerned Jake.

  Charlie reached out and took Gabby’s hand. “Darling, would it be a terrible disappointment if we had a change of plans?”

  Before Gabby could answer, Charlie swerved a hard left and floored it. He still held Gabby’s hand in his as their tires screamed around the corner. They sped down a road so narrow Jake hoped no one decided to get out of their car at that moment or they’d be dead.

  He kept watch behind as Charlie continued to drive like a man who wasn’t riding in his first rodeo. He turned around and called out from the back, “What is it you do, Charlie?”

  Chuckie’s eyes met Jake’s in the mirror. “Art dealer. And you?”

  “Jake is a cowboy,” Gabby answered for him. “Bet you never met one of those before.”

  Charlie’s eyes were back on Jake’s reflection again. “No. I can’t say as I have. Is that a real thing still?”

  Gabby turned and widened her eyes in a plea to play along. She was going to have some serious explaining to do later. He answered, “Ranching is popular where I come from. Cattle, horses, the whole works.”

  “Ah. I see.” He returned his gaze to the road ahead, not sounding the least bit convinced.

  Charlie didn’t look like a fancy art dealer. Not with those muscles. And his driving skills could challenge Jake’s. “I think we lost them. Why don’t we go to Annalisa’s house, and you can tell me all about selling art over dinner, Chuck?”

  Gabby frowned at him but gave Charlie the address. “A guy named Will, my boss’s brother, is going to meet us there. He loves archaeology, and I thought you might want to help us solve something of a riddle. You were always quite good at that at university, remember?”

  Quite good at that? Gabby’s English accent was back. She was nervous about something. Something she was hiding from him.

  As they pulled up to the garages at the rear of Annalisa’s house, two guards he recognized from home lifted their chins in greeting as they checked their IDs. He gave them a heads-up that Will was coming later, too, and asked them to keep an eye out. Then they were led inside, and their bags were whisked away upstairs.

  A woman dressed in stern black directed them to a living room so fancy it could make the cover of a magazine. She promised to return with refreshments. Who knew what that would entail, but probably not a beer. Charlie and Gabby were still connected at the hip like Siamese twins, with their arms around each other.

  A suspicious bulge at Charlie’s lower back caught his attention. A gun? Why would Gabby’s friend be carrying a concealed weapon? In a country with strict gun laws? He didn’t want to wait for an explanation. Gabby could be in danger.

  Jake lunged forward, grabbed Charlie’s gun, and pressed it firmly into his kidney while he twisted the art dealer’s free arm up his back. “Gabby, step away. Charlie and I need to have a little chat.”

  Gabby turned around. “Jake. Stop. He’s going to help us.”

  He marched Charlie toward the couch and shoved him. “Sit. And start talking. Why does a law-abiding English art dealer carry a gun?”

  Charlie righted himself and then brushed the wrinkles from his suit pants. “He’s either stronger than he looks or very well trained for a cowboy, isn’t he, Gabby?” He chuckled and met Jake’s stare. “I’m afraid Gabby hasn’t been on the up-and-up with either of us, mate. But I pose neither you nor Gabby any harm.”

  Jake glanced at Gabby, who was chewing a thumbnail. She turned to Charlie and said, “Jake was a cowboy, but now he’s a detective.” Then she turned his way. “Charlie deals in artifacts, has a store to prove it, but not all of what he does is necessarily something I’d like to share with my boyfriend the cop. I should have told you both the truth, but I was afraid neither of you would help me if you knew what the other did. And I really need you both.”

  Jake ran a hand down his face and sucked in a deep breath for patience. Another criminal he wasn’t supposed to bust. It was getting tedious. But at least she’d called him “my boyfriend the cop” in front of the crooked art dealer, so that was something. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “Gabby, look—”

  “Please, Jake?”

  When she smiled at him, dimples blazing, he handed the gun back to Charlie and then headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to see about dinner.”

  Charlie called out. “No dinner for me. I have to take care of something. Be back in a few hours.”

  Good. Then he had Gabby all to himself. “You two work out any details I shouldn’t know about, please. And when you get back, we’ll talk about finding those damned statues. Legally!”

  He turned down a long hallway, and after passing a study filled with more books than a person could read in a lifetime, he found the kitchen. A man actually dressed like a chef, with the tall hat and everything, bowed his head slightly. “Mr. Morris, I presume. Annalisa asked me to prepare anything you wish. But she told me you enjoy steaks, baked potatoes, and, of course, chocolate cheesecake for dessert. If you’d like to go dress for dinne
r, I’ll be happy to serve it within the hour.”

  Dress for dinner? Jake looked down at his sweats and tennis shoes. Maybe he should get cleaned up. If he was going to compete with Charlie for Gabby, he’d better wear the suit he’d brought. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

  After Charlie left, promising to be back soon, Gabby wandered around the big house, finally locating the dining room. Jake stood at the end of the table, his phone in hand, scrolling through messages. He looked so handsome in a dark suit, gray striped tie, and white starched shirt; she’d be willing to skip dinner and make a meal out of him upstairs. “Don’t you look debonair? I’d better go change.”

  Jake’s head whipped up and he smiled. “No need.” He pulled out a chair at the head of the table for her. “You look gorgeous no matter what you wear.”

  “Thank you.” She sat in the chair, and he helped her scoot it closer.

  Then he sat in the chair beside her. “Dinner will be ready soon. Want some wine?” He held up a bottle of red. “I asked them for the best Annalisa had.”

  She laid her napkin across her jean-clad lap, feeling totally underdressed in the fancy dining room that sat twenty. “Isn’t that kind of rude?”

  He shook his head and poured. “She’ll expect us to use it. She thinks I’m going to propose to you tonight.”

  Propose?

  She opened her mouth, but words wouldn’t come out.

  He laid the bottle down and picked up his glass. “I see you’re as surprised by that as I was when Dani told me the ruse. She told her mom that so we could use the plane. But why not enjoy it while we can? Cheers?”

  After her heart rate had slowed a bit, she tapped her glass against his. “Saluti.” She took a deep drink and nearly moaned at the rich and fruity elixir that danced on her tongue. “Wow. That’s incredible.”

  “It is.” Jake took her free hand. “And so are you. Have I told you how beautiful you are, Gabby?”

  Many times. Jake was acting a little weird. “You’re looking pretty nice yourself. I love the suit. But you didn’t have to go to all that trouble for me.”

  “No trouble.” He lifted her hand and nibbled on her fingers. “I’d do just about anything for you, Gabby.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you really were going to propose to me.” She withdrew her hand. “What did you do with the real Jake?”

  He leaned closer. “The real Jake has many sides. This is my James Bond look. The blond guy, not the original one.”

  She laughed. “The smart-mouthed cowboy version is kinda fun, too.”

  Their food appeared before them, so she leaned back and thanked their server. After he was gone, she picked up her knife and cut into a tender piece of steak. “This looks amazing.”

  Jake frowned as he chewed.

  “What? You don’t like yours?” She took a bite. The meat was juicy, cooked just right.

  “No. The steak is awesome.” He went in for another bite.

  When he silently started in on his baked potato, she laid a hand over his. “Then what’s wrong, James Bond?”

  He didn’t smile at her use of the nickname. “I figured you were used to fancier guys, growing up in boarding schools and all. So, I wore the suit to show you I can be one, too. Sometimes. Like your pal, Charlie.”

  Was he still worried about her feelings for Charlie? It made her smile. “I’m not used to any particular type of guy, seeing as it’s hard to date when you live in a prison. But you look so hot in that suit that I might have said yes if you’d actually proposed.”

  Jake grinned as he cut himself another bite. “If I had proposed, how many kids would you like to have?”

  She pondered while she ate. “Two. Maybe three. But where would we live with these imaginary children? We live thousands of miles apart.”

  “Wouldn’t matter.” Jake’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he took another drink of wine. After he had put his glass down, he reached out and took her hand. “As long as we’re all together.”

  James Bond Jake was making her heart go mushy. “You realize if you married me, you’d have to let me drive the Bond sports car, right? The one that can fly and go underwater.”

  “Nope. Can’t do it.” He laid his fork down and leaned closer. “The car only responds to James.” He ran his fingers over her left hand and entwined them with hers. “But I’d buy you a decoder engagement ring instead.”

  “Oh well, then. That’d almost make up for it.” Still holding his hand, she said, “But you’d need to throw in a bathroom like yours, too.”

  “Deal.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Come home with me after this is over, and we’ll find your favorite shower setting.”

  “I’d like that very much, Jake.” She laid a soft kiss on his lips. “Thank you for the best engagement dinner I’ve ever had.” Probably the only one she’d ever have.

  He whispered, “It was my best one, too.”

  If a heart could sigh, hers would have. And then it’d tell her she was officially in love with Jake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After Gabby and Jake’s intimate dinner, Will and Charlie had joined them in the dining room. Gabby loved hearing Charlie’s stories about their classmates. Even more, she loved feeling like a normal person with friends, like how it’d been in school.

  Being in the elaborate dining room, surrounded by fine art and antiques as lovely as she’d ever seen, gave her comfort. It was nice to be back in England, with its unique style and culture cultivated by the passing of time. Not new and American, like home.

  She looked around the huge table, and it dawned on her that the only friends she had now were all in front of her. Will, worried sick for his brother, and Jake and Charlie, who were getting along slightly better, but each was still wary of the other.

  She’d once wondered if her and Will’s friendship could ever grow into a relationship one day, but after meeting Jake, there was no comparison between the two. Will was quiet, kind, and sweet like vanilla ice cream. Jake, on the other hand, was rocky road with hot fudge poured all over the top: exciting and fun. And why was she using ice cream as euphemisms for sex lately? She obviously needed more of both in her life.

  But back to business. “Will, what has Dean told you so far?”

  Will drained the glass of water in front of him like he hadn’t had a drink in days. “Dean saw an opportunity to raise millions for the museum by selling the statues as a pair. He’d had multiple bids, so he sold both statues to the highest bidder.”

  “He didn’t have the authority to do that.” Gabby’s hands balled into fists. “Did he steal the Father statue from us?”

  Will shook his head. “No! The people he’s with did, not Dean. When that statue turned up stolen, Dean asked me to run down to New Mexico and dig up the Son statue to keep it safe. But it wasn’t there. I sent Dean a picture of the map and letter inside the box I found. He told me to make copies of the paperwork. Then I reburied the copies and the empty box. These are the originals.” Will pointed to the paperwork he’d laid on the table. “Dean said we needed your help because you knew the most about the statues and that you grew up here in London. And because we couldn’t get in touch with you, I should leave the shard in case you’d decided to look for the Son statue, too. So you’d know to track one of us down. Your phone was just going to voice mail.”

  She’d deliberately stayed off her regular e-mail, too, so her father wouldn’t find her. “That’s because I ditched my phone, got a new one, and left for New Mexico after the Father statue was stolen from DC.” Assuming her father had taken it. But she couldn’t share that part.

  Will said, “Two men who Dean had made a deal with for the Son statue showed up at his apartment. They told him they needed him to accompany them to New Mexico to get it. Dean panicked when he realized the men weren’t asking. When they found the map in the hole instead of the statue, they gave him thirty-six hours to find it.”

  Doubt about Dean’s motives began to sink in. See
med like he’d send his brother to the police if it were all about raising funds for the museum.

  “I don’t understand how this statue thing ever ended up in New Mexico.” Jake frowned at the faded, weathered paper in front of him. “It makes no sense.”

  “This is the stuff Gabby and I loved while at university.” Charlie leaned forward as if telling a juicy secret. “During World War Two, many of England’s treasures and important papers were scattered over the countryside, hidden in the larger estates, or shipped overseas. To protect them from the fires the bombing raids on London had caused. In 1942, we asked your State Department to hang on to many great pieces of art by Goya, Rembrandt, Botticelli, among others. They sent it all down to some place in the Carolinas. What was it again, Gabby?”

  She took a sip of tea, then said, “The Biltmore House in North Carolina. There, a curator originally from New Mexico was checking the manifest and noted that both the statues, formally separated and owned by cousins, had ended up together again. Knowing the legend of the curse that supposedly caused the fall of the Incas and World War One, he took the Son statue back to his Native lands, had it blessed by an elder, and then buried it there for safekeeping until after the war.”

  Will asked, “Did the curator tell the owner what he’d done?”

  “He tried by sending a letter, but he never heard back before he passed away. After the war had ended, the Father statue was sent back to England with the rest of the art, but no one claimed it, so it was sold on the open market. Seems both cousins who owned them were killed during the war. And no one in their family wanted them because they were convinced they really were cursed. That’s how the Father statue ended up in our museum in DC. And just recently, someone found that letter the curator sent, and so the fun began.”

  Jake asked, “So why move the Son statue back to England? And leave a note where it’s buried?”

  “I can answer that.” Will cleared his throat. “From what Dean deciphered from the Native writing, bad things had happened to the tribe ever since the statue had been buried there. The elders insisted it be returned to their deceased owner’s lands and buried again. So the bad spirits would leave them alone and finally rest where they belonged. But Dean couldn’t make any sense of the partial map of London that was in the box. He couldn’t make out any of the street names or find a landmark to orient a search.”