Be Still My Heart (6 page)

She just called me Darling. Me. Stuart Findlay. Resident nerd
. Stuart didn’t think he was still sitting. It felt more like floating. Nothing else sank in.

“Awful?”

She nodded, stood, and then he had to start talking like an idiot.

“Well, I do get the most horrid rashes. Not to mention freckles. You don’t want to see a Findlay with freckles. And there’s the matter of UV rays. I always wear a pair of the strongest sunglasses to protect my sight.”

“You’re not going to number these on your fingers again, are you?”

He was just about to do that but stopped himself.

“We’re checked through security, and I’ve got your passports ready.”

It wasn’t the intercom this time. Her man was announcing it, as he opened the door and pulled a flight bag down from somewhere in the cabinet behind him.

“He’s got my passport?” Stuart didn’t know why he asked. It was instantaneous reaction. And stupid.

“Here you go…Mister Marvin Leon Ebonovski. That’s odd. We seem to be off on the height.”

The man glanced up at Stuart as he handed him the passport. Stuart took it and looked at his picture smiling out at him bearing that ridiculous name. Apparently he hailed from Minnesota now. It also stated he was six foot three. He supposed he could stoop if required.

“And here’s yours…Miss Mary Sue Grimshaw.”

Stuart snorted. She glanced across and up at him as Vaughn pulled at the door.

“You saying something with that look, Mr. Ebonovski?” she asked.

“Not a chance, Miss Mary Sue. But just wait until we reach our suite. Then, I’m going to be saying plenty. I guarantee it.”

“Can I ask you another question, Mister Ebonovski?.”

“Oh please.” Stuart pulled the passport out, glanced at it, and then re-inserted it into his breast pocket. “Call me Marvin.”

He winked and watched her jerk in place. That pretty much got his world re-righted, especially as she tipped her glance away for the barest moment and he could’ve sworn a blush touched her cheeks. She looked young, unworldly, and innocent, which was insanity at its finest. Or he needed his glasses.

“Very well…Marvin.”

The way she said it made the name sexy and erotic, full of illicit meaning. It also got a lurch from his frame, damn her, anyway. She was ensconced on the opposite seat of a stretch limo, putting her well out of reach. He couldn’t move his eyes as she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, giving him a spectacular view of lengthy limbs and shadowy recesses. The limo ride was too short for what his body ratcheted into desiring. Way too short.

Perhaps they stocked his brand of Scotch. That would be a treat. Stuart scooted onto his haunches on the floor to search the liquor cabinet. Empty.

“What are you craving?”

A shiver went up his spine. He ignored it. He couldn’t answer anything about craving because it started and ended with her. Only her. His entire dream world was beginning to revolve around her. The certainty grew the longer they drove, with nothing to look at besides
her
. The ride was supposed to be forty minutes. Even in the pre-dawn, he could’ve looked out at the view, instead of the siren calling to him from the other side of the car. But no. They’d blocked the windows with black pleated shades, pulled down and locked into position. And behind that was black glass. He remembered that from when they’d entered it.

This is ridiculous, Stuart
.

“I’m looking for Scotch Whiskey. Glen-Livet if you have it,” he answered.

“I don’t.”

Stuart was back in his own seat, feeling the soft black leather seat curve about his frame, and ignoring how every bit of him seemed to click into awareness at her tone. He cleared his throat and tried for a nonchalant tone. He should’ve just answered her damn question, rather than playing a game of who’s sexier. Because he was definitely losing.

“Pity.” The word wasn’t nonchalant. He sounded breathless.

“You can’t drink it anymore, anyway.”

She shrugged. After saying words that ruined his life, she shrugged? That wasn’t fair. But nothing about this seemed fair. He couldn’t wake and he just kept getting deeper. Stuart tapped at the little button on the end of his armrest. He didn’t know what it did, until the hushed beep sound of an intercom interrupted the space.

“Yes?”

It was Vaughn. Sounding amused. Stuart was beginning to wonder if he ever sounded serious.

“Are we there yet?” Great. Now he sounded like he was about eight.

“Thirteen more miles, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

Stuart lifted his finger and the electric sound in the air stopped. Thirteen. Of course it would be thirteen. An unlucky number. Unlucky. What a joke. He’d been unlucky since his parents had died in a car crash, leaving him orphaned with one little sister and a very large trust fund everyone envied. As if money was a panacea for all ills and could cure anything.

He’d rather focus on the mundane. The physical. Items such as this suit. He guessed it was made of superfine wool, pinstriped with a darker toned shadow. His shirt was a match to the dark shade, with tonal stripes. She liked black and she liked stripes. Hmm… His trousers were solid black, however. They were also tight around each thigh, defining things he’d never put on display before. Stuart went back to examining his cuffs. The shirt had a monogram on each cuff. His.
SEF
.

“Why did you do it?”

Stuart looked up from contemplation of the platinum-wrapped onyx cufflinks that seemed to match her ear studs. She’d taken some of her hair down, or her French Twist was slipping, and she had one stiletto dangling off her toes.

“You don’t want to know,” he answered.

“Try me.”

“Well, I definitely don’t want to say.”

“Stuart.”

She lingered on his name, making it drip with longing. He jumped. His heart kicked into motion within his chest. He moved his hands and rubbed the palms along his legs.

“Shouldn’t you already know this?”

“How?”

“Since I’m imagining all this, I shouldn’t have to delve into things that I don’t want to. Simple.”

“You still think you’re dreaming?”

“Hell no. I went right past that to full psychotic break-down. That’s what I think this is.”

A little smile touched her lips, his heart kicked him again, and Stuart gulped.

“I’m flattered,” she replied finally.

“What?”

“No one has ever told me I’m dream-worthy before.”

“That’s because you’re too busy killing them. They can’t get it out.”

Her smile faded. Her lips set and she glared at him. All of which was the normal reaction he got from women. He hoped that didn’t mean the dream was fading. He wanted to enter the casino in Monte Carlo with her on his arm. And she had promised him time alone in the suite, too.

”Why did you do it, Stuart?”

“I don’t have to answer you.”

“Yes. You do.”

Arrogant. The woman was amazingly arrogant. And thirteen miles had never taken so long.

“Now, Stuart.”

“I forgot the question,” he answered.

“You paid ten million to assassinate a man and I want to know why. Why, Stuart?”

“Five million. And I still don’t have to tell you.”

“Stuart.”

Jeez. She drew out his name exactly like the senior trustee used to…back before he’d turned twenty-one. Back then he’d had to go before the board for any expenditure beyond the norm.

“You are worse than my trustees. I want you to know that.” He hadn’t felt this ill-at-ease since he’d had to ask for fourteen thousand to pay for the damage his fraternity had caused during the stripper party. That hadn’t been pretty. And he wasn’t saying any of that.

“Now.”

“All right. Fine. You want to know? Listen up, then. Because I am
never
saying any of this again.”

“I’m waiting.”

She acted like it was nothing when it was ripping his guts apart. Stuart moved his vision to the black drapes to one side of him and squinted, bringing Rebecca to mind.

“My parents died with I was eight. In a car accident.” His voice was dead-sounding. It was just as well. He’d already cried every tear over it. He didn’t need to add blubbering to his resume with Mary Sue over there.

“Yes?”

“They left a very large estate. A board of trustees to manage it. Lots of jealous relatives I’d never heard of. A little sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“No. Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“She was murdered.”

“Oh.”

That was it. Oh. Stuart waited, and she didn’t say another word, so he put them into the empty air.

“You read recent headlines, or just study history?”

“Both.”

“Then you had to hear of how co-eds just seem to disappear on Spring Break. Especially when they’re down partying in the islands. Without a guardian around. Because they’re mad at them and think they’re being over-protected.”

“She was on Spring Break?”

“Rebecca Emerson. Hear of her?”

“Vaguely. Last year. She disappeared from a party, didn’t she? Her family spent hundreds of thousands to find her and bring her killers to justice. It was all over the news.”

“Millions, actually.”

“Didn’t they just find her body?”

Stuart blinked repeatedly. It wasn’t stopping the emotion and he’d be damned before he admitted to any of it. He nodded.

“She’s…your sister? But I thought you said Emerson?”

“It’s my middle name. My mother’s maiden name. Rebecca used it to prevent all the weirdos that follow the Findlay money from bothering her.” He’d failed. His voice cracked with the pain of it and there wasn’t anything to stop it. He was a wimp now, too.

“Prince Ada Majin killed her?”

Stuart shrugged. The coat was tight enough to follow the move, but there was flexibility to the weave, as well. It appeared this Mary Sue person had a knack for dressing him, after all.

“You have proof?”

“Of course I have proof. I’ve never ordered and paid for a hit on anyone in my life. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t certain.”

“How certain?”

“He was the main person of interest all along.”

“True, but he’s rarely alone. It would’ve been very difficult to kill a beautiful American college student and hide her body with five bodyguards watching every move. Add to that, he’s fairly lazy. Loose. You know…flabby.”

“You saying something with those words?”

“Not at all. I understand revenge. Perfectly. The prince was a target his entire life. Someone was going to get paid for killing him sooner or later.”

“You want to know her last text to me? The night she disappeared? I have it memorized.”

The drape at his side was a blur. He wasn’t blinking any of the emotion into existence. Somehow that made it easier.

“Yes.”

“’I met a prince. A prince, Stuart. Prince Hussein Ada Majin. He calls me the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And he’s rich. Our wealth means nothing to him. He goes by John. See you soon. Becky.’”

“That’s him, all right. He uses that line.”

Stuart put up his hand. “Don’t. Please.”

“Thank you for telling me. And this changes things quite a bit actually. I’m afraid we’re cancelling our cruise.”

“Our cruise?”

“I had a yacht moved. Tonight, following my assignment, we were sailing. Now, we have to make other plans.”

“Other plans?”

“You still have four targets, Stuart. And I’ll handle them. Gratis.”

“No. Absolutely no.”

“The prince didn’t do it alone, Stuart. He was too lazy. And even if he had murdered her, there would’ve been witnesses.”

“I said no.”

“They didn’t lift a hand to help her, Stuart!”

“If causing one death turns my entire life into a psychotic dream, what might happen with four more?”

“Don’t you want vengeance?”

“Not anymore. It didn’t bring Rebecca back. Nothing changed. All that happened is I got tortured with a dream I can’t wake from, that just keeps getting weirder and weirder. I can’t risk it. Really.”

He heard her sigh heavily. It seemed to linger.

“How many times must I say it? You’re not dreaming, Stuart. This is not a psychotic episode. You are not losing your mind. You’re fully sane and aware, and awake.”

“Can’t be.”

“Why?”

“Because you keep saying you’re a vampire and there’s no such thing. This means you’re not real. A plus B equals C. Easy.”

She made a sound that approximated a Russian curse word spat through her teeth. And he was guessing on the Russian since he’d only heard it once before.