U.S. Male (3 page)

“
His
property?”

“You know that’s how those people think.”

He nodded as he folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, of course. And what happens after that?”

Her hands dropped. “I haven’t figured that part out yet. But I’m working on it,” she added hastily as he shook his head.

“No way.”

“It’ll work,” Joss insisted. She leaned a hip on the corner of his desk, entirely too close for his comfort. “It’ll at least let us confirm that he has the one-penny Mauritius and get a dialog going. You know how these criminal types work, Simon said you used to do undercover work. We can play like we’re a couple, get a room together, all that.” She gave him that smile of temptation again, like Eve holding out the apple. “Jerry’s a hustler, through and through. I figure the type of girlfriend he’d pick would glom onto whatever guy could help her. Jerry’s in the slammer? She’ll find someone else useful.”

He didn’t want to want her. It had no place here. He groped for reason as her scent spread around him in an invisible net. “So why do I feel like
I’m
getting glommed onto as someone useful?”

“Of course you are. I’m trying to hire you, although you’re making it difficult. What’s it going to take with you?” Impatience filled her words. “I have to get that stamp back and I need your help to do it. Why not go over there and play pretend?” She leaned forward until she was just inches from his face. “Or do I have to make it for real? Would you do it then?”

It would take so little to close the distance between them. “Maybe.” He regretted the response the minute it was out of his mouth. What the hell was he thinking?

He wasn’t thinking, that was the problem.

A smile slid slowly across Joss’s face. “Really?” she said, stretching the word out like it was hot taffy. “If I said I’d be your lover, no strings, the entire time we were in Stockholm, you’d do it?”

The situation was rapidly slipping out of his control. “Look,” he backpedaled, “It’s not that simple.”

Something predatory entered her eyes. “Sure it is.”

Before he could react, she’d risen to step in front of him, pushing his shoulders back against the chair.

“What are you doing?”

“A feasibility study,” she told him and placed one knee on either side of his thighs, straddling him. Her eyes were deep and dark enough to dive into. Her scent wound around his thoughts. He watched without moving as she leaned in.

And when her mouth touched his, all he could feel was a hot, slicing arousal.

He had no business doing this, Bax told himself even as he closed his eyes. She was a client, or a potential client, they were in his office, at his desk and oh hell, he thought and gave himself up to it.

He’d kissed women before, even thought he’d loved one once, but he’d never felt anything like this. She was all he could touch. She was all he could feel even though she tempted him only with her lips on his, with the warmth of her thighs bracketing his own.

Her mouth was warm and mobile, her lips parted and ready to go deeper. With one impetuous move, she dragged him into want, into need. He wasn’t used to needing anyone, but even as he struggled against it, she beckoned to him with her mouth, her hands and her body.

And he followed willingly.

S
HE
’
D NEVER
been able to resist a dare, Joss thought hazily as she let the taste of him flow over her. She’d planned to kiss him until his head spun, until the little head began to overrule the big head and he gave in and agreed. Maybe she’d been a little curious, too. After all, if she could give them what they both wanted physically and get him to Stockholm at the same time, what was the harm in that? She’d expected kissing him to be good and sexy.

She’d never in a million years expected the taste of him to rock her back. She’d never expected the feel of his hard shoulders under her fingers to set up a drumming demand in her head for the rest of him, naked. She’d never expected desire to take control. All too quickly, the kiss stopped being about persuasion. It existed for itself, for the tempting brush of his tongue, the soft slide of his mouth, the touch of his hands sliding up her back.

More. She wanted more. She wanted to toss aside caution and dive into this heady sensation, dive into him. And somewhere in there, she might lose control. Trembling, she pulled back.

“Well.” She resisted the urge to press her fingers to her lips.

Bax stared at her as she walked back to the client chair. “What kind of a game are you playing?” he asked hoarsely.

“Just making sure we had chemistry.” She sat because her knees wouldn’t hold her. “So, do we have a deal?”

B
AD IDEA
, he told himself as his system refused to level. She was trying to play him and he was walking right into it. And yet, looked at a certain way, it made sense. Why not? Why not take the case? Solve her problem, make a little money and get a free trip to Stockholm and a warm and willing woman in his bed in the bargain. “Maybe,” he found himself saying. “I’ll think about it.”

She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “You’ll think about it?”

What could it hurt, he thought. “All right.”

“Great. And you’ll let me be part of the investigation?”

Not on his life. “Only if you can demonstrate to me that you know what you’re doing,” he hedged.

Joss rose and leaned over the desk to brush her lips against his. “Oh, I know what I’m doing, all right, Bax. Just wait and see.”

“Y
OU
’
RE KIDDING
.” Gwen stared at Joss across the table at Rose Pistola that night, while the waiters bustled back and forth behind them. “You’ve promised to go to Stockholm and sleep with some guy you don’t know from Adam?”

Gwen didn’t sound nearly as horrified as she once would have, Joss reflected. Vegas had certainly changed her. “It’s no worse than a one-night stand, which you’ve had recently yourself. Besides, I sort of know him from Adam. He comes with references anyway.”

“How about blood tests? This is pretty out there even for you, Joss.”

Joss forked up a bite of salad. “Why? The guy is sexy as hell. Why shouldn’t I have a fling with him? You and Del just did out in Vegas.”

“That was different.”

“How? You might be serious about each other now, but it wasn’t that way at the beginning. Look, we’ll get the job done and have a good time while we’re at it. Besides, you know the saying—if you’ve got ’em by the ’nads, their hearts and minds will follow.”

“Ah. So, you’re going to sexually enslave him and have your way with him, is that the plan?”

Joss considered. “It has its advantages.” She leaned forward and the humor vanished. “The guy’s good, Gwen, and we need someone good for this job.”

Gwen looked at her, lips twitching. “Just don’t bonk his brains out so much that he can’t do any detecting.”

“I sincerely doubt that’ll happen, although you never know.” Joss thought of the hard swell of his shoulders under her fingers. “If he was that good with his tongue when he was kissing, who knows what else he’ll be good at.”

Now Gwen did grin. “You’re so bad.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me the thought hasn’t gone through your head when you’ve first kissed a guy.”

“So, what’s he like?” Gwen asked, ignoring her.

Joss considered. “Confident,” she said finally. “Maybe a little bit of a control freak. Hot, though, really hot. He’s serious but he’s got this wonderful, strong face and you just know if he’d let loose, he’d be…” She thought of the way he’d looked after they kissed. “I got to him at the end, I could see it in his eyes.”

“Watch out that you’re not the one who becomes enslaved.” Gwen pulled some bread out of the basket on the table.

“He’s a guy. They’re pretty easy to manage,” Joss said carelessly, giving the busboy such a brilliant smile he accidentally overfilled her glass, slopping water on the tablecloth. “I’m not worried about it.”

“So you fly to Stockholm together and then what? I mean, you can’t just wander around asking everyone you meet questions.”

“You said you knew this Silverhielm guy has the stamps.”

“I said I
thought
he had the stamps. Not the same thing as knowing.”

“Well, I hope you’re pretty certain, because I’ve got a plan for getting in good with Silverhielm. It means taking a risk, though.”

“How do you mean?”

Joss hesitated. “I need to take the Blue Mauritius.”

“You’re out of your mind.” Gwen’s reply was immediate. “That stamp is in the bank vault where it belongs, and that is where it’s going to stay.”

“We’ve got to have it to smoke out Silverhielm,” Joss argued and outlined the plan, leaving out the fact that Bax had had doubts.

“It’s too risky,” Gwen almost wailed. “Do you know what it would do to the value of that stamp if it got so much as creased? Let alone wet or torn. It wouldn’t even be worth the price of a replica. We can’t take that chance.”

“We have to,” Joss told her. “It’s the only angle I can think of. Don’t you want the one-penny Mauritius back?” she coaxed.

Gwen pressed her face into her hands. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this. You swear you’ll be incredibly careful with it?” she demanded, raising her head.

“I swear.”

“And you’ll put it in a bank vault over there until you need it?”

“Don’t worry about it, Gwen.”

“Oh, like that makes me feel better. You need to take this seriously, Joss.”

“I
do
take it seriously. Haven’t I been different since I came back this time? Haven’t I?” she demanded.

Gwen nodded grudgingly. “You’ve done a good job at the store. Frankly, I expected you to be gone a long time ago.”

“I’ve changed, Gwen, I really have. Letting Jerry steal the stamps was a screwup by the old me. I need to make it better. Anyway, we’ve got Bax on the case, remember? He knows what he’s doing.”

“And what is he doing so far to earn his exorbitant fee?”

Joss shrugged. “He doesn’t go on the clock until we leave, and that’s got to wait for me to get my passport. Right now, he’s looking into Silverhielm’s background. I figure I’ll see what I can find out, too.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Get a briefing from you, for starters. I need everything you know about the stamps Silverhielm has, who he deals with, where he lives, anything. If you’ve got it electronically and can send it to Bax, so much the better.”

“That’s not going to help you find him, though,” Gwen pointed out.

“I know.” Joss paused. “I need to go see Stewart.”

Gwen sat absolutely still for a long moment. “Why do you need to go see Stewart?” she asked finally. “I told you before, he says he doesn’t know anything.”

“I don’t believe that. Maybe nothing obvious, but I bet he knows some little nugget that will help us.”

“He’s in Las Vegas. It’ll mean driving or flying.”

“I know.”

“It’s not free, Joss,” Gwen said with an edge to her voice.

“I
know.
You said we could use your winnings from the poker tournament to pay for Stockholm and Bax. I found a ticket that’s twenty-nine bucks each way. I’ll fly down in the morning and back in the afternoon. You won’t even have to pay for a hotel.”

Gwen drummed her fingers restlessly on the table. “What makes you think he’ll talk to you?” she demanded. “He’ll barely remember you.”

“That might make it easier. He’s probably so stir-crazy in the slammer that he’ll see anyone just for something different. Besides, he’s already pleaded guilty. At this point, he’s just negotiating with the Vegas and San Francisco D.A.s, so it’s not like anything he tells me will make a difference. What’s he got to lose?”

Gwen mulled it over as the waiter set her grilled trout in front of her. “I feel like I should be the one doing it, but I just can’t.” She swallowed. “Do you understand?”

Gwen had always been so self-sufficient that she sometimes seemed more the grown-up than Joss. Seeing her vulnerability now, Joss felt fury at Stewart Oakes anew. “Of course. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it handled.” She stared at her sister. “I’m going to bring back the one-penny Mauritius, Gwen, I swear it.”

“Well, you’d better be quick about it. Grandma and Grampa are due back in a month.”

Joss grinned. “Hey, with me and Superhunk on the case, it’s a done deal.”

J
OSS SAT
in the visitation room at the Clark County jail, waiting for Stewart. Even though she was on the outside, there was a heaviness in the air that made her shiver a little as she sat in front of the Plexiglas window at her assigned booth. She was here voluntarily. She could leave at any time. What must it be like to be inside, to be without a choice?

Except that an inmate like Stewart Oakes had made his choice long since.

Around her, the faces of the other visitors largely mirrored her unease. The expressions were sober, mostly, and distracted. It wasn’t a happy room. People came here because there was trouble. Only the children seemed blithely unaware of the tension in the air.

For a while, nothing happened. Then she heard the faint sound of a door opening and the prisoners began to file into the visiting area on the other side of the Plexiglas, under the watchful eyes of the guards.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. She’d had no recent connection with Stewart as Gwen had had. Then again,
knowing him hadn’t protected Gwen from nearly being shot, so Joss wasn’t sure it really mattered. He’d either show or he wouldn’t, he’d talk or he wouldn’t. Either way, she’d at least know she’d tried.

The man who sat down, wearing tired-looking orange coveralls, looked nothing like she remembered. Joss had seen a photo of Stewart pinned to the office bulletin board. In it, he’d been laughing, his arms around Gwen and their grandfather. Despite the streaks of gray at his temples, he’d looked young, lighthearted.

He didn’t look lighthearted now. Jail had not been kind to him. Age sat heavy on his shoulders. Dark smudges underlay his eyes and his skin looked grainy, his expression defeated. Some of her anger morphed to pity. She picked up the phone on her side of the transparent barrier.

Stewart blinked at her and scowled, picking up his phone in turn. “What do you want?”

“I’m Gwen’s sister Joss. I was hoping we could talk.”

He studied her. “Is Gwen here?”

Joss shook her head. The disappointment that flickered over his face erased her pity and aroused her anger all over again. “Are you surprised? Stewart, you held a gun on her.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head. “I wrote her a letter. Did she get it?”

“I don’t know.” She wasn’t going to give him an inch, not here. After the damage he’d wrought, a letter of apology was laughable. “You put her through the wringer. She’s still getting over it.” Joss watched him rub his temples. “It looks like you’re doing the same.”

He gave a humorless grimace that might have been a smile. “That’s all right. I’ve got lots of time to work on it. But then, you’re probably not here to talk about me.” He frowned. “Exactly why are you here?”

Joss studied him. “Trying to undo some of the damage. I’m hoping you might be able to help.”

Before she even finished the words, he was shaking his head. “No. No way. Not without a lawyer.”

“Stewart, you’re already pleading guilty. It’s all over but the shouting.”

“Yeah, well, that shouting you’re talking about could mean the difference between doing a year or rotting in here for five to ten. Besides, like I already told the detectives and inspectors, I don’t know anything.”

“Maybe you know more than you think, something that could help us.”

“You got no business coming here.” His voice rose and he started to get up.

“I’ve got no business coming here?” Joss snapped like the crack of a whip. “You threatened to kill my sister, you stole millions from my grandfather, you betrayed us all and
I’ve
got no business coming here?” She clenched the phone receiver, fury making her dizzy. “I don’t give a damn what kind of a sentence they hand down to you. That’s not why I’m asking. I’m trying to undo the damage that you’ve done. I’m trying to get back the one-penny Mauritius and you’re the only one who can help me.”

“How do I know you’re not taping this?” he demanded.

“How could I be?” She gestured at the phone. “Anyway, what would be the point? It wouldn’t affect your case, except to help you. You think they’re not going to look a little more kindly on you if my grandfather has back all his property? Come on, use your brain.”

“My lawyer would kill me.”

“Your lawyer’s not here now and neither is the D.A. It’s just you and me, Stewart,” she said persuasively. “You can’t erase what you did to Gwen but you can help make things better. Don’t you want to? Don’t you want to try to fix it?”

She waited in silence, hoping that she’d read him right.

Finally, Stewart sat back down and rubbed his eyes wearily. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t help if I wanted to. I dealt with an intermediary the whole time. I never even found out the client’s name.”

“Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t at least have an idea. Gwen thinks it might be Karl Silverhielm.”

Stewart’s gaze skated off to one side. “I told you, I don’t know. I only dealt with my contact.”

“What did he look like?”

“It’s all in the police report.”

“Save me some work. What did he look like?” she repeated.

Stewart shrugged. “Light hair, tall, blue eyes. One of those Nordic faces.”

“What was his name?”

Stewart snorted. “Do you think for a minute he gave me his real name? You can bet it was a fake.”

“What was it?”

“Michael Houseman.” When she rolled her eyes, he shrugged. “I told you, there’s nothing I can give to help you.”

“Was there anything else about him, anything that would let us identify him?” Joss persisted. “Think about how he moved.”

“He didn’t look like a thug. He was smooth, classy, even. And he moved like he was trained, like a boxer or something.”

“Can you remember anything about him that couldn’t be changed, his ears, maybe, or the shape of his fingers?”

“Nothing that stands out. His features were normal, nothing unusual about them. His hands were—” He stopped.

“What?”

“Well, it might not be important.”

“Let me decide that. What?”

“His right hand. There was a scar on it, between the thumb and the forefinger. I noticed it when we were shaking hands.”

“What was it shaped like?”

“A jagged line, like a knife had slipped or something.”

“Nice company you keep,” she said dryly.

He bristled. “Look, you wanted me to help, I’m helping.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. Look, you’ve given me something that might be useful.”

“And my lawyer would knock me in the head if he knew I was talking to you.”

“You did the right thing, if it helps.”

He gave a brooding stare. “Little enough of that lately.”

“Stewart.” Joss hesitated. “This’ll mean something to Gwen.”

“Tell her…” The tone signaling the end of the visiting period rang. He waited until it was silent. “I’d give anything to have done things differently,” he said finally. “Tell her that, would you?”