When She Was Bad...

Something—a flicker of light—from the glass doors that led to the balcony caught Pepper’s eye. Cole, she thought. The knowledge that he was close by boosted her confidence.

She remembered something then. Something that Evan had said earlier about Butch coming closer to the price they were asking. Turning, she met LeBlanc’s eyes dead on. The coldness she saw nearly made her shiver. “Why did you leave the meeting before you finalized the deal with Mr. Castellano?”

He seemed to consider the question for a minute. Then he answered. “When he was called out of the meeting, I had a feeling that something was going wrong. Now, it’s my turn for a question.” He shifted his gaze to Irene. “You’ve given me a great deal of trouble. Why do you want the Monet?”

“It’s a long story,” Pepper said.

“About another pair of star-crossed lovers,” Irene added.

Pepper nudged her aunt’s foot. It was LeBlanc they wanted to keep talking. “Speaking of star-crossed lovers, isn’t it about time that you told Evan that you don’t intend to run away with him and the Monet and live happily ever after?”

Pepper hadn’t thought that it was possible for LeBlanc’s eyes to turn colder. But they did.

“Jean Claude?” Evan asked.

“She’s right, I’m afraid, Evan. I’m not going to be able to take you with me. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t enjoyed our relationship. But it’s time for both of us to move on. I’m going to take one of the ladies with me instead.”

“You’ll never get off this island. Butch Castellano won’t let you,” Irene said.

“Oh, I think he will. Once I make my point.”

Pepper realized with a sinking heart that LeBlanc had finalized his plan. Time was running out. Even though she knew she wasn’t going to like the answer, she asked, “Point?”

“You’re going to get hold of Mr. Castellano on the hotel phone, and he’s going to listen while I shoot one of you ladies. Then he’ll know that I mean what I say—that the hostage will only stay alive if I get off the island safely with the Monet and the money. Now let me see, which one will it be?”

Pepper watched in horror as he handed her his cell phone and then aimed his gun at Irene. “You, I think. Since you’ve given me the most trouble, I don’t want to risk taking you with me. Pass the painting to Evan. I don’t want it to be damaged.”

Irene clutched the painting even closer to her.

“Shooting her would be a big mistake,” Pepper said. “Butch Castellano loves her. She stole the painting to give to him for Valentine’s Day. If you kill her, he’ll hunt you down.”

“Really.”

Pepper held her breath. He hadn’t seen that one coming, but he was far from rattled.

“It’ll be bad enough for you if you steal his money,” she added.

“Then I’ll just shoot you,” LeBlanc said in a pleasant voice, shifting the muzzle of the gun so that it was inches from her head. “Make the call.”

“She’s my niece,” Irene said. “Butch won’t like it if you kill her. Plus, she’s got a boyfriend who’s ex-CIA and very resourceful. You shoot her, and you won’t get off the island.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Pepper saw LeBlanc’s hand tighten on the gun. Two thoughts raced through her mind. The good news—he was finally getting a little rattled. The bad news—it might cause him to pull that trigger just a tad early.

For a few seconds there was absolute silence in the room except for the steady tick of the grandfather clock.

Then LeBlanc shifted the barrel of the gun until it was pointed at Evan. “I guess it will have to be you. Make the call.”

Irene moved like lightning then, springing from the couch and landing on Evan’s lap. She’d managed to unfurl the painting and she was holding it in front of her like a shield. “Shoot us and you’ll have blood all over the Monet.”

It was the moment that Pepper had been waiting for. Once again, she went with instinct. Planting her hands firmly on the sofa, she kicked up with both feet at LeBlanc’s hand. When she connected with his wrist, everything happened in a series of freeze-framed flashes.

Her ears rang from the explosion, and she saw the flash of light as the gun sailed into the air. She also saw Cole and Butch burst through the shutters.

“Freeze or you’re a dead man, LeBlanc,” Cole said.

“Give him a reason to kill you,” Butch said as he walked toward him. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing you dead. Threaten my woman, will you?”

“Don’t kill him,” Irene cried out just as Butch’s fist connected with LeBlanc’s face.

17

Saturday, February 14—10:30 a.m.

“MORE CHAMPAGNE?” Gari asked.

Pepper held out her glass. Butch had whisked all of them off to his private residence as soon as LeBlanc had been handcuffed and taken into custody. To make sure that the thief would stay put while authorities battled over jurisdiction, Butch had assigned two of his men, Angelo and Armando, to assist the local police.

The hotel staff, headed by Gari, had served up heaping plates of eggs, sausages and croissants while everyone had told their stories.

It wasn’t until an overflowing plate had been in her hands that Pepper had realized she was starved. And from the looks of the empty plates that the staff was gathering up, she hadn’t been the only one. Her regard for Butch Castellano went up just a bit. He reminded her of her father, who felt that the solution to every crisis in life was food. Even though her brothers had explained to her that it was an Italian thing, she’d never understood it before. But as she glanced around the room, she could see that it was working. Irene’s color had improved and even Evan was looking less devastated than he had when they’d left the penthouse suite.

Evan had been the last to tell his story, and he’d given a shortened version. Of all of them, he had the most to recover from. Irene was currently holding his hand and no doubt offering some motherly advice.

Pepper glanced to where Happy and H were engaged in a heated debate over the proper lures to use for sail fishing. Happy was—well, happy. She’d never met a more unflappable man in her life. And as far as H went—she wasn’t sure that anyone ever knew what he was feeling.

Taking a sip of her champagne, she glanced around the large airy room they’d all gathered in. Butch had given them a brief tour of his residence when they’d arrived, explaining that he’d renovated the original plantation mansion. There was a wide veranda that looked out over formal gardens. Inside, the decorator had followed the same theme that had been so prevalent in the bungalow and the hotel, but three walls had been knocked out and replaced with glass, so that the eye was always drawn to the turquoise sea. Butch had built his paradise, all right. As she looked at the water and felt the pull, she realized that she didn’t want to leave.

Her gaze moved last to Cole. He’d stepped onto the veranda to place a call to Luke and Matt. He’d be giving them an edited version of the events of the past twenty-four hours. He hadn’t given her all the details, but they’d all agreed that Evan’s and Irene’s roles would be deleted from the official version of the theft and recovery of the Monet. After all, if LeBlanc gave a different version, who would believe a sociopathic thief?

Butch cleared his throat and raised his glass in a toast. “All’s well that ends well.”

Irene dropped Evan’s hand and set her flute down on a nearby table with an audible click. “I’m not drinking to that until I know exactly what the ending is going to be between you and me, Butch.”

Butch stared at her. “Well, I thought—”

“Hmph,” Irene snorted. “You thought the last time, too, as I recall. You thought exactly what my parents thought. No one consulted me. Then there’s all that thinking you did while you were in jail. I think it’s high time I told you what I think. ’Cause I think you’re a very stupid man.”

For a moment no one said a word. The exchange had even caught Cole’s attention. There was shock on Butch’s face. Pepper figured that he wasn’t much used to people talking to him in that tone. Or calling him stupid.

“Renie…” Butch began as he rose from his chair.

Irene pointed a finger at him. “Don’t Renie me. I’m not that naïve teenager anymore.”

Butch pulled out a cigar, and then glanced down at it as if he wondered how it had gotten into his hand.

He was speechless, Pepper realized and shifted her gaze to her aunt. You go, girl, she thought.

Butch glanced around the room and discovered that everyone was staring at him, except for the staff. But they were listening. His face flushed a deep red.

“My office,” he barked at Irene. Then he whirled and strode out of the room.

Irene sent Pepper one quick wink as she followed.

Pepper’s stomach lurched. Not a good sign, she thought as she tried to will away the queasy sensation. She should be thinking positive thoughts. In a moment, her aunt would know her fate. She stole a quick glance at Cole, but he’d turned and was intent on his phone conversation again. She admired her aunt’s courage in forcing the issue. She was about to rise from the sofa and do the same thing with Cole when she remembered the Rossi curse and the fact that she was sitting in the living room of Adam’s plantation—not the optimal setting for star-crossed lovers. It didn’t bode well for her or her aunt.