“He has to figure that we’ll want delivery of the painting before you part with the money.”
Butch nodded. “So he won’t make his move until after that.” He clamped his teeth down hard on the cigar as the plan began to take shape in his mind. A few moments later, he pulled the cigar out and smiled. “So we’ll give the mighty LeBlanc a taste of his own medicine. We’ll steal the painting out of the suite while he’s meeting with us tomorrow morning.”
PEPPER STIRRED IN Cole’s arms for the third time since they’d gotten into bed. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep. And it wasn’t the upcoming heist that was bothering her. It was the expression that she’d seen in Cole’s eyes when she’d said, “I’ve kept my part of the bargain, haven’t I?”
For a moment, she’d seen the flash of pain. Then he’d masked it. If she could have snatched back the words, she would have. But they’d been said. And she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, back down from the plan to help her aunt.
Since then, Cole had been polite. He’d even made helpful suggestions. She’d discovered during their strategy session that he was a whiz at organization. In the morning, Happy was going to locate some good sailing rope so that she and Irene could climb down easily from the roof. Cole had even thought of coding numbers into their cell phones so that they could keep in communication during the heist.
He was still going to keep guard, but not outside the door of the penthouse. She and Irene would handle the heist completely on their own. Cole was going to be watching from a spot outside the hotel. As he’d pointed out, someone needed to keep watch over the comings and goings of LeBlanc and Evan—not to mention Butch and H.
Not once had Cole threatened to interfere again. So why—when she was getting exactly what she wanted—did it feel like a heavy weight was pressing on her chest?
The answer to that was pretty simple. She’d hurt him, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. But there was no sense in discussing it. He, more than anyone she’d ever met, understood her reasons for what she was doing. In the time they’d spent together, he’d come to know her so well. She was beginning to think that he understood her better than she understood herself.
Shifting again, she studied his profile in the waning moonlight. He was such a strong, competent man. And she was in love with him. Even as panic and joy and a mix of other feelings flooded through her, she wondered what she was going to do about that.
A problem for another day, she decided. Tonight she knew what she wanted and who she wanted.
“Cole?”
“Hmm?” When he turned to face her, his eyes were open. He hadn’t been sleeping either.
“I—” She paused and drew in a deep breath. “I know you’re angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you,” he said.
“I want to make love with you.”
His smile was slow. Seeing it and feeling the rush of warmth it always brought her only tightened the nerves twisting inside of her.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
When he reached for her, she placed a hand against his chest. “Not as part of our deal. I want it to be like it was on the beach—just you and me.”
He didn’t say a thing. But the hands that gripped her and lifted her on top of him were hard. And she could taste desperation when he took her mouth with his.
IN THE OTHER BEDROOM of the suite, Irene moved out onto the small balcony to review her battle plan. In her mind, she looked at it the way she would if she were plotting out one of her TV shows. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that it would work. Any small detail she’d overlooked, Cole had managed to eliminate with his suggestions. The man had a good mind. He and Pepper were well suited, she thought.
Dammit. She badly wanted a beer. But to get one she’d have to go back into the kitchen and that might wake Happy. Despite his rather odd preference for a dominatrix type of woman, she liked him. He’d helped her out in a pinch, and she’d known and worked with enough men to know that was something to value highly. He’d be a good catch for some woman.
But it wasn’t her.
Irene gazed out at paradise. The moon had dropped in the sky to the point where it was nearly touching the sea, and a few of the stars had begun to fade. The resort lights were still on, illuminating paths, landscaped terraces, and the pool. But there were only a very few guests or staff members wandering about.
Paradise at night could be a very lonely place. Irene leaned against the balcony railing and thought about that. She thought about what life might be like here if she could convince Butch that they hadn’t lost their chance.
So far she hadn’t let herself think about what she would do if she failed with Butch. And dammit, she wasn’t going to think about it now.
She was a one-man woman, and by damn, she was going to get him whether he liked it or not.
15
Saturday, February 14—8:50 a.m.
COLE’S POSITION IN a cluster of palm trees about twenty yards from the front of the hotel gave him the best view he was going to get of the penthouse balcony. He would have preferred to be in the hall or at the very least on a neighboring balcony, but he’d made a promise to Pepper, and he would do his best to keep it.
He still didn’t like the plan—especially the part where Pepper and Irene would be inside that suite looking for the Monet. Irene wasn’t dealing with one of the clueless homeowners who agreed to let her break through their security systems for her reality TV show. LeBlanc was a pro, and Cole doubted that they’d be able to merely pluck the painting off the wall. There was no way of telling how long it would take them to locate the painting. And there was no way of knowing just how long Atwell and LeBlanc would be meeting with Butch. It was the part of the plan that he had the least control over. He was going to have to depend on Butch and H. Unknown to them, they had a part in the plan, and Cole couldn’t be certain of how they would act once things got rolling. The one thing he’d insisted on was that the two women wait for his signal before they started their descent from the roof.
The thing about plans was that at any point something could and probably would go wrong. And he was a good three or four minutes away from that suite.
Cole made himself take a deep breath. One of Pepper’s many strengths was that she was able to think on her feet. And her instincts were good, he reminded himself.
He glanced at his watch, 8:55, then at the front of the hotel. Happy was posted in the lobby, and the moment that Atwell and LeBlanc were ushered into Butch’s office, Happy would let him know. That would be his signal to call Pepper on her cell and let her know the coast was clear.
His cell phone rang. He flipped it open and Happy said, “They just went in.”
“You’ve got the message with you?”
“Affirmative.”
“Wait two minutes and then deliver it to Butch.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Cole shook his head and nearly smiled as he repocketed his cell. He liked Happy. Beneath that jovial exterior, there was an intelligence and a resourcefulness that Cole couldn’t help but admire. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the man would get the message to Butch.
The problem would be Butch’s reaction. Cole had made the note both brief and explicit.
If you want to see Irene, make some excuse to leave your meeting and follow the man who delivered this note. The Monet will wait. Irene won’t.
Cole
The key was not to alarm Atwell and LeBlanc. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Butch Castellano could keep his cool. The question was—would Cole, knowing the danger Pepper was in?
IRENE WATCHED AS Pepper glanced at her watch—again. She and Pepper had been squatting near the small abutment that ran around the roof for a quarter of an hour—plenty of time for anxiety to tie her own stomach in knots, so she could imagine what her niece must be going through.
“It’s nine-oh-five,” Pepper said. “Why hasn’t Cole called?”
“Relax,” Irene said. “You know the plan. He wants to make sure that Atwell and LeBlanc are in Butch’s office.”
“They should be in there by now. Their meeting was at nine.”
Irene was thinking the same thing, and the thought had her own nerves twisting. They both needed a distraction. She put a hand on Pepper’s arm. “You don’t have to go with me.”
Pepper met her eyes. “Yes, I do.”
Irene shook her head. “You don’t have to prove anything to that young man, you know. He’s crazy about you.”
Pepper blinked. “It’s just…chemistry.”
Irene laughed. “Sure, that’s part of it. Butch and I started out that way at first. Lord, we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. But that initial explosive attraction grew into something else. That’s why when my parents approached him, he agreed to the separation.”
“He’d fallen in love with you,” Pepper said.
“Yeah. Of course, I didn’t understand that at first. It’s only hindsight that’s twenty-twenty. What I’m a little worried about is whether Butch still loves me. During the boat ride over here, Happy said something that makes sense. People who are in love do stupid things. And maybe that’s why he’s acting like such an idiot now. He still loves me, and love sometime interferes with brain functions.”