Steal My Heart (7 page)

Traffic was light on the
Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and Mark made it to Gorsky’s Gym in Coney Island in half an hour. He pulled alongside the red brick building, turned off the car, and sat watching people pass by on the sidewalk.

Absently he ran his hands over the steering wheel of his old Chrysler. Last night before he went to the party, he’d opted on using his own car instead of the company vehicle the Bureau had given him, with the vague idea that he couldn’t be tracked that way. Good thing he had. And that he had hidden the key to the lock on the storage unit where’d he stashed his old second set of wheels.

Up to now it was better for Mark to handle things on his own rather than having to run every decision past his boss for approval. But the situation was getting to be more than he could handle.

His boss, he thought, feeling the tension in the back of his neck.

Over the past few months, Mark’s working relationship with Supervisory Special Agent John Foley hadn’t been exactly hearts and flowers. Through the G-man grapevine, Mark had learned it had been Foley’s boss, Special Agent in Charge Tim Walters, who, because of Mark’s “good behavior” and needed skills, had pulled the strings to get him out of prison and into the FBI. Foley had balked at the idea, didn’t think it was a good move to bring in an ex-con. Especially one who wasn’t quite an ex.

But Walters had refused to budge. If the jewel thief could prove he’d turned himself around, why continue to waste taxpayer money on him in jail? He ignored Foley’s protests.

A tall, big-shouldered man with a rough face that looked like he had pebbles wedged under his cheeks, Foley had been in fieldwork for the Bureau for over ten years and longed for a promotion to a desk job. From what Mark had heard, Foley wasn’t above playing politics to make it happen. That had to be the reason he hadn’t bitched louder about getting stuck with an ex-con. But Foley had ways of letting Mark know how he felt about him and that he didn’t really believe a thief could reform. Like reminding him he wasn’t a real agent and making an example of him in front of the other men every chance he got.

If Mark could retrieve the Fantasia necklace, he could show Foley up in front of Walters and clear his name once and for all. That would be sweet. But he wouldn’t risk Paige and her daughter for that. So here went nothing.

He slipped his secure cell phone out of his pocket, slid the battery, which he’d removed so he couldn’t be tracked, into its back and turned the unit on.

He checked the message log. No calls. No missed messages, no tap-dancing figure on the screen telling him his boss was hounding him. It wasn’t like the man not to be breathing down his neck, double-checking everything.

Didn’t Foley love him anymore?

He brought the keypad up on the screen. He should’ve called in hours ago, but once the Bureau got involved, Mark couldn’t call the shots. He didn’t like that, especially where Paige was concerned. But now that he knew his old buddy, Joel
Jimar, was in the mix, they were getting in over their heads. And if his old mentor was in it, too?

He tapped his fingers on his knee. Hard to believe it. Sure,
Laroche took advantage of kids but he’d never kidnapped one to Mark’s knowledge. His expertise was high-end jewels. Smuggling. Fencing. Why get involved in kidnapping now? Unless it was personal. It was Paige’s child, after all.

He’d been ignoring the funny feeling deep in his gut that told him all this might be about him. Had
Laroche gotten wind that the FBI was onto him? And that Mark was with them now? A kidnapping would certainly distract them. But why risk getting caught and going to jail for that? You never knew with Laroche. He could be a vengeful bastard.

If it was his old mentor behind this, Mark would give him the lesson of a lifetime. In return for the lessons the old coot had taught him. The ones that sent him to prison.

In any case, they needed backup.

Might as well get it over with. He inhaled sharply and pressed the speed dial button.

After two rings, the man himself picked up. “Foley,” snapped the sandpaper voice.

“Hello, boss man.”

Silence. Foley hated it when Mark called him that. “It’s about time we heard from you, Storm. Where the hell have you been?”

Mark let himself chuckle. “You might be surprised to hear it, but I’ve been doing my new job.”

He could hear the grimace. “Like you did last night?”

Mark scowled. Foley didn’t blame him for the theft, did he? “Yeah, like I did last night. I’ve got a lead.”

“A lead, huh? Is that why you ignored the protocol of checking in?”

What a nitpicker. “I had a good reason. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, really? Let’s hear it.”

How to tell him? A little at a time, Mark decided. “There’s been a kidnapping.”

“Kidnapping?” The sneer in Foley’s voice grated on Mark’s nerves.

“That’s right. A child.” He weighed the risk of saying more, but again he knew he had little choice. “I think the kidnapper is someone I used to work with.”

There was a long pause and Mark imagined the wheels in Foley’s head starting to turn. At least he hoped they were. “So a child’s been kidnapped by someone you used to steal with?”

“Look, I can’t tell you the—”

“And this relates to the Fantasia how?”

Mark gritted his teeth. Didn’t this guy care about a kid? Or did he think Mark was lying? “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

There was a long silence. Mark thought he heard a muffled voice in the background, then Foley came back on the line. “Why don’t you come in and tell us about it, Storm?” Suddenly, his boss’s tone was friendly, conciliatory.

Mark’s radar went off. It had been the right move to take the Chrysler. And to keep the battery out of the cell. He only had a few more minutes before they got his whereabouts now.

“Or better yet, give me your location and I’ll meet you.” Foley chuckled like they were old college buddies going for a beer.

“Yeah?” Mark’s stomach turned into a hard knot. He knew it. Foley was convinced Mark had stolen the necklace. Why not? He’d been against him from the start. He wasn’t going to listen to a word Mark said.

A chill went down his spine. He was on his own.

“Sure. You’re in the city, aren’t you, Storm? Where can I meet you?”

Mark glared at the clock on the dash. Between Jimar and the G-men, he didn’t have a lot of time. “Sorry, boss man. I’m a little busy right now.”

Foley gave another phony-as-a-three-dollar-bill chuckle. “Of course you are. You must be staking out the suspect. Just tell me where you’re at, Storm. You’ll need backup if you’re going to take down a kidnapper.”

That would really be nice. But it wasn’t the kidnapper Foley wanted to arrest. Mark had been through that song and dance before. He knew what his boss would do. Cuff him, take him in, keep him under lock and key, questioning him until Paige walked straight into the kidnapper’s trap.

Even if he could make Foley believe him, it wouldn’t be until Paige and her daughter were dead.

“So where are you, Storm?”

“Sorry, boss man. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

He clicked off the phone and removed the battery just seconds short of the time they needed to track the call.

Time to move. He opened the car door, got out, and headed down the walk to the gym.

Inside he found the front desk empty. Moving casually, as if he belonged there, he followed a burly customer down a hall, past the weight room and through a door to the locker room.

It didn’t take long to find the locker marked two-forty-three in the upper row.

He reached in his pocket for the small case he carried with him and pulled out a thin, flat-handled piece of metal. Dimple rake. His favorite tool. He picked up the padlock, worked it a bit, and had it open in ten seconds.

“Rusty,” he muttered to himself. His best time was three.

He removed the lock and slid open the handle. Now what did our friend leave in here for us? His fingers skimmed the floor of the space until they found paper. Another envelope sitting by itself on the metal shelf. He slipped it out of the box and into his coat pocket.

He was about to relock the door when he had a thought. He took out his cell, slid the battery back into it, tossed it inside the compartment and relocked the door.

“How’s that for location, Foley?” he hissed under his breath. With a satisfied smirk, he turned and headed for the parking lot.

The sun sat low in a sky that was turning dark with clouds when Paige pulled along the curb in front of Gorsky’s Gym. The building’s plain brick exterior, adorned only with graffiti and the faded paint on its windowsills made it look like it had been around since Coney Island’s bathhouse days. The wind kicked up and blew a bit of trash along the curb.

A rundown place in a rundown neighborhood. She didn’t feel safe. No doubt that was the kidnapper’s intent. She looked at the clock. Half an hour early.

She drew in a tired breath. All this waiting, the worry and the fear, were wearing her down. No doubt that was also the kidnapper’s intent. But she couldn’t stop the questions from racing through her mind.

What were they doing with her daughter? Holly must be so frightened. Was she hungry? Cold? She had to be so miserable. What was that awful man feeding her? If only she could hold her for just a minute.

She reached for her purse, touched Jack the Rabbit’s soft floppy ear. She wanted to let herself fall apart. To call the kidnapper back and demand he give her Holly back. To scream at him at the top of her lungs. But she didn’t have the luxury of any of those choices.

Pull yourself together. You’ve got to think.

Why had the kidnapper singled her out? She was just a columnist assigned to the event. An ordinary person who’d grown up in the suburbs with a normal family. She had led an uneventful life, earned her Journalism degree, she moved to the city, and started her career as an intern for the newspaper. She’d worked her way up to junior columnist in just a few years. Nothing at all in that to qualify her as a jewel thief.

Except her marriage to Mark.

Something didn’t add up. Something that itched at the back of her brain. If she could think rationally, like the reporter she was, maybe she could figure it out. But she couldn’t think at all. All she could do was ache with worry and dread.

She rubbed her arms feeling alone and empty. Like the night her father died. Like the night Mark was arrested.

Mark.

How dare he come back into her life now when she was so vulnerable? He said he wanted to help. Did she dare believe him?

She remembered his sexy smile at the cocktail party where she’d first met him. He’d made her heart melt like an ice cream cone on an August afternoon. She’d never believed in love at first sight until that evening. She could never think straight with Mark.

Wasn’t that how she wound up married to a criminal? So many times she’d wondered how she could fall in love with a thief and a liar. A career criminal. But he wasn’t either of those things anymore, was he? Could she really believe that?

He seemed different now. Or maybe she’d never seen this side of him. He worked for the Good Guys now, as he called them. The FBI. She still had trouble wrapping her head around that one.

He’d changed. Or at least that was what he wanted her to think. Did she dare believe him? If he lied to her again...

She couldn’t risk it.

Her mind wandered to last night. His hands gliding over her flesh. His lips grazing hers, his body inside her, making her throb with aching need. Did she really yearn for Mark Storm so much? Was she letting herself fall for him again? Her heart had awfully bad timing.

“I promise you I’m going to find your daughter,” he’d said. He wanted her to go to the FBI.

Was he right? She could be playing right into the kidnapper’s hands. No, she couldn’t let herself think that. If she just did what he said, he’d get his necklace and she’d get Holly back. That was all the kidnapper wanted, wasn’t it? He just wanted the damn necklace.

Doubt clouded her mind. Maybe she should have accepted Mark’s help. But she couldn’t risk it. It was too late now, anyway.

Suddenly the passenger door of her car opened and a figure got in.

“Mark,” she wheezed, her heart racing, her head spinning as she recognized him. “What are you doing here? You promised not to follow me.” Once more it was a mistake to believe him.

He pulled the door shut and turned to her. “I didn’t follow you. I beat you here.”

She scowled at him. “How did you know where I was going?”

“It was in the letter Jimar gave you.”

“You read it? Upside down?”

He shrugged.

Her scowl turned to a grimace. “You always were an opportunist.”

“That’s not always a bad quality, is it?”

She pressed her lips together, not wanting to admit he had a point. Or that she could be one, too, at times. Though she always had a good reason to take advantage of circumstances. It was part of her job. For Mark, it was part of his job…as a thief.

At the moment, he seemed to be making himself at home. He picked up Jack the Rabbit and studied him. “What’s this?”

“Holly’s favorite stuffed animal,” she sighed. “I’m going to give it to her when I see her.”

“I see.” She expected a lecture, but instead, he gave the toy a tender stroke and laid it back in her purse. He nodded toward the building. “You can’t go in there.”

She had to get rid of him. “Please, Mark. Don’t make this any harder for me than it already is.”

His face like flint, he exhaled his exasperation, then held up an envelope. “You don’t need to go. I’ve already been inside.”

“What?” She fumbled in her purse for the first envelope, the one the man whose name was Jimar had given her, to check it. “Did you pinch the key as well as read the letter that wasn’t addressed to you?”

“Of course not. I picked the lock. This is what was inside. Read it.” He held the new envelope under her nose.

Rage bubbled inside her. Her daughter’s life was at stake. How dare he interfere like this? She wanted to tear at his face with her nails. Instead, she took the envelope from him and opened it. She slipped the letter out and read, her hands shaking like an addict’s.

Put the necklace into this compartment and lock it. In one hour, you’ll receive a call telling you where you can find your daughter. If you don’t follow these instructions exactly, I’ll send her to you by mail. Starting with her little toe.

“Oh, my God.” Tears burned her eyes. She started to open the car door.

“Paige.” Mark grabbed her by the arm.

“Let me go. I have to get to that locker.” She had to put the necklace in that box.

“You can’t, Paige.”

“I have to. Let me go, Mark.”

“Paige, listen to me.”

“I have to put the necklace in the locker or he’s going to kill my little girl.” She fisted her other hand and pounded it against his chest.

He reached for her other arm, took hold of her wrist to stop her.

“Let me go, you monster.”

He didn’t. Instead, he forced her to face him and gave her a short shake. “Think, Paige. Let that reporter’s mind of yours take over. Do you really think the kidnapper’s going to give you your daughter back after you give him the jewels?”

“He promised.”

“And we both know what the word of a thief is worth.”

Her mind blurred with panic. And with the horrible weight of what he’d just said sank into her heart.

“Oh God, Mark. My God. He’s going to kill her!” She couldn’t help it. Terror over her little girl’s fate overwhelmed her and she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed.

His arms went around her, stroking, soothing. “If you give him the necklace, you’ll have no leverage at all. Why would the kidnapper give her back to you?” He drew her closer. “Once you realize that, he knows you’ll go to the police.” He lifted her chin and spoke with ironic tenderness. “Paige, why would he let you live?”

Suddenly she stopped crying and blinked at him as the truth hit her. He was right, damn it. He was right. She couldn’t save Holly just by giving the kidnapper the necklace. “What can we do?”

“If they think you put the necklace in the locker, that means someone will be here to retrieve it soon.”

Slowly she nodded. Mark was making sense. She forced herself to listen to him. “So what do we do?”

“We wait until someone shows up, then follow them. We try to turn the tables on them.”

Her head starting to clear, she pulled out of his embrace, wiped her hands over her face, dug in her purse for a tissue and blew her nose. She looked around at the area. “They might recognize my car.”

“We’ll have to hide it and come back on foot. You’ll have to trust me, Paige.”

Trust the man who conned her for over two years? No, things were different now, she reminded herself. He was different.

She sat back, let herself breathe and thought clearly for the first time since Holly was taken. If Mark had wanted to, he could have easily overpowered her in Déjeuner this morning and taken the necklace. But he’d walked away. He could do the same right now. The necklace was sitting right there in her purse. More or less. So much for the idea she’d come up with at the mall. It wouldn’t have worked.

She had to trust Mark. What other choice did she have? She needed his help.

Peering into his clear blue eyes, she straightened herself and slowly nodded. “Do you have a plan?”

Relief seemed to wash over his face as he leaned toward her. “Here’s what I have in mind.”