Seline's concern whisked through his mind. What's wrong?
What wasn't wrong? Don't bother sending Kat on the helicopter. Why?
He crushed the note in his fist and threw it across the room. I already have help. Nikki's in San Francisco investigating the disappearance from the Diamond Grand.
Chapter Two
"Nik!"
Nikki spun at the sound of her name and grinned as she saw Jake's blonde head bobbing up intermittently from the sea of humanity streaming toward the airport exits. She shouldered her bag and made her way toward him. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into a bear hug that darn near squeezed every ounce of breath from her lungs. She laughed when she finally could and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “I missed you, too,” she said, then stepped back and studied him critically. “You look good." No longer was he the pale-looking wraith she'd seen off at the airport only a month before. There was color—and weight—back in his cheeks and a sparkle in the blue of his eyes. And his suit fit him comfortably, rather than looking as if it were hanging on a rack.
"I feel good, too.” He wriggled his left arm and fingers. “See, full movement." She smiled. He'd had a stroke on the operating table, and for awhile there, the doctors had feared he might lose mobility down the left side of his body. “I'm glad."
"So am I.” He grabbed the bag from her shoulder and swung it across his own. “You wouldn't believe how boring it's been at the hotel—until recently, that is."
"Oh, I'd believe,” she said dryly. “And it couldn't be any more boring than sitting alone in front of the TV
all day, with no one to speak to except the mail carrier." Jake raised his eyebrow, blue eyes amused. “I take it from that comment that Michael managed to escape on another case without you?"
"Yeah. This time he went to Ireland, and I couldn't even keep in mind contact with him. I've spoken to him three times in as many weeks."
"So why didn't you just stay in Lyndhurst?"
She looked away from the intensity of his gaze and studied the blush of dawn visible through the windows. “I guess I was getting a little sick of people gossiping behind my back.” Sick of people giving her those sideways glances. She felt guilty enough over Matthew Kincaid's death. She didn't need everyone else dumping on her as well.
"Ah.” Jake took her arm and guided her toward the exit. “So why not take a vacation? Michael offered to pay for it, didn't he?"
She snorted. “Yeah. But I'm not some chattel he can toss money or a trip at when he wants to get rid of me. If I want to go on a vacation, I'll damn well pay for it myself." Jake glanced down at her, eyebrow raised again. “That sounds like trouble brewing in paradise."
"Maybe.” She frowned, not sure she could make him understand how she felt—especially when she still didn't really understand it herself. “He just takes it for granted that he'll pay for everything. He never lets me contribute money-wise to anything we do. Anything I want he gets for me, and it's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to express an interest in anything ." Jake's smile was wry. “Some women would kill for a man like that."
"I know—and I know I haven't got a lot of money to contribute, anyway.” She hesitated and shrugged again. “I just hate being dependent on him, I guess.” Hated the feeling that she wasn't his equal in any way.
"Have you talked to him about this?” Jake steered her toward a waiting limo. The chauffeur opened the door and gestured her inside.
"Nice,” she murmured, running her fingers across the plush leather seats as she sat down. “The hotel's, I gather."
Jake nodded and sat down opposite her. “And from your avoidance of the question, I gather you haven't tried talking to him."
"Well, no.” She sometimes thought it would be easier to talk to a brick wall than to try to get serious with Michael—at least when it came to what she was supposed to do with her life. As far as he was concerned, he loved her and he would support her. End of story. No discussion required. And as yet, she hadn't really pushed it. A tiny part of her feared to do anything that might shatter the magic that had been the last four months.
Jake was regarding her quizzically. “Why not?"
Heat crept into her cheeks, and she looked away again. “We ... umm ... get distracted." He grinned. “At least one part of your life together is still working well." Very well, she thought with a smile. She'd never thought sex could be so varied—or so damn good. She glanced out the window and wondered if he was home yet. Wondered if he ached to be touched as much as she did.
Wondered how he'd react when he discovered she wasn't there.
"You need to talk to him, Nik,” Jake said into the silence. “Remember, he's the old-fashioned type."
"Considering his age, you'd have to say very old fashioned.” She leaned back into the seat's luxuriousness. Time to change the subject. Talking about Michael stirred up longing in all the wrong places. “So, tell me about the case."
The amusement died from Jake's face. “Do you remember Mark Wainwright? You met him at one of Mary's dinner parties just before we took on the Kincaid case." She frowned. “He was that bald-headed man, with the white-haired wife, wasn't he?"
"Yeah. They came to San Francisco three weeks ago for business reasons and have been staying at the Grand.” He hesitated. His voice, when he continued, was low and very controlled—yet his anger seemed to burn the air. “Two days ago, his wife, Dale, disappeared. A ransom note turned up yesterday, demanding a million dollars in cash."
As ransoms went, it wasn't particularly large—not when you were as rich as Mark Wainwright supposedly was. “I gather the police have been called in?" Jake nodded. “And the Feds. But Mark has asked if we'd mind investigating as well." She raised an eyebrow. “Does he know about our spate of unsuccessful cases?"
"He does.” Jake's voice was grim. “Trouble is, he knows Dale's time is limited anyway, and he's willing to try anything."
"Why does he think her time is limited? Isn't he going to pay the ransom?"
"He is, but neither he nor the police are holding out much hope. This isn't a singular kidnapping, you see, but the third within two weeks. The body of the first victim apparently turned up yesterday. The whispers I've heard say she was pretty mutilated."
She raised her eyebrows. “Didn't her husband pay the ransom?"
"He did. And that's what has Mark worried."
"So you want me to have a go at finding her?"
Jake nodded. “It may be Dale's only chance."
If they were this woman's only chance, she could be in big trouble. “My gifts have taken some strange turns lately, Jake. I can't guarantee anything."
He shrugged. “If the unconventional doesn't work, we'll go back to the conventional. We're a pretty good team, you know, and we solved an awful lot of cases without the benefit of your abilities." And even more with them. They relied on her gifts far more often than he seemed to think. “So what does Mary think about you getting involved in this case?"
After all, Mary had dragged him to San Francisco not so much to recover from his injuries, but to get him interested in the security job here at her family's hotel—hoping, of course, that he'd give up his investigating days and settle down in a position she considered far less dangerous. And far more respectable.
He sighed. “She's angry with me. Says I have no right to get involved with a police investigation."
"Never stopped us before,” Nikki commented, smiling. “And I thought Dale was one of her friends?" He shook his head. “They barely know each other. I went to college with Mark. We studied law together."
Nikki stared at him in surprise. “You never told me you were a lawyer."
"That's because I'm not. I failed the bar.” He shrugged. “I didn't really care, because by that time I'd realized I just wasn't cut out for the courtroom scene."
In all the years she'd known him, he'd never mentioned how close he'd come to being a lawyer—though maybe it did explain his somewhat cynical opinion of them. And if Mary had known him from college, or at least had known how close he'd come to being a lawyer, maybe that was the reason for the often disappointed note in her voice whenever she spoke about him.
"So you became a private investigator instead? Why?"
"It's something I fell into, thanks to Mark. I was bumming around, looking for something to do, and he asked me if I'd track down a witness for this case he was defending. The rest, as they say, is history." Then she owed Mark a note of thanks, because if Jake had become a lawyer instead of a private investigator, she probably would never have met him. And beyond Michael, Jake was the one truly good thing that had happened in her life. “Is Mark waiting for us at the hotel?" Jake glanced at his watch. “Yes. I told him to hunt up some of Dale's things." Her stomach stirred. She hadn't used her psychometry skills for a good four months—not since she'd tried to find Matthew Kincaid and had become one with him instead, sharing his pain, his fear. Goose bumps trailed across her skin, and she rubbed her arms. What if it happened again? What if she became a part of whatever was happening to this Dale and couldn't escape?
She took a deep breath and pushed the fear away. She had to try, for Jake's sake. He never asked much of her, and this was important to him. “Has he told the police he's asked us to investigate?" Jake shook his head. “It's not just the police, now, but the Feds as well."
"And won't they be pleased to have a couple of amateurs bumbling about,” she said, voice dry. He shrugged. “Won't be the first time we've crossed swords with the police, and I doubt it will be the last."
She raised her eyebrows. “Then you have no intention of becoming the Diamond Grand's next chief of security?"
"Hell, no.” He shuddered and scrubbed a hand through his thinning blond hair. “I'd rather die in the field than die of boredom."
She couldn't hide the surge of relief, and yet in many ways, she knew she was being selfish. Jake had been badly hurt in their last two cases. The next time he just might get his wish. “Mary is making some sense, you know. It would certainly be a lot safer, health-wise at least, if you took the security job."
"Nik, if I wanted safe, I would have become a lawyer.” He leaned forward and opened the door as the limousine came to a halt. “And here we are."
She climbed out. The wind whistled around her, damp and cold. She zipped up her jacket and studied the Diamond Grand Hotel. It was smaller than she'd expected, being only nine or ten floors high. It was also a lot older. Ivy climbed randomly over the red-brown brickwork, gently framing the white wooden windows and Juliett balconies. The entrance was a huge, white stone arch, intricately carved with wreaths of flowers and ivy. Two old-fashioned gas lamps sat on the wall either side of the arch, and a canopy curved over the sidewalk, protecting guests from the worst of the weather. Christmas lights climbed around it, twinkling like stars in the fading night.
"It's pretty,” she said.
Jake joined her on the sidewalk, her bag slung over his shoulder. “It's that, if nothing else,” he said and motioned her forward. “I would still rather be stuck in our paint peeling office than here for the rest of my life."
She glanced back at him as she climbed the steps. “Have you told Mary this?" The doorman nodded a greeting at them both and opened the door. The warmth of the lobby swirled around her, rich with the scents of freshly-baked bread and strawberries. Her stomach rumbled a reminder that she hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday.
Jake touched her back, guiding her through the doors. “Yes. She's just not listening—as usual." The lobby was pale yellow and cream and dominated by a huge chandelier that hung in the center of the room. The delicate chains of crystal glittered like gold in the warm yellow light and spun fingers of light through the entire lobby. Under this, on a carved mahogany table, sat the biggest bunch of flowers she'd ever seen. But their pale pinks and greens offset the golden glow of the room and counterbalanced the fiery red cushions that were scattered about on the various chairs.
"This is nice,” she murmured, running her fingers across the top of one of the plush velvet chairs.
"This is expensive,” Jake replied. “And I've put you in our top room."
"You can't—"
"I can,” he interrupted. “And I have. No arguments. Consider this little slice of luxury a Christmas gift. I've booked you in for a couple of weeks, so if you want to stay and do some touristy stuff after we solve this case, you're quite welcome to."
He sounded awfully confident that they would solve it, even though past experience had taught them both nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his leathery cheek.
“You don't have to bribe me to get me to stay, you know. All you have to do is ask." He smiled. “I thought you might have wanted to spend your first Christmas alone with Michael."
"He wasn't sure whether he was going to make it home in time or not.” She shrugged and tried to hide the familiar sense of disappointment. “Besides, Christmas is a time for families—and you and Mary are all the family I have. I was planning to come out here, anyway."