Part 23 (1/2)

Now if only they'd make a new season of Entourage in the next five minutes, her life would be much improved.

Short of that miracle of technology occurring, she scrolled through her TiVo list and settled on reruns of the Daily Show.

She was in the mood for fake news to go, with her fake sense of acceptance that she could live without ever having s.e.x with Johnny Patrick again.

And laughing was supposed to be good for depression.

Everyone knew that.

Thirty-one.

While the two most s.e.x-starved people in Berkeley were struggling to put their lives back in sync, Yuri was bundling a protesting Lisa Jordan onto his jet in L.A.

”I don't know why I have to go with you! I gave you the ring back and told you what I did with the box for Christ's sake! Let go of me you d.a.m.ned brute!” she screamed, trying to shake off his bruising grip on her arm. ”Let go!”

”Once I have that box back, you can go wherever the h.e.l.l you want,” Yuri muttered, pus.h.i.+ng her down in a seat. ”But until then, you're staying with me. I don't care how much you b.i.t.c.h. Buckle yourself in. We're taking off.”

Under threat of violence, Lisa Jordan had admitted to taking the ring, but swore she'd only done it as a lark and had planned to give it back. That Yuri had come looking for the ring hadn't necessarily surprised her, although she'd only taken one little ring from all that jewelry in the safe. (And truthfully, she'd been hoping he'd overlook it.) But she was surprised he was interested in the empty box. Not that she was about to ask him why, when he was so p.i.s.sed. But it was strange.

But strange or not, right now, she was really hoping that box was still in Johnny's little playmate's purse where she'd dropped it.

She'd never seen Yuri so furious.

He'd actually let Raf put a gun to her head. She tried to cry her way out of it at first. When that hadn't worked, she faked fainting. Unfortunately, when she'd opened her eyes again, the gun was still there.

At that point, she'd understood the seriousness of her predicament and had handed over the ring and given them Nicky's first name. ”I can't remember her last name,” she'd said, ”but she builds tree houses. That's all I know, I swear.”

Yuri nodded at Raf. He put his weapon away and after making a few calls to their offsh.o.r.e office, which had an efficient staff, they soon had Nicky's business and home addresses.

They were offered satellite photos of both locations as well.

Google and GPS in acti on.

You can imagine Nicky's surprise at being wakened at dawn by a rough whisper and the feel of cold metal on her forehead. Was this a nightmare? And then the unmistakable voice of the movie star who had awed the world in at least ten wildly acclaimcd films, said, ”That's her. She has your ring box.”

Nicky opened her eyes and said in as calm a voice as possible with her heart beating at warp speed. ”What box?”

”One that belongs to me,” a tall, dark-haired man with Asiatic eyes said, gruffly.

”You must be mistaken. The only ring box I own has Barbie on the lid.”

”She's funny,” Raf drawled. ”And she's got great t.i.ts, too.”

His tone of voice was really scary, although up against the gun at her head, Nicky wasn't sure which was more terrifying. ”I'm going to sit up now. Don't shoot,” she said, preferring not to be lying down with a strange man looking at her like that.

”Keep your d.i.c.k in your pants, Raf,” the tall man muttered. ”We have more important things to do. Now, where the f.u.c.k is the ring box?” he growled.

Nicky tried to display a certain calm reason, but the name Raf was coming up CODE red in her mind. Wasn't he one of Lisa Jordan's undesirable-as in bad guy-companions in Paris? ”I wish I could help you,” she said, gently, like a hostage negotiator on TV might in order to deflect hostility. ”But I don't have whatever it is you want.”

”Unless she threw it away, she has it,” Lisa declared. ”I put it in her purse.”

Nicky's brain was racing, trying to figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on-why these people had broken into her house (not technically, because she didn't lock her doors) and what the h.e.l.l they were talking about.

What ring box?

But the I put it in her purse phrase finally broke through all the, confusion in her mind.

Bingo.

All that fiddling Lisa did with her purse in the limo before she came up with a cigarette and lighter. And her own green tote bag had been on the floor, too. Okay, now she got the picture. These must have been the men Lisa was running from, and-just a wild guess-she'd taken something she shouldn't have. ”My purse is downstairs,” Nicky quickly offered. It was still on the chair where she'd dropped it when she'd come home, her tote bag too big to use for everyday. ”I haven't unpacked it. If there's a box in there, feel free to take it.”

Yuri gave Lisa a sharp look. ”You actually were telling the truth.”

”It was my forty-five,” Raf murmured, his smile malicious.

”I told you I was telling the truth,” Lisa murmured, ignoring Raf and giving Yuri the most sweet, sad-eyed smile Nicky had seen outside of the movie Old Yeller. As a kid, she always cried buckets when Old Yeller died.

”She's playing you for a sucker again,” Raf sneered.

”Shut the f.u.c.k up,” Yuri snapped.

”I'm soooo sorry, darling,” Lisa murmured, managing to look both glamorous and childlike in her summer dress and sandals, her limpid gaze fully on Yuri. ”You don't know how awful I feel.”

Try ten times ten more and you'll know how awful I feel, Nicky thought, hoping she would be lucky enough to come out of this little visit alive. From every freaking angle, that trip to Paris had been nothing but trouble. Well-except for getting Jordi back. But other than that, it had been a major catastrophe. Not only was she in a serious blue funk over some guy who didn't give a d.a.m.n about her, she was caught up in some major real-life danger with CRIMINALS WITH GUNS!

If she survived these gangsters, she was going to express some serious displeasure to a certain Johnny Patrick who had had the poor judgment to marry a thieving b.i.t.c.h like Lisa Jordan. She wouldn't be in this pickle if the woman could keep from stealing things. For sure, she wouldn't be in this pickle if the woman could keep from stealing from people WITH GUNS!

She didn't appreciate being awakened by a gun to her head. She didn't like being accused of stealing something, when she'd never stolen anything in her life. And if she wasn't afraid of having her head blown off, she'd say as much to these people cluttering up her small bedroom under the eaves. ”My purse is on the chair in the front hall. It's green,” she said instead, hoping to get them out of her house and out of her life without bloodshed. Hers in particular.

”Why don't you show us,” Raf murmured, his gaze trained on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

s.h.i.+t. She should have worn something less revealing to sleep in-like flannel pajamas instead of panties and her Simpson's T-s.h.i.+rt, which was a little too small after a thousand was.h.i.+ngs.

”Get the purse,” Yuri ordered. His gaze flicked to Lisa. ”We'll figure this out later. Although, you shouldn't have taken the ring in the first place.”

”I was just playing a game, darling. It was silly, and I apologize.”

”You've caused me a h.e.l.luva lot of trouble,” he growled.

One of the most beautiful women in the world gazed at Yuri and said, softly, ”Maybe I could make it up to you somehow ... ”

”Get a room you two,” Raf grumbled.

Preferably, far, far away, Nicky thought. And with the hope of expediting their departure, Nicky rose from her bed. Stay calm, she warned herself, knowing she would have to ease past Raf who was very close. Don't show fear. With luck, this could be over soon.