Part 17 (1/2)
”Nick, you're back. What a nice surprise. Did you find the diamonds?”
”Ladybug,” he said, taking me away from Werner with an arm around my waist, ”I've been looking forward to our reunion.”
”After a day and a half?” I asked. ”Hey, before I forget, tell the Feds that Victor Pierpont's apartment was bugged and I'm afraid he might have been murdered, too.”
Nick sighed. ”Shut up, Mad.”
I tilted my head. ”I'll bug you until you report the bugs.”
”I'll do it after our reunion.”
”Feeling friskier than when you left, are you?”
”Don't remind me.” He lifted me in his arms and headed for the stairs.
”Hey, where are we going?” I asked, suddenly remembering Werner's clothes and luggage in my room.
”To reunite,” Nick said, wiggling his brows.
”Nick, I'm pretty wrung out.”
He slowed and gave me a questioning look.
I lay my head on his shoulder. ”I buried my friend today.”
”Ladybug, I'm sorry.” His heart beneath my head slowed with his steps. In other words, he stopped thinking with his zipper brain. And after he did, he kissed my brow. ”Tough day, hey? I'll take care of you.”
We were not talking about the same kind of taking care of. ”How did you get back so fast? I thought you were going all the way to Plaidivostock or something?”
”Slovenia,” he corrected. ”I searched the plane in flight and found what Gregor and I both thought were the diamonds. But, guess what, we didn't know until we got back to FBI headquarters, here in New York, that Gregor had stuffed cubic zirconias into the ceramic vial on his person.”
”Ceramic?” I asked.
”Hard to detect in an X-ray.”
”Ah.” Diamonds fit into small places, like pill bottles that could be stuffed into plumbing traps, ceramic vials that could be stuffed I didn't want to know where, or . . . clear gla.s.s jars, with or without gel, like the ones somebody in a black raincoat watched Dom switch?
If Gregor had the cubic zirconias that I originally put on the dress, what happened to the real diamonds, I wondered, and why did Dom switch the gel jars?
Lightbulb moment: Dominique hid the diamonds-to protect or steal them. Being Dom I suspect she wanted to protect them. Which meant that she had worn cubic zirconias for the final act the night she died. I knew because I'd seen her in her bedroom taking the CZs from their settings and replacing them with rhinestones.
Hah, I finally understood my vision from last night, the night Werner spent with me. Oh sc.r.a.p, I also remembered a kiss, a zing-me-to-my-toes, curl-my-hair, fly-me-to-the-moon kiss, in my bed. I mean, Dom's bed, where I'd slept, and not alone.
Was the Wiener just generally a scrumpdillyicious kisser? Or had he known who he was kissing? Did that have anything to do with upping the sensuality level? Erp!
”You've gone quiet,” Nick said.
I stopped biting my lip and focused on my on again's worried face. Such a gorgeous, loyal face. Guilt, guilt, guilt. ”Cubic zirconias, hey?”
Dim-witted comeback, Mad, I told myself, feeling like a foolish traitor. ”Call the Feds about the bugs on the third floor at Pierpont's now, will you?”
Nick set me on the floor in Dom's bedroom and made the call, and while he did, he looked around.
After he hung up, I saw the room through his eyes. Nick went from holding his hands on his hips to sticking them in his pockets.
His actions sent a mixed message, and I found myself crossing my arms defensively.
We both looked around. Unmade bed. Men and women's clothes, including underwear, strewn everywhere. Yep, we were in a hurry all right.
It looked like hurricane Madeira had gone through here. Good one, Madeira.
Nick went to the bed to touch the indentations in both pillows. ”Sleepover?” he asked.
I nodded, a little too enthusiastically, though it hadn't been much more than that.
”I'd buy Eve wearing men's clothes,” he said, ”but I don't buy her packing a red jock sock.”
”Excuse me,” Werner said, coming through the door we'd left open and s.n.a.t.c.hing said jock sock from Nick's hand. ”I need to pack my bags and move them upstairs.”
Son of a st.i.tch!
Thirty-five.
The expression a woman wears on her face is more important than the clothes she wears on her back.
-DALE CARNEGIE Nick paced at the foot of the bed, looking mighty yummy in his scruffy jeans and leather jacket, his dark hair mussed and extra wavy. ”Did you two sleep together last night?” he asked.
I winced. ”Define sleep.”
Werner pointed to his scabbing brow. ”I was unconscious. She Tasered me. I figure the floor did the rest. In my book, that's not called foreplay.”
Nick's whole body relaxed. ”Why did you beat the c.r.a.p out of him, Mad?”
”Because I was half unconscious, myself, and there was a man coming into my room. You had already left.”
Nick shrugged. ”Why didn't you ask who it was?”
”Panic. Somebody had just called my cell phone and threatened my life.” I opened the nightstand drawer. ”Then there's this.”
”Give me your cell phone. We'll trace the call. I'll get the contents of that drawer to forensics, too.”
I gave him my cell phone. ”Thanks.”
”I don't like that you were threatened.”