Cara Summers - Risking It All

Good, Chance thought. The sooner he got Natalie off the estate, the better.

Natalie kept her grip tight on Chance’s hand. “Will you see the doctor?”

“Yes. All right,” Chance agreed.

“Ah,” Carlo said as a small round woman with gray hair and wire-framed glasses was ushered in. “Dr. Canfield, I’d like you to meet Steven Bradford and his friend Calli. Steven has a bullet wound that I’d like you to take a look at.”

“It’s a scratch,” Chance protested.

The woman stopped short and sent Carlo a stubborn look. “I have to report a bullet wound.” Chance got the impression the outspoken woman wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.

“By all means,” Carlo said. “I plan on making a report myself just as soon as I speak with my security team and find out why this unacceptable incident occurred.”

“Just so we’re straight.” With a brief nod for Carlo, she bore down on Chance and set her black bag on the edge of the desk. Then she said to Calli, “Is he going to be a baby about this?”

Natalie raised her brows. “He’s a man, so of course, he’s going to be a baby.”

Chance suspected Dr. Canfield was biting back a smile as she turned and opened her bag.

“I’m leaving you in good hands,” Carlo said as he signaled Lisa to follow him out of the room.

“TWO THINGS.” Natalie pitched her voice low, gesturing with the lollipop the doctor had given him as a joke after she’d dressed his wound. She sat cross-legged on the edge of the bathroom sink while he shaved. Behind them, the shower was thundering like Niagara Falls, so they could talk safely.

“First, I think the diamond might be in the safe in Carlo’s office after all.”

Chance let his razor pause in midstroke and shifted his gaze to Natalie. “Why?”

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, and a tiny line appeared on her forehead. Chance wondered if she was at all aware that she’d slipped into being Natalie. “Three reasons. Number one and two are related—the guard and the fact there was no camera in the room.”

Chance continued to draw the razor down his cheek. She was good. There wasn’t a second that they’d been in Carlo’s office that he’d seen her attention waver from either Carlo or him, but she’d still managed to scan the room for recording devices. “It’s not surprising that he wouldn’t have a camera in his office. That’s his private space. He wouldn’t want someone even on his own security team seeing everything that goes on in there. Or overhearing everything he says on the phone.”

“Yeah.” She tapped the lollipop against her lips. “That’s the way I figure it, too. But the presence of a guard could mean there’s something very valuable in the safe to protect.”

“Or the guard could be stationed there to protect Carlo.”

She shook her head. “He didn’t go with Carlo. He stayed in the room. I’m betting Lisa is Carlo’s bodyguard as well as assistant. And I think she sleeps with him.”

Chance shot her a questioning glance. That was something he hadn’t noticed. “They’re lovers?”

“I’d bet good money on it. There’s something in the way that Lisa looks at him.”

“Your third reason?” Chance rinsed his razor under the faucet.

She frowned. “It’s harder to explain, but it goes back to games. You mentioned he’s fond of misdirection. So at first, I thought that he showed me the office with the coded access pad to make me think the diamond’s there when it’s really in the gallery. But maybe it’s the other way around—and he took me to the gallery to make me think it’s there while it’s in his office with a coded pad on one door and a guard stationed at the other. Does that make any sense?”

Chance nodded. “Perfect sense. But we’ll still have to hit both safes.”

Natalie sighed. “Agreed. But I think we should do the office first.”

Chance said, “We’ll see.”

“We should have a definite plan.”

“I’m working on it. You said two things. What else did you want to talk about?”

She straightened a bit and rotated her shoulders. “I’m more convinced than ever that Carlo wasn’t behind the shooting.”

“Be careful.” Chance drew the razor on one final stroke along his jawline. “You’re letting the man get to you again.”

“No. But I do have to give him points for calling in his private doctor.”

“Damage control. He doesn’t want it to become public knowledge that guests on his estate run the risk of being shot. And you only liked her because she swabbed my shoulder with something that could take the finish off cars.”

Her lips curved. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Chance took a towel off his good shoulder and wiped his face with it. “Remember, all of Brancotti’s charm is on the surface. Underneath, he’s as cold and ruthless as they come. And he’s the most likely candidate. He knew we were both down on the beach—the security cameras would have shown him that. All he had to do was pick up a phone and give the order.”

Natalie pulled the lollipop out of her mouth. “But he was rattled when we walked in the room. And furious.”

“Because his men botched the job.”

“Or because something happened on his estate that took him by surprise, something that he wasn’t in control of. That would piss him off.”

She had a point. He’d given it some thought himself, but he wasn’t convinced. Chance studied her as he rinsed his razor under the running water. As she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture that was pure Natalie, something tightened around his heart. When the job was done, he was going to miss working with her, pitting himself against the sharp mind of hers. He was going to miss her. Period.

“Carlo didn’t like it at all when he thought we might leave.” Pausing, she pointed the lollipop at him. “I didn’t appreciate that little improvisation either. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

He shrugged. “I have trouble sticking to plans. I wanted to see his reaction.” He recalled hers—the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Would she miss working with him? Miss him?

“Rachel…”

“Hmmmm?”

As she met his eyes, he watched that total concentration shift to him. If he told her the truth now—that he’d known all along she was Natalie Gibbs—he might be able to convince her to go.

“What is it?” she asked.

As he played with a strand of her hair, he knew that he wasn’t going to tell her—for the same reason that he hadn’t pushed the issue in Carlo’s office. In spite of the danger, in spite of everything, he wanted her with him for as long as he could have her.

“I want you,” he said.

The tiny line appeared on her forehead again. “We should nail down details for tonight.”

“Okay.” He hung up his towel and turned to her. It was then that he noticed the line of dried blood on the top of her foot. “You didn’t tell me that you were hurt.”

She glanced down. “I’m not. It’s just a scratch.”

Chance plugged the sink and turned the faucets on. “That defense strategy didn’t work for me.” He paid no heed to her grumbled comments as he drew her feet into the water.

“Ouch.”

“I thought it was only men who were babies.” Ignoring her little huff of breath, he lifted the injured foot out of the water, placed the sole in the palm of his hand and began to massage soap gently over the scratch. It was merely a scratch, he discovered, but there was more than one.

“I can do that,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed amiably as he slipped a soapy finger in and out between her toes. “But why don’t you tell me what you believe would be a good plan for tonight?”