Page 59 of Homeport

“This is Dr. Miranda Jones,” she slapped out as Ryan patted her knee in approval. “My brother and I are on our way in. Yes, to work. With all the confusion of the last few days, I’m behind in my lab work. We should be there in about ten minutes. We’ll use the main door. Thank you.”

She disconnected, sniffed. She had him now, she decided, and he’d turned the key himself. “They’re expecting me, and will switch off the alarm when I get there.”

“Fine.” He stretched out his legs as she pulled onto the road again. “I’m doing this for you, you know.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“No thanks necessary.” He waved them away, grinning while she snarled. “Really. Despite all the trouble you’ve caused me, I like you.”

“Why, I’m all aflutter.”

“See? You’ve got style—not to mention a mouth that just begs to be savored over long hours in the dark. I really regretted not having more time with that mouth of yours.”

Her hands tightened on the wheel. The hitch in her breathing was fury. She wouldn’t allow it to be anything else. “You’ll have more time, Ryan,” she said sweetly. “This mouth of mine is going to chew you up and spit you out before we’re done.”

“I look forward to it. This is a nice area.” He made the comment conversationally as she followed the coast road into town. “Windswept, dramatic, lonely, but with culture and civilization close at hand. It suits you. The house came down through your family, I take it.”

She didn’t answer. However ludicrous her actions, she wasn’t about to add to them by holding a conversation with him.

“It’s enviable,” he continued, unoffended. “The heritage, and the money, of course. But beyond the privilege it’s the name, you know? The Joneses of Maine. Just reeks of class.”

“Unlike the Boldaris of Brooklyn,” she muttered, but that only made him laugh.

“Oh, we reek of other things. You’d like my family. It’s impossible not to. And what, I wonder, would they make of you, Dr. Jones?”

“Perhaps we’ll meet at your trial.”

“Still determined to bring me to justice.” He appreciated her profile almost as much as the shadows of ragged rocks, the quick glimpses of dark sea. “I’ve been in this game for twenty years, darling. I’ve no intention of making a misstep on the eve of my retirement.”

“Once a thief, always a thief.”

“Oh, in the heart, I agree with you. But indeed . . .” He sighed. “Once I clear my record, I’m done. If you hadn’t messed things up, I’d be taking a well-deserved vacation on St. Bart’s right now.”

“How tragic for you.”

“Yeah, well.” He moved his shoulders again. “I can still salvage a few days.” He unhooked his seat belt, and turned to reach into the backseat for the bag he’d tossed there.

“What are you doing?”

“Nearly there.” He whistled lightly as he took out a ski cap and pulled it down low over his head until his hair was concealed. Next came a long black scarf of cashmere that he wrapped around his neck and over the lower part of his face.

“You can try to alert the guards,” he began, flipping down the visor to check the result in the vanity mirror. “But if you do you won’t see the bronze, or me again. You play it straight, go in, head to the lab just like you would normally, and we’ll be fine. Andrew’s a little taller than I am,” he considered as he unrolled a long, dark coat. “Shouldn’t matter. They’ll see what they expect to see. People always do.”

When she pulled into the parking lot, she had to admit he was right. He was so anonymous in the cold weather gear that no one would look twice at him. More, when they got out of the car and started toward the main entrance, she realized she might have taken him for Andrew herself.

The body language, the gait, the slight hunch in the shoulders were perfect.

She yanked her card through the slot with one irritable flick of the wrist. After a pause, she punched in her code. She imagined herself making wild faces at the camera, tackling Ryan and pounding her fists into his smug face while the guards scrambled. Instead, she tapped her key card lightly against her palm and waited for the buzzer to sound and the locks to open.

Ryan opened the doors himself, laying one brotherly hand on her shoulder. He kept his head down, muttering to her as they walked in. “No detours, Dr. Jones. You don’t really want the trouble, or the publicity.”

“What I want is the bronze.”

“You’re about to get it. Temporarily at least.”

He kept his hand on her shoulder, guiding her down the corridors, down the stairs, to the lab doors. Again, she keyed them in. “You won’t be walking out of here with my property.”

He turned on the lights. “Run your tests,” he suggested, peeling out of his coat. “You’re wasting time.” He kept his gloves on to take out the bronze and hand it to her. “I do know something about authenticating, Dr. Jones, and I’ll be watching you closely.”

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