A Kiss in the Dark (Sam and Rick #2)

Chapter 17

17

Wednesday, 12:13 p.m.

“W hat the hell is this?” Ling Wu, head of the CVS-adjacent office of the FBI, strode into the small office the Sam gang, as Aubrey had always thought of them, had taken over in Manhattan’s police precinct. “This is not what we agreed to, Pendleton.” He waved a folder in the air for emphasis.

Aubrey stood up, because that was the polite thing to do, and gestured at Mr. Gorstein behind his desk. “Wu, Sam Gorstein of the NYPD. Detective Gorstein, Ling Wu, FBI.”

“Explain yourself. Because to my eyes it looks like in exchange for having the most infamous cat burglar in the world stay at one of our finest confinement facilities, we get—” He looked down at the folder he held, though he didn’t even bother to open it—“nothing.”

That “we” was the key word here, Aubrey knew. “I get that it’s frustrating we can’t blast this all over the front page of the Post and the Times ,” he said, sitting again and crossing his ankles, “but this is definitely a feather in our caps. Martin Jellicoe, alive and caught red-handed doing evil and in a comfy cell for life. Because of the Palm Beach FBI. You know it had to be comfy, or he would be picking locks and escaping every ten minutes.”

“You don’t—”

“And we got the DOJ to agree to this, without any publicity for them, either. How many times do they get to handle a dead man wanted in eighteen countries?”

“You know why th—”

“Oh, excuse my manners. Have you met Tom Donner?” He gestured at the tall former Texan seated next to him and not looking much happier than Ling Wu. “With the short time frame we had, Tom did some impressive hoop-jumping to get this all put together. He’s an attorney based in Palm—”

“I know who Donner is. I know who all these people are. I told you what I wanted from you, Pendleton. This is not it. Let’s discuss it outside, shall we?”

“Yeah, we all know you wanted the other Jellicoe, too,” Donner drawled.

At that, Ling’s eye twitched, which was satisfying. The Sam gang knew what was up, and even with only himself, Donner, and Detective Gorstein present, it was the first time in a while he’d felt like he had someone watching his back, rather than trying to stab him in it. “There is no there, there, as they say,” Aubrey took up. “I got you Martin Jellicoe. Who’s conveniently been declared dead and has no rights. He’s off the street, after he wound Interpol around his pinkie and stole pricey shit around the world on their dime. We have him. The CVS branch of the FBI.”

“No, you have him.” Ling slapped the folder against his thigh and well-pressed trousers. “Your name is all over this. Where’s the ‘authorized by’ and ‘plan put together by’ shit? This is not the way the game works.”

And there it was. “Ah,” Aubrey said, sighing. “After all these years I know better, but damn if I’m not still disappointed when somebody proves me right. We took a bad guy off the streets, Wu. That’s what we do.”

If Ling clenched his jaw any harder, he was going to have to go see a dentist. “Hallway, Pendleton. Now.”

Standing again, Aubrey motioned him toward the door. “The hallway’s good with me,” he said. They left the office, and he pulled the door shut behind him. “I’m not going to apologize for not giving you more credit. You kept sending me after Samantha, no matter how many times I told you she’s gone legit. I offered you Martin Jellicoe, and you practically spat at me. I figured I mentioned you enough in the report, though, that you’ll get space in the Lake Worth office. Maybe not a prime window office, but I can’t do everything for you.”

Ling leaned closer. “One, you made the FBI look like it’s willing to ignore criminal activity just because it’s convenient to do so. Sam Jellicoe might be legit now, but she still has crimes attached to her resumé.”

“Not really. Her dad confessed to just about everything we thought might have been hers.”

“Two, you falsified your report to make Sam Jellicoe sound like she’s up for a halo award. I don’t care if she helped bring him down. She’s a criminal.”

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

“And third, yeah, you crapped all over your boss. I don’t like it. At all.”

“This is where you tell me I can stay on in Palm Beach if I want, or I can transfer to one of several promising assignments that’ve opened up, right? That I made the department look good to the rest of the legal community?”

Ling waited while a uniformed cop walked up the hallway. “You’ll be able to avoid Immanuel Village and Nebraska, for now. But I’m going to file a complaint about this, and I am going to make your remaining years in the FBI hell. Every minute of them.”

Well, that was what he’d expected. Aubrey nodded, pretending that his heart rate hadn’t accelerated a bit and that little, pesky worries hadn’t begun tapping at his brain. He was good with all this; that, at least, he knew. Samantha deserved a chance, and he’d helped get an active investigation off her back, at least for the moment.

He shrugged. “I filed my retirement papers this morning with Bob Harris in Tampa,” he said. “And I’m thinking of relocating to New York. Maybe I’ll work in an office, maybe I’ll be a dog walker. Haven’t decided yet. But I’m done with pricks like you who call any of this a game. Martin Jellicoe used a damn grenade to break into that building. And we made sure he won’t ever be doing that again. So, go fuck yourself, Wu.”

For a minute Ling looked like one of those drunk guys who knew he was about to get clocked but still couldn’t resist throwing a punch. Then he took a breath. “That’s how it is, then. This isn’t over, Pendleton.”

“It is definitely over. Go sign your shit and collect your prisoner. And for God’s sake, don’t turn your back on him, and don’t go anywhere alone with him. He’ll have you wrapped up and stuffed in the trunk before you can say, ‘I’m an idiot who should’ve listened to Aubrey when I had the chance.’”

Then, without waiting for his soon-to-be former boss to conjure up another vague threat or insult, Aubrey turned around, went back inside NYC’s office, and shut the door on Ling Wu.

“Nicely done, Aubrey,” Donner commented. “You know, I haven’t really gotten acquainted with you, but you pulled one over on Sam Jellicoe for better than nine months. I’d like to buy you a beer.”

Gorstein cleared his throat and stood. “Well, I haven’t slept in two days, I only got through appetizers for dinner night before last, and I’ve been existing on M not my teeth. And you’re making me miss the movie.”

Rick glanced behind him and went back to scooping up spoonfuls of the mushy rice Andre had left for them this morning. It was pretty good, actually, but she was complaining more about the principle of the thing. If she was getting hand fed, she wanted it to be grapes and shit.

“You’ve seen it already,” he said. “Godzilla wins.”

“But Godzilla and Kong are about to fight Mechagodzilla. That’s the best part.”

“Take another bite.”

With a sigh she paused the movie, leaned forward to set the remote down on the coffee table, and took both of his hands in hers. “I am okay,” she said, meeting his gaze and wondering if there were any other bazillionaires in the world who hovered. There for damned sure weren’t any others who looked as sexy as Rick while they did it.

“Nine stitches,” he said, settling on the edge of the couch as she scooted toward the back to make room for him. “Class two concussion. That’s a football player-level concussion. No standing or walking without assistance for two more days. That is not okay.”

“Yeah, but you should see the other guy,” she quipped, then frowned. No, Martin was not a happy guy, and he wouldn’t be unless or until he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere. If he didn’t figure out a way to escape, that was—which was an entirely possible scenario.

“You did the right thing.” He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. “No one’s dead, you’re the only one who got hurt, and he’s not going to be able to make any more trouble for you, or for Walter, or for Anne.”

It wasn’t just that, though. While she’d been barfing, the team—her team—had managed to pretty much close an open investigation on her and solve two dozen unsolved thefts; she had a mom again, and well, the Victorian house was all over the local news today, along with the information that one Samantha Jellicoe, fiancée of Rick Addison, had prevented an original Picasso from disappearing into the world of black-market collectors. The Today Show was looking for her to do an interview, Anne had reported, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Rick’s phone beeped, and he lifted it off the coffee table. “Tom’s on his way up. Be nice; he wrote up a lot of the paperwork, woke up some judges, and leveraged the DOJ—and he’s not happy about it.”

Great. Now she owed Donner one. Probably two, because he’d flown to New York with like ten minutes’ notice and had hit the ground running. “I’ll be nice if he’s nice,” she conceded.

Two solid raps on the door, and then it opened, Donner strolling inside their apartment. “I haven’t been here in five years, at least,” he said, heading for the view out the front windows. “It is a nice place.”

“It’s good for the two of us,” Rick agreed, making his way over to shake hands. “Thank you.”

“About that; I’m going to take some criminal law classes, and you’re paying for them. This is ridiculous, Rick. I help you buy companies. I don’t work with the U.S. government to find companies they want you to buy and oversee to help spread democracy worldwide, and I don’t write up legal ways for people to be thrown in prison for life without a trial.”

“Martin already had a trial,” Samantha pointed out, sitting up a little as Rick stuffed another pillow behind her. “He was found guilty. Then they declared him dead. We didn’t do any of that. And that’s cool.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. It made things easier, anyway.”

“Easier,” Donner grumbled, eyeing her.

“But you’re buying companies to help spread democracy? You didn’t say anything about that.”

Rick shrugged. “It couldn’t wait for you brains to stop spinning.”

“Thank you.” Good cause or not, it sounded extremely expensive. They were going to have to have a chat about just how much he owed to which people, now. Sheesh. One concussion and everybody went crazy.

“And so the suckage into the Dark Side begins.” The attorney sat in one of the chairs by the window. “Pendleton had it out with his boss and announced his retirement. I think Detective Gorstein’s gonna get a bigger office and get promoted to lieutenant. How’s your—how’s Ms. Hughes doing?”

“Sotheby’s isn’t too happy right now,” Samantha answered, “but at least they showed what it does take to break into one of their exhibit houses. She’s still overseeing it, and they still want to open the auction preview at the old house because of the publicity. They’ve already started digging out wrecked concrete and putting in new windows and doors.” And to her specifications, which was good. She hadn’t been all that certain Sotheby’s wouldn’t come at her with a lawsuit for attracting trouble.

She could thank Rick for that not happening, though; whether he said or did anything or not, Sotheby’s didn’t want to risk pissing him off. So she owed him another one, too. Again.

Their door opened again, this time without the lobby informing Rick they had a visitor. “Hey,” Stoney said, strolling in. “How’s your pillow?”

“Nice and fluffy,” she said, grinning.

He headed into the kitchen. “Good.”

“You don’t even knock now?” Rick asked, glancing down at his phone as if it had betrayed him.

“I don’t like being announced,” the fence said, as if that explained how he’d managed both to avoid Vince and not trigger the elevator camera. “I’ll knock next time, though.”

“Thank you, Walter.”

“Grab me a water, will you, Walter?” Donner asked. “And by the way, Pendleton’s on his way here, too. I hope you really wanted to hire him full-time, Jellicoe. He may get tossed without a pension.”

“That won’t happen.” Still hovering, Rick shoved aside her pillow mountain and sat in its place so she could lean back against him. Her eyes had stopped crossing on their own, and she’d stopped feeling like she was riding backward on a roller coaster, so no permanent damage. On the outside, anyway. Inside was going to take a little time to figure out.

“We are not challenging the FBI to a fight, Rick,” Donner stated. “Not over the pension of a guy who’s been spying on you.”

“Spying on us but not telling tales.” Pointing that out, Samantha held a hand up. “Diet Coke, Stoney.”

“What am I, the waiter?”

She snorted. “By now you probably know where everything is in here better than Rick and I do. And yes, please knock next time. We might have been nudie or something.”

Rick stirred behind her. “Maybe we should stay in Florida, after all,” he murmured. “More walls and more doors between us and them.” He kissed the top of her head beside her stitches and bandage. His phone beeped again. “Pendleton,” he commented, checking.

“I don’t think it matters,” she answered, considering. “These guys are going to follow us no matter where we go. There’s no escape.”

After a triple knock, the door opened, and Aubrey, carrying a box of doughnuts, walked in. “I didn’t know if we were going to have another strategy session or not, but I could not pass the bakery without going in. Have you seen these things?”

Rick’s phone beeped again. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, picking it up again to look. “Anne.”

“Oh, good. I wanted to know if I still have a job with Sotheby’s. I mean, all the downstairs displays are going to have to be replaced, and a guy with my name did the dirty deed. If I were them, I’d kick me to the curb and then drop garbage on me.” And that would suck, because she’d played an inning in the big game, and the idea of doing security installations for Sotheby’s and other auction houses, larger venues, even museums had nearly made her giddy. Martin had poofed that away with his stupid grenade stunt. At least it would be his last. She really, really hoped so, anyway.

“They won’t.”

Rick’s matter-of-fact statement made her crane her face up to look at him. “Do not bribe Sotheby’s,” she ordered. “Do not offer to buy Adgerton’s entire collection so I can get a gold star. If I messed up, I messed up. I can try again.”

“I’m not bribing anyone, despite the apparent lack of faith on the part of all my friends and family,” he said. “What happened will be good for their bottom line. Having your name continue to be associated with them will be good for their bottom line. You stopped a theft in a rather spectacular manner, and you did it when it would have been easier not to.”

“That’s me, hero-woman.”

A quiet quartet of knocks sounded at the door. With some grumbling Stoney, one arm laden with waters and a soda, detoured over and pulled it open. “Hi, Anne,” he said, and continued on his way.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Anne asked, taking a step inside the apartment.

“No, you’re not. We have doughnuts,” Samantha said, motioning her to come in. “Am I excommunicated from Sotheby’s?”

“You are not. And neither am I, surprisingly enough. Evidently some rather big collectors emailed the management this morning and stated that if and when they ever parted with any of their own items, they wanted to work with me.”

Samantha elbowed Rick’s ribs. “That’s bribery, man,” she whispered, though what she really wanted to do was turn around and hug him and give him a big old wet kiss. Her hero-man.

“Nonsense.”

“And you foiled a robbery, even if it wasn’t quite the way any of us had envisioned. So we’re both looking good at the moment. I suppose the final decision will come after the auction, when they see how much money we’ve made.”

“You’re going to make a great deal of money.” Rick accepted the soda from Stoney. He unscrewed the lid and lowered it down to her.

“And you’re certain you’re all right?” her mom pursued, coming closer to squint down at the top of Samantha’s head. “You were more than a little loopy yesterday. I can’t believe they let you leave the hospital.”

“I passed all the ‘I’m not a zombie’ tests, so they had to. And it’s all part of the job. I’ve had worse. I’m fine.”

“I am very, very glad to hear that.” Anne clenched her hands together in front of her. “And Bradley? Martin? Whatever we’re calling him now?”

Aubrey cleared his throat. “On his way to a comfy prison for life. With the threat of a very uncomfy prison if he makes trouble.”

“Thank goodness. Thank…everything. He’s…the trouble he’s made for you, and for me, for everybody, is unforgivable. Good riddance.”

Life with him had made her what she was, but Samantha certainly understood the sentiment. And shared it. “Double good riddance,” she commented.

Anne grimaced, twisting her hands. “I know it’s kind of short notice, but I wondered if you and Rick would care to join me for Thanksgiving at my house in Danbury? You could meet your grandmother, Sam. Or meet her again, rather.”

They’d planned to do Thanksgiving with the Donners. “I don’t know if—”

“It was just a thought, of course,” Anne broke in, her cheeks getting red blotches on them. “I know how busy you two are.”

“Can we let you know by the end of the week?” Rick asked, always more ready with polite stuff than Samantha was. He’d had a lot more practice.

“Certainly. It’s just…” Grimacing, Anne squatted down in front of Samantha and leaned close enough that she could smell her mom’s coffee breath. “I would really like for you to meet Michael,” she whispered.

“Ooh,” Samantha breathed back, smiling. “Is he your guy? Don’t tell Aubrey. I think he’s sweet on you.”

“You keep telling me that Aubrey is gay,” Rick put in, his own voice low and conspiratorial. “What’s the real story, then?”

“Actually,” Anne replied, taking one of Samantha’s hands and squeezing it, “I didn’t dare mention him while Bradley was anywhere around, but Michael is your younger brother.”

Samantha and Rick sat up straight at the same time. “ What ?”

THE END

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