End of story.
There was no other man in Nell’s life.
Nell looked up as she heard the roar of a motor.
“One of the choppers is pulling out.” The paramedic glanced through the ambulance’s rear window. “They seemed in quite a rush, according to my crew. Your American climber was aboard.”
Nell shifted, trying to look out the window, seeing Dakota’s outline inside the helicopter. So he was gone. No farewells or an exchange of phone numbers, just a swift, silent departure.
Which was for the best, wasn’t it? There had been something too physical and intense about Dakota Smith.
“Did you need to speak with him? You look upset.”
Nell stared out at the dark peaks trapped in heavy clouds. “No. He’s just someone I met up on the mountain.”
She felt an odd punch at her chest as the dark chopper lifted off.
He could have said goodbye.
He could have found time for that.
Well, she didn’t care one way or another.
“I hear you’ve climbed at Chamonix.”
Nell nodded, trying to ignore the chopper as it droned past. She didn’t let men into her life, not ever.
No trust.
No leaning.
MacInnes rules.
“I thought I recognized your name. You took third prize, didn’t you?”
Nell nodded, barely listening. In the gray light the chopper’s black body grew smaller.
“It makes you feel alive,” the paramedic said quietly. “Nothing can touch you up there. You’d know that feeling, I guess.”
Nell knew exactly what he meant. Her art restoration work kept her busy, but her climbing kept her sane. She had to admit that Dakota Smith would have made one heck of a climbing partner. Maybe he could have been something more.
Instantly she forced away the thought.
“By the way, did you get the messages?”
“Messages?”
“Your father has been trying to reach you. The manager of the inn asked us to tell you that he had called six times. He said it was urgent that you phone him as soon as you returned.”
“Did he say why?”
“I’m afraid not. But I’m almost done here. Then I’ll drive you down to the inn.”
Nell felt an odd prickle at her neck. Her father wouldn’t have phoned her here unless it was something very serious. “You’re sure he called six times?”
“That’s what I was told.”
Out over the Sea of Hebrides the big black helicopter thundered south and was swallowed up by the fog.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jackson Square Art District
San Francisco
JORDAN MACINNES SAT in a pair of worn leather slippers and watched night claim the San Francisco skyline. Home, he thought. Such as it was.
He closed his eyes, angry that he had bothered Nell with his urgent calls to Scotland. It was only natural that he needed to be certain she was safe, but he wished he hadn’t bothered her with his worries. He’d served his seventeen years in prison and he knew how to protect his back. He’d also taken steps to protect Nell now that the shadows around him were closing in.
They’d never release him now. He’d finally accepted that and factored it into his final plans.
The phone rang beside his chair. He forced a smile when he heard his daughter’s worried voice. “Nell? Of course I’m fine. Why aren’t you asleep? Worrying about me? Now that’s a waste of precious time. No, I’m not having any health problems.” Jordan winced a little at the lie, but there would be a time and a place for explanations. “I shouldn’t have called you like that, Nell. Sorry if I scared you.”
But deep inside, the quiet man sitting in the darkness knew all the risks before him. He understood the kind of people he was dealing with, people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill if they were crossed. As long as he did exactly what they wanted, he would be safe.
Even more important, Nell would be safe, too. He’d seen to her protection as his first priority.
As the bridge lights shimmered over the bay, Jordan MacInnes cross-examined his daughter about her Scottish climb and her upcoming conservation projects, keeping any uneasiness from his voice. But he kept thinking about the calls that came at odd hours of the night. Calls with rough, whispered warnings, a reminder that his life was always under scrutiny now. Everywhere he went, he was watched. And it was all because of his years of success—followed by one failed robbery that should have been the perfect crime. Every detail had been precisely planned for almost two years and no expense had been spared in buying insider information. But no one had expected an extra guard to key in and drop off a clean uniform off-shift at three in the morning. As a result, the guard had tripped over a set of glass cutters on the museum’s stairs. Falling headfirst, he’d plunged over a banister and dropped two levels, his neck broken instantly.
A terrible accident, and the only mistake Jordan had ever made in his burglary career of almost two decades. Of course criminals always said that, didn’t they?
He forced a smile into his voice. “I’m listening, Nell. Of course I heard you. Stop worrying about the Tintoretto. No one has better hands than you do. I saw you clean that last Caravaggio, remember? The dealer was delighted.”
With every calm word, he hid the bitter truth from his daughter. He’d sweated out every week of his prison sentence, determined to put the past behind him, but now he was being pulled right back into that world of shadows.
He couldn’t let Nell be pulled in with him.
He stretched his right arm carefully, feeling a sudden throb at his elbow. With every weather shift the ache returned. The beating he’d received the night of his arrest eighteen years before hadn’t helped. Nor had the later beatings he’d received from guards and fellow inmates during his years in prison.
Jordan blocked out the grim memories. All that mattered was the now.
The lean, white-haired man cupped his right elbow, wincing as fresh pain radiated out from the bone. The weather was definitely changing again.
He remembered how Nell had warned him to be prepared, that the world would look and sound different after his release. How right she had been. Wise and quiet and stubborn, his daughter was the only thing that mattered to him. He had failed her miserably by breaking the law and failed her yet again by being clumsy enough to get caught afterward.
Most of all he had failed her by indirectly causing the accident that had left a museum guard dead.
As Jordan MacInnes stared out at the Oakland Bay Bridge, he felt his fear return. Finishing his prison sentence should have brought a measure of peace and a chance at happiness. But you never walked away from your past. He saw that all too clearly now.
Nell deserved a father she could rely on, a man she could be proud of. In the years he had left, Jordan MacInnes was determined to be both those things, even if it killed him.
“What did you say, honey?” When his daughter repeated her question, he frowned. “Watch that Chinese vermilion. Mercuric sulfide is toxic in minute amounts, no matter how careful you are.” Nell knew all about toxic material safety, of course, but a father couldn’t stop worrying.
Jordan