She waited for Trace to contradict her, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe she’d convinced him. Maybe he’d already changed his mind about calling the police.
Chloe set her jaw. When she found the D’Onofrio who had attacked Trace, she’d string him, or her, up by his or her toes. On second thought, she’d do something even worse—she’d make the culprit eat her cooking. Trace had asked her if she could cook, not if she was a good cook. In her case, there was a big difference.
Only she couldn’t do anything until she knew what Trace planned to do. Would he press charges against her brother? Or would he finally believe her assertion that Ramon was innocent?
“Chloe,” he said at last, with the tone of a man who has come to a decision.
“Yes, Trace?” She held her breath, awaiting his verdict.
“There’s something else you should know.”
4
TRACE KNEW he shouldn’t tell Chloe D’Onofrio anything but goodbye. Especially since he’d sincerely underestimated the damage she could do to his life. His pounding head was a powerful reminder of that. He needed to concentrate on his pain, rather than the apprehension he saw in her big brown eyes.
“Something else?” she said, nipping her lower lip between her teeth. “What is it?”
Leave. The word reverberated in his woozy brain. He could get up right now and leave her behind without a word. It was D’Onofrio family business, after all. No one had asked him to interfere. In fact, he could probably take that blow to the head as a hint to butt out.
So why wasn’t he moving?
She reached out, the tips of her fingers lightly brushing his forearm. “Tell me, Trace. What else should I know?”
She should know that he never would have agreed to date her if he’d been aware of the extent of her felonious family background. She should know that he didn’t interfere in other people’s problems. He’d had enough problems in his own past to deal with. She should know that she wasn’t responsible for the actions of her brother, or her family. That he didn’t really blame her for any of this.
She should know…the truth.
“It’s about the staircase,” he began.
Her brow drew together. “What does the staircase have to do with Ramon?”
Instead of replying, he stood up, his knees wobbling just a little. Chloe was immediately standing by his side, lightly supporting him with her body. He closed his eyes for a moment just to enjoy the sensation.
He knew it wouldn’t last long.
“Trace, I think you should lie down. You took a nasty blow, and you’re not making a lot of sense right now.”
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said, walking slowly toward the staircase.
She walked beside him, still partially supporting him. “Understand what?”
He could hear the fear mingled with impatience in her voice. Hardly surprising. This woman had obviously endured a lifetime of unpleasant revelations. And he was about to add one more to the list.
“Lie down,” he said, when they reached the staircase. He placed one hand on the thick newel post to steady himself.
“As I said before, I think you’re the one who should lie down. But not on the floor.”
“Just lie down,” he insisted. “Then scoot underneath the staircase. Position yourself just as you found me.”
With one last look of bewilderment, Chloe acceded to his wishes. She lay down on the hardwood floor and wiggled herself underneath the open staircase.
Trace waited, his body tensing. He didn’t know what he expected to hear. A scream? A curse? A sob? Instead he heard the one thing he didn’t expect—silence. Her reaction, or rather the lack of a reaction, made him wonder if he’d imagined it all in the first place.
“Well?” he asked, bending down slightly, but still unable to gauge her expression. “Do you see anything under there?”
She shot out from under the staircase and jumped to her feet. “I certainly do. The dust bunnies have been breeding like rabbits.” Then she glanced at her watch. “Time to go! We don’t want to miss our reservations.”
Her false cheeriness confirmed for him that he hadn’t imagined it. “It’s still there, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
With a sigh of resignation, he lay down on the floor, grabbed the bottom edge of the staircase and pulled himself underneath it. His head screamed at him with every movement. But his eyes saw everything clearly. Taped to the underside of the stairway in a sealed Ziploc gallon bag were dozens of sparkling loose diamonds, all shapes and sizes. Even in the dark the jewels winked at him like stars in the sky.
The next moment Chloe slid in beside him, her back on the floor, her head right next to his. She tilted her gaze toward him. “I can explain.”
He couldn’t wait to hear it. Would she tell him the truth or make up an elaborate lie? And would he be able to tell the difference? “Go ahead.”
She hesitated. “All right, I can’t explain. But that doesn’t mean there’s not a perfectly logical explanation.”
“Such as?”
“Such as…these aren’t what they look like.”
“They look like flawless diamonds worth thousands of dollars.”
“They could just be really good fakes. Sometimes you can hardly tell the difference.”
Trace stared at the bag, considering her argument. He supposed they could be fake, but that brought up another question. “If that’s true, then why did someone go to all the trouble to hide them?”
“Well…maybe someone is fencing them as the real thing. They do look authentic.”
“There’s one way to find out.” As soon as he said the words he felt her stiffen beside him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He turned slightly to get a better view of her face. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet.”
She scowled. “I can make a wild guess. You want to take them to a jeweler so he can examine them and give us his expert opinion. Or did you have something else in mind?”
“No, that about sums it up. At least then we’d know what we’re dealing with.”
“We?” she echoed, her tone slightly sarcastic. “This isn’t your problem, Callahan. This is my house. My staircase.”
“Your diamonds?” When she didn’t deny it, the hairs prickled on the back of his neck. He hadn’t even considered Chloe might be involved in something shady. He suddenly wondered why he’d been blind to that possibility. Was it the way she looked? Talked? Kissed?
He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to think about that kiss. It confused him too much. Made perfectly clear issues suddenly cloudy.
“They’re not my diamonds,” she said firmly. “But this is a family problem. I’d rather you didn’t become involved.”
“It’s too late. I became involved the moment your brother conked me over the head. And now we know why. He didn’t want me to find the stash.”
“That’s pure speculation,” she replied, although she didn’t sound too convinced herself. “Why wouldn’t he…I mean, whoever hit you, just take the diamonds and run?”
Trace shrugged. “Maybe