Mitch sank onto the edge of the bed and ran shaking hands through his hair. Everything made sense now. Kade was responsible for the break-ins his neighbors had suffered. And the reason he'd knocked on Mitch's door, was because he wanted Mitch's mother's jewelry. Oh. My. God. That’s what he was doing at the Hendersons’, wasn’t it? He knew enough about them. Nephew my ass! Was that the plan, break in to the Hendersons’ and then here? He probably thought the house would be empty. I haven’t exactly broadcast the fact that I’m here.
Throwing himself back onto the mattress, his gut tightened as the stench of sweat and sex filled his nostrils. "Oh, God," he moaned, closing his eyes. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Did he confront him? Fuck… a chill shiver trickled down his spine. Was Kade dangerous? If he admitted what he'd overheard, what was to stop Kade from cutting off his legs and stuffing him in the under stairs closet? Get a grip, Spencer; he’s had plenty of opportunity to cut you into little pieces if that was his intention. Mitch sneered at the sarcastic intonation of his inner voice. If you don’t have anything constructive to say, shut the fuck up!
Mitch cursed aloud into the silence of the barn. He was so fucking gullible. It had been so long since anyone had looked at him with anything other than disgust that he'd just thrown any respect he had for himself out the window and let Kade… Brushing the thought away, he sat up and rubbed his damp palms against his thighs, taking some steadying breaths. He had to hide his mother's diamonds—now. But how the hell was he going to get into the house and past Kade without detection? You can’t, dumbas, his inner voice bitched at him. There’s only two ways into the house and he’s expecting you to be a couple of hours. If you go back in now sweating like a pig and shaking like a big girl, he’s gonna know you’re on to him. What’re you gonna do, climb up the trellis and through a window? Oh wait, you’re in the middle of a torrential storm, there aren’t any windows open. Besides hauling yourself up the side of the house with that arm ain’t gonna happen.
Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Mitch sighed heavily. There was only one thing he could do. Try to act as normal as possible and hope to God he got to his mother's diamonds before Kade did. It wasn't as if the man could go anywhere, unless he'd developed webbed feet in the last ten minutes. Unhappy with his plan, but knowing there was little else he could do right now, he tried to concentrate on finishing the cradle before him.
Who the hell was he kidding?
Mitch gazed at the flower he'd been trying to carve for the last hour. Three of the petals were crooked and the fourth looked like it had been crushed by a heavy hand. If he reworked it carefully, he might be able to salvage it, but if he didn't get his mind on the job and off Kade, he was going to have to start the entire cradle again. He sighed heavily and picked up the knife once again. Trailing his fingers over the cradle, he closed his eyes, trying to let the flow of the wood soothe him as it always did.
Ever since he was a child Mitch had been fascinated by a huge, ornately carved rocking-chair in his grandmother's living room. One of his earliest memories was tracing his fingers over the lines and curves of the fairies carved into the top of the chair. His grandmother had told him marvelous stories of her own father, who had made the chair. How she used to sit on the floor of his workshop and watch him take a piece of wood and create beautiful furniture with his bare hands. Breathing life into every piece he made. He loved listening to the soothing tone of her voice as she painted such wonderful pictures of his great-grandfather. In fact it was she who gave him his first set of wood carving chisels for his tenth birthday. The barely recognizable squirrel he'd presented her with had sat on her mantle until the day she died. Her unwavering support after the accident had been infallible. Not once had there been anything but love and understanding in her gaze. Never blame or disappointment—how he'd loved her for that. When she'd passed almost a year ago, she'd left a hole in his heart he wasn't sure would ever close.
"What do I do, Gram?" Mitch whispered into the silence. "What the fuck do I do?" He closed his eyes, almost able to hear her voice in his ear.
"You’ve got to be strong, Mitchell. You can’t hide away here forever. Go with your gut."
Not entirely sound advice since his gut had told him to let a stranger into the house in the early hours of the morning, and then jump into bed with said stranger. Mitch was quite certain that going with his gut was not the wisest choice. He tossed his knife onto the bench and ran his hands through his hair. He could wander back into the kitchen and act as though nothing had happened. No, that was no good. If he did that he'd end up losing himself in those green eyes again. Scenario number two was him storming into the kitchen and confronting Kade. Mitch groaned loudly and slapped his palms to the bench top. Number two could end with Kade apologizing, then shooting him and burying him in a shallow grave. Are you serious? Shrugging, Mitch waved away that irritating little voice in his head. Honestly? He had no idea what Kade's reaction would be to being found out. It's not like Mitch could call the police. How the fuck would they get here for a start? Although the house was higher up the valley and remained unaffected by any flooding… the roads to and from the valley were under water now, so they were pretty much stranded until the roads became passable again. What if—
A loud bang rattled the barn door and Mitch gasped. Kade stuck his head around, the umbrella shielding him from the rain.
"Quitting time, dinner's nearly ready."
Mitch forced a smile to his lips, hoping it looked more natural than it felt, and held up his hand to indicate five minutes. Kade nodded and disappeared back into the rain, the barn door rattling in the wind. Well, whatever you’re gonna do, Mitch, you need to do it fast. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Mitch pushed open the door and locked it behind him. The rain beat through the jacket he held over his head as he ran to the house, and he all but threw himself into the kitchen just as a fresh crack of thunder split the air.
"Christ, you're soaked!" Kade exclaimed, starting toward him.
"Do I have time for a shower?" Mitch asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. He might not know what to do about Kade himself, but he knew what to do with his mother's jewelry. That was the only clear point in this clusterfuck of a situation. He had to hide his mother's diamonds.
"Sure." Kade nodded, his gaze suddenly quizzical. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Mitch backed away from the hand Kade held out to him, ignoring the confusion in the man's eyes, silently screaming: Act natural, Mitch, act natural! "I'm soaked. Dinner smells great. Give me five minutes to wash the splinters out of my hair." He turned on his heel, the weight of Kade's gaze on the back of his neck every step across the kitchen. Mitch managed not to run up the staircase, then headed down the hall to his parents' room. Where the hell was he going to put them?
His parents' room was quiet but for the storm outside, and undisturbed. Not a ruffle was out of place, but Mitch would have bet every penny he had that was why Kade had taken so long in the shower last night. The man had been casing the joint and making sure the diamonds were where he thought they'd be. Had he taken them already? Mitch cursed beneath his breath and opened his mother's drawer. He lifted out the false bottom and gasped his relief. Quickly he scooped the jewelry into the velvet bag his mother used when she traveled. Shaking his head, he stuffed the bag into his pocket and replaced everything as it should be before closing the drawer again. How many times had he told his mother to put the damn things in the vault at the bank? How many cold stares had he tried to face down as she steadfastly refused? How many times had she stated that her great-grandfather had made that bureau with his bare hands, and her mother had kept them in that bureau, and her mother before her, and she would not be bullied by him or anyone else.
Mitch hurried down the hall to his bedroom and gazed around, worrying at his lip while he decided what the hell he was going to do with them. Inspiration struck and he crossed the room to his chest of drawers. If you can’t beat ‘em… echoing around his head, Mitch moved his underwear and placed the velvet bag inside a pair of his boxers, then piled the rest of them on top, hiding it as best he could. Taking a deep breath, he strode to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Great, his inner voice drawled sarcastically as he stripped off his clothes. Now you turn on the shower. Shouldn’t you have done that first?
Mitch stilled with his wife beater half way over his head, staring through the fabric with widened eyes. Shit! Clearly subterfuge was not his calling. What would he say if Kade asked him why it had taken him so long to turn on the water? He knew the pipes would have started clanking as soon as he turned the faucet. Mentally shaking the thought away, trying to ignore his paranoia, Mitch stepped under the hot spray and groaned as the water warmed his skin and cascaded over his aching muscles. He washed himself quickly and rinsed before shutting off the water. With a towel around his waist and rubbing another over his hair, Mitch headed back to his room. There he found some clean sweats and a T-shirt.
After he dressed, he ran some jell through his damp hair, pulling at the strands until he was satisfied that they looked in natural disarray. What the fuck are you doing your hair for? "How the fuck should I know?" Mitch firmly gagged his inner voice, squared his shoulders, and returned to the kitchen.
"I was just about to send a search party out for you." Kade smiled and waved at a chair. Mitch smiled back, although it felt false on his lips, swallowing as Kade's appreciative gaze swept over his body.
Mitch's eyes widened at the plate of food Kade put before him. Momentarily forgetting the whole being in the presence of a jewel thief and possible dangerous criminal thing. "Wow… these things were here… in this house?"
Kade chuckled, sitting opposite Mitch with his own plate. He began to pour two glasses of red wine. "Yes, heathen, they were in this house. I found the steaks in the freezer and managed to salvage some potatoes from the pantry. The parsley I found on the windowsill. Your mom has quite the little herb garden going there."
"Ah, is that what that is? Oh. My. God." Mitch rolled the bite of steak around his mouth, letting it tease his taste buds. The freshness of the parsley butter Kade had made melted on his tongue and trickled down his throat. He sighed contentedly. "This is fantastic. Where did you learn to cook? Your mom?" He looked up at Kade, but the man studied his own food for several minutes before answering. A frown creased Kade's forehead as though he were wrestling with something and Mitch shoved down the urge to smooth his fingers across Kade's skin.
"My… mom… wasn't exactly the cooking type," Kade drawled, and Mitch couldn't fail to hear the tinge of bitterness in his tone. "I learned from who you'd probably call my surrogate father. Gustav has a rather refined pallet and he went to culinary school in Paris. He taught me everything I know."
Gustav. That was the name Kade had used when he was on his cell. Taught you everything you know, huh? I just bet he did. Mitch turned his attention to his wine glass and took several large gulps before putting the glass back on the table. Glancing over at Kade, he saw the man watching him with a narrowed gaze. "Sorry, thirsty," Mitch said quickly, cutting another piece of steak.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Kade asked, putting down his knife and fork. "You're acting weird."
"I'm fine, just savoring every mouthful of this wonderful meal. You put a lot of effort into it, and I want to give it my full attention," Mitch replied, knowing how lame he sounded. Hell, he could hear himself. He needed to pull it together, or Kade would have to be an idiot not to know something was seriously wrong—and Kade Willis was no idiot. Mitch desperately searched for something to say. "So… was Gustav married to your mom?" He watched as the shutters came down and Kade took a mouthful of his own wine.
"Believe me, my life story wouldn't take very long," Kade said with a smile that seemed a little strained to Mitch. "Tell me about the writing. I know how talented you are with your hands, but carving and writing don't exactly go together."
"At first, when I came back here, I spent a lot of time in the workshop," Mitch answered quietly. "But I couldn't make anything work. Everything I tried to make turned to crap and ended up on the fire." He chewed thoughtfully. "I was on the verge of never picking up another piece of wood again, but my mom, who had just been on a brief course with a life coach. I know, I know… my reaction was the same." Kade didn't even bother trying to hide his skepticism. "But she told me to write how I was feeling. To make a daily journal… get it all out on paper. No one was more surprised than me when it worked."
"How so?"
Mitch shrugged and washed down his food with a sip of wine. "It was cathartic. I remember standing at the bench in the workshop staring at this block of wood for the longest time, unsure I could actually produce anything. But I picked up my plane and chisel and ended up looking at my first cradle."
"And you decided to continue writing your journal?" Kade asked, his tongue snaking out to chase some potato in the corner of his mouth.
Mitch swallowed hard, trying to drag his gaze away from the movement as Kade hooked the food into his mouth with the tip of his tongue, his green eyes never leaving Mitch's. He looked down at his plate and took a steadying breath. Kade knew exactly what he was doing. A fist of disappointment curled around his gut. What had happened in the barn… in the bed… was that all part of his plan? Seduce Mitch so it would be child's play to steal the diamonds out from under his very nose? But his touch had been tender. He didn’t force me, and he could have so easily.
"Mitch?" Kade said softly. "You didn't answer my question."
"Sorry." Mitch sighed heavily and nodded. "Yes. I guess you could say I caught the bug. I'd always had a vivid imagination, and my dad suggested I have a go at fiction. That's where I am now. Writing in the evenings and carving during the day. A friend of my mother's saw the cradle I'd made and commissioned one for her first grandchild. Word of mouth spread like wildfire and now I'm having trouble keeping up with the orders." He pushed the last forkful of food into his mouth and placed his knife and fork on his empty plate. "Wow… that was… I'm speechless." Leaning back in his chair, Mitch tucked his foot underneath him and stared straight at Kade, unwavering. "You know what I do… quid pro quo… what about you?"
"Quid pro quo, huh?" Kade's lips curved into a smile and he picked up his wine. "Okay, Clarice." Sipping at the contents of his glass, he sucked some air between his teeth in a parody of Hannibal Lecter. "Not quite a Chianti, but it'll do. I'm an insurance appraiser. "I work for Quinton & Scott."
Mitch searched Kade's gaze for the lie and could find none. Which meant either the man was a better liar than Mitch would ever be, or he was telling the truth. Of course he’s telling the truth, Mitch's inner voice blustered in his ear. Quinton & Scott are huge. It’s the perfect cover. How else would he know who to target?
"Sounds interesting," Mitch replied. "You must meet a wide variety of people."
"It's not as glamorous as it sounds, believe me," Kade countered, finishing his glass of wine. Mitch watched him stand and begin to clear the plates, his gaze guarded. "Lots of eating out with pompous bores who think they're great-grandmother's costume jewelry are in fact flawlessly cut diamonds."
"And it's your job to tell them they're not?" Mitch took the cup of coffee Kade proffered him and couldn't help but notice that Kade appeared suddenly skittish. As if he was uncomfortable within his own skin.
"Something like that." Kade smiled and filled another cup with coffee before returning the pot to its housing, but did not carry his drink to the table. Mitch studied him from beneath lowered lashes as he sipped at the hot liquid. "Why don't you go into the living room and I'll join you in a moment… nature calls."
He knows… and not only does he know… he knows you know. The thought, loud and clear flashing like a neon sign bounced off Mitch's skull and he forced a smile to his lips as Kade strolled out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Mitch put his coffee cup down, took a deep breath, and before he could question his own decision, he headed for the stairs.
Mitch's feet made no sound on the carpeted treads and he knew exactly where to step to avoid the creaking boards of the old house. He'd spent many a summer escaping detection when he'd slipped down to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a snack. At the top of the staircase his stomach sank as he saw his parents' bedroom door standing open and Kade in front of the bureau in clear view… the top drawer open and his mother's clothes overflowing where they'd been pushed to the side.
Had there been a little part of him that hoped he was wrong? That there could have been some impossible reason for the conversation he'd overheard? Crossing his arms, he widened his stance and stood firm as Kade cursed when he removed the false bottom to the drawer and found it empty. Anger and hurt unfurled in Mitch's gut like a leaf opening under the morning sun and his voice shook as he spoke. "Lose something?"