The Perfect Gift Read online

  Darkness shifted again. Movement disturbed the shadows.

  “See him?” Jared’s voice came low at her ear.

  Maggie swallowed hard. “By the iron fence?”

  “He’s wearing black, staying slow, but he’s there. Keep low.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Maggie caught another hint of movement.

  “He must have followed us out of London,” Jared said grimly. “If I hadn’t been so bloody distracted with finding out how you taste, I’d have noticed him sooner.”

  “What do we do now?”

  With a metallic clang, a backhoe heaved to life near a pile of wooden shutters, then slowly pivoted. The big rubber tires bit into the dirt and surged forward.

  “Jared?”

  He was busy scanning the high stone fence to their left. “Yes?”

  The backhoe spat loudly, and a plume of smoke drifted toward them. “It looks as if we’re about to have company.”

  Jared slid Max beneath his jacket and buttoned it firmly. “That should hold him. Let’s go.”

  Maggie scrambled after him. “You know, there could be a perfectly normal explanation for all this,” she muttered. “The driver could be putting in some harmless overtime.”

  “Even my old deaf aunt wouldn’t believe that piece of nonsense.”

  Gasping, Maggie crossed a mound of bricks and slid into a ditch ankle-high with water and a cement pipe running across the far side. Something moved near her foot. She didn’t want to think about what. “Remind me to wear paratrooper’s boots the next time I go anywhere with you.”

  Oily smoke filled her lungs as the backhoe’s lights flashed on. For a second Maggie was frozen by the blinding glare. Then Jared tugged her out into the middle of the ditch, while icy water swirled past her knees.

  Teeth chattering, she plowed through the heaving murk. “What are you doing now?”

  “First we tried hide-and-seek.” Frowning, Jared scanned the black mouth of the drainpipe. “Now we’re going to play boot camp.”

  “YOU MEAN CRAWL?” MAGGIE’S VOICE BROKE. “IN there?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. There’s no way you’re going to get me in there. Not with snakes and rats and heaven knows what else.” She cast a desperate glance over her shoulder, praying she’d been right about the innocence of the driver.

  But the black shape was still coming.

  “It’s this or the backhoe,” Jared said, pulling her in behind him.

  Light flared over them. Glancing back, Maggie saw a figure hunched behind the wheel. The ground began to vibrate, shock waves traveling through the cold cement at her back. There was no more question of a mistake, she admitted, as Jared tugged her forward into the darkness.

  The pipe shook once and began to rise. She felt Jared’s hard shoulder brace hers.

  “We’re moving,” she said hoarsely.

  “He must have wedged the teeth beneath the mouth of the pipe.” Jared staggered backward as the cement floor shook, then tilted sharply. “The great bloody fool.” He found a metal bar protruding from the wall of the pipe and gripped it tightly. “Grab my waist.”

  Maggie gasped as she was tossed against him. She heard the puppy yip. “If I the in here, I’m going to murder you, MacNeill. Both Max and I will.”

  His hands closed on her waist, pulling her closer, and Maggie was infinitely thankful for his strength as the cement rocked sharply, tossing them about like matchsticks.

  “Any other great plans?” she said through gritted teeth, as she struggled to stay upright.

  “One.” Jared twisted, scanning the mouth of the pipe. “We jump.”

  “We what?” Fear jangled Maggie’s nerves, but there was no time to protest. She was already hurtling toward the far end of the pipe, Jared’s body wedged protectively beneath her. Her shoulder struck the rough cement, rocked her sideways, and then Jared pulled her into a roll just before he struck the ground, protecting her and the puppy.

  “Run,” he ordered, scrambling to his feet and tugging her over the rutted soil.

  Maggie followed, ignoring the stabbing pain in her right arm. Acrid smoke filled her lungs. She was only dimly aware of Jared, charging on toward the empty guardhouse while the ground rumbled behind them, dirt and debris heaving free in the backhoe’s wake.

  Jared yanked her over a hill of cobblestones. “Almost—there.”

  “Almost where?” she panted.

  “Here.” Metal groaned as Jared scrambled onto the ragged seat of a rusting forklift. He pulled her in front of him, wedged between his thighs and a row of gears.

  Maggie bit back hysterical laughter. They were going into some crazy automotive duel, mano a mano? “Jared, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

  “You have something better in mind?”

  “Well, no—”

  “Then hold on, because we’re moving.” He twisted, and the huge forklift lumbered forward. The two machines circled clumsily, and there was no question that their unknown pursuer meant them serious harm as the backhoe turned sharply, its metal jaws snapping.

  Pebbles flew past Maggie’s head as they veered uphill toward a makeshift metal guardhouse.

  “Hold on. We’re going to see if anyone’s in there.”

  They lurched over the ground, with the backhoe gaining steadily. All Maggie could hear was the whine of the motor beneath her feet and the panicked race of her own pulse. She wasn’t ready to die. She had two emeralds she’d promised to Chessa for a pair of heart-stopping earrings. She had her rent to pay, her library books to return, her yearly dental checkup to finish.

  Only now it looked as if someone was determined to see her grounded permanently, and Jared’s suspicions about her father were starting to seem less fantastic.

  Something smashed against the vehicle’s metal arms, breaking her grim reverie. They slammed into the guardhouse, banging open the door, and Maggie winced as a flashlight beam struck her face.

  A burly figure in a khaki uniform stalked through the open door. “What in bloody hell’s going on here?”

  Jared managed to turn the forklift and pull to a halt. “We need your help.”

  “That’s quite enough nonsense from you lot. Burglary. Destruction of property.” The guard waved a heavy, military-issue flashlight. “You won’t be treated kindly for that.”

  Jared swung to me ground. “You should be following the man in that backhoe.”

  “Now is that a fact?”

  “I’m certain the Metropolitan Police will want a word with him.”

  The guard shoved his hands on his hips. “And just where would that man be?”

  “Behind us.”

  “An inventive story, so it is, except there’s no one at all behind you two.”

  Maggie turned. To her shock the pitted earth behind them was empty. The backhoe stood dark and unmoving beside the cement pipe.

  “But he was there,” she rasped. “He tried to run us down.”

  “A fine tale, miss. You can tell the nice constables all about it.”

  Even as the watchman spoke, two police cars roared into the open yard, sirens wailing.

  “Just what I always wanted to do,” Maggie muttered. “Spend a night in a cold, crowded London jail cell. You really know how to show a girl a good time, MacNeill.”

  Too bad he wasn’t anywhere close to hear her.

  Maggie stared at a pair of constables doing what appeared to be exquisitely boring paperwork. Her shoulder ached, and her tongue felt like shoe leather. The cup of tea she’d just been given could have eaten through carbon steel.

  But she was lucky to be unharmed. If Jared hadn’t been so sharp-witted, they might be decorating the pavement in that new housing tract. Meanwhile, their pursuer had slipped away without a trace. After their protests, the two officers had searched the field, coming up with nothing.

  Maggie knew there was no possibility of coincidence now. Someone wanted her badly frightened—or worse. She sank bac
k in the metal chair and tried to think, but her questions only seemed to bring more questions.

  She gave a prayer of thanks at the sight of Lord Draycott striding toward the narrow desk and the constable in charge. Behind the viscount, a gaunt man with white hair and military bearing moved quietly across to Jared. Despite her own exhaustion, Maggie noticed Jared’s restless pacing and the tension in his shoulders.

  Two hours of confinement had left him broody and crackling with barely contained frustration. He was a man who liked control and order. He would hate being caught unprepared almost as much as he hated the knowledge that their pursuer had escaped without a trace. Maggie had a fairly good idea how he was berating himself right now.

  But there was more than anger in his tense body. Something was wrong, Maggie realized.

  Behind her the door creaked open.

  “You’re free to go, miss.” A female officer in a starched uniform held out Maggie’s handbag. “And here’s someone who’s been missing you.” With the slightest curve of her lips, the officer slid the yipping puppy into Maggie’s arms.

  “Poor Max.”

  “Poor, nothing. The brute nearly took off my thumb. Still, a bit of milk and a bone should soon put him to rights. And a bath wouldn’t hurt.”

  Maggie felt a rush of pleasure as the cold, wet nose pressed against her neck. She looked up to see Nicholas Draycott, worry in his eyes and lines of strain cutting into his forehead. “What a night. How are you holding up?”

  “Other than the fact that my stockings are history and I probably look like a zombie, I’m fine. So is Max, here.” She gave a crooked smile. “Jared doesn’t look so good though. Thanks for coming down to bail us out.”

  “Actually, Jared had that fairly well in hand. I’m merely here to lend moral support.”

  “Fools,” Jared muttered as he crossed the room. “They still don’t believe anyone else was there. Do we need pictures to convince them?” He lifted Max from Maggie’s arms and shook his head as the puppy nuzzled his neck. “Down, you filthy creature.” Stroking Max’s head, Jared strode off to confer once more with the man at the constable’s desk.

  Maggie watched the white-haired man sit down next to Jared. “He’s someone important, isn’t he?”

  Nicholas said nothing.

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “All I can say is that your father’s disappearance left unanswered questions, and your encounter tonight seems to have reopened most of them.”

  “So this is about me?”

  “You are part of it.”

  “They still didn’t find the driver?”

  “I’m afraid he made a clean escape during all the fuss. Very professional.”

  “What about the security guard? He saw no one?”

  “Only you two.” Nicholas rubbed his neck, frowning. “Unfortunately, he’s a family man with eight years on the job. The police are inclined to believe him.”

  Maggie fought her anger. “Someone had to be driving that backhoe. When he lifted the pipe he could have killed us. How do they explain that?”

  Nicholas watched Jared arguing with one of the constables. “The construction people say that they’ve been having trouble with that particular backhoe. Lights shorting out, motor stalling—that sort of thing.”

  “The last I heard, motors didn’t start themselves.”

  “You know that and I know that. Unfortunately, there is little more we can do without concrete evidence.”

  “Would a videotape of Jared and me being flattened by a backhoe do well enough?”

  Nicholas looked grim. “Jared and I will see that doesn’t happen.”

  Maggie shoved her hands deep into her pockets, hating the fear stabbing at her chest. “How can we be sure this has anything to do with my father? Jared was there, too. Maybe this man had some old grudge and I just happened to get in the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jared MacNeill has a whole address book full of people who’d like to run him over with a backhoe.”

  Nicholas’s frown grew. “What makes you say that?”

  “Something in his face. He’s always watching other people and scanning the street as if he’s waiting for something to happen. Something bad.”

  “A good description.” Nicholas smiled grimly. “He’d be irritated as hell to be caught so accurately.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you convinced that this has to do with my father?”

  “Information to that effect has been received. A government investigation has been initiated.” He looked down with distaste at the cup of cold tea in his hands.

  “Initiated by whom?”

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “Then tell me about Jared. Who is he?” Maggie felt an odd tightening in her throat. “What is he?”

  The cup tipped. “He’s someone who wants to help. We both are.” Nicholas nodded his head slightly as the man with white hair strode past, his bearing erect and military.

  “I’m starting to wonder if staying in London is a good idea. New York was noisy, but at least demented strangers weren’t trying to run me down with backhoes.”

  “Don’t you want to catch this man?”

  Maggie gnawed at her lip. “I have no evidence to show that my father is not dead, Lord Draycott. For me that’s all that matters. I think it might be best for everyone if I leave.”

  Nicholas watched the man with white hair hand a card to the overweight officer at the outer door. “If you left England now, it might be…misconstrued.”

  Maggie stiffened. “Misconstrued how?”

  “As you know when your father disappeared, a fortune in gems went missing. Some of those gems were on loan from your government, but some were part of a traveling collection taken from the royal family’s own vaults. I think you can understand why there is still a feverish curiosity about where those stones ended up.”

  “So it all goes back to the missing jewels. Funny how my father always turns up as the villain.” Maggie rubbed her throbbing forehead. Her shoulder was on fire, and she was on the edge of complete exhaustion. “There’s no point in discussing it. I want to go back to my hotel. That is, if I’m allowed. Or am I still being held for attempted theft of a rusting forklift truck?”

  “You’re free.” Jared appeared beside her, his eyes dark and angry. “We both are.”

  “I suppose I should be glad for small favors,” Maggie said. She had to fight the urge to brush Jared’s cheek. He looked edgy, his nerves stretched taut.

  Jared slid a strand of hair from her shoulder. “Nicholas is right, however. Leaving England now wouldn’t be the wisest idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jared glanced at Nicholas.

  “Marston is expecting you.”

  “Fine. We’ll leave as soon as she checks out of the hotel.” Jared gave a distracted look at Max, who was once again drooling on his bow tie. “Down, Max.”

  Maggie didn’t move. She wasn’t a puppy or a chess piece to be pushed around on a board, no matter how nicely they might arrange it. “Go back to the abbey?”

  Nicholas cleared his throat. “Think it through. Whoever was driving that backhoe is still wandering free. If you’re staying at Draycott Abbey, it will be a great deal harder for him to get at you.”

  Something cold skittered over Maggie’s neck. “No. Not there.”

  “It’s not open for discussion,” Jared said flatly. “I’m taking you back for your clothes, and then we’re leaving.”

  He looked tired, Maggie thought. Worse than tired. His face was pale and drawn, and he moved restlessly with every breath, almost as if he was struggling to keep his control.

  Maggie started to protest, then gave up. For the moment, she could see no choice but to do exactly what they said. Even if going back to those tall granite walls was nearly as frightening as being pursued by the backhoe.

  “Nice hotel.” Jared studied the plaster dangling from the elevator ceiling. “Great atmosphere.”


  A section of the elevator door was missing, and Maggie watched in sickening fascination as the floors lurched past, inches away. She was nearly dead on her feet, and spurts of color kept blurring her vision.

  Jared, on the other hand, seemed to look more composed and controlled with every passing second. In fact, it was downright galling how good he looked with his evening jacket slung over one shoulder and Max snoring comfortably under his arm.

  Not that she was going to think about Jared MacNeill in any personal sense, Maggie thought quickly. Things were already too complicated. She didn’t need any additional entanglements.

  The elevator rumbled to a halt at the sixth floor, and Jared heaved open the door. The hallway was dark, lit by a single grimy lamp. He eased Max closer and took a protective grip on her arm. “Stay behind me.”

  “I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Maggie said. “This isn’t a dark alley, and I highly doubt that a team of wild-eyed assassins is going to jump us between here and my room.” Punchy with exhaustion, she dug in the mud-spattered pocket of her handbag for the room key and stumbled, landing on a shoe that was missing its heel.

  “Steady.” Jared grasped her elbow. “Better?”

  “Just perfect. Actually, I enjoy being pursued and arrested. All in all, it’s been a fascinating evening.”

  His fingers opened over her wrist. “I’m serious. How are you holding up?”

  Maggie blinked, suddenly struck by the odd sensation that he was…reading her somehow. Or at least trying to.

  Which made about as much sense as the idea that her father was still alive, or that someone had decided to come after her for the missing jewels.

  She pulled away and jammed her key into the lock. “There’s nothing wrong that a hot shower and a decent night’s sleep won’t cure.” The door opened with a creak. “In fact, I intend to take care of both just as soon as I—”

  She stopped, frozen.

  One by one, tiny details began to sink in.

  Her closet door wasn’t quite closed, and her hairbrush had been moved. The phone directory on her desk was face up, instead of facedown as she’d left it.