…
In the mani pedi section of the spa, Lucy wiggled her gorgeous polished toes in her rhinestone flip-flops. She had chosen a shiny silver polish. The silver would go with everything, and everybody in town had red toes. Why not be different? The polish was likely to be with her until it grew out, anyway.
Returning to the Cathedral Spa had seemed an acceptable time-killer until she could say goodbye to Alec and try to explain about backing out of her contract. It was bad business to break her contract, but considering the exhibit was going to be robbed thanks to her, charging for an appraisal hardly seemed fair.
Lucy’s heart clenched. It would hurt to leave Alec, and judging by his reaction this morning, he would not take it well that she was running off to another hemisphere. She had wanted to enjoy her one night with Alec, but if Alec ever found out about her part in the scheme, it would make her betrayal twice—no, a hundred times worse. Leave it to her to find her Prince Charming when she was on the run. Tears threatened, but she pushed them back.
Lucy glanced at Lilly Belle, who had continued to serve as her hulking casino hostess of sorts. She stood next to the exit to the spa, looking bored.
Although Gino and Joey had Alec’s thumbprint for the inside of the exhibit, she would not get the new keycard for them. That alone might tank their plans, and then maybe Joey would leave with her. It was her only option, and considering how she felt about Alec, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, steal from him again.
She had to hold out, no matter how much Joey whined.
“Miss, your left hand, please.” The nail technician, like the other saints in the spa, wore light green medical scrubs.
Lucy dutifully gave the woman her hand. “Can I get those white-tipped things on the end?”
“Acrylics, miss?” At Lucy’s confused look, the woman elaborated. “You want fake nails?”
“Oh no, not fakes.” Fakes would take maintenance. “Can you just polish them that way?”
“Certainly.” The woman left to change out her supplies.
Lucy took a deep breath and prepared to turn on her phone. She had not thought of Joey or her phone the whole evening. But now, she needed to know what was going on. The phone screen lit up and beeped. There were forty-three missed calls from Joey. Apprehension swelled in her chest. She pressed the text message screen. There were ten text messages from him. She opened one: BUY ICE, GETTING THIRSTY.
The phone again beeped in her hand, making her jump. It was a new text message from Joey: CALL ME, NOW :)
Lucy looked around. Lilly Belle didn’t seem to be paying attention, and she was otherwise alone. She dialed Joey’s number, and he picked up immediately.
“Lucy, where have you been?” Joey sounded mad, not worried.
“I had a date.”
“A date!” Joey’s voice was tight with anger. “Whatever. The bag of ice you got us before melted. We need a new bag of ice for our party tonight.”
“Tonight? Your party is tonight?”
“You can bring it to our suite—”
“No.” Lucy let her newfound resolve round out the word. “I’m not getting it. I’ve got tickets for us to Brazil.” She kept her voice low. “Let’s get out of here today, take a vacation. I’ll pay for everything.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Joey inhaled with the drawn-in force of an infant preparing to scream. “I’ve got a party to throw!”
“That is ridiculous. Listen to yourself.” Lucy felt his disapproval radiate from the phone. “I am not getting a new bag of ice.”
“Fine.” Joey hung up in her ear.
Lucy turned off her phone and dropped it into her bag. Her hands trembled in her lap. The nail tech returned and picked up her left hand. It shook as the tech de-cuticled her nails.
“You hungry, miss?” The tech asked, misreading her upset.
“No. I’m fine.” Lucy flexed her fingers to stop the shaking. Everything would be fine. Joey would realize that the jewel exhibit score was impossible without a keycard, and then he would leave with her.
The nail technician applied white polish to her nail tips with practiced strokes.
What if Joey still wouldn’t leave with her? She couldn’t go to South America without him. How would she know if he was in trouble? The question snapped her eyes wide open. Her newly exfoliated skin stretched tight across her cheekbones.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
This was all a deep pile of crap, which was sure to smell nothing like eucalyptus steam. Lucy’s muscles tensed around her neck, and the tension spread malignantly down her spine to her lower back. She sat forward. The nail tech was finishing up her left hand with pink polish.
“How much longer?” Lucy asked.
“Almost done. But then you need to dry.”
The woman picked up her right hand and looked at her with wide eyes. “Madre de Dios!” Her strong hand gripped Lucy’s fingers tight. Her face went pale, as if she had seen the Blessed Virgin Mary. “El marque del Jer’ol.”
“What?” Lucy tried to pull her right hand free, but the tech held it fast.
Lilly Belle jogged across the room and grabbed Lucy’s right hand from the tech. She said something in a foreign language, and the tiny woman fled. “When did you get this?”
Again, Lucy tried to yank her hand free, but the Viking woman was too strong. “Can I have my hand back?”
Lilly Belle released it and scanned the room like she expected an enemy cavalry.
Lucy examined her hand. There was a dirt smudge in the corner of the “L” of her index finger and thumb. She rubbed it, surprised that anything had survived the scrub down yesterday. It didn’t budge. She brought it closer to her face. It was a colorful circular figure…a phoenix?
No—a dragon—with its wings and tail spread in an arc. It wasn’t a tattoo. She would have noticed that, even with massage brain.
“Did someone stamp me yesterday while I was asleep?”
“No.” Lilly Belle’s voice was emphatic.
“What is it, then?”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. Gerald.” Lilly Belle paced the atrium with long, aggressive strides. “We need to go.”
“Okay.” Lucy sensed her urgency. “Is the nail woman going to finish this hand?”
“No.”
“All righty then.” Lucy got down carefully from the mani pedi throne.
Lilly Belle led her back into the private locker room. “Jane brought you new clothes. They’re on the bench. The shower is through there.” She pointed through an arched doorway.
“Are we in a hurry?” Lucy had no concept of how much time had passed. There were no clocks in the Cathedral Spa—it could have been 9 a.m. or noon.
Lilly Belle gave her a peculiar expression. “You could say that.” She pointed toward the shower. “Take your shower. I’ll figure out what we’re doing next.”
Lucy flip-flopped into the private shower. Like the rest of the spa, it was elegantly tiled, and music played in the background. The vanity counter was outfitted with more beauty products than she had in her own home.
She stepped out of her fluffy robe and took an efficient shower, being careful with her one polished hand. She scrubbed the dragon mark with a scratchy loofah sponge, but the mark still didn’t change. Surely it would come off with rubbing alcohol or something?
When she was done, she went to the mirror in her towel. When she wiped off the steam, she saw herself—plain old Lucy De Luca—staring back. The familiar routine of blow-drying her heavy red hair re-engaged her brain. What was going on with the Viking’s weird behavior, and why had the nail tech run out of the room?
She flipped her wrist and stared at the circular dragon mark. Very strange. Her mind picked back through the events of the previous day, trying to remember if anyone had come close to her hand. It had to have happened when she was asleep.