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“There is no safe.”

The fat man’s eyes bulged as his cheeks turned crimson. “But-but-you told Rasmussen-”

Bryan grinned engagingly. “I lied.”

His admission met with a murderous look. “You rotten…”

Porchind lifted the revolver and aimed. Bryan swung the portrait sideways, catching the man hard across the stomach with the thick frame. Porchind staggered back as his breath left him in a gust. Suddenly his feet kicked out from under him, and he fell backward with a strangled squeal. The revolver discharged as he hit the floor, the bullet exploding into the fireplace, nicking a chunk out of the brick.

The study door burst open, and Shane Callan charged into the room with a nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson in his hands. He trained the gun on Porchind and smiled a purely predatory smile, gray eyes gleaming.

“I’d drop that peashooter if I were you, sport,” he said, his voice a low, rough caress.

“Where’s Rasmussen?” Bryan asked.

“Out front with Deputy Screwup.”

“Bryan!” Rachel exclaimed, rushing into the room, her face white, eyes wide. “Are you all right? We heard a shot!”

“I’m fine,” he said coolly.

Turning away from her, he hung the portrait of Arthur Drake back in its place, brushing his fingertips across the tarnished brass plate that was affixed to the bottom molding.

“Are you all right?” he asked as they Watched Shane haul Porchind to his feet and shove him out into the hall.

“I’m fine.”

“And Addie?”

“Are you kidding? The police are here,” Rachel joked, trying to muster up a laugh of her own and failing. “She’s ecstatic.”

The silence that fell between them was awkward, filled with unspoken questions. Bryan let his gaze drink in the sight of her, memorizing everything about the way she looked at that moment-young and frightened in a baggy T-shirt and jeans, her hair falling around her like a rumpled curtain of silk.

Finally, she broke the quiet, asking a question that had nothing to do with the ones in her heart. “How did you know they would be here tonight?”

“Oh, I had a hunch. I sort of sent them.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“I guess I just wanted to clear all this up for you before I left.”

Rachel’s heart leapt into her throat. “You’re leaving? Leaving Anastasia?”

“I’ve been asked to go to Hungary.”

“I see.”

“I wanted to find the gold for you first,” he explained. “After all, you and Addie deserve it more than Porky and the Rat do.”

Rachel hung her head and sighed. He’d come back here and risked his life for something that didn’t exist. All for her. What was she going to do? She would love him with her last breath, but she couldn’t afford to go chasing rainbows with him.

She watched as Bryan went to the fireplace and selected the poker from the stand of heavy brass fire irons. Using the handle end, which was shaped like a hammerhead, he rapped it against the brick that Porchind’s bullet had struck. The thin layer of brick crumbled and fell away, revealing a surface of shiny gold.

“ ‘Gold is tried by fire,’ ” he said, “ ‘brave men by adversity.’ Seneca.”

Rachel stared in stunned disbelief. She fell to her knees in front of the fireplace and lifted a trembling hand to touch the treasure that had lain hidden all these years, safe and snug behind a wall of false brick.

“Oh, my-It’s real,” she said on a soft breath. “Gold.”

“Yes,” Bryan murmured, watching her. “A considerable fortune’s worth, I’d say, though I admit I don’t exactly keep abreast of the market prices. You’ll want to call Dylan Harrison. He does a little investment counseling on the side. He can tell you what it’s worth in dollars and cents.”

At the moment she didn’t need to know what it was worth in dollars and cents. She knew what it was worth. It was the answer to all her financial woes. It meant they wouldn’t have to sell Drake House. They wouldn’t have to leave Anastasia. Practicality could take a flying leap right out of her life.

She closed her eyes and laughed as giddy joy flooded through her. Sighing, she pressed her cheek to the exposed bar of gold.

“It was really here,” she whispered. “Like magic.”

“Yes,” Bryan said sadly. “It’s a good thing one of us believed in it.”

FOURTEEN

Bryan turned to quit the room, but the door had swung shut and refused to open when he tried it. He hung his head and let out a slow, measured breath, struggling to rein in his temper. Rachel had made it clear where he fit into her life-nowhere. He wanted only to make a graceful exit, but that privilege was being denied him. He had a feeling he knew why, but he was in no mood for interference from a sixth sense or anything else. Both his pride and his heart were still stinging from Rachel’s rejection. He wanted only to leave.

Cursing under his breath, he stood back and gave the door a kick that clearly demonstrated an acquaintance with martial arts. Part of the jamb splintered away, and the door flew open. An odd thud sounded on the far side of the hall, and a vase teetered on its stand.

Rachel watched him go, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. He was leaving, leaving Anastasia, leaving her. The final barrier to their happiness had been eradicated, and he was leaving!

She scrambled to her feet and dashed out of the study and down the hall.

On the porch Deputy Skreawupp and another of Anastasia’s finest were reading Porchind and Rasmussen their rights. The pair of erstwhile criminals stood glumly side by side with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Porchind’s bowling-ball head was red with indignation. Rasmussen looked as if he would have been stark white even without his greasy makeup. The thin man rolled his shoulders uncomfortably against the straps of the contraption he and his cohort had devised to make the mystic smoke that had floated around him as he had “haunted” Drake House.

“I never should have listened to you,” Porchind hissed. “You should have known it was a trap, stupid.”

“A trap,” Rasmussen mumbled miserably, his head lolling from side to side.

“Moron,” Porchind grumbled.

“Clam up, Porky,” Skreawupp ordered, shaking a stubby pencil beneath the man’s nose. “I’ll muzzle you like a fat circus bear, and I can do it.”

Shane Callan leaned indolently back against a post, watching the scene with an almost feline smile of amused satisfaction. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his black jeans. The butt of his pistol peeked out from under his left arm.

Addie watched the proceedings from Skreawupp’s elbow with avid interest.

“I knew they were up to no good,” she said, earning herself a scowl from the sour-faced deputy. “It took you long enough to figure it out, Deputy Dope.”

“They needed evidence, Addie,” Bryan said.

She waved a hand at him. “Twaddle.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” the deputy said to Porchind. He shot a dark look at Addie. “That goes for you, too, honey bun.”

She blew a loud raspberry at him and wound up to sock him one. Rachel caught her by the arm and swung her toward the door. “Mother, why don’t you go in and find a sweater… before the deputy decides to charge you with harassment,” she added under her breath as her mother clomped away.

“Miss Lindquist, we’d appreciate it if you’d come down to the station in the morning to make a statement,” the younger deputy said.

“And we’d really appreciate it if you left your mother at home,” Skreawupp added. Rachel’s narrow look glanced off his double chins as he turned to his captive scoundrels and herded them down the steps. “All right, you two scum balls, it’s the slammer for you. The cooler, the can, the county condo. I’ve seen your kind a hundred times. You stalk the helpless on little cat feet and strike in the dark of night. Makes me sick.”