Eve’s Wedding Knight

Chapter 8

Eve stared out of the limousine’s darkened windows, watching the warrens of Sun City’s massed rooftops and islands of outlet shopping malls give way to marshes. Not even the breathtaking flash of an egret against the seas of waving yellow-green grasses, or the glimpse of a ‘gator sliding into the murky-blue waters of an inlet could prevent the blanket of loneliness from settling around her.

Heaven knew, Eve was no stranger to loneliness. Growing up in the California deserts, she’d called it the “wild lone-lies,” and mistaken it for wanderlust-a vague, unfulfilled yearning fed by the endless wind and vastness of sky and a land as cruel and beautiful and spellbinding as any. sorcerer. I don’t belong here, she’d thought then, and had spent hours gazing at the sparkling skies and empty vistas like a foundling hearing the call of some distant memory, sure that her true home must lay out there somewhere, just beyond the place where the sky and the desert came together. So far, she’d spent her life pushing that horizon and had yet to find her place of belonging.

But this loneliness was different. For the first time in her life she understood the difference between loneliness and alone. Never before had she known such a terrible sense of isolation and abandonment, the feeling of being cut off from anyone who could help her, and everyone who loved her.

“Hey, babe, what’sa matter? You feeling okay? You look scared. Like you seen a ghost.” Sonny’s voice was solicitous, full of concern. But Eve, shifting her eyes carefully sideways to look at him, couldn’t help but wonder whether, if she’d been able to look more quickly, she might have caught the gleam of speculation and suspicion in his black, unreadable eyes.

His eyes are like the windows of this limo, she thought. Nobody can see what’s going on inside.

She didn’t even try to repress her shiver. “Don’t try to hide the fact that you’re scared. You’ve been a victim of a violent assault,” Jake had reminded her during her final briefing last night. “Fear is normal. Cisneros will be warned to expect it, so don’t worry about letting it show…”

And she’d murmured, “Capish-” at the same time he’d said it, and had laughed. He had not, but instead had looked for a long, silent moment into her eyes.

“I was just…thinking about…it,” she answered Sonny now, sliding her gaze once again to the windows. “Yeah, I feel scared. I wish I didn’t, but I can’t help it. I keep thinking-”

“Hey-it’s okay…it’s okay.” Sonny leaned over to give the cashmere blanket that covered her legs a reassuring pat. There was a pause…and then his hand began to stroke her leg. When it moved past her knee, she couldn’t hide a reflexive stiffening.

Instantly he took his hand away, and Eve gave a sharp gasp and then groaned, “Oh, God-Sonny, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-I’m just so…jumpy-”

“It’s okay…it’s okay.” But this time his voice was more growl than croon. “The doc said it was gonna take some time-you know, before you’re your old self again. I understand that. I’m not gonna rush you. Hey, baby, you take all the time you need-you just let me know when you’re ready, okay? Come on, Evie. What’s this, huh?” He leaned over to brush away a tear that was balanced, trembling, on the lower lashes of her good eye. “Aw, baby, don’t do that. You know it makes me crazy…”

The tear bad surprised Eve, too. She didn’t know what was the matter with her. Sonny was being sweet…so gentle and kind. She was beginning to feel confused. This was the Sonny she’d fallen for, the Sonny she’d intended to marry. How had she forgotten so quickly how wonderful and charming he could be? Was it possible…could she have been mistaken somehow? What didn’t seem possible was that this could be the same man she’d heard coldly regretting the fact that his men hadn’t killed her sister! What if it was all a mistake? Maybe she hadn’t really heard what she thought she’d heard. After all, that Dumpster lid had come down on her head pretty hard…

But…there was Jake. If she was mistaken, he would have to be, too. Either that, or he was lying to her, he and the whole FBI: Jake, Dr. Shepherd, that nice teddy bear of a man, Agent Poole… And the other one, the guy in charge-what was his name? Coffee?-who’d shown her how to plant a bug in a telephone, and finally, finally provided her with the one thing she’d been too embarrassed after all that time to ask for: Jake’s last name.

In any case, the notion that they could all be either wrong or lying was ludicrous. Which left only one alternative: they were right, and so was she, and Sonny Cisneros, no matter how wonderfully charming, how seemingly gentle and sweet, really was a powerful crime boss and possibly a cold-blooded killer.

Oh, God, how did I get myself into this mess?

The cervical collar that held her head and neck motionless seemed weighted with lead. She could feel every one of the tiny battery-operated transmitters nested in the specially designed cavity inside the collar, almost as if they were living things, each with its own pulsating heartbeat. She could almost hear the GPS tracking device sending out its silent signal to the satellite that would relay its location, and hers, back to Jake.

At least I know he’s out there somewhere. Right now. He knows where I am.

“You want a drink?” Sonny waved a hand at the bar. “Whatever you want. We got Black Jack…Scotch… soda… champagne…”

“Maybe some water.” Eve wiped her eyes, then asked with a pitiful sniffle, “Do we have any straws?”

“Straws?” Sonny threw her a questioning look. Then comprehension flitted across his face in a little grimace of sympathy. “Ah-got it, babe. I think so…yeah, here we are.” He poured mineral water into a glass, plunked in a plastic straw and held it for her while she maneuvered it awkwardly to her lips.

“We’ve got to get some of those bendy kind,” she said with a giggle as the straw slipped away from her and spangled water onto her chin.

“Whatever you need, baby…” And Sonny wiped away the drops with his thumb as tenderly as if she were a baby. “Anything in the world-you just say the word and Sonny’ll get it for you. You know I love you, don’t you?”

Unable to nod, she blinked and whispered, “Sonny…” Her pulse hammered against the collar.

“Hey, nothin’s too good for my Evie-girl. And lemme tell you, nobody’s ever gonna harm my girl again-nosir. From now on, Sonny’s lookin’ out for you. You don’t ever have to be scared of anyone, ever again, understand?”

Capish…

In her mind she heard her own and Jake’s voices saying that word in chorus, and from a tiny well of warmth somewhere deep inside a bubble of laughter rose and spilled across her lips.

“That’s my girl,” Sonny crooned approvingly. He leaned closer, and now it was her lips he stroked with the fleshy pad of his thumb. “Come on, baby, lemme hear you say it…”

She closed her eyes and her mind. “I love you, Sonny.”

“Yeah…that’s my Evie…”

As Sonny’s lips brushed hers, the limousine swooped onto the bridge connecting Hilton Head to the mainland, and she felt the stomach-dropping sensation of being on a roller coaster.

Jake and his partner, Birdie Poole, watched the limo glide past the portals of the gated resort community and disappear from sight like a great white whale sinking into the sea.

Birdie breathed a toneless whistle. “Holy…shinola. Talk about your velvet cage. This place is huge. We gonna be able to get within range?”

Jake picked up a pair of binoculars from the seat beside him and surveyed the surrounding terrain. “It’s doable.” He glanced at, then tapped the GPS monitor mounted on the dash. “Depends how far they are from the perimeter fence. Might have to put up a booster antenna…” He laid the binoculars aside but went on frowning at the gatehouse, at the spot where the limo had disappeared, his fingers playing a restless tattoo on the steering wheel. “Won’t know until she gets those bugs planted. If she does…” He could feel Birdie’s eyes on him.

After a silence that lasted for…oh, maybe a long five count, his partner let out a breath and faced the front of the vehicle. “And…you’re sure this was a good idea.”

Jake lifted one shoulder. “She had to go back to him. What were we gonna do, cut her loose and send her in on her own? This way, anything goes wrong, at least we’ve got a shot.”

Even without looking, he could feel Birdie’s eyes come back to him like homing beacons. “Why do I get the feeling it isn’t Cisneros you’re wanting to keep tabs on?”

Jake grunted, a sound few besides Birdie would recognize as laughter. “In five years of surveillance on Cisneros, have we ever gotten anything we could take to the U.S. Attorney? You and I both know the man’s too careful for that.”

“Then you mind telling me what the hell’s all this about?”

“A feeling.” He let out a breath and muffled it in the hand he scrubbed restlessly across his mouth. “She’s the key, dammit. She’s important-I know she is.”

“I can see that,” Birdie said softly. “Question is, important to whom? And why?”

Jake threw his partner a pained look. “Come on, Bird. She’s the key to nailing Cisneros. Period.” He punched a tape into the deck and reached for the ignition key. “Tell me, partner, have you ever known me to give a rat’s ass about anything else?”

“Nope,” said Birdie, “never have.”

“Uh-huh. Let’s get some lunch while we’ve got a chance.”

“Yeah…okay. Aw, man-” Birdie winced as a scratchy rendition of “St. Louis Blues” filled the van. “You’re not going to make me listen to that junk now?”

“Whadaya mean, junk? Don’t you know who that is? That’s Bessie Smith. That’s a classic, man.”

“No, no, don’t give me that-classic is Bach, maybe Beethoven, definitely not Bessie. Hey, if you gotta listen to blues, at least get rid of the scratch-is that too much to ask? Hey, compromise. Got any Ray Charles? Now-I can take ol’ Ray. ’Georgia…’”

Jake sighed and switched off the stereo.

In the week that followed, Eve experienced what she was certain must be the emotional equivalent of being buried alive. She felt completely isolated, but at the same time as if every move she made, every breath she took, every beat of her heart were being monitored… measured… judged.

She lived every waking moment with a vague and unformed sense of menace, but it was at night that the fear came to settle over her like a shroud. She kept waking every few hours in a clammy, heart-pounding panic, only to lie awake in a twilight that seemed alive with watching eyes and listening ears, haunted by vague memories of dreams in which she was being slowly suffocated.

None of which made sense, considering she couldn’t have asked for more pleasant surroundings. The resort, which Sonny had told her would eventually include a five-star hotel, luxury condos, a golf course and tennis courts, bike paths, three swimming pools and miles of gently sloping white sand beaches, wasn’t scheduled to open until spring, but most of the external layout and landscaping had already been completed. Sonny’s private quarters, nestled in a remote corner of the hotel grounds, were like the keep within the castle, surrounded by walls of brick and wrought iron and lush tropical landscaping, so new they still smelled of fresh paint, with rooms that were airy and light and open to endless vistas of sea and sky.

Eve didn’t kid herself; she knew it was only an illusion of freedom. In a way it made her think of Alcatraz, which she’d had occasion to visit while filming a piece on the federal penitentiary for a cable channel a few years back. She’d found the island an eerie, unnerving place, and one of the things that had haunted her was the fact that inmates serving life sentences could look out through barred and slitted windows and watch sailboats skimming over white-capped waves, and in the distance, the shimmering towers of San Francisco-Baghdad by the Bay-taunting, beckoning, a constant and cruel reminder of everything they’d lost and would never have again.

Not that Eve couldn’t come and go as she pleased-oh, quite the contrary. She had the run of the island. She could and did go for walks, within the limitations of her supposed “injury,” along the beaches or down the few remaining unspoiled avenues shaded by canopies of moss-festooned live oaks and Palmettos and Southern coastal pines. If she wanted to go shopping, a car was instantly at her beck and call.

But she was never left alone. If she ventured beyond the walls of the house, someone was always with her-Sonny, if he was home, or if he was gone, which was most of the time, then either Ricky or Sergei, which was Infinitely worse. One of the two was always there, within arm’s reach, silent and watchful, like vaguely menacing shadows. She no longer dismissed them as witless thugs-Sonny’s “Two Stooges.” Now she realized that they were, in fact, extremely good at what they did, which was, like the highly trained attack dogs they were, to follow orders without question. And like attack dogs, if the order was to kill, she imagined that they would do so unhesitatingly and efficiently, without either enjoyment or regret.

Worse even than the constant company, though-which was at least a menace she could see-was the formless and skin-crawling sense she had that she was being watched.

Okay, maybe it was only a bad case of paranoia fostered by the weight of her guilty conscience, not to mention a collar full of listening devices. After all, she’d never actually seen the cameras. But she knew Sonny, and what a stickler he was for security, and she was taking no chances. Wherever she went, indoors or out, she acted on the assumption that unseen eyes followed her every move. Not even trusting the privacy of her own bathroom, she dressed, showered and used the toilet in the dark whenever possible, and only removed her collar in order to access the cache of bugs late at night, in bed, with the covers pulled over her head.

Needless to say, her suspicion that she was being watched made planting the bugs more complicated than she’d expected. In the rooms to which she had free access, it was mostly a matter of slipping them into place during the course of some seemingly innocent activity-selecting a magazine to read, for example, or admiring a potted plant, searching for a pencil with which to work a crossword puzzle, mixing a drink.

The first one she’d installed had been in her own room. That had been Jake’s request. At the time she’d found the suggestion unnerving, an unwelcome reminder of the danger she was about to plunge herself into. But during that first week in the suffocating isolation of the resort compound, that bug had come to seem almost like a friend, her one source of comfort, her only lifeline, a tiny and tenuous umbilical cord connecting her with Jake and her family. With safety. With a world that included work and laughter, children and family dinners and dogs and touch football on the lawn. Brothers arguing and newlyweds snuggling on the sofa, and mothers and daughters bickering, and the smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen. She thought of the bug almost as a living thing, and talked to it under the guise of reading aloud or talking to herself. She tried to imagine Jake’s face as he listened, out there beyond the compound walls.

Would he smile, she wondered, if he thought no one was watching? Someday, she thought, I’m going to make him smile, and I’m going to catch him at it, too.

The thought made the loneliness seem less oppressive.

The biggest problem with the bugs was that after a week she still hadn’t found an excuse to go into Sonny’s private office, not without raising suspicions. He’d been gone most of the week, during which time the office was locked up tight. And when he was home he treated Eve like a convalescent princess, smothering her with attention, gourmet dinners complete with wine and candlelight, breakfast in bed. Business, he said grandly, was off-limits-taboo. He was there to spend time with his Evie, and nothing was allowed to interfere with that.

How strange it was, Eve thought, to realize that the focused attention she’d once considered a major facet of Sonny’s charm she now considered the biggest pain in the neck.

Another problem was, as Jake had explained to her, that the bugs would periodically have to be replaced. They were voice activated to save battery power, but even so…

She was pondering those problems as she returned from her walk late Monday afternoon, one week to the day after she’d arrived at the Hilton Head resort, to find Sonny pacing the white marble entryway.

Her heart gave a little skip of fear. “Sonny…hi! When did you get back?” She went to him for a welcoming kiss, but drew back as he rounded on her with a scowl.

“Where the hell’ve you been? I’ve been waitin’ for hours.”

“I went for a walk on the beach. If I’d known-”

“Yeah? Hell, I was worried about you. You shouldn’t be out there so long. Who was with you? The guys go with you?”

“Ricky was with me.” Eve gestured toward the huge, bull-necked man who’d followed her like a bad smell into the house. “Sonny, what’s wrong? Did I do something-”

“Come ’ere.” Unsmiling, Sonny jerked his head for her to follow him.

Oh God, he knows. Eve’s heart dropped into her stomach and began to pump with a jackhammer rhythm. Her chest felt constricted; she couldn’t get a breath.

As she followed Sonny on wet-spaghetti legs up the long, curving staircase, her mind, paralyzed at first, came to life and began to hurl itself frantically in all directions.

He’s found the bugs! How many? One? All? Jake-are you listening? Help me!

Wait, dummy…if he’d found the bugs, how would Jake know what was happening? And even if he did, how far away was he? Could he possibly get here in time?

Wait a minute-time for what? Why would Sonny necessarily think she’d planted them? He had no reason to suspect her…unless he’d known all along! Unless he had seen her running away that day in the church garden, and knew from the beginning that the “mugging” was a charade. Jake…help me.

No-it was hopeless. This was it, she was going to die. She was never going to see her family again-Mom, Pop, Summer and Bella-not even to say goodbye. Jake!

In a massive, roaring silence she followed Sonny into his bedroom suite, wincing as he shut the doors behind her. Why am I going so meekly, she briefly wondered, like a lamb to the slaughter? I should at least try to make a run for it.

Was he going to give her a chance to explain? Could she deny it all and lie her way out…?

She came to a dead halt.

Sonny, who had stayed by the door, was pressing buttons on a remote control panel. While she stood tense and trembling, the room lights dimmed and the draperies covering the French windows that opened onto an ocean-view balcony rolled back.

Eve gasped and then went limp with relief. She couldn’t say a word. She could only stare.

The balcony had been transformed into a tropical bower, lit with hundreds of tiny Christmas lights that twinkled like stars amidst the foliage. Portable patio heaters held the autumn chill at bay while the scent of flowers and the gentle whispers of tropical rain drifted into the room. In the center of this paradise, a table set for two gleamed with crystal and candlelight.

Sonny, coming close behind her, bent so that his lips just brushed her ear, and whispered hoarsely, “Happy birthday, baby…”

Another gasp escaped her, this one accompanied by the sharp sting of tears.

“Hey, what’s this? What’s this?” Sonny’s hands were on her shoulders, gently turning her so that he could look at her face. “Don’t tell me you’re cryin’ again. What’re you cryin’ for? It’s your birthday-be happy!”

What’s this? What’s this? What was this? Happy? How could she feel happy? Her feelings were confused as hell, an overwhelming sadness mixed up with anger and even touches of regret. Why, Sonny? How can you be so sweet, and so evil at the same time? Why can’t you just be one or the other so I can make up my mind to love you or hate you and be done with it?

Because, a voice more cynical than wise inside her head answered, people are who they are and nothing is ever black and white. And all the other clichés you ever heard of. If life was simple, it wouldn’t take twenty or thirty or…hell, forty-three years to get it figured out.

“I thought you’d forgotten,” she said in a quavering voice, laughing and brushing at her eyes with shaking hands. “I thought everyone had.” To be honest, she had. For the last week she’d been so wrapped up in her situation-worrying about bugs, dealing with the isolation, thinking about the danger…

“Forget your birthday? Come on. The day after Halloween-you think I could forget something like that?” Sonny’s voice was jovial as he ushered her onto the balcony and pulled back her chair. But as he was seating himself, a double take made him pause. “Whadaya mean, you thought everybody forgot? What about your family? Your mom…your sisters? Nobody called?”

Eve cleared her throat. Her mouth was dry, her heart racing. “Ah… well, no, they couldn’t, really. I didn’t give them the number. I was going to call-”

“You didn‘t-Jeez, baby, why the hell not?”

“Sonny, it’s your private number. I didn’t think-”

“What’re you talkin’ about? This is family. Family is family-you know how I feel about that. Your family is my family. Hey-” he reached for her hand and leaning across the table, raised it to his lips “-right after dinner you call ’em. Talk to ‘em all night if you want to. Okay? Okay. Now, try some of this champagne. I know you like champagne… and here-I didn’t forget, I got you a straw, see? One of those bendy ones.”

While Eve was laughing at the prospect of drinking champagne with a bendy straw-how could she help it?-Sonny casually drew a flat velvet-covered case from under the tablecloth and handed it to her with a gruff and succinct “Here-this is for you.”

She set her champagne down untasted and reached for the case, while her cheeks flushed hot and her insides curled with a cold that felt like shame. She knew that case, knew without looking what she’d find inside; she’d seen it before, or one just like it, the night before what was to have been her wedding day, when Sonny had given it to her-his wedding gift.

She opened the case, gazed down at the pearl choker. Her throat closed. “Sonny, you shouldn’t have…”

“Hey-” He waved it off with a gesture. “Like I told you. What’s a pearl? Gives an oyster a bad case of indigestion. I had ‘em put a rush on it so it’d be ready for your birthday. It’s supposed to be an exact duplicate of the one that got stolen.”

“It’s beautiful. I wish-” Her hand fluttered involuntarily toward her collar.

“Hey, hey…” He leaned toward her, his voice low and guttural. “The day that damn thing comes off, I’m gonna take great pleasure in puttin’ these on you myself. I never did get to see you wearing it.” His eyes glittered in the candlelight.

Dry-mouthed, she whispered, “I know, I’m so-”

But he reached across the table to stop her with a finger touched to her lips. Then he closed the velvet case and took it from her and said with a grand wave of his hand, “Forget that-that’s just a replacement.” And with the air of an amateur magician producing a floppy bouquet from his sleeve, he handed her a smaller box instead. “Here ya go, babe-happy birthday.”

Eve took the box, moving slowly, as if in a dream-or a nightmare. She opened it and stared down at the twin diamonds that winked back at her from their bed of indigo velvet. Earrings. Exquisite diamond and dropped-pearl earrings. They must have cost a fortune, she thought dully. She felt strange-almost numb. Earrings. She didn’t even wear earrings, not anymore. Once upon a time she’d been the first in her circle of friends to get her ears pierced, but that had been years ago.

“I know you don’t wear earrings,” Sonny said, as if he’d heard her thought, and dismissed it with a shrug. “What the hell-they went with the necklace. I thought maybe someday you might wanna get your ears done, you know? And if not, hell, I’ll get ‘em made so you can wear ’em without.” Once again he reached for her hands, closed them around the earring box and brought them to his lips. “Can’t wait to see you in ‘em, you know that, don’t you, baby? And nothin’ else…okay, maybe the choker…” Then abruptly he let go of her and leaned back in his chair, swearing under his breath. “What the hell am I doing?” he muttered. “Makin’ myself crazy. Jeez, I hate that you have to be in that damn thing.”

Eve’s heart was pounding so hard, she couldn’t speak. She groped for her champagne, got the end of the straw between her lips and sucked greedily, draining the glass. “I won’t always be wearing this collar,” she said huskily. There… that was better.

Sonny refilled her glass, then lifted his to her in a toast. “I’ll drink to that… Reminds me,” he said, wiping champagne from his lips with a napkin, “your doctor called.”

Eve choked and then had to cope with champagne up her nose. Sonny had to get up and come around behind her and hold her steady while she coughed. She did have the presence of mind to say, “Ouch! Ow!” every time the spasms shook her, and Sonny, deeply concerned, said, “Jeez, don’t do that, baby-you’re gonna wind up in traction.”

“You said…my doctor called?” Eve wheezed when she was once again capable of speech. “What…what’d he want?”

“What? Oh-just said to tell you your appointment’s been changed to tomorrow afternoon. That’s in Savannah, right? You’re gonna need the limo-Sergei can drive you.”

Fortunately for Eve, who was once again carefully sipping champagne through her bendy straw, there came a knock at the door just then, and Sonny, instead of resuming his place across the table from her, said, “Hey-that must be dinner,” and went to admit the waiters. Because how on earth would she have explained the shine in her eyes, the deepening pink flush in her cheeks that could never be mistaken for anything else but joy?

Jake! I’ll see him tomorrow. Tomorrow!

Jake peeled off his headphones and dropped them on the narrow countertop. “I need some air,” he growled, pushing back his chair. He dove through the back doors of the van and kept going. He didn’t intend to stop until he’d reached the top of the nearest dune, where maybe the wind off the Atlantic, harbinger of the first nor‘easter of the season, would be strong enough and cold enough to blow the cobwebs out of his brain.

Brain? What brain? Because as far as he was able to tell, at the moment all he had between his ears was a scrambled mess of rage and frustration… Yeah, okay, admit it-and fear.

“What’s goin’ on?” Birdie joined him on the dune, puffing a little, Jake observed. He’d have to have a talk with Margie-the woman was too good a cook for her husband’s own good.

He shrugged, jerking his shoulders in the manner of someone shaking off an unwelcome burden, and punched words through his tightly clenched teeth. “Couldn’t take it anymore. Had to take a break.”

“Take what? You mean, Cisneros?” Jake snorted. Birdie hunched his shoulders against the chill wind and chuckled. “He is one charming son of a gun when he wants to be, isn’t he?”

Jake didn’t share his partner’s amusement. In his opinion, Cisneros was about as charming as a rattlesnake, and his wordless reply was more snarl than chuckle.

“What?” Birdie shot him a look along his shoulder. “Come on-you’re not afraid she’s falling for it?”

Jake kicked at a hummock of grass with the toe of his shoe. “The way that bastard’s laying it on?” He made a sibilant sound, replete with disgust. “You gotta hand it to him, he sure knows how to push the buttons. Champagne, flowers, candlelight, jewelry, pretty words… Hell, it worked once, didn’t it?”

Birdie was silent for a moment, kicking at his own hunk of grass. Then he shook himself-or maybe shivered-and said, “You don’t think he might have…genuine feelings for her? Hey-” he held up both hands to defend himself against Jake’s snort of derision “-even wise guys fall in love…get married.”

Jake swore bitterly. “If he’s convinced you, what’s he doing to her?”

“Come on…”

“You’re forgetting. Cisneros isn’t just a wise guy, the man’s a classic sociopath. He doesn’t have feelings for people-he uses people. That’s the only value they have for him-to be used. Otherwise he cares about as much for them as you do for that weed you’re stomping to death. If he’s giving her the royal treatment it’s because he wants something from her-period. I just hope she’s smart enough to realize that, is all.”

“Come on,” said Birdie after a moment, sounding unhappy, “you don’t really think she’d fall for it, do you? After what she heard? Knowing what she knows? What, just because he gives her some jewelry?”

Jake snorted, and this time the sound was meant to be laughter. “Some jewelry… That ‘replacement’ he was talking about? The one he said he had made like the one that got stolen? You know what that little bauble consists of? I know, because I took it off of her myself. It’s a pearl necklace-the real thing. Three strands perfectly matched with a diamond clip. Had to cost more’n you and I make in a year, and now she’s got two-a matched set.”

“Big deal,” said Birdie, “she’s only got one neck.” He punched his hands deep into his jacket pockets and shook his head, laughing softly. “All I can say is, I hope she doesn’t ever find out we had this conversation. She didn’t strike me as the type who could be bought with diamonds and pearls.”

She hadn’t struck Jake that way, either, and to be honest, it wasn’t the jewelry he was riled up about. And it wasn’t anything Cisneros had said or done-he was pretty much used to the way the man operated; nothing surprised him anymore. What had done it to him was Eve’s voice, whispery with tears. “Sonny, I wish…” Low and husky… “I won’t always be wearing this collar. ”

As for why that should be, well…he didn’t want to go there himself, much less bring his partner along for the ride. In the years since his divorce, Birdie and Margie Poole had done way more than their share of matchmaking on his behalf and he’d just as soon not give them any new ideas to work with.

So he grunted cynically and said, “I thought all women were the type-yours excepted, of course-you know I firmly believe Margie’s a saint. She’d have to be, to put up with you all these years.” He elbowed his partner, who chuckled in companionable agreement.

But as they started back down the dune together, under the cover of darkness Jake was frowning. The fact that his partner had made a success of his marriage when so many agents’ relationships failed had always been a mystery to him. Now, it seemed like one it might be important for him to solve.

“Seriously,” he said when they were slogging through the sand, making their way back to the side road where they’d parked the van. “Isn’t that what women want? Flowers, gifts… jéwelry?”

Birdie threw him a look. “You really don’t know much about women, do you?”

“That comes as a surprise to you? It’s pretty obvious I don’t know what it takes to make a woman happy. It’s pretty obvious you do. So?”

Birdie hunched his shoulders and muttered uncomfortably. “Hell-don’t put this on me. I’m no expert on women in general. Anyway, there’s no such thing as ‘women in general.’ Far as I can see, they’re all different. One thing I have noticed, though…”

He paused, and Jake prodded, “Yeah?” Birdie turned to face him. “Seems to me, when it comes to gifts, it’s not the cost or what it is that matters, it’s how she feels about the giver. Bottom line? She loves you, she’ll love the gift.”

“Oh, come on.”

Birdie shrugged and walked on. “Okay, maybe there are some women, all they care about is money-there’re men like that, so why not women? But the ones that matter? Why do you suppose mothers go ape over plaster of Paris handprints and cards made out of macaroni? A kid brings his mom a handful of wilted dandelions, she cries every time. Guaranteed.”

“Yeah, but that’s her kid. That’s different. For us-”

“Same principle applies. Hey-I gave Margie a Weedwacker for her birthday once. She was so happy, she cried.”

“Yeah, but that’s Margie. You got a genuine saint.”

Birdie laughed. “You’ll get no argument from me there.”

“You ask me, I think you got the last one, partner.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Birdie’s head swiveled toward him, and Jake could feel the speculation in his eyes even if he couldn’t see it. “And even if it were true, not everybody wants a saint. Ever think about that? For instance, would you?”

Jake didn’t say anything. But he was thinking about a certain battered and barefoot bride reeking of garbage and drunk on champagne who could never be called a saint.