He took care of what was his.

He lifted her face, touched his lips to hers.

“I’ll get it,” he told her when his buzzer sounded. The police, he thought, or Luke. Either way, it was all about to move forward. He was more than ready for it.

Twenty

Julie rushed in, launched herself at Lila. “Are you all right? Oh, God, Lila.”

“I’m all right. Luke told you I was all right?”

“Yes, but . . .” She released Lila just enough to look down into her face. “She attacked you.”

“Not exactly.”

“She had a knife. Oh God! She cut you! You’re bleeding.”

“No.” Lila cupped Julie’s face so their eyes met. “She scratched me, and Luke fixed it. And I knocked her on her ass.”

“She must’ve followed you from the gallery.”

“I don’t know. I think she was probably trolling the neighborhood, hoping to get lucky. She did—up until I knocked her on her ass. Plus, for the cost of a nice white shirt, she gave me more than I gave her.”

“People always do,” Julie stated. “I think you should go stay with your parents for a few weeks. Alaska’s too far away for her to follow.”

“That’s not going to happen. Ash and I can explain what is, after—”

She broke off at the buzzer.

“The cops,” Ash announced with a glance at his monitor.

“We’ll talk.” Lila squeezed Julie’s hand while Ash went to the door. “Trust me.”

Fine and Waterstone came in, gave the group a short, impassive once-over. Then Fine zeroed in on the blood on Lila’s shirt. “You were injured?”

“It’s very minor. Should we make coffee or something? Something cold. I could use something cold.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Luke stepped toward the kitchen. “I know my way around in here.”

“Let’s sit down.” Careful to avoid the wound, Ash tucked his arm around Lila’s waist. “Lila should sit down.”

“I’m fine, but I could sit.”

Since he kept his arm around her, she sat on the couch with him while the detectives sat opposite.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” Fine began.

“I’d gone to see Julie at her gallery on my way here. Ash wanted to work on the painting this afternoon.” She settled in, told them the rest in as much detail as she could manage.

When she produced Earl Grey, Fine looked mildly shocked. But Waterstone’s lived-in face brightened up with a blasting grin.

“That’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s awfully sweet.” She set him down so he could check out the area. “And my current hero. When he popped up out of my purse, it took her by surprise, gave me an opening. I knocked her down, and I ran.”

“You never saw this associate she spoke of?” Fine gave the dog a wary look when he sniffed at the toes of her shoes.

“No. New York traffic is another hero today. She couldn’t catch me on foot. She was wearing heels, and I got a good head start. When my brain clicked in, I headed for Luke’s bakery.”

She glanced up with a smile as he brought in tall glasses of iced tea. “I think I was a little hysterical.”

“No.” He passed out the glasses. “You handled it.”

“Thanks. Then I called you, and here we are. She has long hair—shoulder-blade long. She’s about five-eight without the heels, and she doesn’t have an accent. Her cadence is a little off, but her English is good. She has green eyes, light green, and killing is what she does, for a living and for her own enjoyment.

“But you know all this,” Lila concluded. “You know who she is.”

“Her name is Jai Maddok. Her mother is a Chinese national, her father was British—now deceased.” Fine paused, as if considering, then continued. “She’s wanted for questioning in several countries. Assassinations and theft are her specialties. Three years ago she lured two members of MI6 who were tracking her into a trap, killed both of them. Since then, there have been a few sightings. Information on her is sketchy, but investigators who’ve been involved or studied her agree, she’s ruthless, she’s canny and she doesn’t stop until she gets what she’s after.”

“I’d agree with all of that. But canny isn’t always sensible.” Again, Lila thought of those pale green eyes. “She’s a sociopath and a narcissist.”

“I didn’t realize you had a degree in psychiatry.”

Lila met Fine’s eyes coolly. “I know what I was looking at today. I got away from her because I’m not stupid, and because she was overconfident.”

“Anyone who can take out two trained agents might be entitled to some confidence.”

“She had time to plan,” Ash said before Lila could speak. “And that was a matter of her own survival. Add in going up against two people she probably respected, as far as skill went.”

Lila’s lips curved as she nodded. He understood, she thought. He understood exactly what she thought, what she felt.

“With Lila? She figured a slam dunk, and she got sloppy.”

“Don’t count on that happening again,” Waterstone put in. “You got lucky today.”

“I don’t count on anyone making the same mistake twice. Even myself,” Lila added.

“Then give us the Fabergé, let us make an announcement. It’ll be out of your hands, and she won’t have any reason to go after either of you.”

“You know that’s not true,” Lila said to Fine. “We’re loose ends she’d need to tie off. More, I insulted her today, and she won’t let that slide. If we give you the egg, the only thing she’ll need from us is the kill.”

Waterstone edged forward on his seat, and his tone, his demeanor, took on the patience Lila imagined he tried holding on to with his two teenagers. “Lila, we can protect you. FBI, Interpol—this is now a multi-agency investigation task force.”

“I think you could, and you would. For a while. But eventually the budget—money and man power—would kick in. She can afford to wait. How long has she been an assassin for hire?”

“Since she was seventeen, possibly sixteen.”