Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

house?” she asked.
    Shane looked at her with jade green eyes that had both comfort and shadows in them. “Because Ian doesn’t have a key.”
    “Then why not phone in an anonymous call for help from that address? Or tell the cops that whoever killed Cline went there?”
    “Ian will do just that after he makes sure there aren’t any more gold artifacts inside the house.”
    “But—”
    “Dana’s orders,” Shane said, ignoring the interruption. “She doesn’t want the artifacts scooped up or lost in the bureaucratic shuffle by a system that doesn’t haven’t the faintest idea of the gold’s cultural worth.”
    “ ‘Buy, Sell, Appraise, Protect,’ “ Risa said, remembering Rarities’s motto. “The art comes first and the client second.”
    “I knew that when I signed on. It’s why I signed on.”
    Smiling faintly, she leaned her head against the leather upholstery. “But you work very hard to look like a sleazy collector. You aren’t.”
    “Would crooks approach a Boy Scout with stolen cultural artifacts?”
    “No, but most people care too much for their reputation to ruin it by looking dirty.”
    A lift of Shane’s shoulder told her how much he cared about his good name.
    Risa went back to drumming her fingers against her thigh. “What if someone comes back to the house before dark?”
    “Ian is watching it.”
    “Do you think Cherelle is there?” Risa asked before she could stop herself. “Do you think she’s hurt? If she is, shouldn’t we . . . ?” Risa closed her eyes and took a careful breath. No matter what Cherelle had done, it was hard to sit and do nothing while her friend might be in pain. Or worse. “Shouldn’t we break in?”
    Shane took Risa’s hand to still its restless motions. Her fingers were cool. He warmed them between his palms while he waited for her to settle. He knew what was worrying her. She was imagining her friend on the run, hurt, hiding, needing help. All those warm and fuzzy feelings left over from childhood running smack up against the cold edges of adult reality, and not a damn thing to be done about any of it.
    “I’m okay,” she said on a sigh. “Really.” Her attempt at a smile turned upside down. “But one way or another it’s been a big ol’ bitch of a day. What really grinds on me is that it’s not over yet.”
    Slowly he smoothed her fingers against his cheek. “The neighbor didn’t see anyone but Mrs. Seton come or go. If Cherelle and Mrs. Seton didn’t get along—and, according to the neighbor, they didn’t—it’s not real likely that Cherelle would go there if she was hurt.” He kissed Risa’s fingers and released them. “Especially when she had a friend like you to go to.”
    “You mean stupid?”
    “No. Generous.” More generous than Cherelle deserved, but he wasn’t going to add to Risa’s unhappiness by saying it.
    She shifted and raked her fingers through her short black hair. “Damn, I hate not knowing. Wondering. Waiting. She could be hurt.”
    “It’s far more likely that no-good Tim is the one who left his blood on the pawnshop floor.”
    Risa knew that was true. It just didn’t make her feel any better.
    “Come on,” Shane said. “Let’s see if Shapiro is home.”
    “The sign says ‘closed’.”
    “Shapiro lives above the shop,” Shane said.
    “How do you know?”
    “You don’t want to know,” he said, thinking of a spectacular piece of Mayan gold he had bought from Shapiro in his upstairs quarters. After hours, of course. Shapiro did his most profitable work then.
    “You sure I don’t want to know?”
    “Yes.”
    Risa shut up and followed him toward the shop that was closed up tight in the middle of the business day.
    Without so much as looking around to see if anyone was watching, Shane sauntered past the shop, around the corner, and into the alley where full trash bins awaited pickup. In addition to a secondhand-clothes store, a used-office-furniture store, and a shoe-repair shop, there were two cafés and a taco stand opening onto the alley. The trash bins gave off odors that flies found irresistible.
    Shane wrapped his hand in his jacket and tried the back door of Shapiro’s Loan and Pawn Shop. It wasn’t locked. He pushed it open, pulled Risa though, and shut the door again. Voices came from somewhere overhead.
    The smell wasn’t any better inside. If anything, it was worse.
    “Shit,” Shane said very softly. “Stay here.”
    “But—” Her objections dried up when she