Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

again. Weeks, if he was lucky. Days, most likely.
    And if he was shit out of luck, it would be a matter of hours before alarm bells went off somewhere and Kate got to find out if her electronically distorted caller was bluffing.
    The last time I told the FBI anything, I was told if I kept pushing, I would die.
    Sam didn’t like thinking about that. He kept seeing her on a blood-soaked bed, prisoner of silver duct tape and a sadist with a knife.
    Kate looked sideways at Sam. The dark beard was already showing through along his jaw. His eyes were weary, angry, and as beautiful as any gemstones she’d ever seen. But there was more than that. There was the intelligence that both animated and drove him. The emotions that ran deep and swift beneath the lid of his discipline. She sensed all of it, the frustration and the fear, the anger and the intensity.
    It was scary, but somehow she knew him well enough to know that he was getting ready to do something he didn’t want to do.
    “Okay,” she said, pushing back from her work. “Drop the other shoe.”
    “Have I dropped the first one?”
    “You’re here when you’re supposed to be questioning dealers about an emerald-cut blue sapphire, then you put something in Lee’s folder and don’t say what it is. That’s shoe number one.”
    Sam stopped just short of touching what looked to his eye like a nifty handheld torch that sat to the right of the folder. He gave Kate a sideways look. Her eyes were dark, searching his. The long fingers of her hands were quiet, waiting. There was a strength in her that drew him more deeply than any physical appeal. Looks wore out. Character didn’t.
    “You know, it’s flat-out amazing how much the traders don’t hear while they’re listening for gossip,” Sam said. “Everyone I showed the photo to said the equivalent of ‘Wow, nice stone.’ And that was all they said.”
    “Did you show them your badge?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And they shut up,” she said.
    “Oh, they talked. They just didn’t say anything. Close as I got was Stafford of WWEG.”
    Kate pulled out her hair clip and rubbed her scalp. “What did he say?”
    “He was surprised WWEG hadn’t been approached to buy the sapphire.”
    “So am I.”
    “Why?” Sam said, walking over to her, telling himself he wasn’t going to touch her. He was just going to get close enough to see if she was still wearing that lemony summer scent. Just close enough to reassure himself that she was warm, alive.
    Safe.
    “If Lee’s gossip was true—big if, by the way,” Kate added, “then WWEG would make a great laundry for stolen goods.” She rolled her head on her shoulders and rubbed at her unhappy scalp. “In fact, WWEG was one of the first traders I approached after Lee disappeared. It was the Miami show.”
    “Was it Stafford?” Sam asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, kneading gently.
    “What are you—? No, forget I asked.” Her hands fell to her side and she almost groaned. “That feels so good it should be illegal. If you ever want another career, I’ll recommend you as a masseur to the local health clubs.”
    The soft breath of his laughter stirred her hair. Sensation rippled through her.
    “It wasn’t Stafford at the Miami show,” she said quickly. “It was a woman. I can look up her name if you like.”
    What he liked was the feel of Kate’s body relaxing beneath his hands. What he’d like better would be to get her tight all over again, differently, and then feel her come apart in his arms.
    “If Stafford or WWEG does something that raises a flag,” Sam said, “I’ll need the woman’s name. Otherwise…” He leaned over just enough to inhale citrus and summer.
    “Otherwise?” Kate asked.
    She rolled her head, trying to help him release that tension that owed more to Lee’s disappearance than to hours of working over some really nice green sapphire. When she felt his hand pressed between her shoulder and her cheek, she hesitated. Then she sighed again and smoothed her cheek over his skin. His palm cupped her jaw.
    “We’ve got to talk,” he said roughly.
    But the thumb tracing and retracing her jawline was gentle enough to take her breath away.
    “I thought we were,” she said.
    “We’ve got two problems.”
    She moved her chin just enough so that her mouth could reach his thumb. “What’s the first?”
    His breath hissed in at the brief, hot touch of her tongue on his skin. “This.”
    “You sure it isn’t this?” Her