St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

me because Hamm couldn’t get a photo of Bertone,” Rand said. “I’ve taken enough color photos of the estate for twelve coffee-table books.”
    “Bertone never goes to the parts of his estate that are monitored by closed-circuit security TVs. He’s one crafty bastard. That’s why we’re paying you an outrageous amount to play with oils and trick cameras.”
    “I’d have done it for free,” Rand said, painting fiercely, trying not to remember the twin who had died in his arms, taking too much of Rand with him.
    “Your job isn’t to avenge Reed. Remember that.”
    Rand didn’t answer.

17
    Castillo del Cielo
Saturday
5:35 P.M. MST
    K ayla Shaw stood off to one side of the pool, searching the crowd for Steve Foley. Surely he would at least put in an appearance at the premier event of the bank’s premier private clients. Surely he’d tell her to relax, it was taken care of, she was safe.
    Surely she was being paranoid.
    The grim lines around her mouth were out of place in the beautiful, slanting light. The sun was still hot, but coolness seeped up from the ground itself, a reminder that winter wasn’t completely gone. Or maybe it was just her nerves, the paranoid part of her screaming Get out! Run! Hide!
    Kayla pulled her black linen jacket closer around her. The rich teal of her silk blouse glowed in the light, as did the black pearl earring studs that were her parents’ last birthday present to her. Her body all but vibrated with tension as she scanned the thirty artists slapping paint on canvas as if their lives depended on it.
    Foley was nowhere to be found.
    What am I going to do?
    The question rang in her mind like a frantic heartbeat.
    Don’t think about it. All you can do right now is play nice so that the Bertones don’t get suspicious.
    But if —
    Don’t think about it. Not now.
    But —
    Not now!
    “Are you enjoying yourself?” asked Bertone’s voice right at her elbow.
    Kayla jumped sideways, startled that he’d been able to slide in so close without her knowing it.
    He grasped her arm and pulled her back from the edge of the pool.
    “Nervous, are we?” he asked.
    “I always jump when somebody sneaks up on me,” Kayla said. “What about you?”
    “Sneak?” He laughed and didn’t release her arm. “ Ma petite, I weigh in excess of two hundred pounds and am over forty. I could not sneak if my life depended on it. Are you sure you aren’t nervous?”
    “Should I be?” she answered, pulling away from his grasp.
    “I suppose it’s rather like bridal jitters. But then, you hinted this wasn’t your first time on the, ah, ‘primrose path.’”
    Kayla set her teeth and didn’t say anything.
    Bertone caught her chin with his strong hand. Slowly, almost gently, he forced her to look him in the eye.
    Anger.
    She was furious.
    “Are you truly that much an innocent?” Bertone asked. “Have I really misread you that badly? You do understand how things are done in the real world, don’t you?”
    “Yes.” She stepped back, freeing herself. “As profitably as possible.”
    His eyebrows rose. “Ah, so you feel underpaid.”
    She shrugged tightly.
    “You interest me,” he said.
    She stiffened as Bertone’s glance ran up and down her body like hands. She had deliberately dressed plainly in a linen trouser suit and a silk top cut just low enough to show the rose tattoo on her collarbone. But the way he was looking at her made her feel like she’d been stripped to her skimpy underwear and doused with cold water.
    “Did the second wire transfer post to the new account?” Bertone’s voice was once again neutral.
    Kayla wanted to sigh with relief. “Yes.”
    Then realization hit and the ground jerked beneath her feet. She hadn’t spoken with the Bertones since the first deposit, yet somehow Bertone already knew not only that the correspondent account was open but that a second deposit had been made.
    Her desire to talk to Steve Foley took on a keener, more bitter edge.
    Bertone or the feds, the devil or the deep blue sea. Take your pick, you lucky girl.
    None of the above.
    There has to be a third choice. It’s up to me to find it.
    Real quick.
    “There will be more transfers today and tomorrow,” Bertone said. “Bigger amounts. Quite sizable, actually.”
    She drew a shallow breath, then another, forcing herself to meet his eyes. When she spoke, her voice was calm despite the panic twisting her stomach. “In this country, banks aren’t open on the weekend. I’m not