Stolen Memory. Virginia Kantra
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out all sound. Despite the sun that poured through the glass, the air was cold.
Quinn’s voice dropped into the silence like a rock on an ice-filmed puddle. “It’s Baker. She’s back.”
Ford’s concentration broke. He blinked at her, recalled from his spell.
“I, uh… Sorry,” Laura said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your—” What did he do? Laser research. Good God. “—your work.”
He raised his hand, palm out. Cutting off her apologies? Or dismissing Quinn? The butler tromped back downstairs.
“You’re not interrupting,” Ford said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if he was tired. She squelched her instinctive sympathy. “And I’m not working. Any news?”
I’m off the case.
That’s what she’d come to tell him. But when she opened her mouth, what actually came out was, “So, what are you doing?”
“I’m writing a computer program that will let me hack into my own system and create a new password.”
“Oh.” Right. She’d forgotten he was a freaking genius. He definitely didn’t need her pity. “Sounds complicated.”
He smiled faintly. “Not particularly. Most hacking is a simple matter of repeating steps that exploit common system weaknesses.”
“Simple, huh? How long have you been at it?”
“A few hours,” he admitted.
Reluctant admiration stirred. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“No.” His remote, light eyes studied her a moment. “Not when there’s something I want.”
Her heart went ka-thump. Stupid, she scolded herself. He didn’t mean her. And she didn’t want him.
She frowned, struck by something he’d said. “Why do you need a new password?”
“I’m updating my computer’s security.”
“Okay, fine, but…why would you need to hack into your system to do that?”
He didn’t answer.
“You didn’t—” Laura pressed her lips together. Okay, now she really was being stupid. But she had to ask. “You didn’t forget your password, did you? When you got hit on the head?”
His expression never flickered. Maybe he hadn’t lost his memory. Maybe she was losing her mind.
But Simon Ford wasn’t the only one who didn’t give up easily. She wasn’t going to let embarrassment or attraction put her off doing her job.
“You said you couldn’t remember the attack.”
He inclined his head. “That’s correct.”
“What else?”
“Excuse me?”
He was stalling. She was sure of it. Nobody talked in that ultra-formal way unless he was either a snob and a smart-ass or stalling. Simon Ford might live in a castle and have a genius IQ, but he hadn’t done anything yet to make her think he was a snob. Or a smart-ass.
She ran through their interview in her head, trying to fit her new theory to snatches of their conversation.
“What else don’t you remember?” she asked.
He looked at her quizzically. “If I knew that, then I wouldn’t have forgotten it, would I?”
She scowled, rethinking the smart-ass bit.
“Never mind.” Not her problem, she told herself. Not even her case. She needed to depersonalize. “I came to tell you I’m off the case.”
Simon’s dark brows drew together over his perfect nose. “What?”
“Chief Denko reassigned your case to Detective Palmer. He’ll be out to talk with you tomorrow. Tell him whatever you want.”
“Why are you off the case?”
He sounded annoyed, which for some perverse reason made her feel better. Not enough to confide in him, but enough to be reassuring.
“You’ll like Palmer,” she said. “He has experience.”
“I want you,” Ford said.
She ignored the little thrill his words gave her. He didn’t mean it like that. “Well, you can’t have me. I told you. The chief gave your case to Palmer.”
“I want you,” Ford repeated, unsmiling and intent, and her pulse kicked up a notch.
“Very nice,” approved an amused male voice from behind her. “Does she come with the handcuffs?”
Laura jerked around.
A preppie god in a white silk shirt with the sleeves rolled back lounged in the doorway, smiling at her with lazy charm. Tall, blond and very handsome. If Simon Ford was the Wizard King, then this dude was Prince Charming. No wonder she’d felt miscast on her way up the stairs.
Quinn Brown spoke up from behind him. “Your brother’s here, Mr. Ford.”
Laura turned back to the desk and pinned Ford with an accusing look. “You have a brother?”
He had a brother.
Simon sat and absorbed the shock, trying to keep it from his face. After three days of being alone except for his household manager, it should have been reassuring to discover he had some family. But he felt no instant connection. No recognition. Nothing at all.
The younger man stepped forward, extending his hand. “Dylan Ford.”
“Laura Baker.”
Not “Detective,” Simon noted. Her name was Laura.
“Nice to meet you.” Dylan smiled, revealing perfect teeth against his perfect tan. “I didn’t know Simon had a thing for women in uniform.”
Perfect jackass, Simon thought.
“Detective Baker is here to investigate the break-in,” he said coolly.
The smile faded. “‘Break-in’? Here? When?”
He sounded more startled than concerned.
“Wednesday night, we believe,” Simon said.
“Before you got in?”
So his brother kept some track of his whereabouts.
“No,” said Simon, watching him closely. “After.”
“Wow.” Dylan ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Did you see anything?”
He didn’t ask if Simon had been hurt. Maybe it was a natural omission. The bump on his head wasn’t obvious. Presumably the only person who even knew he’d been attacked was the one who’d struck him.
“Not really,” he said.
“What did they take? TV? Stereo?”
“Nothing like that.” He glanced at Laura Baker, wondering how much he should say, but she was still staring at his tall, blond, handsome brother. “The safe was open.”
Dylan swore. “They didn’t get the rubies, did they?”
Laura Baker’s attention snapped back like a rubber band. Simon could practically feel her vibrating.
“I believe they did,” he said slowly. “The safe was empty.”
“Damn it, Simon, I told you I had the people from Vulcan Gemstones lined up to look at them this week.”
He had no idea what the younger man was talking about. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“Of course you did,” Dylan said bitterly. “You didn’t