Steele With A Twist

Part 6

 

By the time the launch neared Trent's yacht that evening, Laura felt as though she were floating on air. Remington Steele had been the most attentive, wonderful dinner companion she could ever have imagined. She would almost swear that he hadn't so much as glanced at another woman all evening. And there had been several beautiful women that Laura knew would have traded places with her in a heartbeat. But Steele's eyes had never left her, Laura Holt. When they had danced after the meal, Laura had considered pinching herself to make sure she was really awake and not dreaming everything. She slid her gaze sideways to look at him. Even now he looked wonderful.

He noticed her glance and took her hand in his, leaning toward her so she would be able to hear him over the noise of the small engine. "It's time. You're on, Tracy," he told her, bringing her left hand to his lips as the boat stopped beside the yacht.

After one of Trent's men did a quick search of Steele for any weapons, something Steele noted every guest had gone through, Trent greeted them as they came on board, nodding in Steele's direction.

"O'Leary. Glad you could make it."

"I couldn't very well pass up an auction, now, could I?"

Taking Laura's hand in his, Trent bowed over it, pausing as he looked at the ring. "And thank you for bringing the lovely Miss Lord along. I hope you won't mind, O'Leary, but I'm in need for a hostess for the evening. So I think I'll just steal her away from you for awhile."

Steele gave the appearance of reluctance, then smiled. "As long as she remembers who she came with," he said.

"You never know. She might decide she prefers someone else's company," Trent suggested. "Help yourself to some champagne." He led Laura away to introduce her to some other gem buyers that were there to bid on the rare gems in his possession.

Steele watched them go, then realized that there was a waiter at his elbow with a tray of champagne. Turning, he nodded at Juan Lopéz. "Need to talk," he said quietly as he picked up a glass.

Juan jostled his elbow, spilling the wine onto Steele's jacket. "Watch what you're doing," Steele said, dabbing at the stains with his handkerchief.

The waiter began apologizing in Spanish, offering to take the jacket and have it cleaned before the stain could set. "If you would come with me, señor," Juan said at last, giving his employer an apologetic glance.

"By all means, O'Leary. Go along. We've time yet before the auction begins - I'll take very good care of Tracy."

Steele sent Trent a warning glance, and gave Laura one as well, intended to remind her to be careful before he turned to follow the waiter into the cabin and down to the galley. "I think some club soda will take out any stain," Juan was saying as they passed one of Trent's men. Steele nodded, removing his jacket, taking the paper Gutierrez had given him out as he did so, and handed both to the other man. His back to the guard, Juan glanced at the note. They turned a corner and were finally out of earshot. "You are here to retrieve the gems?" Juan asked.

"Yes. And I might need your help. When Trent brings out the gems, the young lady with me is going to create a diversion. I'll signal the authorities, but one of us will have to get those gems before Trent can lock them up again."

"It will take a major diversion, señor," Juan told him, using the club soda on the lightly stained jacket. "You are lucky it was champagne, señor," he said with more volume. "Else the jacket would be ruined."

Steele nodded. "Did you call your mother?"

"I could not get off of the ship today. Trent would not let any of us go ashore."

"Just remember what I've told you."

"Si, I will." He smiled slightly, handing the jacket back to Steele.

 

He didn't see Laura when he returned to the deck - nor did he see Trent, and for one terrible moment Steele was afraid that she had gone off with him again after promising not to. But then he heard her laugh - that wild, free laugh of hers, and saw her in the midst of a group of other guests. Suddenly it dawned on Steele that Laura was the only woman that Trent had invited - or allowed to be there. He only had a moment to ponder the implication of that when the door to the main salon opened and Trent appeared.

"Gentlemen- and lady -" he said, smiling at Laura. He held out his had for her to join him, and Steele felt his tension rising. Trent was playing a cat and mouse game with him. And Laura was the bait. "Please come inside so you can see what I've invited you here to bid on this evening."

Trent led Laura to the stand at the front of the room where he had put the blue gems on dazzling display. Resting on a bed of white velvet, they did indeed look like pieces of the sky, Steele thought. Even the blue sapphire on Laura's finger paled in comparison to those gems.

Trent smiled as the assemblage was properly impressed by the gems . At last he smiled in Laura's direction, nodding as he saw her expression. Laura reached out to touch one of the gems, picking it up and holding it gently in the light. Trent's eyes sought out Steele, and the triumph on his pale face almost made Steele physically ill. At last he remembered to reach inside his jacket and click the pen once, starting the signal to Gutierrez' men to move in.

Now, he had to get Laura to create her diversion - but she was hypnotized by the glow of that blue fire in her hand. There was only one way to get her attention, and with an angry sigh, he started forward. "Put that down, Tracy. Now."

She looked up at him, blinking. "M-Michael. Aren't they beautiful?"

He pulled her toward him as she returned the gem to its place. "We're getting out of here. I'm not going to let him buy you with one of those-"

Laura finally remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and pulled her arm from his grasp. "And I'm not going ANY where with you!" She draped herself on Trent's arm. "Philip's offered to let me stay on here for a while. I think I'll take him up on it." Trent put his arm around her. The other buyers were all watching the scene with silent interest.

Steele shook his head. "Over my dead body, Tracy," he declared, grasping her right wrist to pull her toward him again. "After all the time and money I've spent on you - you owe me a little more than a few days."

Laura gasped. "How DARE you!"

"If it wasn't for me, you'd be sitting in that rundown hotel wearing denims and eating hamburgers!"

He didn't feel her hand connect with his face as she slapped him. "You creep! You can have your clothes BACK, then-" she removed the silk vest, tossing it into his face, then began unbuttoning the blouse, moving toward the door. "On second thought, you can fish them out of the ocean!" she yelled, knowing that every man in that room was following her, waiting to see if she would really remove her clothes and throw them over the rail. Trent chuckled at Steele's angry expression, turning to follow Laura as well.

Without missing a beat, Steele wrapped the white velvet around the gems and stuffed them into his pocket. Juan was standing just outside the room, and Steele quickly handed the parcel to him before turning to see Laura, clad only in her gauze blouse and panties, laughing as she turned to run from the group of men following her. She led them a merry chase around the deck, having picked up a glass of champagne to sip as she ran.

Steele saw one of Trent's men come from the salon and whisper something in the man's ear. He saw Trent's eyes widen and immediately move to him. He nodded in Steele's direction and then said something else.

"Mr. Trent wants to speak to you, Mr. O'Leary," the man said, and made certain that Steele saw the gun in his hand. "Now, sir."

Steele moved into the salon as Trent stood over the table where the gems had laid. "What did you do with them?" he asked.

"Someone stole your gems, Trent? Lot of nerve to do something like that, considering the way you treat people who double-cross you."

Trent nodded at his henchman, who quickly searched Steele, then shook his head. "He's clean, Mr. Trent. The gems aren't on him."

"Then he put them somewhere. Search the boat. They can't be far. He hasn't had time to do much." The man turned to go, but Trent's voice stopped him. "And have someone bring the girl to me. She's as much a part of this as much as he is."

Steele forced himself to remain calm. "She's an innocent bystander in this, Trent."

"Like Anna was?" the man asked. "You blame me for killing her-"

"If I remember correctly, you were the one with the gun. The one who shot her in the back -"

"But it was you who convinced her not to bring the painting to me. To sell it elsewhere for more money." He shook his head. "No, you're as much to blame for her death as anyone. If you'd let her bring the painting to me in the first place, then she would still be alive now."

His eyes on the gun in Trent's hand, Steele began to wonder where Gutierrez and his men were. They should have been here by now. If they took much longer -

 

Laura had, in passing the salon windows, seen Steele and Trent in that room, talking. He was in trouble. Trent suspected that he'd taken the jewels. She saw two of Trent's men heading for her and ran up the stairs that would lead her to the upper deck, only to find her way barred by another of Trent's goons. The two on the lower deck herded the buyers that had been chasing Laura to the bow with the promise of more champagne, saying that Mr. Trent needed to talk to Miss Lord in private.

Trent smiled, a cold expression that had no mirth in it. "Let's go out onto the deck, shall we? The view from the stern is lovely this time of evening." He indicated that Steele should precede him from the room and back onto the deck. Steele knew where they were heading. To the exact spot in which he'd last seen Anna alive. Where the bloody hell was Gutierrez? he wondered again. "Miss -Lord," Trent said, smiling grimly. "So glad you could join our little gathering."

Laura pulled her arm away from the man who had led her here. "Wish I could say the same," she said.

"You lied to me, my dear. I warned you last night that I don't like to be betrayed."

"So I hear," she ground out, not giving any ground.

"Look, Trent, let her go and I'll return the gems."

"You can't do that," Laura told him.

"Be quiet," Steele told her. "I'm trying to save your life -"

"He won't let us go. Either of us. He can't," she told him. "We both know too much."

"You're very smart, Miss- Holt," Trent said, and Steele knew that his chances of getting Laura out of this in one piece had just dropped to practically nil. "And you're right. Your association with this- gentleman has led you to the same fate as the last woman he was with on this boat." He lifted his gun, taking careful aim.

"Would you rather I turn around so you can shoot ME in the back? From what I hear, that's more your style," she told him, and Steele groaned softly.

The woman just refused to quit. "Laura-" he began, only to feel the barrel of a revolver dig deeper into his back. Suddenly the area was lit by bright lights and Steele used the distraction of his guard to bring his arm up to hit the man in the head.

The boat seemed suddenly crawling with police officers, and Steele turned in horror to see Trent raise his gun again to take aim at Laura. "Laura!" he cried out, seeing her vault over the railing just as the gun went off.

Gutierrez ordered his men to grab Trent, but Steele wasn't listening. He was at the railing. "Laura!" Removing his jacket and shoes, Steele jumped over the railing himself, an eerie sense of deja vu filling his mind. Anna. Laura. He'd lost Anna, and that loss had led to his turning his life around. Losing Laura, even though he'd only known her a few days, would be more than he could bear.

The water was cold, and he came up quickly. "Laura!"

He felt arms go around his neck from behind. "I'm here, Mr. Steele," she told him.

Turning, he looked at her. "You're all right?"

"He never came close," she assured him, treading water as he did.

"Thank god," Steele breathed, pulling her to him. "When I saw you go over that rail, all I could think of was-"

"Anna." She pressed herself against him. "I'm quite alive, Mr. Steele."

"So you are, Miss Holt," he said, his lips on hers. "So you are." His lips covered hers, and he felt her heartbeat quickening as she pressed even closer. The area was illuminated by a spotlight, and Steele drew back slowly.

"Mr. Steele! Miss Holt" Gutierrez called out, "One of my men is bringing a boat to get you."

"Why don't we tell him not to bother?" Laura asked, her eyes filled with invitation.

"Because this water is cold. And we have something to finish up there."

Laura sighed. "You really need to loosen up a little, Mr. Steele."

He made certain that she had a blanket around her when they returned to the yacht. The blue gauze of her shirt was nearly transparent when wet, and although Laura had insisted she wasn't cold, he had insisted that she wrap the blanket around her for modesty's sake if no other reason. Juan grinned at them both as he gave Steele the white velvet, watching as the detective placed it on a table and spread it out for Gutierrez to see. "Royal Lavulite," Steele said. "I believe the South American government will be most grateful for its safe return," he said, picking up a stone to look at it as Laura had earlier. He could understand her fascination. The stones were absolutely beautiful.

"They have offered a reward for their return," Gutierrez told him. "A most generous reward."

Steele saw Laura's face light up at the thought that she might actually get paid for her work on this case. She turned to Juan. "Your mother is very worried about you, Juan."

"I will call her as soon as I can, Miss Holt," the young Mexican promised.

 

When they returned to the hotel, Steele noticed that Laura was starting to tremble. "You're going to be lucky not to catch your death of cold," he told her. "Go take a hot shower and put on that robe. I'll order something to help you fight off that chill."

Laura nodded, finally coming down from the adrenalin induced high. She was tired and cold, and in no shape to argue with him. She closed the bathroom door behind her and turned on the water.

 

Steele followed her with worried eyes. It wasn't like her not to argue with him about ordering her around. He dialed the number for room service, ordering a hot toddy, then went to the bathroom door. "Miss Holt? Are you all right?" There was no response, and Steele hesitated before opening the door slightly. "Laura?"

He pushed the door open further and could see her outline in the frosted glass as she stood beneath the shower. Under different circumstances, he might have been tempted to join her in there. Might have been? He WAS tempted. VERY tempted. But he wasn't going to take advantage of her drained condition. And there was still Wilson Jeffries to contend with. He heard the water stop, and was about to leave the bathroom when she opened the frosted door of the shower and stepped out onto the bath rug. She was still shivering, Steele realized as she dropped the towel.

Pushing any other thoughts aside, Steele came farther into the room and picked up the towel, then began using it to rub the circulation back into the arms and legs - at last he reached for the white robe and helped her put it on. "Better?" he asked, and she nodded.

He led her out to the sitting room as the hot whiskey drink was delivered, then gave it to her. "I don't know what's wrong," she said quietly. "I guess maybe it's just - let down. I was so psyched up -"

"You've had quite an exciting evening," he pointed out, watching as she took a sip of the drink and her eyes widened. "Drink it all," he said gently. "Between your little diversion and almost being killed - I don't doubt that you're having a reaction."

She dimpled, and Steele relaxed a little. "I don't know what it is about Acapulco that makes me do things like that. But it worked."

"Long enough for me to get the gems, at any rate. But you took a big chance that Trent wouldn't follow you, choose instead to remain in the salon."

"He's a man," Laura reminded him. "You even followed me out of that room -"

"To give the gems to Juan," he told her. "Not to watch your little show."

She grinned impishly. "I'm disappointed. I did it all for your benefit, Mr. Steele." Her gaze fell on the sapphire she still wore. "I guess it's time that Cinderella left the ball," she sighed, removing the ring and holding it out to him. "Thank you."

Steele looked at the ring for a moment before putting it in his pocket. "Finish your drink and then you're going to bed." Her eyes were starting to droop as the effect of the warm drink and shower took their toll.

"Why, Mr. Steele. You're not trying to get me into your bed, are you?"

"Not at all, Miss Holt." He took the empty mug from her and lifted her into his arms with little effort. "Just trying to be a gentleman," he told her, carrying her to the bed in the other room. Her eyes were closed by the time her head found the pillow. "But you make it damn near impossible to do, Laura," he said softly, before turning to take a hot shower himself.

 

She was already out of bed when he woke the next morning, making enough noise to wake the dead, he thought, watching her through lowered lids as she hastily put things into her suitcase. She closed the latches, and looked around the room, then put a paper on the dresser before turning toward the door. "Where do you think you're going, Miss Holt?" he asked.

Laura dropped the case, turning to face him with a too-wide smile. "Just getting a head start on my packing, Mr. Steele. After all, don't want to miss that flight back to LA, now, do I?"

"The flight's not until one this afternoon," he told her, as he got out of bed and went toward the dresser. Seeing where he was headed, Laura tried to beat him to the paper. She lost the race as Steele picked it up and read it. "I'm sorry, I can't go back and face Wilson yet. Tell him I'm okay, and I'll be in touch. Thanks for everything." He looked at her. "You're going back to LA, Laura. You're going to tell Wilson how you feel and that you have to do whatever will make you happy. If that doesn't include Wilson Jeffries, then so be it. But you're not going to leave him in the lurch like that."

"You don't understand, Mr. Steele - Remington-" She frowned. "Did your mother hate you or did she just have this thing for typewriters?"

"I beg your pardon?" Steele asked, blinking at her question.

"That name. Remington. Sounds like you were named after a typewriter."

"It's an old family name," he told her, wondering how she could have guessed the truth. That he'd come up with the name after spending an hour in front of a typewriter, his mind at a loss for a new name to go with his new life.

"Oh."

"You were telling me that I didn't understand?" he prompted.

"If I go back, he'll expect me to just pretend this never happened. He'll start trying to turn me into that cookie cutter image he has of a the perfect banker's wife. I can't do that."

"Then tell him. Tell him that you want to be a detective, and that if he can't handle that, then -"

"I've spent the last five years trying to tell him that, Mr. Steele." She sat down on the bed. "He would have done it to me, you know. Left me without a word, not even a note. He tried to, once."

Steele had to strain to listen to her words. "When?"

"After that trip to Acapulco. After Pepe's. He was furious with me, said I shouldn't have done something like that - wondered how on earth he was going to face everyone down at the bank. I told him he shouldn't worry, that most of them were so drunk that they wouldn't remember it anyway."

Steele saw the pain on her face. "But they did."

She nodded as her chestnut hair fell to cover her face. "He said that it was all he heard about that day - even his boss called him in- the president of the bank, and said that he had thoroughly enjoyed my little show - but he didn't think I was the proper wife for someone in Wilson's position. That if I could do something like that, in Acapulco, who KNOWS what I might do to embarrass Wilson - and the bank in LA."

"What did Wilson do?"

"I'd gone out shopping - trying to find something really nice for him. To make it up to him. I got home and found him packing his suitcase. He told me what Mr. Milton had said, that he was right."

Laura sighed heavily. "And he was. But all I knew was that Wilson was leaving me, just like -"

"Like your father left your mother?"

She nodded, not asking how he'd gotten that information. "I was so terrified of being alone, I promised I'd change. That I'd become that perfect little cookie cutter person. And I tried, I really did."

"Until you decided to become a detective, and then he found out and you quit again to make him happy."

"I'm afraid that I'll get back up there and he'll threaten to leave, and I won't do anything except give in again. I can't do it anymore, Mr. Steele. I just can't!"

"Then tell him again," Steele told her softly. "And keep telling him until he listens. Don't live your life for anyone else, Laura. It's too short to do that." He got his clothes out of the closet. "I'm going to get dressed, and when I come out, we'll have breakfast downstairs." He looked at her. "You WILL still be here, won't you?"
Laura looked defeated suddenly. "I'll be here," she told him.

Steele came across to her, lifting her chin. "Chin up, Miss Holt. It's never too late to change your life. Believe me, I know. Now give us a smile." He waited for Laura's lips to turn up, and very nearly bent to kiss them. Releasing her chin, he turned away abruptly. "I won't be a moment."

Laura remained on the bed, waiting. But for what? she asked herself. For what?

 

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