Immovable Objects
“What do you like in a man, Elizabeth?”
She looked at Cole for a long moment, then tilted her face up to his in silent invitation. “Surprises.”
It was as if she was pulling him in. He’d always been an immovable object, someone who couldn’t be swayed toward a path if he didn’t want to be. But maybe he did want to be swayed, did want to be persuaded. All he knew was that he didn’t have the ironclad control over his mind and body he’d had for as far back as he could remember.
It disturbed the hell out of him. But it didn’t stop him from slipping his fingers into her hair.
He felt the pull intensify, but he didn’t fight it. He wasn’t sure he could have even if he’d wanted to.
And he didn’t want to.
MARIE FERRARELLA
Immovable Objects
To Susan Litman, who has to put it all together
Books by Marie Ferrarella in Miniseries
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MARIE FERRARELLA
This RITA® Award-winning author has written over one hundred and twenty books for Silhouette, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Prologue
The man known simply as Titan to his enemies, head of the mysterious Titan Syndicate, was very aware of his surroundings as he walked the dusky, mean streets of Philadelphia.
This was not the Philadelphia of the Founding Fathers. It was raw and edgy and dangerous. Still, a rare note of fondness vibrated within him. He’d preferred Chicago, but even Philly was better than being exiled in Europe.
Europe had not been to his liking. But staying there had been necessary. Otherwise, all he would have seen of his native country would have been the inside of a jail cell.
Because small minds didn’t understand.
The FBI had been breathing down his neck then.
But now the tables were turned and he was a problem for them, not the other way around. He enjoyed taunting, being one step ahead. He’d even taken to sending enigmatic postcards to that dolt Agent Liam Brooks. It excited him to be the thorn in that idiot’s side.
Peasants, all of them, stupid Neanderthal peasants with their insignificant lives, their annoying laws and their narrow way of seeing things. Didn’t they realize that he was a genius? A genius who saw potential for power, for greatness, while others sleepwalked through their humdrum existences, paying attention to confining things like right and wrong. Allowing that narrow view to get in the way of progress.
Yes, he did enjoy leading them around by their noses, these tin demigods with their code of ethics and their long arms. Just because that stupid New York senator had overdosed on the drug. His drug. The “honorable” senator had been an unwitting guinea pig, a step closer to the right direction.
But the drug wasn’t quite ready yet.
And the FBI was looking for him, or someone like him.
The anal fools had blown up his lab in Chicago, killing some of his people. People were replaceable, time was not. They were preventing him from perfecting the drug that would ultimately allow him to control key people. Allow him to be a puppet master until he was ready to take center stage, where he rightfully belonged.
But that day was still on the horizon. Right now, in order to complete his experiments, reach the right kind of chemical balance, he needed more information. More key input.
And he needed to find those brats again, all six of them.
Even if he had to move heaven and earth and destroy all the angels in the process to do it, he would reach his goal. He was born to be a leader. It was his due, his right.
It wasn’t by chance that he’d selected for himself the name of Titan.
Chapter 1
“Missing? What do you mean it’s missing?”
The resonant voice bounced around the sleek, four-hundred-square-foot office on the top floor of the Williams Media Building. Not a man easily ruffled, Cole Williams found himself on his way to furious over this unexpected little bomb that had just been dropped in his lap.
These
kinds of things did not just “happen,” they were orchestrated.
Ice-blue eyes, known to freeze people far braver than Jack Dobson, narrowed as Cole looked at the man who had come into his domain bearing the news. “A priceless statue doesn’t just walk away on its own.”
“No, sir, it doesn’t, but when we opened the crate it was supposed to be in—it wasn’t there.” His oversize Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a cork that refused to be sunk. “Mr. Hagen doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s looking into it right now.” Dobson’s voice cracked.
Taylor Hagen was the chief investigator kept on retainer by Cole. He had witnessed the statue being crated and then followed the van transporting it.
Terrific, Cole thought.
His new art gallery opening was in a week and Rodin’s statue, Venus Smiling, the artist’s tribute to his beloved late sister, Marie, was to be the centerpiece of the entire exhibit. Recognized as the artist’s first work and lost for thirty years amid the chaos of western Europe following World War II, it had found its way into billionaire Jonathan MacFarland’s private collection. After much negotiating, Cole had managed to secure the twenty-four-inch piece, but only for a little more than a week. Nine days to be exact. A sizable donation was being sent to one of MacFarland’s favorite charities in exchange for the showing. It was the first time the statue was to have seen the light of public day since MacFarland had acquired it fifteen years ago, and it promised to attract an even greater crowd than had originally been anticipated.
Because of his self-made stature and his ability to turn almost anything he touched to gold, Cole Williams, tall, blond and good-looking in a publicity agent’s dream sort of way, was the darling of both the business and the celebrity world.
His position was made that much more unique because of his strong ethical beliefs. He’d gotten to where he was today with no backstabbing, no character assassination. He always ran a clean campaign, fought a clean fight. Not an easy feat in the world of media or publishing, and Cole had a well-entrenched foot in both.
But clean rubbed some people the wrong way. There were those who would have liked nothing better than to see him fall from grace, and if they had to create the scenario in order to accommodate the situation, so be it.
Someone had it in for him. Trouble was, because of the businesses he was in, the list of potential character assassins was far from short.
But he didn’t have time to wonder who had done this to him. Right now, what was necessary was implementing damage control. And fast.
Cole frowned. Dobson was still standing in his office, still shaking without giving any signs of stopping.
“Get a grip, man, I’m not going to eat you,” Cole snapped. “Anything else missing?”
Dobson moved his head from side to side like a deranged windshield wiper. “No, sir, just the statue. We checked. All the other paintings are still there.”
Thank God for small favors. Cole picked up the phone receiver. “What about the surveillance tape?”
He had a feeling he knew the answer to that one, but there was no harm in asking. Sometimes, the best of thieves made stupid mistakes. And whoever had taken this statue had just made a colossal one.
Wide, watery eyes watched Cole’s every move. “The system’s down, sir.”
So much for luck and stupid mistakes. “Get it back up and running.”
Dobson looked relieved to offer a piece of positive information. “Already working on that, sir.”
“Good.”
Cole waved the man out. His mind was already on the next step. Being able to quickly anticipate all sides of a problem was what had brought him to the place he now occupied in the world.
That and a wide network of friends and acquaintances he knew he could rely on for their skills and discretion.
There was only one man he knew of who could handle the problem he was facing.
Lorenzo Manelli.
He didn’t keep the man’s number on speed dial, but it was a number he’d committed to memory long ago. Manelli’s talents were unique, as was his price. But there was none better. And he needed Lorenzo now.
Despite the calm facade he projected, Cole could feel the tension rising within him as he waited for the ringing on the other end to cease and for an unrecorded voice to come on.
When he heard a heavily accented voice murmur a greeting, Cole breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Lorenzo, I have a job that requires your special talents.”
A soft, distant chuckle told him he need have no further concern. Whatever the request, it would be handled.
And then a melodic voice instructed, “Go ahead.”
She’d never been alone before.
In her thirty-one years, Elizabeth Caldwell had never really been on her own, never walked into an apartment, closed the door and just taken in the silence, knowing that if she didn’t do anything to change it herself, the circumstances would remain this way.
She’d be alone.
Without Anthony. Without Danielle.
Of course, there was still Jeremy Solienti, the man she thought of as Fagin to her Oliver. Their Oliver, she amended, because whatever had concerned her had also concerned Anthony and Danielle, and they were all connected in ways that went beyond the normal connections experienced by triplets. It was as if, psychically, there was an open telephone line that connected the three of them, night and day, to one another.
Except that Danielle had chosen to hang up.
First Danielle and now her. Or Anthony, depending on which side of the heated argument you looked at. And it had been a doozy, she thought, kicking off her shoes and sinking onto the newly purchased sofa bed that took up residence in the middle of the room.
Danielle had opted to strike out on her own years ago, to leave the world of con games, teetering on the brink of falling over the invisible line that separated the right side of the law from the wrong. Jeremy, their once unofficial guardian, now employer and eternal mentor, made sure that the jobs they hired out to do always kept them a hairbreadth within the law, even if some of the methods they used in getting the jobs done could certainly not stand up to close scrutiny.
But then, laws had not been passed to accommodate those who had been “blessed,” she thought with an enigmatic smile. She reached for the remote to turn on the television set, then decided against it.
Decided to absorb the silence a little longer.
In her case, the blessing had come in the guise of telekinetic powers that allowed her, when she concentrated very hard, to move small objects and make them do her bidding. When she and Dani and Anthony combined their powers, there was nothing they couldn’t do. For a price. The price went to line Jeremy’s coffers.
Not that the man, in his own way, wasn’t good to them. In a move that made life stranger than fiction, Jeremy Solienti, a one-time mercenary, had wound up being their salvation. They were runaways on the verge of getting into serious trouble when he’d come across them. On the street with no money, they’d been reduced to becoming common pickpockets. Dani had picked Jeremy’s pocket at a carnival and the man had chased after her, finally cornering all of them as they attempted to flee.
Once he’d taken back what was his, he quickly assessed the situation. Childless, with a soft spot for kids and an eye out for talent, he’d offered them a home. His.
They’d been leery of him, but because they had nowhere else to go, they’d looked at one another and silently agreed.
Jeremy had been sharp enough to pick up on their unique ability to communicate with each other. And their other abilities as well, as time went on. Comfortably wealthy with a vast network of informants and people who owed him favors, Jeremy set about incorporating the latest addition to his little “family.” He saw to it that they got a good education, both academic and otherwise.
Because of Jeremy, they didn’t become just more statistics in an endless stream of runaways. They could pass themselves off as anything they wanted to with
ease and poise. And in exchange for food, shelter and education, Jeremy availed himself of their unique powers, turning them into a new kind of team.
Her mouth curved in a smile. She supposed what they eventually became was something akin to the X-Men meet the A-Team. Granted, they didn’t have superpowers, but they were definitely not the average person on the street, either. Because the average person on the street couldn’t move objects with his or her mind, couldn’t control things without lifting a finger or connect to other human beings and hear their thoughts.
The latter was a connection she had with Anthony and Dani, or rather had had, until Dani had gone “off-line,” so to speak.
But then a couple of weeks ago, Dani had come “on-line” again. Out of the blue, her sister had touched her thoughts because she needed help. She wanted her to promise to take care of her son, Alex, if anything ever happened to her.
She’d told Anthony about it. And then all hell had broken loose.
The confrontation had taken place in their apartment, the one that Anthony insisted they share so that he could “look after her.”
“Look, she walked out on us, we didn’t walk out on her,” he’d railed, furious, when she tried to get him to talk about Dani. To mend broken fences so that they could be a family again.
Elizabeth tried very hard not to take his outburst personally, not to let his yelling affect her. She knew better than anyone how Anthony felt about things, how sensitive he actually was. When Danielle had left them abruptly to go off on her own, their brother had taken it as a sign of abandonment. Another in a long line of abandonments, beginning with their mother.
Of course, that hadn’t exactly been of their mother’s own volition. Deanna Payne had been killed when they were only three, strangled in their living room. When the commotion had begun that awful, sticky summer night, Anthony had shoved both Elizabeth and Danielle into the closet to keep them safe. He’d stayed with them, telling them to be quiet as the clothes around them cocooned the sounds of raised voices and then the screams.
And then there was silence, an awful silence that ate into the darkness. Anthony slipped out first, telling them to stay where they were.