By Hook or By Crook (33 page)

As usual, the beauty of Dürer’s work left her breathless. She heard a sound of quiet awe from Beverly, who leaned forward to get a closer look. A silence fell, and she imagined the others shared her reverence, when Joe’s breath huffed out in surprise.

“What the hell is that?” Ramirez asked.

Ivy looked at him in disbelief. “It’s one of Albrecht Dürer’s most famous works! It’s an original print of his rhinoceros woodcut. It’s virtually priceless.” At Ramirez’s doubtful look, she said, “Well, priceless to a true lover of art, that is. Nothing in the art world is truly without a price.”

Her eyes roamed fondly over the admittedly odd-looking rhino.

“Um, had Dürer ever actually seen a rhino?” Joe asked.

“Well, no,” Ivy admitted. “He most likely drew it from a description.”

“Must have been a shitty description,” Joe said.

Admittedly, the animal in the sketch looked more like an armor-plated freak of a dinosaur that had been dreamed up in a Hollywood movie studio than a real rhino.

“Yeah, that don’t look like any rhino I ever saw,” Ramirez added.

She fought to control a smile at the appalled look on Beverly’s face.

“They aren’t really, ah, art lovers like we are, Beverly.”

“I noticed,” Beverly said with a sniff, and this time, Ivy laughed outright. Only total shock could have forced even a moderately rude comment from Beverly’s lips in a donor’s presence. A look of horror immediately crossed Beverly’s face as she realized what she’d said. “I mean, to each his own, I suppose.”

“Yes, definitely,” Ivy said with a smile.

“Hey, I’m an art lover,” protested Ramirez. “I
love
Thomas Kinkade. Painter of Light, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Beverly’s smile froze. “Yes, quite.”

Ivy cleared her throat, carefully not looking at Joe for fear she would collapse into laughter.

“My father purchased the rhino sketch about twelve years ago. It’s gone up greatly in value since then, I’m sure. Original Dürer sketches don’t come on the market very often, as you know.”

Beverly moved in closer to examine the sketch. She withdrew a small magnifying lens from her bag and studied the sketch for several minutes. Ramirez shifted in his seat repeatedly, and even Joe glanced at his watch a couple of times. Ivy didn’t worry, however. The sketch was legitimate, and a knowledgeable eye like Beverly’s would recognize it.

After a long time, Beverly straightened. “It is lovely, isn’t it?” she asked on a sigh. “It must be hard to part with something like this.”

“It is,” Ivy agreed. “But some things are more important than art.”

Beverly withdrew a cashier’s check from the bag and handed it to her, but before she could take it, Ramirez snatched it from her outstretched hand. “Gimme that!”

Beverly’s chin jerked in shock at the man’s rudeness, but Ivy simply smiled. “It’s all right.”

Ramirez studied the check every bit as carefully as Beverly had studied the sketch, noting the watermark in the upper left corner. After a minute, he kissed the check, mumbled something about Oya, and pocketed it.

“It meets with your approval, I trust?” Beverly asked frostily.

“Sure. Just needed to make sure you weren’t trying to screw us.”

“Indeed,” Beverly said after a long silence, looking with wide eyes at Ivy, who only smiled weakly. Ramirez was better left unexplained.

“If we’re finished here, I think we have a plane to catch,” Joe said, one arm extended to the door. As they left the conference room, Beverly hung back by Ivy’s side, waiting until Joe and Ramirez got a bit ahead of them before speaking.

“He’s quite an...unusual gentleman, isn’t he?” The curator’s avid gaze betrayed her curiosity. “Are you quite sure your father would approve?”

“No, he wouldn’t like Ramirez. I don’t like him either,” she confessed. “But you can add Ramirez to a very long list of recent developments in my life that Dad won’t like. I don’t let it concern me.” She left the older woman standing open-mouthed.

****

“I was thinking about what you said earlier, about how Daisy loves Pock, even though he’s not the best choice she could have made,” Joe said.

He took advantage of Ramirez’s momentary absence to slip his arms around Ivy’s waist, resting his chin atop her head. He stood behind her as they gazed out the windows onto the runway, watching planes depart and land. Other passengers milled around them in the gate, but Ivy didn’t notice. She let her eyes drift shut, savoring the warmth of Joe’s body against hers. With the cashier’s check safely in Ramirez’s pocket, their families would be safe. At moments like this, she could almost forget they’d ever been in any danger, so pure was her happiness.

“What about what I said?”

“When you said Daisy hadn’t made the best choices about love, it made me wonder. Maybe you could be talking about yourself there, too.” Just like that, he spoke the unspoken.

Ivy admired Joe’s forthrightness. She always feared disrupting a peaceful moment. But not Joe. His directness inspired her.

“I don’t agree that I could have chosen a better man to love,” she said softly.

He turned her in his arms to face her fully, his hard chest steadying her softness. She picked up a whiff of his aftershave, a clean scent that brought back sweet memories of the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms. She wanted to kiss him, but, too reticent for such a public display of affection, she held back. She settled for brushing her fingertips along his jaw, roughened by the stubble he hadn’t had a chance to shave.

“I personally think you’re crazy—you could have anybody—but I’m not going to argue with you.”

“That would be a first,” she shot back, tempering her blunt words with a smile that flirted with him even as it promised a lifetime of love.

“Ivy—shit.” He paused to look around them at the busy O’Hare gate, crowded with businessmen and families.

Ramirez had given them a fairly long leash on this trip—after all, he had his money, and their families were still hostage to ensure their compliance—but now she saw him heading back in their direction after a trip to the men’s room.

“So many things I want to say. My timing sucks, as usual. Well, fuck it.”

Ivy blinked at the onslaught of profanity, and then her mind went blank as he sank to one knee. He couldn’t be...could he?

“Ivy, I know I’m not what you had in mind.” His face wore none of its characteristic sarcasm. He was clearly serious. “I know you want to marry someone of your own kind. I know your dad is going to hate it that we’re involved. But I love you. I’ve never loved a woman before, and if you turn me down, I’m not sure I’ll ever love one again. I know your dad is going to cut you off for what you’re doing, and I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about your money. I only care about you. Ivy, will you marry me?”

A million thoughts popped up in her mind like kernels of corn in a popper. Now? Here? The man she loved wanted to propose in O’Hare airport, under the guard of a bad-tempered gangster? Her father would be furious. He would fire Joe and probably disown Ivy.

But one thought scattered the others like petals in the breeze. This amazing man loved her, and she loved him.

What were the odds of meeting the love of your life, and having him return that love? Enough to risk everything? Her father’s enmity was no small thing, as Pock and Daisy had discovered. Ivy had no career to fall back on. She would have to grow up, finally, and figure out what she was going to do for a living. But there was no one she would rather grow up with, and grow old with, than Joe Dunham. She never doubted what to say for a moment.

Tears flooding into her eyes, she sank down too, wanting only to be on the same level with him. “Yes,” she croaked, hardly able to get the word out. “I love you, and I will marry you.”

She didn’t have a prayer of articulating all of the emotions whirling through her—gratitude, happiness, love, and wonder. Thank God, she didn’t have to. She leaned in for a long, soft, deep kiss that did all of their talking for them.

“Jesus God, I swear, I had to check my gun, but if you guys don’t stop sucking face, I’m going to shoot you as soon as I claim my luggage.” Ramirez had been very unsettled every time he had to check his gun with his luggage, as if he’d been forced to check his left arm.

Ivy pulled back, but nothing could wipe the smile off her face.

“Fuck off, Ramirez,” Joe growled. “Don’t worry. You’ll meet a nice guy someday too.”

Ramirez answered with a swift kick to Joe’s ass, but even that didn’t seem to disrupt the mood, aside from the grunt it drew from him.

“This is just the way I always imagined my proposal would be,” Ivy declared.

“Really?” Joe said, lifting one doubting eyebrow.

A giggle broke free. “No, not really. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Their kiss lasted an eternity, Ramirez notwithstanding.

Chapter 18

Eight hours later, an exhausted Ivy and Joe rolled into the ranch driveway with Ramirez in the back seat of the truck.

Darkness had fallen during their drive from the Redding airport. During the last ten minutes of their drive, the sharply dropping temperatures turned a drizzle into sleet and snow. Through the icy windshield, they could see the gleam of lights through the kitchen windows.

As they exited the truck, Ivy expected the slamming of doors to draw attention from within the house, but nothing happened. Ivy and Joe exchanged looks. Even Ramirez looked nervous. Just as Joe lifted his hand to knock, a harried Phillip Cantor flung open the door.

“She’s having a damn baby!” he yelled.

“No shit,” Joe said, pushing his way past the frazzled gangster.

“I mean now!”

They found Erin where they’d left her, on the couch, but her demeanor had utterly changed. Lying motionless on the sofa, gripping her husband’s hand hard, she focused all of her attention within. Her breathing, slow, deep, and even, marked her as a woman in the early stages of labor.

As they approached the sofa, she opened her eyes. “I’m having this baby now,” she said, both joy and worry evident in her eyes.

“You never could be patient,” Joe scolded gently, and Erin grinned.

From behind them, Cantor said, “Where is it? Ramirez, give us the check, and we’ll get the hell out of here!”

“How do we know you’ll leave us alone?” Joe asked as he watched Cantor study the piece of paper.

Cantor grinned and pocketed the check. “I’m basically a peace-loving guy.” Ignoring Joe’s snort, he continued, “I want to be a respectable businessman, maybe run for office. I’m happy to leave you alone to live out your lives in peace.”

Ivy’s jaw sagged at hearing this new ambition. Cantor noticed her expression. “What? You don’t think I can run for office?”

Behind them, Ramirez groaned. “Of course you can’t run for office!
Pendejo!
You shook down one of the wealthiest families in America. We have to leave the country!”

“We?” Cantor echoed.

“You think I’m staying around here to take the rap for you? Come on. I got some people we can stay with until we figure out what to do. Let’s get out of here before this lady drops her kid.”

Cantor froze, looking like a little boy who has opened a brightly wrapped Christmas package to discover it contains socks and underwear.

“I hear Mexico’s lovely this time of year,” Joe needled.

From the sofa, a sharp cry drew their attention. Erin’s face twisted in agony. “I have to get to the hospital!” she panted. “My contractions are coming faster.”

Ivy moved to Erin’s side. “I have some news for you,” Ivy whispered. “We’re going to be sisters.”

The misery cleared from Erin’s face for a moment. She squeezed Ivy’s hand as a tight smile broke out on her face. “That’s the best news I could imagine.” A fresh contraction wiped the joy from her expression. Her face, bathed in sweat, tightened in agony. She turned worried eyes to Ivy. “I’m so afraid for this baby,” she said. “It’s too early!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get you to the hospital.” Joe turned to Cantor. “You got what you came for. Can we go now?”

“You can get lost, with my blessing,” Cantor said with a nod of his head. He exited with his men, including a tense-looking Ramirez. The SUV roared to life amid a cacophony of slamming doors. A moment later, as quickly as they had arrived, Cantor’s men were gone.

Joe exploded into action. “Come on. Let’s get her to a hospital! Pock, you know how to use a gun?”

The thugs had taken Joe’s gun with them, but at Pock’s nod, he retrieved Anthony’s rifle, kept for shooting coyotes, from its locked cabinet, loaded it, and gave it to Pock.

“If Cantor and his men come back, shoot them.”

“You got it.”

Pock’s easy agreement startled Ivy. She hoped they wouldn’t need to find out if he could really do it.

In a matter of moments, Anthony had their second car, a crossover SUV, running and ready. Ivy and Joe bundled Erin up in a coat and scarf and then each took one of Erin’s arms and helped her out to the car to lie down in the back seat. Ivy sat with her, perched on the edge, while Joe took the shotgun seat. As the crossover made its way down the ranch’s long, bumpy driveway, Erin, white-faced and tense, grimaced with every jolt.