The Diamond Affair (16 page)

Jake put the
coffee pot on the stove and switched on the gas. "You ordered pizza,"
he said, opening the box. "And ate none of it."

"I wasn't
hungry."

He picked up a
piece and ate it.

"At the risk
of straining our friendship," she went on, "I'll ask again. Where
were you?" But even before she finished speaking she noticed the hand that
held the pizza slice. The skin had split across the middle knuckle and bruises decorated
the rest. "You hit somebody!"

He kept eating, and
kept avoiding her gaze.

"Fat
Frankie?" When he didn't answer, she stood directly in front of him and
pushed the pizza box out of his reach. "Did you go see him? Or Beauvoir?"

He swallowed. "Right
the first time."

She thumped his arm
where she knew there were no bruises from the car accident. "Jake! You
idiot! You...you
idiot
!"

"I heard you
the first time."

She hit him
again. "How can you be so frivolous about this?"
Thump
. "You
could have been killed."
Thump thump
. "What could you have
possibly hoped to achieve by visiting him?" She would have hit him again
but he caught her fists in one hand. His fingers closed around her wrists.

"That hurt,"
he said simply.

"Yeah,
right. As if I could hurt you." She tried to pull her hands free but he
wouldn't let go. Or perhaps he would have if she'd tried harder, but the truth
was, she liked being held by him. Liked simply just being near him, touching
him, feeling skin against skin.

He muttered
something that sounded like ‘Yeah' but she couldn't be sure.

"You're a
liar, Jake Forrester. A bloody liar. And a, a..."

"An idiot?"

She was pretty
sure she pouted. She was absolutely sure she began to cry. A tear slipped out
of her right eye and down to her jaw where it precariously hung without
falling.

"Ruby,"
he murmured. "Don't." He let go of her hands and swiped the tear with
the pad of his thumb. "No crying on my watch."

His watch. His
duty. His job. She had to remember that. Had to remember she meant nothing more
to him than an assignment, albeit an important one thanks to the connection
with Matt. He didn't feel what she felt. He didn't care about her, about the
Florentine or about the truth. He only wanted to wash his hands of his debt to Matt
and leave Melbourne. Tears and emotions were wasted on him.

So why did she
seem to have them in abundance whenever he was around? She felt like she was
chock full of tears and every emotion known to womankind. If she didn't let
them out, she might overflow.

"Don't lie
to me again," she said simply. "Promise me."

He cupped her
jaw. The gentle, sweet gesture nearly brought on more tears but somehow she held
them back.

"I can't
make that promise," he said. "If it meant keeping you safe, I would
be the most convincing liar this side of the equator."

Her heart tripped
over itself. The feminist in her wasn't supposed to like that statement. She shouldn't
want him to lie to her. But the keeping her safe part made her want him all the
more.

"Jake,"
she murmured, turning her face so she could kiss his palm.

But his hand
suddenly dropped and she kissed air.

He turned around
and removed the coffee pot from the stove. The surface of the dark brown liquid
rippled.

"I should
have known you wouldn't believe me," he said. "You and your brother
have a talent for seeing through my lies." He made a sound which could
have been either a laugh or a grunt, it was hard to tell. "I went to see
Fat Frankie at his apartment."

"His
apartment! You couldn't have picked a more neutral or public place? He might
have killed you!"

He pulled out two
mugs from the cupboard. "Have a little faith in me, Ruby. I'm not a
complete idiot. I did somehow make it through two tours of Afghanistan and one
in Iraq."

She gave his
broad back a wry smile. "Sorry. You're right. We agree you're not a
complete
idiot. Only a half-wit perhaps."

She couldn't see
his face but she could swear from the way his ears lifted that he was smiling. "As
to not being in a public place, I didn't
want
it to be public. It's not
easy to beat someone up with onlookers standing around gawking."

"You beat up
Fat Frankie? For me?"

He lifted one
shoulder as he poured out the coffee. "It was for me too. For my health."

She frowned. "Your
health?"

"I've heard
it's good to have a release for aggression. I do feel a hell of a lot better."
He winked at her over his shoulder.

"I bet
Frankie doesn't."

He handed her a
mug. Fragrant steam spiraled off the coffee and up to her nose. She inhaled it,
feeling more hopeful than she had in two days. With this man on her side, she
could achieve anything, even get Beauvoir off her back.

"He probably
has a headache but that's about it," Jake said. "On the up side, it
might get worse when he sees Beauvoir tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because he'll
probably suggest to his boss that the meetings between Sinestri and Sonya are
about the stolen Florentine, not a lovers' tryst."

"Beauvoir
suspects them of having an affair only?"

"At the
moment it would seem that way."

"What else
did Frankie say?"

He shrugged. "That's
about it. He's not a man of many words. Not interesting ones anyway."

She got the feeling
that wasn't it, that Frankie had more to say, but getting that information out
of Jake would be like hand feeding a lion. Dangerous and stupid.

"So now
what?" she said, slumping against the kitchen bench. They'd exhausted just
about every option open to them and they were none the wiser. "We do some
more listening at Beauvoir's?"

"Maybe."

Warning bells
sounded in her head. Whenever Jake gave a vague answer, it meant he was up to
something. "If you go beating anyone up again,
I'll
kill you."

One side of his
mouth lifted. He was laughing at her. She wasn't in the mood for teasing. She
was tired and angry and so damned frustrated that she couldn't
do
anything about her predicament. She hated staying at the house while Jake did
all the real work. It was boring as hell and bad for her nerves, not to mention
her fingernails.

"Wherever
you're going tomorrow, I'm coming with you," she said.

"We'll
discuss it in the morning." Which she knew was a ‘no'.

"Jake,"
she said on an exhale.

"Ruby. Not
now." He sighed and rubbed his temple. She'd forgotten he must be as
exhausted as her. Just because he hid it behind a he-man attitude, didn't mean
he didn't need sleep or that this situation wasn't getting to him too.

"You okay?"
she asked.

"Yes." He
sighed again. "No. Ruby, there's something I need to ask you."

That sounded
ominous. "Go on."

"What do you
really know about your assistant?"

She bristled. "What
are you getting at?"

"That he
could be the one who stole the Florentine."

"He didn't!"

"How can you
be so sure?"

She threw up her
hands. "Because he's my friend. I've worked closely with him for four
years. We socialize together. I've had him and his partner around for dinner
and they've had me around to their place for barbeques. Damn it, Jake, he's a
nice person. He's not once taken anything from the shop, and believe me, in my
industry it's almost impossible to find someone who doesn't slip a small stone
or two into their pocket and blame it on a customer. I can't believe you're
suggesting—"

"Hey, calm
down." He held up his hands in surrender. "It's just a suggestion."
His gaze locked with hers. "But it's one you need to consider. How well
do
you know him? Or his partner for that matter?" She was about to say
something but he touched her lips with his finger and the words simply slipped
away. "Let me finish," he said, voice steady, commanding. "Sometimes
good people go bad. They get in over their heads or accrue debts they can't
pay." He dropped his finger. "Maybe that happened to Aaron."

"What do you
mean?"

"Does he gamble?
Does his partner? You say you know Aaron, but what do you know about his
partner? Or his partner's family? Some people would do a lot for the one they
love." He pressed his hands back against the kitchen bench and drew away
from her. "A hell of a lot." He spoke so quietly and low she had to
strain to hear him.

She hated to
admit it, even to herself, but he was right. She knew that better than anyone. Matt
had given up so much for her—a university degree, a social life. It wasn't
until she'd been old enough and financially secure that he'd signed up for the
SAS. Before that, his life had been totally dedicated to putting
her
through university, making sure
she
had a healthy social life. But would
he have committed a crime for her?

She honestly
couldn't answer that.

"What do you
want me to do?" she asked.

He checked his
watch. "It's late but call Aaron's anyway. If he answers, tell him
everything's all right and you're safe and you need to speak to him about
something. If not, leave a message."

"But if he's
the one who stole the Florentine then he'll know that's not true. He'll know Beauvoir
would still be after whoever stole it, or whoever he thinks stole it, namely
me."

"So if Aaron
falls for the bait, we'll know he's most likely innocent. If he makes excuses
not to meet up, he'll go to the top of the list."

"And then?"

"And then we
go find him."

"But he'll
know we're after him. He might leave the country, if he hasn't already."

"I'll put
some calls out, get the cops involved. He'll be stopped at any airports if he
tries to fly somewhere. But more importantly, we can notify Beauvoir. We tell
him our theory, tell him Aaron is the most likely suspect and to leave you
alone."

He handed her the
phone. She took it and stared at the keypad. She had a bad feeling about this. Aaron
was a good person. If he'd stolen the Florentine—and it was a big IF—it would
have been for totally valid reasons, as Jake suggested. Did she really want to
turn Beauvoir's wrath onto him?

"If it is
Aaron," Jake said, "then he's letting you take the fall for his
crime. Is that what a good friend does?"

She chewed the
inside of her lip to stop it wobbling. This wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to
make this choice.

"You can't
keep running, Ruby. You don't deserve this."

She dialed Aaron's
number. It rang out to his message bank and she almost cried with relief. She
didn't think she could have a normal conversation with him at that moment. As
it was, leaving the message was hard enough. She gave him the number and told
him to call back when he got the message because she needed to speak to him. She
made sure to mention the drama about the missing diamond being all over.

She hung up and
handed the phone back to Jake. "I feel awful."

He leaned forward
and kissed the top of her head. "I know that was hard but you did a good
job. Now, go to bed. You look exhausted."

He was right. She
was dog-tired. If she didn't rest, she'd be no good to anyone tomorrow, and she
needed to have her wits about her if Aaron rang back.

***

Ruby awoke with a
start. She'd heard a noise. It was still dark but someone was talking down the
hall. Jake? But who was he talking to? She got out of bed and unplugged the bed-side
lamp. She brandished it like a baseball bat and stepped out of her bedroom.

There was the
noise again. Not talking this time, but moaning, and it came from Jake's
bedroom. She raced down the hall but stopped at the door. She could hear no
other noise except his occasional moan. He could be injured. Dying. She had to
go in and face whoever else was in there.

She drew in some
courage and opened the door. In the darkness, she could just make out Jake
tossing and turning in bed. There was no one else in the room. He must be
having a nightmare.

He mumbled
something she couldn't hear then grunted and lay completely still on his back,
the sheets a tangled mess at his feet. She let out a breath. Good. It was over.
He was safe. Troubled, apparently, but safe.

She made to
leave. In the instant she turned her back, Jake leapt out of bed and shoved her
against the door, knocking the wind out of her lungs and mashing her cheek into
the wood.

"Who are
you?" he snapped. "What do you want?"

She tried to tell
him it was her, to back off, but she could do nothing more than squeak and try
to breathe. His heavy body crushed hers so that she couldn't even twitch a
muscle.