The Sapphire Heist (A Jewel Novel Book 2) (3 page)

There was no art.

There were no frames.

The walls were bare.

CHAPTER FIVE

He was inside.

So easily.

Because that’s what he did. Slipped in and out and stole.

She was damn near ready to just let him dangle.

Hang him out to dry.

Hell, he was probably going to do the same to her. But the only way to uncover his true intention, and potentially the jewels, was to stick to the plan. That meant she was wearing his zoom lens shades and staring out a stained glass window in a Cayman Islands house of worship.

She had to give the guy credit. He’d tracked down a great lookout point and was doing the dirty work. He was the one putting himself in the line of fire. He could get caught red-handed with the jewels; that was the risk with this lunch ploy, but it was the only way. She had to run lookout because Isla, or one of her two employees, might wander to the back office any second, peek around a doorframe, and spot Jake lifting the diamonds.

Lifting the diamonds.

Lifting the diamonds.

Lifting the diamonds.

The words echoed like a gong.

Holy shit.
He’d said he wanted her to be safe, but instead he’d cleverly shoved her out of his way. With her in the church across the street, he was scot-free to waltz away with
all
the diamonds now. Every single last one of them.

She was a world-class idiot. But it wasn’t too late to abort and restart.

Her blood pumped fast and hard. Her brain went into overdrive. Time for a new plan. He’d taken one diamond. If he found the others, he’d likely stuff them into his pocket and jet straight out of town. She’d have nothing in her hands to try to prove Eli’s innocence, though that was less likely. Still, if she had the diamonds, she could try like hell to convince her stepdad to do the right thing. She could help exonerate him. She’d tried talking sense into him, and he hadn’t listened.

But she’d have no chance of doing that if Jake beat her to the punch. She was not going to be screwed over once again by a man she trusted.

She huffed and turned around, coming face-to-face with a gentleman in slacks and a button-down. She flinched. She hadn’t expected to see anyone. But she breathed easier when his name tag indicated he worked at the church.

“Hello. Do you need anyone to pray with?” he asked, hands pressed together, bowing slightly.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “But it would be great if you can pray for mercy for Jake. Thanks so much.”

She practically vaulted her way to the stairwell, down the steps, and out the main door.

The new plan took shape in seconds, because that was all the time she had. She’d have to improvise, but her one supposed drawback—that people knew her in this town—was her one advantage. Steph could infiltrate. She could head straight into the gallery. Isla liked her, and Isla would probably insist she stay.

Have some beets. Enjoy some olives. Here’s some coconut flan.

She hightailed it to the gallery, pushing her shades up on her head. No need for the spy gear. She was invited, because she was always welcome. Privilege of being the stepdaughter, and she’d gladly take it now. She grabbed the handle of the gallery door, tugged it open, and entered a scene of art, laughter, and a smorgasbord of food she’d ordered with an untraceable gift card.

Steph waved, acting casual. “Just in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi.”

Isla’s chocolate brown eyes lit up. She wore a sleek, short cranberry dress and her dark hair was curled in waves that fell on her shoulders. “So good to see you, Steph. You came by at the perfect time.”

“I did?” Steph asked, feigning surprise. “Lucky me.”

“Yes. Look at all our food,” Isla said, beaming as she gestured to the trays of food the caterer had set up. Isla promptly introduced her to the two employees and the caterer, and Steph hoped Clementine wouldn’t recognize her voice from the phone call.

Isla clutched her arm. “Can you join us? It’s such a treat to see you again. Come, have some beets and olives and we’ll discuss the amazing generosity of my favorite artist in the world, Lynx O’Malley. He sent this special lunch to us, and I can show you some of his art on the walls,” she said, gesturing proudly to the bright white walls adorned with his images. “And we can talk and catch up properly.”

“I would love to,” Steph said, though she had no intention of partaking in a tour. She gestured in the general direction of the back hallway, then lowered her voice. “I’m just going to pop into the ladies’ room first. Be right back.”

Isla parted her lips to speak, probably to offer to show Steph where the restroom was. But that was not going to fly. Steph might be pissed at Jake, but she didn’t want him to be caught. She spun efficiently on her heels and walked to the rear of the gallery, crossing her fingers that the trays of yummy food would continue to distract Isla and her employees. She turned the corner in the hallway, safe from the front of the shop. The food had worked its charm, rooting hungry humans to the trays, just as she and Jake had hoped it would.

Steph yanked open the office door.

Jake stood at the desk with some papers in his hand. She wanted to shout, “Busted!” but opted for a closed-mouth smile.

He furrowed his brow.
Everything OK?
he mouthed.

“No,” she whispered. “Get the diamonds and let’s go.”

“They’re not here,” he said quietly with a shrug.

Like she believed that.

“It’s not safe,” she said, then tipped her head to the door. “Go.”

Nodding crisply, he folded the paper, stuffed it into his pocket, and followed her lead as she shoved him down the hall and into the alley.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head. Kept her lips closed. Patted him down. Ran her hands along his sides. He squirmed and laughed.

She fought back a grin. “Ticklish much?”

“Suspicious much?” he tossed back. “Seriously, what are you doing? Not that I mind your hands on me, but something tells me you aren’t trying to cop a feel.”

“I am. I really am. I can’t keep my hands off you,” she said, trying valiantly to maintain her act as she reached into one shorts pocket, then the other. Her fingers brushed across a small glass object. Her spine tingled, and she arched an eyebrow. It felt like a jam jar. “Did you put the diamonds in a jam jar?”

He shook his head. “No. That’s a gift. But now it’s ruined,” he said with a huff.

She didn’t have time to process this comment as she patted his shirt pocket. They were all empty except for his wallet, phone, and the folded-up piece of paper. Fine, this was promising. For the most part.

“Why are you acting like I’m taking something, then?” he asked skeptically, with narrowed eyes.

“I’m not,” she said, fixing on an oh-so-sweet smile. “I was just eager to get my hands on you, and the diamonds. But there really weren’t any diamonds in there? I saw that the walls were bare.”

He held up his hands, as if he were solemnly swearing. “I didn’t find any. I have no clue how Penny got that tip, but it was inaccurate. There wasn’t even a single frame on the wall. I did find some interesting paperwork, though, about some donations—”

She pressed her finger to his lips. “Shh. I need to go excuse myself from this rendezvous so Isla doesn’t think I’m cuckoo. Then tell me all about the paperwork.” She tugged on Jake’s shirt. “You need to wait by the souvenir shop.”

He nodded but furrowed his brow. “You’re acting strange. And a little bossy.”

“It’s a full moon,” she said quickly. Jake left the alley before her and headed to the souvenir shop. While he checked out some postcards, Steph doubled back to the door and then into the gallery again, where Isla’s employees were praising the coconut flan. Her heart raced during those few moments, hoping he wouldn’t escape. But she had to take this risk of zipping back the way she came or Isla might be suspicious of her.
How do burglars and career jewel thieves pull this off?
Managing a reverse con was no walk in the park.

Steph tapped Isla on the shoulder and motioned for her to come to the entryway. She’d have Jake in her line of sight that way. Steph breathed easier when she spotted the back of Jake’s head and his golden-brown hair. “I hate to do this, but I just got a last-minute call to do a snorkel lesson for some beginners over at Happy Turtle, so I can’t stay,” Steph said, apologizing.

Isla frowned. “Oh no. I was looking forward to showing you the art. Can you come back?”

“I’ll try,” Steph said, casting her gaze briefly in Jake’s direction. He thumbed through trinkets on display street side, milling about in place. Steph breathed more easily. He could have been running away, absconding with more jewels. But he was staying. Maybe he wasn’t a total liar.

Which made her theories about what happened this morning even cloudier.

Steph returned her full attention to Isla, then jerked her head in surprise when she spotted something missing from Isla’s wardrobe. Steph brought her fingers to her throat. Touching her own necklace. “Isla,” she whispered, pointing to the other woman’s neck. “What happened to your diamond? Is it being resized or something?”

Isla sighed heavily and clasped her hand over her heart. A pendant dangled from her neck, but it was missing the blue-tinted gem she’d worn at her house party. In its place was a too-bright cubic zirconium. A substitute rock.

Isla dropped her voice to a barren whisper.
“Stolen.”

Tension shot through Steph’s bones. She furrowed her brow. “Are you serious? When? Where?”

“Last night. Right here,” Isla said, pointing to the blond wood floors of the gallery. “During a reception. It was on my neck, then it was gone. I was freshening up my drink, and moments later, Eli noticed it was missing. It must have fallen out of the casing on the necklace, and then someone took it.”

Steph blinked. She swallowed. Her skull echoed. “Right here? In the gallery? Last night? What time?”

“It was around eight.”

Steph calculated. Jake was with her then on the boat. He couldn’t have taken Isla’s stone. “We looked everywhere. We canvassed the entire place,” Isla continued, sweeping her hands around to indicate the enormity of the search.

“But how do you know it was stolen and not just misplaced?”

“We looked everywhere,” Isla said. “As you can see, there isn’t a lot of clutter. It’s quite bare. But there was no diamond anywhere. So it can’t have been lost.”

“Do you have any idea who took it?”

“None. But thank God we moved the other diamonds from here a while ago.”

The other diamonds.

Holy moly.
Steph’s jaw dropped. Clanged on the floor.

Isla admitted it. Officially. They had diamonds. Shock reverberated in her bones. But was Isla actually saying the gallery had once been the home for their diamond stash? “You had diamonds here?” she asked, pointing to the floor, trying to make sense of this new wrinkle.

Isla nodded. She placed a hand on Steph’s back, lowering her voice more. “We used to have a lot here, but not anymore. You can’t be too careful with precious stones. As you know, since Eli gave you one. I do hope you’re keeping it safe. As safe as can be.”

“Yes,” Steph croaked out. She had no clue what else to say. No notion what to do. This new slew of information was slamming her around, knocking her left and right, like a cartoon character being pummeled and seeing stars. She tapped her wrist once more. “I should go.”

“Let’s do this another time,” Isla said, her tone immediately jettisoning back to the fully upbeat woman Steph had briefly gotten to know.

She nearly stumbled out of the gallery, her breath coming fast, her blood racing through her veins.

Jake leaned against the brick wall of the souvenir shop, right where she’d told him to wait.

Was she wrong in her assumption that Jake had taken her gem?

Maybe he really didn’t have the diamonds from the gallery. Perhaps Isla was telling the truth, and Eli moved them to a new location a while ago. Her head swam with possibilities, with far too many permutations. She needed to regroup, but she also needed to figure out if Jake was playing her.

And there was only one way to find out.

CHAPTER SIX

Get him naked.

Not to check body cavities. Because . . . eww.

But for another reason.

Because she hardly knew which way was up anymore. She wanted to trust Jake, so very badly. But she didn’t know how to. She’d trusted Duke for years and was slapped in the face by him when their love went sour. She’d known Jake for less than a week. This was the man gunning for her stepdad. She had to be certain, beyond a reasonable doubt, that he wasn’t playing her, and the only way to be certain was to conduct a thorough check of his clothes.

But first, the Novocain of a kiss.

The second the door to her room shut, she pounced on him, kissing hard to silence all conversation, to use the same drug on him that he’d used on her last night. Closeness. Connection. Red-hot contact. It had worked wonders at turning her into a quivering one-track woman, hell-bent only on pleasure. Maybe it could do the same to Jake so he’d easily let her investigate . . . his pockets.

As she consumed his lips, her brain whirred fast and crazy with a Rubik’s Cube of possibilities.

He’d stolen the diamond while she was sleeping.

He hadn’t stolen it at all.

Both Isla and Jake were lying about the jewels.

Jake was hiding the diamonds he’d taken from Isla’s office.

In his shoe. In his wallet. In the pocket of his underwear.

Wait. Did underwear have pockets anymore? Did they ever have pockets?

What if maybe he wasn’t hiding them at all?

There were too many outcomes, and she hardly knew how to navigate this topsy-turvy maze. As she slid her tongue between Jake’s soft, delicious lips, her mind settled, and her body took the driver’s seat. Kissing him intoxicated her, too. It had from the very first night. His kisses were preludes. A hint of what might come. An appetizer inviting her to the table of all the pleasure this man could give. She hummed with desire as she explored his mouth. Her skin sizzled and her belly flipped. Then it flopped again as he groaned from her kissing. A sexy, masculine rumble because of her, and how she took the reins and led this carnal moment.

He liked it, and dammit, so did she.

It both pissed her off and ignited her. In mere seconds of their lips sealing, she was wildly aroused when she wanted to feel nothing for him. Nothing but anger. Only, she felt so much more than nothing, especially because the Rubik’s Cube of options was lining up squares in his favor as he looped his hands through her hair, then broke the kiss momentarily to whisper, “I have no idea why you’re acting so strange today, but when you kiss me like that, I kind of stop caring.” His voice was both husky and true. “I like it too much.”

Her heart slammed to the ground, then bounced back up. She gave herself a pep talk.

Do it.

Checking would be for the best. She had to know, and there was one way to find out. Finish what she’d started outside the gallery and conduct her investigation.

“I like it, too,” she said in a sexy purr, then dropped her lips to his neck, kissing a trail up his skin, savoring the clean scent of him, how he gripped her hair harder as she kissed, then nipped on his earlobe.

He groaned.

She flicked her tongue against the shell of his ear.

He grabbed her harder, crushing her body against his, his erection pressing into her.

Fuck, she wanted him.

The angel popped up on her shoulder.
Trust him.

The devil appeared.
Frisk him.

Before she could hesitate, she spoke in a rush. “Jake, can I blindfold you and kiss you all over?”

His green eyes twinkled. “Hell yeah.”

She darted to her suitcase, hunted for a bikini wrap that when folded over would double nicely as a blindfold, and then turned around to find he’d already shed his shorts and T-shirt. Her skin heated up at the sight of his broad, toned body, his firm muscles and tanned skin.

“Bed. Now,” she said, and he stretched out.

She climbed over him and tied the wrap over his eyes, then raked her eyes over him from head to toe. Sparks shot through her as she took him in on the bed, clad only in boxer briefs. He looked hot like that, his strong chest and sturdy arms on display and the rigid lines between his abs self-evident. Not to mention the fact that the white boxers left little to the imagination about his desire for her.

“Give me thirty seconds to put on some music and slip into something more comfortable,” she said, then grabbed her phone and called up a Jane Black song. Once the music started, she quietly picked up his shorts from the floor, snagged his wallet, and opened it, flipping through it quickly. Diamonds were small. If he had found diamonds in Isla’s office, he could have hidden them in his wallet and claimed he’d uncovered none.

But the leather fold contained only credit cards and greenbacks.

Next, she dipped her hand into the back pocket of his shorts, checking there, too, as the clock ticked. Her heart beat furiously, pounding in her ears, as he lay calmly on the bed. Happily waiting for her as she raced through his clothes.

“Tick tock, Steph. You should be about naked now or wearing the red lacy thong I’m picturing you in,” he said in a playful tone, parking his hands behind his head.

So trusting. So happy to be here.

Her shoulders tensed. “Almost there,” she said from her spot kneeling on the floor as she reached into the front pocket and wrapped her hands around a . . . jar of honey?

She took it out, and then burst into a wide smile. He had a jar of the honey she loved. That was too cute. Too adorable. And she was too confused.

Something just didn’t add up.

Something made no sense at all.

All the evidence pointed to Jake Harlowe telling the truth about today’s visit to the gallery—that he’d come up empty-handed.

If he had, that meant he wasn’t hiding any of Isla’s diamonds from Steph.

She also knew he hadn’t pilfered Isla’s stone last night. He had an alibi—Steph herself.

That also meant someone else took her stone.

That was bad.

She dragged a hand through her hair, then shrugged. Fuck it. Time to come clean with the hot, sexy man in her bed. But as she dropped one knee to the bed and crawled over to him, she sat up straight.

A loud rapping echoed in the room.

Someone was knocking on the door.

Several times. Over and over.

“This is the hotel manager.”

Shit.

In seconds, Jake had untied his blindfold.

“I’d better answer that,” she said, and Jake scrambled to pull on his shorts while she headed to the door.

She opened it to find a tall, red-haired man with a mustache. He was dressed in gray slacks, a white shirt, a tie, and a suit jacket. A brass name tag on the jacket revealed his name: A
LFREDO
.

He bowed his head slightly. “Hello, Ms. Anderson,” he said in a friendly but apologetic voice. “So sorry to disturb you this afternoon, but I wanted to check and make sure you had received the paperwork for your meeting.”

She knit her eyebrows together. A small kernel of worry took hold inside her. “I’m sorry, but what meeting are you referring to?”

“The meeting you had this morning, I believe?”

Jake walked over to the door, joined her in the entryway, and draped an arm across her waist. The gesture felt strangely comforting, and she both wanted it and was sure she didn’t deserve it. Not after doubting him the way she had.

“I didn’t have a meeting today,” she said to the hotel manager, tilting her head to the side. “And I didn’t receive any paperwork.”

“Oh dear,” the manager said, scratching his chin.

“Which means I have no clue what you’re talking about. Care to enlighten me?”

The manager pressed his hands together, steepling his fingers as if in prayer. “Yesterday evening, around six o’clock p.m., a man came to the front desk and said you had a meeting with him today. He informed us he needed to drop off some paperwork in advance. He asked if he could bring it to your room, but of course we said no.”

The hair on her neck stood on end.

Jake flinched. “Good. No one needs to be in her room,” he said, his tone thoroughly protective.

“Absolutely. We do not give out our guests’ information. That’s why my clerk took the envelope and brought it to your room himself. He marked in the delivery log that he left it here yesterday evening, around six fifteen. He left it on the desk in the room, and I came by to make sure you had received it.” He paused and gestured to the desk, bereft of envelopes. “But it seems you don’t have it.”

Steph gulped and shook her head, nerves swimming wildly through her now. “No. I don’t have it. But maybe I missed it,” she said. She scanned the desk and the bureau, but there were no envelopes or papers. She returned her gaze to the manager. “There’s nothing here.”

The carrot-topped man nodded and sighed. “Let me check with the clerk to double confirm it was delivered.”

“Wait,” Steph said. “Who was the man dropping off the papers? What was his name?”

“Mr. Smith, I believe,” the manager said, then swiveled around and marched down the hallway. Steph watched him go, her heart beating out a staccato rhythm of fear and worry. Could the clerk have stolen her diamond when he delivered the papers to her room? But if he had, why would the paperwork have disappeared, too? Someone, it seemed, had tried to trick the hotel into giving up her room number by faking a meeting with her and using a fake name.

Because Mr. Smith was as phony a name as there ever was.

Who the hell was Mr. Smith?

She shut the door and turned to Jake, her world spinning like a mad teacup ride in an amusement park.

She swayed, and the floor felt wobbly. “I think someone pretended he had a meeting with me, followed the clerk as he delivered the paperwork for the fake meeting, then broke into my room later in the night,” she said in a tiny whisper.

His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. “Why? When?” He pointed in the direction of the hotel manager. “Because of what the manager just said?”

“Yes,” she said, and her voice croaked.

He tilted his head, looked at her like he was studying her. “So this ‘Mr. Smith’ claimed a meeting as a ruse to get in your room?” he asked, sketching air quotes around the name.

Her stomach plummeted with nerves. “Look around. There are no papers in here, and I have no clue what’s going on. But someone must have broken in—”

“Wait. Is that why you were patting me down earlier?” He crossed his arms. “You dragged me from the gallery, and you treated me like you didn’t trust me. Did you think I took something from your room?”

“I was worried it was you,” she spat out, the words tumbling free before she could even think twice about what she was saying. Before she could even analyze the risk in admitting that she didn’t trust a damn soul right now. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, a tear slipped down her face. She wiped her hand across her cheek. “I freaked out, because I trusted you. I let you into my room and my body, and this morning after I showered, the diamond was gone. Completely gone.”

He stumbled backward, his arm shot out, and he grabbed the wall. “Are you serious?” he whispered. “From your safe?”

She nodded. “I thought it was you. Because I found it missing right after you left. Jake, what else would I think?”

He shot her a look like she was crazy. “
Anything.
Anything but that.”

“But you know how to break into safes. You broke into mine before.”

He held out his hands wide and shook his head. Anger seemed to roll off him like smoke. “I would
never
steal from you.”

“But you figured out the combo before. In seconds.”

“And you changed it, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I thought maybe you figured it out again.”

He huffed and inhaled deeply, then dragged a hand roughly through his hair. He paced to the window, then back again. “Please tell me you didn’t change it back to
A
-
R
-
I
-
E
-
L
.”

“No, it was—”

He cut her off. “I don’t want to know what it is.” He sighed in frustration, then fixed her with a stare. “Why are you telling me this now if you thought I stole the diamond?”

Time to ’fess up. To tell all. “Because Isla told me this afternoon that the diamond in her necklace was stolen last night, too. And with this Mr. Smith dropping off fake papers and with you not having any diamonds in your wallet—”

He blinked. “Diamonds in my wallet?”

“I blindfolded you,” she said, lowering her eyes, guilt stitched into her voice. As she breathed the words aloud, she realized how silly they sounded. She’d tricked the man she slept with to learn if he’d tricked her. “To see if you hid diamonds from Isla’s gallery in your wallet,” she admitted, letting her confession free in one quick breath.

His eyes widened. He shook his head several times, as if he could barely conceive of her deception. “You went through my wallet? While I was blindfolded and waiting for you to get undressed? Even though I told you there were no diamonds in her gallery?”

“Well, you did give me your wallet a few days ago to hold on to as collateral,” she said, pointing out that little detail. As if that were her free pass to riffle through it.

“I know. But Steph.” His voice rose. “What the hell? I trusted you.”

Trust.
It was practically a four-letter word. It was what she longed for. It was what she’d tried to believe in. But if she didn’t entirely trust her own stepfather, how could she trust anyone else, especially a man gunning for him?

“And I trusted you,” she said, placing her palms together, imploring him. “I did. I swear I did. I woke up this morning having had the most amazing time with you last night and feeling like we were on the same page. Then my diamond went missing. All I could think was you took it. What else was I supposed to think?”

“You weren’t supposed to think. You were supposed to talk. To me. About it. Because I didn’t do it,” he said softly, his green eyes locking onto hers.