A Brilliant Deception (4 page)

I
t was dusk, a clear midsummer Friday night, which meant the carnival was busy. Smells of popcorn and cotton candy and axle grease from the rides filled the air. The sky sang with sounds of laughter and the rattling wheels of midway games and calliope music from the carousel.

I made my way to the Ferris wheel, stopping to buy a candy apple along the way, walking along the trampled and flattened grass. I gazed up at the giant spinning wheel in the sky, its lights blinking and flashing. In the lineup I spotted Templeton and slipped into the queue behind him, knowing we’d be paired up when we got to the front of the line.

The bar clunked into place, and we were lifted backward, swinging into the sky.

“Are you all right?” Templeton asked, keeping his gaze on the sky in front of us.

I said nothing for a minute, then nodded. “I will be, I think.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s doing okay. She’s lucky.”

Templeton nodded. “Indeed.”

We said nothing for a moment as the ride climbed to the apex.

“I have something for you,” I said. I pulled out a small padded envelope and held it in my right hand, the candy apple in my left. We were at the peak of the ride so no one on the ground could possibly see the package I handed to Templeton. He accepted it with a gleeful smile.

It made me happy to make Templeton happy, but that was the extent of my positivity. My success at the Briolette job felt as hollow and brittle as a scooped-out eggshell.

The Ferris wheel creaked and groaned as we rounded the top for the first time and started our descent. “Fabulous work, Petal,” Templeton said, tucking the packet away. “However, there is no rest for the wicked.”

I turned to him. “No?”

“I’ve got something very exciting for you—I think you’re really going to love this next assignment.”

My stomach twisted. Ordinarily the prospect of a new assignment brought nothing but eager anticipation. Now it was the last thing I wanted. I wasn’t ready. I needed time to be sure my heart was still in it. And I wanted to make sure my mother was going to be okay.

“There’s a ring. And we’ve been contacted by a client who wants you to retrieve it for them.”

“Templeton, I—”

“I know, Catherine. But I think you’re going to like the sound of this.”

I sat back and looked at him doubtfully. “Go on.”

“It’s a man’s ring, and it’s from the Middle Ages—the twelfth century. It’s the finest gold, set with a massive ruby.”

My eyebrows knitted together. Something about this was tickling my memory. I took a bite of my candy apple, sweet and tart at the same time.

Templeton was working hard not to grin. “It’s the legendary ring of Richard the Lionheart.”

I almost choked on my apple. “But—I thought that ring was a myth. Nobody has actually seen it.” Being a jewel thief, it was my business to be familiar with all notable pieces of jewelry and gems—real and legendary.

“Well, now they have. It was found in a grave that was recently unearthed by archaeologists in the north of England—in Yorkshire. They’re calling it a very significant find, although they haven’t yet released the information to the public. And they’re not telling us any more details than that.”

The Ferris wheel swung slowly back toward the earth, the chair tilting underneath us as we reached the lowest point. We swooped backward through the nadir and then climbed once more to the sky for our second go-around.

“Do we know who is hiring us? And why?”

“Well, things are a little need-to-know at the moment, and the information I have is pretty scant. All I know right now is that it looks like we’ve been hired by some branch of local government in England. Apparently it’s not a theft for monetary gain, but to hide the very existence of the ring.”

I licked my lips. It was odd, and not the usual motive for stealing a jewel.

He angled his head and looked at me carefully. “Does it matter?”

It did, actually. Everything about my job, my role in life, had been thrown around like the topsy-turvy ride at the carnival, and I needed something to feel grounded by. I needed a good reason to get involved. It was intriguing, but I wasn’t sure it was a good enough reason.

“So—where is the ring located now? Where is this job to take place?”

“It’s currently being held in a lab at the University of York. Under high security. National-level security, in fact.”

“Surely they have professional thieves in England? Why me?”

“Well, that’s an interesting little story. And . . . it’s where there’s a bit of a catch.”

I groaned. Why was there always a catch?

“They came to hear of you because of the Louvre job you did in the spring,” Templeton said.

Ah. So that was it. “They were incredibly impressed at that. Your name is being tossed around in European circles quite a bit,” Templeton continued. “Something you should be very proud of.”

I smiled in spite of myself. I
was
proud of that job.

“They say they can’t leave this to chance—they can’t risk the existence of this ring becoming public knowledge. In one week the archaeologists are going to release this information, and show the world what they’ve found. It has to happen before then. So, they say they need the best.”

“Okay, well, that’s very flattering. But—what’s the catch you mentioned?”

“Well, they want you . . . but they also want Ethan Jones. They are, essentially, insisting that you work together. They know you worked together on the Louvre job, and they believe you are the perfect pair to do this job.”

I was quiet a moment. “Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s awkward.”

Things between Ethan and me were not terrific at the moment. Well, that wasn’t accurate. It would be more correct to say they were . . .
nothing
, at the moment. Because I had no idea where Ethan was. I hadn’t seen him in the past several months, and neither had anyone else.

After I had told him and Jack, on the banks of the Louvre, that I needed to be alone for a bit, it seemed he had taken me at my word. There were rumors he’d joined the Peace Corps or something. Which was pretty hard to believe, given that he was one of the most dedicated career criminals I’d ever met.

“They know it wasn’t just me and Ethan doing that job, right? They know Jack helped, too?”

“They know. But, apparently, they’re not interested in hiring someone with such deep connections to law enforcement as Jack. They don’t want an FBI agent, even one who has been dismissed from the bureau. They only want you and Ethan.”

I chewed my lip. I didn’t think they’d be so committed to the idea if they knew about all the undercurrents between Ethan and me.

“Anyway, Catherine, I don’t think it’s something for you to worry about. It will only become an issue if they’re actually able to find him. Which is doubtful. It shouldn’t affect your acceptance of the assignment.”

I nodded. He was right.

But there was still the larger reason why my stomach felt sour about this job. It had everything to do with my mother.

“So, my dear? What do you say? Are you up for it?”

“I don’t know, Templeton. I’m not sure. I need a little time to think about it.”

“Why? They’re offering a very generous fee. It’s a fabulous job. I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“Maybe. But . . . I’m not sure I want
any
job right now.”

He scowled. “Catherine, this would be a bad career move for you, to turn this down.”

I looked out over the carnival, at the blinking lights from the arcade games. Bleeps and horns and ticking sounds from the Wheel of Fortune floated over to us on the warm breeze.

“Just give me a little time, okay?”

“I can hold them off for twenty-four hours. But you will need to give me an answer by this time tomorrow.”

I fiddled with the remaining bit of candy apple, twirled the stick in my hand.

“I do have another bit of news,” Templeton said. “AB&T has been incredibly pleased with your performance these days. So they are giving you a new, elevated set of responsibilities.”

“Oh?”

“We need you to train a new recruit. There’s an asset who has recently joined the Agency, and he’s got raw talent. But he needs to be trained in the ways of the professional thief. We think you’re the perfect person for this job.”

I sighed. “Oh, Templeton, I don’t know. I mean, it’s flattering. But I don’t know anything about how to teach this stuff. Or be a mentor or anything.”

“Sure you do. You had a mentor when you started going pro, didn’t you?”

Brooke Sinclair. Thinking about her gave me a bitter taste in my mouth. Brooke had been the most skilled teacher I could have asked for. Until she stabbed me in the back.

But this would be different. I would be the mentor. It was my opportunity, perhaps, to do right by a trainee, unlike what Brooke had done to me. Also . . . it could be fun, teaching a newbie, and a good distraction from thoughts about the deeper meaning of my job. And whether I could actually continue in it or not.

“Don’t worry, it won’t interfere with your regular work,” Templeton said. “You just have to bring him along to work on a couple of skills. Polish his pickpocketing craft, etcetera.”

I shrugged. “Okay, maybe.” I shifted in the Ferris wheel chair and it creaked beneath us. “Templeton, I was wondering something.”

“Yes?”

I fidgeted with the edge of my sweater. “Have you heard from Jack?”

He looked at me closely. “Not exactly. But I’ve heard . . . one or two things through the grapevine.”

I waited. Jack Barlow and I had a long history. Not the smoothest of romantic rides, unfortunately. But we’d been through so much together. It gave me a cramp in my chest that I had lost touch with him in the past two months. It was still difficult for me to accept we were no longer a couple.

“You know Jack was dismissed from the FBI, yes?”

I nodded. This I knew.

Templeton sighed. “It seems he’s also forgotten about the Fabergé quest, the Gifts of the Magi. He doesn’t appear to care anymore.”

My eyebrows raised. It wasn’t like Jack. The quest was a legacy passed down to Jack from his father, as it had been passed through the generations.

Only a few people knew the truth about the Gifts of the Magi. Long ago, the Gifts had been secreted inside a Fabergé egg. Retrieving that Egg, and the lost Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh contained within, was the only honorable goal Jack’s father—an infamous thief, in life—had ever pursued. The trouble was, not only had Jack rejected his father’s way of life and joined the FBI instead, he had become completely estranged from his father. It wasn’t until after the man’s death that Jack had learned of the quest. It hadn’t been easy for Jack, but once he had wrestled with the demons of his criminal heritage, the quest had come to occupy a large and important—although secret—piece of his life. “Is that all you’ve heard? What’s he doing instead?”

He glanced at me sideways and hesitated. “You’re not going to like this, Petal. I’ve heard that Jack has been making some rather questionable lifestyle decisions lately. Throwing a lot of money around, drinking too much, and . . . dating everything that moves.”

I developed a feeling of nausea that had nothing to do with the Ferris wheel.

I
n spite of being exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. Maybe I wasn’t used to sleeping alone yet. It had only been three months since I’d moved out of Jack’s place and back into my own apartment.

But it was more than my lonely bed. I had too many questions in my head. Too many things to worry about—my mother, this new job, Ethan . . .

I tossed and turned until my pajamas knotted in a sweaty mess around me. The LED numbers on the clock display stared at me. It was just past midnight. Was that all? I felt like I’d been lying awake for hours.

I got up, pulled on a pair of sweats, threw my hair into a ragged ponytail, and walked out of my apartment. A quick glance in the mirror of the elevator proved to be a mistake. I had neglected to take off my makeup before going to bed, so there was mascara smeared around my eyes and a generally shiny, smudgy look about my face.

It didn’t matter. Who was I trying to impress? All I needed to do was walk a little. Clear my head, then get back to sleep.

If it were a more reasonable hour, I’d have called my girlfriends to meet for coffee or a glass of wine. I really could use some therapeutic girl talk. Or a distraction, at least. But neither Mel nor Sophie would appreciate me waking them up in the middle of the night to talk about my problems.

Cool night air tingled my nostrils as I stepped outside. At least the neighborhood was familiar. It was the same one Jack and I had lived in.

I strolled, hungry and wondering what would be open after midnight. But I wasn’t going into a bar or restaurant looking like this. Corner store it was.

I stepped inside the fluorescently lit space that smelled of stale coffee and lemonade slushies. I shuffled down the aisles in search of suitable snacks. Chocolate—yes, I was definitely in need of some chocolate. I also grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream. And a huge bag of pork rinds. And a
People
magazine with a picture of the latest Bachelor. Then I noticed a sale on mega packs of tampons, and also toilet paper. Might as well stock up, right?

I felt sheepish putting all this stuff on the counter in front of the very young and quite cute guy with deep blue eyes working the cash register, but really, what did I care? I didn’t know him. And I needed this stuff. Especially the pork rinds.

The door chime jangled and I heard a man and a woman enter. The woman laughed flirtatiously as the man finished the tail end of a story.

My heart stopped in its tracks. Even though I hadn’t turned yet, I knew the man’s voice. It was Jack.

My head turned on an irresistible swivel. Sure enough, Jack Barlow was entering the store with a woman on his arm. They were both in cocktail attire.

Jack looked drop-dead gorgeous, as always. Tall, dark, broad shoulders, great hair. Jack was the kind of man who would look perfectly at ease in lumberjack attire; he had the rugged look of an outdoorsman. But he cleaned up like nobody’s business.

The woman I didn’t know. She was young, early twenties. A slender, leggy blonde in a nude, sparkly cocktail dress that showed a lot of smooth, glowing skin. Jack’s arm was around her waist as they walked in.

My chest pinched. Fortunately, they hadn’t seen me as they entered. I had to get out of there, fast. I turned my face away from them, back to the clerk.

“That comes to eighteen sixty-one,” the blue-eyed clerk said, tallying my purchases.

I rummaged in my wallet and quickly produced my debit card. He rang it through and I heard the woman’s laughter from behind me, deep within the aisles of the store. I didn’t turn to look.

As I stood at the counter I wondered if Templeton had been right about Jack. I hadn’t fully believed him. It was so out of character for Jack. But it was harder to dispute now. The whole badly behaved playboy thing had never been Jack’s scene, even though he certainly had the means.

A knot of guilt centered in my stomach. If he really had changed for the worse—was it my fault?

I heard their voices moving closer to the counter. I hastily punched in my PIN. The clerk looked down at the machine and said, “Nope, didn’t work.”

In my urgency I must have punched it in wrong. I tried again, on the edge of frantic. I had to get out of there.

“Sorry. Declined again.”

I closed my eyes and tried to relax. Jack and his companion were right behind me now and I didn’t have a lick of cash on me.

“Okay, never mind,” I said quietly to the clerk. “I’ll—um, come back.” I would just leave, abandon my items on the counter.

“Cat?”

My heart sank into my tennis sneakers.

I steeled myself and turned, staring into the faces of Jack and his perfect date. There I was with my unwashed hair, smeared makeup, and grubby sweats attempting to buy a jumbo pack of tampons and pork rinds, but seemingly too broke to do so.

I wanted to crawl inside that jumbo pack of tampons and die. Instead, I applied a bright smile and said, “Oh! Jack! Didn’t see you there. What a . . . coincidence.”

New goal: extract myself from this situation as soon as possible, ideally with my self-respect somewhat intact.

“Yeah, small world,” Jack said. He was holding a bottle of Prosecco. This corner store, surprisingly, had a decent selection of wine.

There was something different about Jack. Something less cautious, somehow. He’d always been the hero, the warrior, the guy you could count on to do the right thing. Now, here, he looked a little more rogue. A little more don’t-give-a-shit. But perhaps it was my imagination.

I tried as hard as I could to keep looking in his eyes. But I was drawn to his companion, whom Jack hadn’t introduced yet.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jack said, seeing my gaze shift. “Let me introduce you. Cat, this is Madison. Madison is an undergrad at UW, in political science.”

I briefly wondered if this was as uncomfortable for her as it was for me. I also wondered if Madison was someone he was dating casually—or was she a more serious girlfriend? They looked very familiar with each other, very comfortable. This whole line of thinking threatened to excise my heart with a dull spoon.

I grasped onto the only part of the conversation I could. “Oh, I’m a student at UW also,” I said. “I’m doing my master’s in French lit. But Jack probably told you about that.”

As soon as the words were out, I wanted to take them back. It was a ridiculous thing to say. Why would he have told her that? Why would he have mentioned anything about me at all? An awkward silence blossomed.

“Oh, did you two used to date?” Madison asked, finally piecing it together. There was surprise and a certain amount of doubt in her voice.

This was a punch in the throat. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the door, which was like a mirror because it was dark outside. I looked like I hadn’t showered in a week.

“So,” I said, giving a small chuckle, “I was just out for a run.” I glanced down at my outfit, and my generally disheveled appearance, by way of explanation. Not that they were asking for an explanation, but I couldn’t help attempting to give one.

“You run at this hour of the night?” Madison asked. A hint of disbelief curled the edges of her tone.

“I didn’t know you were a runner,” Jack said. “When did you start doing that?”

Crap. I should have said hot yoga. That would have been much more believable. And fashionable.

I needed a way out of there.

The store clerk cleared his throat. “Miss, are you going to pay for these things?”

Oh God, the tampons and ice cream and pork rinds. “Um, that’s okay, I don’t really need that stuff,” I said weakly.

“Here, do you need cash?” Jack asked, reaching into his wallet.

“No!” I said, more vigorously than was necessary, placing my hand on his arm to stop him. Then I quickly withdrew it, which Madison noted with a perfectly penciled, arched eyebrow. “Thank you, Jack—but I’m okay.”

In truth, I was anything but okay. I quickly mumbled something vague about seeing them again sometime and bolted toward the exit.

Even before I reached the door, I knew there were stinging tears waiting to come out. I was a cautionary tale, an Aesop’s fable about the dog with the bone. I had no right to be upset because the fact was . . .
I’d had him.
He had been mine. And I’d messed it up. In trying to figure out which man I loved the most, Ethan or Jack, I’d lost them both.

I burst out the door and the second I was out of view started sprinting down the street.

See?
There.
I was running, now, wasn’t I?