The Paris Caper (39 page)
Authors: Nina Bruhns
“Shall we do this?”
Valois prompted.
“I’ll need to see the
money first,” Villalobo said silkily, beckoning over one of the gorillas, who
produced a small wireless computer and set it on the green felt of the table.
“
Naturellement
.”
Valois went to it and typed for a minute, until the screen filled with account
information from a well-known Swiss bank. “As you can see, it’s all there.”
Villalobo jerked his chin
at the other gorilla, who went to fetch a case sitting on the floor in the corner.
When he poured the diamonds from their red velvet pouch onto the felt table,
Ciara sucked in a sharp breath of awe.
The stones were
absolutely gorgeous. Even in the low light of the smoky game room, they
sparkled and shimmered like stars against a dark green heaven.
“They’re larger than I
expected,” Valois said with a frown.
“That’s a problem?”
“Diamonds of such size
and quality will be much more difficult to dispose of. I’m afraid—”
“Enough!” Villalobo spat
out, making Ciara jump and her pulse go into hyperspeed. “Not my concern. Do
not try to renegotiate the price,
amigo
. You will regret it!”
To his credit, Pierre
stepped forward as though to shield Valois. Villalobo’s face turned so red, for
a second she thought maybe he’d kill Pierre right here and save her the
trouble.
But Valois waved Pierre
back. “
Mademoiselle
?” In keeping with her role as gem expert, he handed
her the jewelers loupe he carried on a chain like a pocket watch. “Your
opinion?”
It was all for show, of
course. But thankfully, he’d taught her enough over the years to look at the
stones and pronounce a rough but respectable range of color, clarity and
carats. Even if the terror-induced adrenaline made focusing difficult.
“Can we get twelve for
them?” he asked.
She took a deep breath
and said what they’d rehearsed. “Eleven to twelve. Perhaps a bit less. Of
course, without a microscope...” She did her best to lift her shoulder
casually.
Valois nodded, and told
Villalobo, “Very well. You’ll have your six million. “Pierre, gather the stones
while I—”
“My man will do that,”
Villalobo snapped.
Valois swiftly
transferred the money and shifted the wireless computer to Villalobo to check
that it had been deposited to his own account. With a smile that sent chills
down Ciara’s spine, Villalobo then rose from his seat, took the velvet pouch
from his man and tossed it to Valois.
Pierre reached out and
caught it, offhandedly sticking it in his inside jacket pocket. “I’ll need my
weapons back.”
The gorilla reluctantly
handed them back under the suspicious eye of the other guard.
“See them out,” Villalobo
ordered, dismissing them with hardly a glance. “And send the others back in.
“A pleasure doing
business,” Valois said with a parting bow, then turned to her and took her arm.
“Walk with me
ma petite
. All this excitement has quite taken the wind
from my sails.”
Alarmed, she helped him
to the door, even more distressed to feel his arm was shaking. “Valois! Are
you—”
“Shhh. Find me a
comfortable chair and a cognac and I will be just fine.”
So concerned she was with
Valois that she forgot about Pierre and the diamonds, and everything else. It
wasn’t until they were well out into the corridor that she noticed the line of
armed police officers pressed to the wall on either side of the door.
What
the
—
Someone grabbed her,
yanking her away from the opening. She landed with a thump against a solid wall
of chest at the same time she heard Pierre say, “Jose Villalobo, you are under
arrest.”
She looked up just in
time to see Jean-Marc pull out his handcuffs. Before she could exclaim, he spun
her around and slapped the cuffs on her wrists—just as Pierre and a quartet of
officers hustled Villalobo and his two gorillas out of the Palm room, also in
handcuffs. The waiting phalanx of uniforms surrounded them, guns drawn. To her
dismay, she saw another cop take hold of Valois’ arm.
“Oh my God, Jean-Marc.
You’re not serious—”
But apparently he was.
“You are under arrest,” he shouted above Villalobo’s curses and threats at
Pierre, who was reciting a litany of charges against him.
“Put your hands behind
your back, old man,” the other cop yelled at Valois over the din as Villalobo
was led away, heading for the elevator. To her shock, right before disappearing
around the corner, Pierre turned and gave her a wink.
What the
hell
...
She turned to Jean-Marc
in confusion. “Wh-what’s going on?”
“We’re arresting the
right-hand man of one of the world’s most notorious drug lords. Thanks for
setting him up for us. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
She gaped at Jean-Marc’s
serious face, more confused than ever. She had so many questions she didn’t
know where to begin.
“You
knew
?” she
managed. “About the diamonds?”
“Of course I knew. You
didn’t think I’d fall for that old flowers on the bathroom wall routine, did
you?” He honestly looked offended. “Really, Ciara. Give me a little credit.”
He guided her over to the
side of the corridor and tipped her chin up with a finger, inspecting her
through narrowed eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Other than being
arrested?” she muttered, still dazed by how this could have happened. “How did
you know?” Then it hit her. Of course. “CoCo. Your spy strategy worked.”
He looked pained. “No,
actually, it didn’t. She wouldn’t tell Pierre a thing. Very loyal, that one.”
She didn’t know whether
to be relieved or even more angry. Jean-Marc had beat her at her own game. She
jerked her chin off his finger. “You were ahead of me every step of the way,
weren’t you,” she said, disgusted at her own overconfidence.
Hell, she
deserved
to be put away. Her plan had failed on every possible level. Beck was free and
a millionaire to boot, so Sofie was in more danger than ever. Valois would
spend his autumn years in prison. And her—
“As a matter of fact,
no,” Jean-Marc said dryly. “I wasn’t ahead of you.”
She blinked. “Then...how
did you figure it out?”
“Hugo.”
She stared at him. “
Hugo
?”
Her face must have
fallen, because Jean-Marc gave her a crooked smile. “For the record, he was
very hard to convince. In the end, I took a page from your book. Made him an
offer he couldn’t refuse.”
She was almost afraid to
ask. “What kind of offer?”
“Immunity.” He touched
her cheek. “For you and Valois.”
She gaped. Not believing
her ears. “What exactly are you saying?”
“You’re not really under
arrest. That was just for Villalobo’s benefit, so he wouldn’t think you and
Valois had betrayed him.”
She blinked again. And
darted a glance at Valois. He was laughing and slapping his cop on the shoulder
like they were the best of friends as they turned to leave. Catching her gaze,
he gave her a cheerful wave. “Come by the shop in a few days,
ma petite
.
Right now, I have a date with a very large cognac.”
With that, he and the cop
walked off toward the elevator.
She was so stunned her
only thought was, “He looks remarkably cheerful for a man who just lost twelve
million euro.”
“He didn’t,” Jean-Marc
said.
“But...”
He clucked his tongue.
“Twenty-first century rule number three. Never use wireless technology to do
important transactions. Too easy for bad guys—or cops—to tap into.”
“You stopped the
transfer?”
“In mid-air.”
Gladness soared for a
split second, but then deflated. “That was only half the money. Beck took—”
“
Brigadier
Louis
Beck was arrested on his way out of the casino.” His eyes softened. “Don’t
worry, Ciara. Valois’s money is safe and sound. And so is Sofie, now.”
“Thank God,” she said,
closing her eyes against the flood of emotion that hit her at the news.
Could it really be
over
?
She battled back tears
that threatened, and whispered, “Thank you, Jean-Marc.”
He peered down at her, a
funny little smile on his face. “My pleasure.”
Suddenly, she realized
they were all alone in the ominously silent corridor. Her heartbeat kicked up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
she quietly asked. “You could have trusted me.”
“Why didn’t you tell
me
?”
he echoed. “You could have trusted me, too.”
They gazed at each other
for a long moment.
“Point taken,” she
whispered, properly chastised. “It won’t happen again.”
“No?”
“Never.” She’d learned
her lesson the hard way. When you loved someone you trusted them. Completely.
No matter what.
“I’m going to hold you to
that.”
A warm, melting sensation
burrowed itself into her heart. Did that mean they had a future?
“I’m really not under
arrest?” she asked again, her voice coming out a bit breathier than she’d
intended.
“You’re really not.”
She jingled her wrists.
“Then why am I still in handcuffs?”
The corners of his lips
curled up. “I could take them off.” He stepped closer, raised a brow.
“Or...not.”
Her breath sucked in. The
man was incorrigible. “Isn’t there something we need to discuss first?”
She had to know. Now.
Before this went any further. Despite the fact that her body was little by
little dissolving under his slow, half-lidded perusal.
“Oh? And what would that
be?” he asked.
He knew damn well what
that would be. He was taunting her. Deliberately. The rogue.
“The blackjack game. Your
final hand...”
He leisurely raised his
fingers to the edge of her gown’s plunging neckline and touched it. Not her.
The fabric.
“You want to renege on
that bet?”
She swallowed. As much as
it killed her, she had to do this.
“Yes. Well, half the
bet,” she said. “I don’t want—”
Her words choked off as
his hand slid under the slippery silk, enveloping her breast. Goosebumps
shimmered over her flesh, the nipple hardening and shrieking with pleasure.
She licked her lips. His
eyes zeroed in on the movement. “You don’t want...?” he prompted.
How could she ever live
without this? Without his touch? Without his love? Her heart filled to bursting
with the knowledge that everything she ever wished for, everything she ever
needed, was right here, within her grasp. Jean-Marc. That’s all that mattered
to her.
But he had to understand
how much he meant to her.
“The money,” she
whispered, her lips meeting his. “I don’t want the money. All I ever want is
you, Jean-Marc.”
Under hers, his mouth
curved. “That’s good,” he murmured. “Because I already gave it to the Orphans.”
She laughed softly,
happily. Her job was finally done. Her kids were taken care of, their futures
secure. Now she could at last look to her own.
She leaned into his long,
languid kiss. It went on and on, until her knees were jelly and her body was on
fire for want of him.
“Jean-Marc?” she
whispered, hoping his suite wasn’t far.
He lifted his mouth to
change angles. “Hmmm?”
“About these
handcuffs...”
~The
end~
Thank
you so much for reading The Paris Caper. I
hope you liked the story of Jean-Marc and Ciara!
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Romantic Suspense author Nina Bruhns' adventurous romantic thrillers contain a
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