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

CHAPTER THREE

“The ruby is gorgeous. It looks so real!”

Splash.

“Check out the emerald. I wonder what a real one that size would be worth.”

Rubber fins slapped the crystal-blue waters as a pair of curly-haired sisters from the quartet of thirtysomething couples in the stingray group freestyled their way to the treasure chest. The chest gleamed with fake riches under the dock, fifteen feet away from where Steph and Devon dug their toes into the sand and watched the couples in their private tour group having a blast.

Steph bumped a wet fist with Devon. Their customers were getting a kick out of the make-believe treasure. The two women pretended to paw at it as they neared the box of oversize fake gems, the kind of chest that would fit right at home inside a fish tank.

“Never gets old,” Devon mused.

“Wouldn’t it be something to really find a chest full of jewels in the sea,” Steph said as the sun warmed her shoulders and deepened her tan. “Maybe even diamonds. Maybe modern-day swashbuckling pirates are hiding all their jewels here in the ocean.”

She wished the hunt for the diamonds were as easy as making a beeline underwater for gems. Grabbing them, taking them home to Miami, converting them to cash, and repaying those whose accounts had been skimmed. Now she had to grapple with mounting evidence against her stepdad, as well as her own frayed hope that someone else was behind all those e-mails that seemed to damn him. Maybe even Isla. The only way to find out was to find the jewels.

“Buried treasure is just an old wives’ tale,” Devon said quietly.

“I know. I just wish sometimes it were true,” she whispered, fiddling with her treasure chest necklace that her mom had made for her, remembering the night Jake had brushed the pads of his fingers against it as they’d walked on the beach and she’d told him about her parents—about the father she never knew and her deep and abiding love for her mom. She shivered from the memory of how sweet his words were that evening, how gentle his touch. A sad wistfulness descended on her. She’d really liked the guy. He’d been fun and forthright, witty and sharp, and caring. He’d had such a wonderful heart . . . or so it seemed until he stole her diamond this morning, even though some of the messy details of the theft nagged at her brain.

She chased away thoughts of him as the sisters admired the gleaming blue sapphire at the top of the pile of gems. The sister in the purple bikini grabbed a fake rock.

“Everyone loves a sapphire,” the purple-bikini sister declared as she held up a huge blue rock, the sun glinting off its surface. “I’ve never understood why diamonds are worth more. These are much more stunning.” She gazed intently at the phony gem, studying it from all angles.

“It’s so gorgeous,” the other one chimed in. “It looks priceless.”

“It does,” the purple-bikini sister said.

Steph straightened her spine, awareness zipping through her. That simple action of holding the sapphire reminded Steph to keep her eye on the prize.

Sapphire. Eli. Diamonds. Money.

She needed to stop alternating between anger and sadness over Jake. This trip was never about a man. It was about a mission—a chance to right a wrong. She was meeting Jake in less than an hour, and she had to figure out how to play the angles with him. Not moon over what might have been. Besides, this was all for the best. She was at odds with Jake, and her brain had known all along to keep a distance from him.

Twenty minutes later, she and Devon said good-bye to the group from the doorway of the snorkel shop.

“Hope you enjoyed your time in the water,” Devon said.

“We had an amazing morning. The stingrays alone were worth the trip, but you made it so much fun with the treasure chest,” the purple-bikini sister said as she fastened a tie around her wet hair.

“Here. Take the sapphire,” Steph said with a smile, placing the bright-blue stone in the woman’s hand when she finished knotting her strands.

The lady clutched the rock to her chest as if it were a true prize. “I’ll take it back to Idaho and say I uncovered it in the Stingray City Sandbar,” she said, then waved as they departed.

Steph set to work straightening up the shop and putting away gear on the shelves. “Thanks again for letting me do the tour with you,” she said to her buddy. Her own tour started in three more days. She was guiding a group of tourists on a dive through some of the nearby wrecks not far from shore, then out on a longer excursion dive to Little Cayman, sixty miles away. There, on the north side of the island, were some of the best dive spots in the world, including the Bloody Bay site with a wall so deep it was nearly vertical, making for a spectacular dive. She loved that spot and couldn’t wait to visit it again.

“My pleasure. I told you you’re a good-luck charm. One of the guys in the group said he’s already told some friends who are coming here next month that they need to do our stingray tour.”

Steph’s eyes lit up. If there was one true thing that was priceless, it was positive word-of-mouth. She punched Devon on the biceps. “That is awesome.”

“They said how much fun you were, too, with the jewels,” he added as he grabbed mesh bags of gear.

She beamed as she tucked the snorkels away in the storage room. “Well, that pretty much makes my day.”

“I found his comment all the more amazing considering I’m pretty sure you were pissed about something before the tour started. You did a good job, though, focusing on the customers,” he said, arching an eyebrow and waiting for her to pick up the baton of the deeper conversation. “What’s on your mind, Steph?”

She sighed. Shrugged. Fiddled with her hair. Then bit the bullet. “What would you do if you suspected someone you liked took something from you, but you weren’t entirely sure. Would you confront that person?”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “That’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.”

“I know,” she said with a heavy sigh as she adjusted a mask neatly next to some fins.

“Care to tell me more? So I can help?”

She pursed her lips, rewinding to the last few days with Jake. “I’m not sure where to start.”

But the truth was, she didn’t want to say the words out loud—
Did the guy I slept with steal the diamond my stepfather bought with stolen money in the first place?
Nope. She couldn’t breathe those words aloud. She didn’t want either the front or the back end of that statement to be true.

This was a mystery best solved solo, so she finished her work, packed up, and headed to her Jeep, still noodling on the details.

Jake was a professional. He cracked safes and covered his tracks for a living, so why was the safe left open? Wouldn’t he assume she’d check her safe? He wasn’t sloppy; she’d learned that much about him. The man had amazing follow-through, both on the job and in bed.

Still, he’d stayed in her room all night. Hell, he’d asked, damn near insisted on spending the night, and he knew how to break into a safe. She just wasn’t sure why he’d done it the way he had. Maybe to throw her off the scent? Make it seem like someone else had broken into the safe?

She burned with frustration.

How was she to proceed with him? Business as usual or full inquisition?

As she pulled on the handle of the auto, she stole one last look at the calm blue water, teeming with friendly stingrays. An oxymoron.

But in it, she found the answer.

Stingrays sounded scary.

After all, who wants to be stung? But rather than fear them, tourists kissed them.

Steph would glean more answers with honey than vinegar. Confronting Jake about stealing the diamond would only give him a greater chance to backpedal. She’d need to act like nothing was amiss. She wouldn’t let on that she suspected he was a thief.

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

CHAPTER FOUR

She looked good.

But then, that seemed to be the woman’s specialty.

Being stunning. Being hot. Being the sun-kissed beauty he was damn lucky to spend a little time with.

As she walked down the block, all he could think about was smothering her in kisses. Cupping her face in his hands, gazing into her gorgeous blue eyes, lacing his fingers through that blonde hair. Maybe even tugging on it.

Did she like hair pulling?

Note to self: find out if Steph enjoys hair pulling, spanking, and playful biting.

She wore an aqua-green sundress with some kind of swirly pattern. He intended to take it off her. Soon. Very soon. But first they had business to do. Catered lunch to order. A mission to accomplish. He sat outside at a café a few blocks away from the gallery. A Frommer’s guidebook was open on the table, adding to the tourist look he’d perfected.

When Steph reached the table, she shot him a sultry stare that scorched him. With her mere inches away, his earlier wish for the case to end quickly vanished into thin air. Let the case drag on. Let the diamonds go unfound for a few more days. He wanted time with her. To get to know her better, her body and her mind.

But the voice of reason told him the more he gave in, the more he risked. Only, he wasn’t thinking with reason right now. He wasn’t thinking at all. Only feeling how much he longed for this woman.

“Good afternoon, gorgeous mermaid,” he said, his voice dry and husky.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said with a wink, then parked herself on his lap and threw her arms around him.

“Good to see you, too,” he said with a chuckle.

She clasped his face in her hands and purred. “I missed you this morning.” Her voice turned to a feathery whisper. “I can’t wait to have you inside me again.”

Oh Lord.

The woman didn’t mince words.

His dick shot straight up, and he was grateful she was on his lap, covering his hard-on. He was even more grateful that she claimed his mouth in a heady kiss. She pressed her lips to his; the taste of her was so damn sweet. He nearly groaned in pleasure, a sound that would’ve been wholly inappropriate in public company.

He slipped his tongue inside her warm mouth, and his brain went hazy. All thoughts of work, and tutors, and summer school, and jobs, and whatever else he needed to do crumbled to dust in the caress of her lips. She kissed like a dream, and he could get lost in these kisses, in this sweet, feisty, fiery woman.

He let himself for a minute or two, as her hot kisses blurred out the world.

But in the back of his mind the clock ticked loudly. As much as it pained him, he broke the kiss. “One, that was epic. Two, I want more. Three, I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”

“I’ve been thinking of you, too,” she said, running her fingers along the front of his shirt. She smiled at him, a grin that spread from sea to shining sea. She was happy today. Wildly happy, and it was infectious.

“You’re cuddly today.”

She shrugged coyly, then brushed a finger along his jawline. “I guess the best sex of my life makes me that way. Hope you don’t mind,” she said, pursing her lips playfully. She sneaked a hand behind him and gripped his ass. Squeezed it hard.

He hitched in a breath. “Now listen, sexy girl, you’re going to send me into the gallery with a hard-on if we keep this up.”

“But I like you hard,” she said, gripping the fabric of his shirt. Her hands were everywhere. Zipping all over him. Grabbing him. Touching him. Like an attack of fantastic sensations.

“It’s a state I vastly enjoy being in when I’m with you. But I do work better when I’m not thinking about fucking you,” he said, then lifted her off him, and they left the busy café and turned to a side street away from the crowds.

“Ready to place the order?” he said, then ducked down a quiet block along the beach.

She reached for her phone from her bag, blocked her number, and made the phone c all.

They needed to get inside Isla’s gallery to look around. Nighttime would have been ideal, but there was simply too much security in the evenings in this section of town. Stores, restaurants, and high-end hotels nearby employed ample guards after hours, so they’d have to find a way to get into Isla’s office during the day.

Their plan was risky but far safer than breaking in after hours, when they stood a good chance of being caught and hauled away. They had to get inside during the day, when no one suspected a break-in.

As Steph called, Jake crossed his fingers, hoping all the pieces fell into place.

“Good afternoon. This is Clementine’s Catering,” the woman who answered the phone said in a cheery voice.

As a palm tree swayed gently in the breeze by the water, Steph adopted her best professional tone. “Hi there. This is Lynx O’Malley’s personal assistant. We spoke earlier when I placed an order for lunch.”

“Yes, indeed. How can I help you? This is Clementine.”

“Ah, wonderful. Good to chat with you, Clementine. I’m calling to confirm the lunch delivery to Isla’s Island Gallery. It will be there in twenty minutes, correct?” Steph asked, pushing her sunglasses up on the bridge of her nose. Earlier that day, during the morning planning session with Jake at her hotel, they’d come up with the plan—it was a distraction strategy, but Steph hoped it would work long enough to sniff around. All they needed was to buy some time in the daylight, when no one would suspect what they were up to.

Steph had placed the order, supposedly on behalf of Isla’s favorite artist, who was on a meditation retreat. Steph had paid for the pending lunch delivery with an American Express gift card, so she remained untraceable.

“Yes, ma’am. We pride ourselves on on-time delivery,” Clementine said, sounding as peppy as her name. “One p.m. sharp. We’ve got the beet salad, the cucumber sandwiches, the mushroom caviar—”

“And the olives?”

“Indeed, we have the olives.”

Jake stood next to her, an eager look in his wide-open eyes. She flashed him a thumbs-up, like she genuinely wanted to reassure him that everything was on track between the two of them. He grinned in return. Fabulous. He had no clue she was on to his ruse.

“And you’ll be sure to stay and serve all the food?” Steph said, returning to her phone call and resuming her pace along the street, Jake by her side. “I ask because Lynx wants Isla and her staff to feel treated to a wonderful meal as a special way of saying thank you for all the amazing work she’s done for the art community,” Steph said with a flourish in her tone.

“In my humble opinion, nothing quite says thank you like specialty olives and roasted beet salad.”

“Excellent. Lynx is so thrilled. He can’t wait to hear how much she enjoys the gourmet catered lunch,” Steph said, thinking that Lynx wouldn’t even know he’d sent them lunch for a few more days. She suspected he wasn’t tied to his phone while on a retreat. They walked past a sandwich shop boasting Caribbean-themed panini served on the patio under a red-checked awning. They smelled yummy, and the scent reminded her that some nourishment would be mighty welcome in her belly. But there’d be time for that later.

Now it was work work work.

Steph hung up and smiled at the enemy. Her plan was working. The man was putty in her arms, and once they pulled off Mission Lunch, she’d pull off Get Back My Damn Diamond. “All systems are go.”

“Let’s review this,” Jake said, parking his hands on her shoulders as they stood outside the panini shop. To get her to focus, but also because he liked touching her.

“Yes, let’s review everything,” she said, that same sexy tone returning to her voice. She was a live wire of sexuality today.

“If you see something or hear something, or if they start to move, you text me. It’s set to buzz when you call,” he said, letting go of one shoulder to tap his back pocket where his phone was parked.

“Let’s hope I don’t have to buzz you . . . unless it’s for me wanting you,” she said, her voice smooth like honey.

Honey.
Funny that he thought of honey just now.

He bent his head closer to her, brushed a kiss along her neck. “You are driving me wild today,” he said with a groan. “But we need to get into position.”

“I can think of some positions I’d like,” she said, slipping her hands around his back, then down to his butt. For the briefest moment, she almost seemed to be patting his back pockets. Maybe she was reassuring herself that his phone was there. She probably wanted to know he was highly reachable if need be.

“As can I. But let’s save all that for later. I promise as soon as we finish today, I will be giving you a well-deserved trio of your favorite things,” he said as he extracted himself from her grip. He tipped his forehead to the sandwich shop. “And taking you there for lunch if you want. I think the look in your eyes says you’re lusting after a panini.”

“No. Just you,” she said, all flirty and dirty.

He resisted. Didn’t take the bait this time. “You’ll need these,” he said as he reached for his shades. Her gaze was fixed on his hand taking the binoculars from his pocket. He flicked them open and placed them on her face.

“Ooh, I feel like James Bond now.”

He explained how they worked, where she should station herself in the church, and his expected timeframe. “You’ll be safe there in the church. No one will know you’re involved.”

“Don’t you get yourself caught,” she warned.

He saluted her. “I’m like a cat. No one will hear me. My job is to be invisible,” he said, then made a
poof
gesture with his hands.

Twenty minutes later, they were in their locations, Steph watching the gallery through the church window, while Jake ambled along the street, checking out souvenirs of seashells at a shop kitty corner to the gallery. As he pretended to consider a conch shell keychain, a white Subaru with an image of an orange painted on the door pulled up and parked.

He set the keychain on its holder, left the shop, and strolled casually toward the gallery.

A woman in chef whites emerged from the Subaru, yanked open the hatchback, and grabbed a tray full of gourmet food. Jake smiled to himself as she headed to Isla’s Island Gallery.

A lunch ambush.

Nothing won people over faster than food. A free meal was, quite simply, a top trick of the trade, and one of the best methods of distraction known to mankind. If all went as planned, lunch would provide enough momentary cover for him to slip in through the back door. There were never any guarantees on ploys and decoys, but gifts of food usually granted you at least five minutes of safe cover while everyone converged on the goodies at once. Like animals guarding a meal, most people wouldn’t walk away from a delicious lunch spread.

As he neared the entrance to the gallery, he trained his ears on the conversation in the doorway as Clementine walked up the steps.

The black-haired Isla cocked her head to the side as the caterer spoke.

“Good afternoon. I’m Clementine from Clementine’s Catering here on Grand Cayman Island. I have a surprise lunch delivery for Isla and her amazing staff from Mr. Lynx O’Malley,” the caterer said, and Isla made an excited
ooh
sound. Clementine continued. “He wanted to send you this delicious gourmet lunch to thank you for all the hard work you put forth in representing his art and selling it.”

Isla’s eyes widened, and she waved Clementine inside. “How wonderful! Lynx is the most thoughtful artist I’ve ever worked with.”

Once the caterer crossed the threshold, Jake darted into the alley, made a beeline for the back door, and quickly wriggled it open. The task took less than forty seconds. Not quite a personal best, but damn close. He held his breath and said a quick prayer.

Keep them busy. Don’t let me be seen. Let me find the diamonds.

Quietly, he opened the door and peered around. Down the narrow hall. Toward the restroom. Then the
X
marked the spot—Isla’s office. Bam.

As he listened for the sounds of culinary delight in the main room—lip smacking, oohing and aahing—he opened the door, left it ajar, and spun in a circle in her office.