by Dianna Love
Assuming Frankie would fight her, Lucie turned to Joey. There was nothing he loved more than conflict. “What do you think?”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s nuttier than a fruitcake, but why not?”
Pay dirt.
“What?” Frankie hollered.
“You got a better idea?” Joey showed an amazing amount of restraint.
“Why don’t we just ditch them somewhere and let the cops figure out where they came from?”
“No,” Lucie said. “I want to return them to the owners. That’s the right thing to do.”
The more she pondered this idea, the better it sounded. “Frankie, I know it sounds impossible, but why couldn’t we go to London and just check it out? See the layout of the place. Maybe we could wear disguises or something. I saw a post on the website about a charity function in a few days. That gives us all day tomorrow to get there and, if we have time, we could check the place out. We can buy tickets for the event and one of us could sneak off and leave the bag where the family would find it. Then we walk out and disappear.”
Joey nodded. “It has possibilities.”
He probably just wanted to be rebellious, but what did she care as long as he agreed with her?
“Assuming I would even agree to this crazy idea, that only takes care of my father’s end. What about Neil? He has the other half of the stash.” He turned to Lucie. “You gonna go after Neil next?”
With Neil being so intimately involved in terrorizing the dogs, that wasn’t a bad idea. “I’ll deal with that later. Neil’s part of all this is not in our possession. Let’s get rid of the stones we have.”
Frankie clucked his tongue. “What if we get caught? They probably have security cameras. Even with a disguise, we run a good chance of getting nailed.” He stopped, ran a hand over his mouth. Thinking.
Yesterday, she would have reached over, entwined their fingers and snuggled into him while making her point. That was before she knew what his father had done. Damn these people and this life.
“We should check it out.”
Frankie stared into space. “I don’t know. It might be worth a trip.”
“Exactly.”
Joey slapped his hands on the table and stood. “Good deal. You two take care of it.”
“Right,” Frankie said, not sounding convinced. “I’ll tell my boss I have a family emergency. They always love that. Last time it happened, my father’s picture wound up on the front page. My emergencies are good for business.”
“Wait.” Propelled by a blast of panic, Lucie jumped from her chair. “Frankie and I broke up. We can’t do this together.”
No. No. No. She could not spend time alone with Frankie. He’d try and talk her out of the break-up and, right now, she needed time to strengthen her resolve for living without him.
The afternoon crying jag had convinced her she needed to distance herself from the chaos of the Rizzo world. The latest plan for moving downtown while building Coco Barknell had already been hatched. Money would be tight, but she could do it. It would put enough separation between her and the life. The life included Frankie and she needed to find a way to survive the loss.
Mucking things up even more was the money he’d loaned her. She would pay that back as soon as she was able because a clean break is what she needed. No questions asked.
“I can’t spend that kind of time with Frankie.” She turned to him, hoped he would understand. “It would pulverize me.”
“Boo-hoo,” Joey—Mr. Sensitivity—said. “I’m not going to England. Besides, who knows if the feds are watching me? You don’t want to risk that.”
Frankie grinned. “I have to agree.”
Jerks. Both of them. Even if they were right about Joey’s involvement drawing unnecessary attention. She’d have to suck it up. Along with everything else.
Lucie puffed up her cheeks and blew air. “I want the window seat.”
Chapter Nineteen
Kildare Castle, a stone mammoth of a building, sat on five hundred acres of lush green parkland. Lucie yearned to step off the cobblestone drive and collapse on the thick grass.
The castle had been turned into a museum, but the Kildare family descendants still occupied part of the home. The residence would be the key to Operation Reverse Diamond Heist.
On the far left, a sentry tower rose high in the air, and Lucie lowered her head and pulled her jacket closed at the neck. This fifty-degree day felt more like twenty degrees, but Lucie knew that was just fear freezing her blood.
She had donned a long blond wig for this tour and hoped to avoid drawing attention, but Frankie, despite the thick black eyeglasses, still looked like a hottie. Could he not tone that down somehow?
Trees lined the long drive, offering barely a glimpse of sunlight as they walked along. They had been forced to park in the remote lot for security reasons, and with each step they came closer to the three-story archway leading to the castle’s entrance.
Had this been where Mr. Falcone entered?
She glanced left to the gardens. Thousands of tiny white flowers swayed in the brisk wind. For a moment, she wished she’d brought a camera. The beauty and tranquility of those flowers could sustain her for days.
Lucie tilted her head back and wondered what it would be like to live here, where no one knew her name.
“You ready?” The smooth baritone of Frankie’s voice tore away a chunk of her already battered heart. How would she ever live without that voice? Without him? The finality of it seemed way too severe. Limbo. Again.
She smoothed her hand down the front of her jacket and, given the cooler temps and her freezing body, she wondered how her hands could be sweating. Stress. Boatloads of it. That’s how.
The only good thing about this trip was Frankie’s insistence on chartering a private plane. After all, how would they get a bag full of stolen jewels through airport security? Yeesh. Still though, she took a few minutes to appreciate the luxury of flying on a private jet for the first time and couldn’t find a whole lot wrong with it. Well, aside from the hot diamonds and Frankie covering the cost of the plane. Her tab with him was growing. Not a good way to leave a relationship.
Lucie focused on the castle in front of her. At any other time, she’d be lost in fairy tales and knights in shining armor. The only thing shining in her head now were the bars that would lock her into a cell if they got caught. She hefted her tote bag a little tighter to her body. “I’m ready.”
Frankie rested his hand on her shoulder as two middle-aged women strolled by. “Chill out. You’re holding that bag so tight someone is sure to search it. You should have left it behind.”
Lucie eased her grip. “I couldn’t leave the diamonds in the hotel. You never know, the maid could have gone through our stuff and found them. Then where would we be?”
“Out a million dollars?”
Imbecile. “Let’s just do this.”
He shrugged. “We’re taking the tour. No big deal. A couple of tourists out for the day. Don’t look guilty.”
Two minutes later, they strolled to the enormous stone archway where a woman wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants greeted them in what had to be the thickest British accent Lucie had ever heard. Lucie stared at her for a second trying to decipher the words.
“The tickets,” Frankie said. Of course, he got it. The Frankie Factor.
They stepped through the doorway into an alcove and found a table with detailed maps of the public areas of the castle. The private rooms were outlined on the map, but the spaces remained blank.
“Luce, you’ve got to relax. You completely froze back there.”
“I couldn’t understand her. I was translating in my head.”
Frankie, Mr. Calm, laughed.
The interior door opened and a man with gray hair—what there was of it anyway—and a few extra pounds under his castle-issued polo shirt greeted them. “Welcome.”
Lucie froze again. The weight of this little charade bounced off the man�
�s pleasantness and smacked her upside the head. She’d never be a good thief. The Catholic-Italian guilt would kill her first.
“Hello,” Frankie said.
“I’m William. The tour will begin in ten minutes. Please come in and browse the main hall.”
“Uh,” Lucie said. “Thank you.”
Way too loud.
Frankie squeezed her arm and unleashed the Frankie Factor smile on the man. “We’ll take a look around. Thanks.”
A redheaded woman of man-killer caliber wandered over from a painting she’d been analyzing and glanced at Lucie. Then she moved to Frankie where, as usual with all women, her gaze stayed focused. Even with the damned nerdy glasses, he still had the touch.
Unable to stop herself, Lucie glanced up at Frankie, who simply nodded at the woman and shifted his eyes to the curving staircase ten feet in front of them. Good boy. Lucie threw her shoulders back. Even if he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, at this moment, they were pretending to be a couple.
The woman smiled at Lucie and moved to the far side of the room. Yeah, you’d better move on, sister.
Next to her, Frankie’s breathing mingled with whispers from the twenty people scattered throughout the foyer. Classical music floated in the air and, although not a classical fan, Lucie found the soothing strings settled her nerves.
She glanced around the intricately carved stone pillars that shot three stories high and admired the architectural details and arresting images of angels sculpted into the walls. A man, his back to her and wearing a newsboy cap, stared at one of the giant pillars.
Frankie perused the map.
“What are you looking at?” Lucie asked.
He flicked a finger against the page. “I’m trying to figure out where we’re going to put the—” he paused as a woman walked by.
“Yeah. I get it,” Lucie said. “I thought we were just having a look today?”
“We are. Probably.”
Why did she think her plan of attending tomorrow night’s thousand dollar a plate charity function would be altered?
“Frankie?”
“What?”
“Don’t do this to me.”
A guy in his twenties squeezed behind Lucie and she stepped an inch closer to Frankie to whisper in his ear. “We have a plan. A plan we spent a lot of money on. Let’s stick to it.”
“Good morning, all.” William the tour guide called. “I will be leading you through the tour, but feel free to stop and enjoy the lovely artifacts preserved by the Kildare family. Keep in mind, if you choose to meander you will miss the wonderful narrative. We will start with the room you are standing in. This is the main foyer and these columns were erected in 1602. They were hand carved by a local mason. During that time…”
Lucie tuned William out and concentrated on Frankie, who still had his eyes on the map.
He tapped a finger against the map. “This could be the spot.”
She glanced down. The dungeon. How appropriate. The group surrounding them began to move, but Frankie pretended to analyze a painting. “Stay here a second.”
The last of the group wandered by. “Let’s at least stay with the group,” she whispered. “Even if we hang back.”
No sense in calling attention to themselves right out of the gate. She stared at the map. Hey, now. “Next to the dungeon. That room is marked private. If there’s a doorway, we might be able to stash the stuff there. It looks like the only place that has some sort of direct access to the private areas of the castle.”
“Okay. I see what you’re saying. We can check it out.”
Thirty minutes later, after visiting the marble-encased ballroom and the library’s massive two-story bookshelves, Lucie stepped into the dungeon. At the front of the pack, she could hear William talking about the stone walls in the stairwell.
Cool air enveloped Lucie and she breathed in the unexpected floral scent. Who ever heard of an air-freshened dungeon?
At the bottom of the stairs, the arched stone doorway led to a corridor roughly twenty-five feet long. The only available light came from iron sconces perched over cutouts in the walls where various forms of torture implements were displayed. She imagined herself chained to the wall, blood oozing from her skin. God, what were they doing?
Several people in the tour group took advantage of the wooden benches lining the walls and Lucie considered joining them before her legs turned to jelly.
According to William, the doorway on the right led to what used to be holding cells, now converted to the Kildare family’s private wine cellar.
Frankie grabbed Lucie’s hand. “That’s it.”
She hefted her tote bag higher on her shoulder. “Could be it.”
Insanity. They should stick to the original plan. But this could work. And she was never one to run from an opportunity.
The tour group shuffled ahead to an area where prisoners had been restrained by irons. Lucie gulped the pool of spit in her mouth.
Four steps later, they slowed as William spoke of the open doorway that led to the wine cellar.
“This is as good as it gets,” Frankie said. “There’s a camera on the wall to the left. Have you noticed all the doorways leading to the private areas have cameras?”
Nope. Hadn’t caught that. I’m a horrible thief. “That’s a problem. Then again, I’ve got this crazy wig on.”
“I barely recognize you.”
“I’ll wait until the camera points the other way and head down the hall.”
Frankie’s head swiveled back and forth, examining the various torture devices on display. “If you want, I’ll duck down the hallway and drop the bag in the wine cellar. Let’s hope there are no security guards watching monitors somewhere. If the cameras are just recording, we’ll be able to get out of here without a problem.”
His only disguise was a baseball cap and the stupid glasses. “No. I’ll do it.”
The tour group moved from the doorway leading to the wine cellar. Frankie motioned Lucie to one of the torture devices on display. “Let them get ahead of us. I’ll hover here while you dump the stuff.”
“Right. If anyone comes by, distract them.”
Frankie leaned down and hugged her. “You’ll be in and out before anyone spots us.”
The way he hugged her, so tight and strong, made her realize she wasn’t the only one suffering through this ordeal. He had finally gotten to that place of disillusionment she’d reached years ago. That black, lonely place where disappointment in her father ran so deep it became part of her soul.
When he finally backed away, he wore the Frankie Factor grin. Lucie closed her eyes, slowly let out a breath. She could do this.
For the love of Pete. She’d be a terrible, just horrible criminal.
Frankie, tired of waiting, tugged on the tote bag containing the diamonds. “I’ll do it.”
“No!” She’d never be that much of a wimp. “We’re in this together.”
“Atta girl.”
Right. “We’ll wander up and I’ll duck into the doorway.”
Within seconds they reached the arched doorway where only a red rope stood sentry. A chill prickled Lucie’s arms. At least if she got caught she wouldn’t have far to travel to be restrained. There’s a thought.
“You ready?” He asked.
No. “Yes.”
They held back a second longer while the tour group marched down the hallway reviewing various torture devices. Lucie heard something about finger removal and wiggled her digits to make sure they were all intact.
Frankie continued his exploration of the displays and she moved to the doorway. One step over the rope and she’d be in.
The camera above hummed as it swiveled and Lucie glanced up. Pointed the other way. Go!
She hopped over the rope, tore down the hallway and found a glass-paneled door leading into a wine cellar bigger than her mother’s first floor. Holy smokes. These people liked their wine.
The door had an L-shaped handle, rather contemporary for a
castle. Wow; what a bizarre thought that was. What was she doing?
Fixing a mess. That’s what.
Using the hem of her shirt as a glove, she pressed down on the handle. Nothing.
Locked.
Dammit. What now?
The gurgling hysteria tearing her stomach apart surged up her throat. Calm. Stay calm and think. She could abandon this plan and run back down the hall before anyone spotted them.
But then they’d have to try again at the event tomorrow night and Frankie was probably right about the massive security.
Think, Lucie.
Who would carry a key to the wine cellar? Staff and family members. Would there really be that many keys? Ridiculous. Not everyone would carry a key, but they might all need access.
Go with that. Lucie turned and spotted a shaft of light from a doorway a few feet down. Would there be a key hidden there?
Why not?
Holding tight to her bag, she ran to the doorway and peered in. The small room held a chair and a simple white desk with a drawer. She could leave the bag here.
No. Anyone, like her, could wander in and grab the jewels. She needed the key to the wine cellar.
She stepped into the room and, once again using her shirt, she opened the drawer. Nothing. She dropped to her knees, looked under the edges of the desk. Nothing.
An ancient chair made of wood so thick Joey could use it to bash heads sat next to the desk. She crawled to it to study the underside. Nothing.
She caught a gleam from behind the desk. A hook holding a key.
Had to be for the wine cellar.
Abandoning her worry about leaving a print, she grabbed the key. She’d just wipe it clean like they did on television. Who knew if that even worked, but she had to get moving.
A voice carried from the opposite direction of the dungeon and Lucie froze. “We’ll need four bottles,” a woman with a thick English accent said.
Oh, no. Someone needed wine. Lucie hung the key back on the hook and spun. The echo of heels on the tiled floor grew closer and a rioting panic boiled her cheeks. Hide.
But where? She couldn’t step into the hall and there certainly wasn’t any place in this tiny room to hide. Behind the door. She’d likely get caught, but she’d risk it. She heard Frankie do a loud ah-hem from the dungeon, said a quick Glory Be and jumped behind the door, smashing herself against the wall as if it would swallow her and offer protection.
