Seeking Mr. Wrong

by Tamara Morgan

  “Why are they staring?” I ask. “Do you know?”

  “Someone must have leaked that a woman of your vast fame and superior kindness was on board,” Tara says wryly.

  “Very funny.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! Did you want to be left alone? I said you could tell me to go away if I’m a bother.” Lola clasps her hands in front of her and moves her head in a slight bow, as if prepared to prostrate herself at my feet.

  “No, no, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” I’m just confused. “But do you know what’s going on? I can’t imagine why people like these would care whether I’m here. I’m just a low-level jewel thief.”

  Lola laughs as if I’ve made the best joke she’s ever heard. “The world’s greatest jewel thief, you mean. I thought I knew about all your takes, but I’ve heard so many new ones since you got here. Paintings by the Masters, a stamp collection worth ten million dollars, an entire truck full of gold… Are you really married to an FBI agent who doesn’t know you’re a thief? And do you use him to get inside information on big jobs? Oh, boy. I can’t even imagine what that must be like. You’re so brave. It must be crazy to wake up every day next to a man who could put you in prison for the rest of your life and then kiss him goodbye like none of it matters.”

  She’s not wrong about that. Crazy is one word for it.

  “I hate to disappoint you, but most of those stories have been exaggerated,” I say. As much as I appreciate the picture she’s painting of me, I think I would have remembered stealing an entire truck full of gold. And stamps have never been my thing. Give me a clear, cold diamond any day of the week. “I’m not nearly that prolific or that talented. You know how these things happen. One person starts a rumor, it gets blown out of proportion…”

  Lola isn’t buying any of it. Her lips lift in a knowing smile. “Is it out of proportion for you and Tara Lewis to be trying to break into the cabaret lounge to get an early peek at the Luxor Tiara?”

  “We weren’t…” I begin lamely, but of course it’s a lie. That’s exactly what we were doing.

  “It’s not in there,” Lola continues with the air of one sharing a great secret. “It’s being guarded in my dad’s stateroom until the opening ceremonies tomorrow. Daddy’s not taking any chances. Are you going to try to steal it?”

  “Of course I’m not—”

  She giggles and presses a finger to her lips. “It’s okay. I won’t tell. I’d rather you have it than the others.”

  “But I’m really not—”

  Tara stops me from asserting my innocence with a nudge of her hip—and by nudge, I mean she practically bodychecks me. Her hips are not casual observers.

  “What others?” Tara asks.

  “Oh, you know. Daddy’s got a whole bunch of people he’s watching to make sure nothing happens to the tiara. Penelope is, of course, one of his top threats.” She starts ticking off names. “Then there’s Two-Finger Tommy, Eden St. James, some guy I’ve never heard of named Hijack…”

  “Hijack?” I’m unable to hold back my surprise. “He’s going to try and steal the tiara?”

  “Do you know him? That’s a silly question—of course you do. You probably know everyone on this boat.” She doesn’t wait for me to confirm or deny it. “Anyway, there are lots of people on the list, and they’re even starting to make bets on the thief most likely to walk away with it. You and Johnny Francis are tied for first place—you both have three-to-one odds right now.”

  Now it’s my turn to do the staring. “I’m sorry, did you just say that Johnny Francis and I are tied for first place?”

  She nods happily, oblivious to the way I’ve suddenly stopped moving.

  “And is, um, Mr. Francis on the ship already?” I ask. “I don’t suppose you could introduce him to me, could you?”

  Her laughter dashes any hopes I had of making this the quickest and easiest case Grant’s ever solved. “I wish. No one knows who Johnny Francis is, but Daddy says it’s almost guaranteed he’ll try to take the tiara. He’s been after it for years and years, and he once even tried to break into our Munich house to steal it. This is so exciting, isn’t it? I haven’t had this much fun in ages. Daddy says that until I learn to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open, I’ll never amount to anything, so I almost never get to come along on his business trips. But I’m so happy I did, even if nothing else happens for the whole week. After all, I got to meet you, didn’t I?”

  “Do I figure on the list of potential threats?” Tara asks, sounding slightly vexed.

  If I didn’t know better, I might say she sounds jealous of my new admirer. Which is ridiculous, of course. It’s flattering to be the recipient of so much attention—and it totally explains the staring, if I’m such a high-ranking figure among this lot of thieves—but I’m here for one reason and one reason only: to protect Grant.

  Save the husband, do the job. Those are things I’ve committed myself to now. In no way, shape, or form am I here to return to my life of crime. In no way, shape, or form am I going to relive the glory days of my youth.

  I mean, I totally could steal the tiara if I wanted to, but…

  “Of course you’re on the list,” Lola confirms happily. “Seventh place, to be exact. You weren’t as highly ranked a few hours ago, but that was before we heard you partnered up with Riker Smith. He’s another one of the top favorites. Now, if all three of you were to band together, there’s no saying what that might do to the odds. The relative probabilities would go through the roof. I’d have to recalculate the stake units to even get started.”

  I correct her before she whips out a calculator. “I hate to disappoint you, Lola, but I’m not going to try and steal the tiara. Neither are Riker or Tara. We’re here on vacation and to play poker, nothing more.”

  Tara coughs gently.

  I turn to her, my heart sinking. “Tara, no.”

  “Sorry, Pen. I thought you’d have figured it out by now.”

  Lola giggles loudly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Uh-oh. Did I let the cat burglar out of the bag?”

  I groan as realization sinks in, weighted, as it always is, with the exasperating truth of the people I call my own. Of course Tara and Riker are going to try to steal the tiara—Riker admitted as much the day I begged him to help. I want a guarantee the FBI won’t interfere with my attempts to get it, he said. If I walk off that boat with the tiara in my possession, I want your husband’s solemn vow that no one will come after me. It’s as good as a confession. Nowhere in that statement did he promise that he planned to win the damn thing.

  “I forbid it,” I say, though it’s hard to hear me over Lola’s bubbling laughter. “How is this even a thing? We all paid good money to win the tiara the honorable way, not set ourselves against one another to see who could steal it first.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Tara says. “I’ve never done an honorable thing in my life.”

  That’s not true, and we both know it. Just a few months ago, she put her life and her freedom at risk to help me learn the truth about my mother, and for no reason other than a desire to right the wrongs of her past. Then again, the diamond at stake that time wasn’t nearly as big as the Luxor…

  “But what if you end up winning the poker game?” I ask. “All your evil plotting will have been for nothing.”

  “Then no one will have any cause for complaint.” She tosses her hair. “Think of it as a backup plan. One way or another, I’m leaving this ship with that diamond in hand.”

  “I hope your dear daddy has an ironclad security plan,” I say to Lola with a resigned sigh. “Keeping that tiara safe from these remorseless thieves isn’t a task I envy him.”

  Of course, the task of trying to pin down an anonymous master criminal while simultaneously trying to keep my husband alive and my friends from making stupid, greedy mistakes isn’t enviable, either.

  “By the by, wha
t is his security plan?” Tara asks.

  I expect Lola to be insulted that Tara would try to pry secrets out of her twenty minutes after they met, but she just giggles again and shakes her head. “I’ll find out when you do. He’d never tell me anything that important for fear I’d give it all away. Oh, boy. Isn’t this trip going to be grand?”

  7

  The Player

  The trip might not be grand, but I certainly am by the time Jordan arrives at my stateroom to await our dinner date with Hijack. I look amazing in a long, form-fitting red dress with strategic cutouts in the back and side.

  Jordan, unfortunately, isn’t as easily impressed.

  “Isn’t that what you wore to steal the Starbrite Necklace?” she asks by way of greeting. “I hope you packed more than that. I saw about six thousand Swarovski crystals on the walk over here. There’s some serious bling aboard this boat.”

  “Ha! The joke’s on them,” I say. “If the ship goes down, they’ll sink to the bottom while I float nimbly to the top.”

  In fact, the whole reason I got this dress back when I needed to steal the Starbrite was to facilitate nimble action of all kinds. Not only do I look the part of an elite poker player with oodles of cash to spare, but I have a high rate of mobility should it come down to a high-speed boat chase or a mad dash over the shuffleboard decks.

  “Pen…”

  “Yes, I have more dresses,” I assure her as I let her inside. “Tara was worried I’d dishonor the family name, so she did most of my packing for me.”

  I take a moment to survey Jordan, who also looks pretty amazing in a sparkling emerald shift dress I swear shows more of her legs than those tiny shorts did earlier. Since she can usually be found in sweater sets, I’m finding all this a touch alarming.

  “You look awfully nice,” I say. “I hope it’s not for Hijack’s benefit. I probably should have warned you earlier, but that man is a flirt and a liar. He’ll seduce your great-grandmother if he thinks it’ll get him access to a score.”

  “Call it a hunch, but I don’t think it’s me he’s coming to seduce.”

  Ugh. “Don’t remind me. He can try to seduce me all he wants, but he’s not getting anywhere. I’ve got far too much work to do.” And far too many men to worry about. “If he asks you to join his crew, do me a favor and turn him down, okay? The last thing I need is for you to start blowing things up for that man.”

  “Pen, how could you? You know the only person I blow things up for is you.”

  I lean over and kiss her cheek. “You’re such a sweetie. And a liar. I know Riker and Tara have already recruited you.”

  A knock on the door prevents her from disclaiming any intention of helping them take the Luxor Tiara, which is just as well. The arrangement between us is that I won’t ask questions or interfere with their plans unless they get in the way of Grant’s work—in which case I carry full veto power. I don’t think I’ll have to whip out the veto on this one, since Grant is less concerned about protecting the tiara than he is about finding Johnny Francis, but I’ll need to keep an eye on them all the same. They’re sneaky, my friends. It’s why I love them so much.

  I check over my appearance one final time as Jordan pulls the door open to reveal a tuxedoed Hijack with a bouquet of roses in each hand.

  Roses and starlit cruises are about as cliché as they come, but there’s something about being offered them by a handsome, muscular man in a tuxedo that makes it impossible to refuse. Bowing with mock gallantry, he presents us each with a ribbon-bound bundle. Jordan accepts hers with a murmur of pleasure, but although I take mine in hand, I sniff it with suspicion.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks. “You don’t like flowers?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “Penelope!” Jordan chides, but Hijack just laughs.

  “No, don’t make her apologize. One of the nicest things about Pen is that she’s never afraid to say what she’s thinking. Out with it. What do you have against flowers? Or is it me you object to?”

  “It’s you,” I say promptly. “You want something.”

  “I want a lot of things,” he replies just as promptly. Then, with a sly smile, “Is it working?”

  “No.” I toss the flowers aside. “It’s going to take a lot more than a few wilty roses to get me to steal the Luxor Tiara for you.”

  His guffaw of laughter is all the confirmation I need. I knew there was no way he was that happy to see me earlier. Any and all joy he found in my arrival has more to do with the fact that he’s an underhanded, sneaking thief than it does with our past romance. He doesn’t remember me as the love of his life; he wants me to join forces with him.

  With my suspicions thus confirmed, I feel much better about taking the arm he offers and allowing him to escort us to dinner. I like Hijack, but there’s a limit to the amount of aimless flattery I’m willing to swallow from any man who’s not my husband. As long as I know there’s a legitimate reason, I can accept it with decent grace.

  I can accept it, but I’m not stealing that tiara.

  Tara and I already checked out the main dining room, which is located directly opposite the mysterious cabaret lounge. A converted ballroom done up in every shade of gold imaginable, the dining room has been blocked off so all the windows are covered and no natural light can come in. The designers have made up for the darkness by gilding every possible surface. Tables, chairs, wallpaper, chandeliers—the whole place looks like King Midas walked through, lazily trailing his hands behind him.

  In other words, it’s just my style. Even the forks look to be plated in gold.

  “Can I get you ladies a drink?” Hijack asks, taking in the grandeur of the room with no more than a blink. Either he wasn’t kidding when he said he’s rich now and he’s accustomed to such opulent sights, or, like me, he cased this room when he first arrived.

  “None for me, thanks,” Jordan says.

  “Penelope?” he asks and then checks himself. “Sorry. I forgot you gave up liquor. You wouldn’t come with me to Germany, you don’t drink, you’re wedded to the FBI… I swear, if you weren’t aboard a ship of criminals bound for ungoverned waters, I’d take you for a nice, normal, law-abiding citizen.”

  I laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first man to make that mistake.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  I can’t pretend not to know which him he’s referring to, especially since there’s a harsh edge to his request, uttered without preamble. I almost refuse to answer, a tart my marriage is none of your business on the tip of my tongue. But it’s natural that people will wonder, especially if Lola continues acting as if I’m the Princess of Thieves. Hijack might be the first to broach the subject, but I doubt he’ll be the last.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, as if the ring I usually wear is a matter of supreme indifference to me.

  Instead of responding right away, he places a hand on my waist and pulls me close. Under any other circumstances, it might look like two old friends having a cozy chat, but my dress is open in several places along the side. His fingers slip possessively over the curve of my waist and under the fabric that stretches down to my hip, his skin directly on mine. It’s not a feeling I cherish.

  “Everything,” he murmurs. “I want to know everything.”

  “You want to know everything about my husband while your hand is snaking toward my ass?”

  He laughs out loud, showcasing his crooked grin. “Can you blame me? On this boat? In that dress? After all this time? Whoever this guy is, he can’t be very smart. If you were my wife, I’d never let you out of my sight.”

  As I was once his girlfriend and he let me out of his sight all the time, I don’t credit this piece of gallantry with much. I also know he’s not going to give up easily, so I picture my husband in his full former-quarterback-current-badass-federal-agent glory and say the exact opposite of everything I know t
o be true.

  May Grant have forgiveness on my soul.

  “He’s short—maybe a few inches taller than me—and wiry.” I rattle off adjectives as though I’m reading them from a list in hopes that Hijack won’t notice the telltale flush that accompanies my lies. “Receding hairline, poor taste in clothes, not much in the way of a sense of humor. He’s also as dumb as a post. You wouldn’t believe how much confidential information he lets slip when his guard is down, how much I’m able to extract just by playing the dutiful wife. He thinks I’m visiting my sick aunt in Florida right now.”

  Hijack digests this information with a low whistle, though I can’t tell whether he’s impressed by my dedication to the job or disgusted at what, if my confession were true, would lower me to the depths of depravity.

  “Damn, Pen. I may have underestimated you.”

  “People often do.” I shrug. “It’s why I get away with so much.”

  Hijack turns to Jordan. “Have you met him?”

  “Once or twice,” she says, concealing her smile behind her hand. “Most of the time, I feel bad for the guy. He had no idea what he was getting into when he married Pen.”

  “Hey!” I protest. “It’s not all bad. He gets to bask in my sunny disposition. That’s worth something.”

  “It’s worth everything,” Hijack says loyally, but Jordan just loses hold of her laughter. Grant would be the last one to say that my sunny disposition outweighs the effort he has to put in on a daily basis. According to him, every day is a new exercise in restraint.

  “What department did you say he worked for again?” Hijack asks.

  I didn’t, and I have no intention of doing so in the future. Major Thefts cuts a little too close to home for most of the people on this boat.

  “Oh, look,” I say, my voice too bright in my eagerness to change the subject. “They’re getting ready to serve dinner. I hope it’s something good. I’m starving.”