Thieves Like Us
Page 1
“You scared the hell out of me.”
She hadn’t expected to hear that admission, and his quiet statement held more power than if he’d yelled it. “Um . . .” She swallowed. Um, what? She wasn’t about to apologize for saving her own life. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, you can’t help it.” He watched her closely, the low light enough to cast a gleam on his eyes, giving them an intensity she hadn’t noticed earlier. “You don’t panic in a crisis, and you don’t wait for someone to save you.” His gaze roamed her face, as if memorizing the details of each feature. “Last year, when I first listened to you tell us about how you escaped the drug dealers in Colombia, I admired your self-reliance and determination.”
“You did?”
He nodded slightly, almost to himself. “I don’t anymore.”
“What?” She set her fork aside, forgetting about her risotto. “Why not?”
“Because it’s hard to admire what scares me to death. You’re risking your life.” His voice was low, almost grave. “I need you to stop it.”
Her gaze kept drifting to his mouth, distracting her with the memory of what it felt like to be kissed by those lips. His gaze wandered, too, lingering on her mouth, her hair, even her breasts, leaving tingling sensations everywhere it touched. Shadows moved along his jaw as muscles tensed. “Stop making me crazy, Janet.”
She shook her head as if she were confused about what he meant. But she knew. She was starting to feel a little crazy herself. . . .
This title is also available as an eBook
Also by Starr Ambrose
Lie to Me
Our Little Secret
Available from Pocket Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Starr Ambrose
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Cover illustration by Craig White
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
ISBN 978-1-4391-8129-4
ISBN 978-1-4391-8130-0 (ebook)
To Stevie,
who gave me the idea
Acknowledgments
For advice on things I didn’t know and couldn’t get away with making up, thanks to Patti Shenberger and Nick Anderson.
Thanks to Jim and Ariana for reading early drafts.
As always, thanks to my agent, Kevan Lyon, for unending patience and support, and to the wonderful people at Pocket Books, especially Danielle Poiesz, who does her best to make me look good.
Chapter
One
Dumping the world’s worst husband called for more than a celebration. It required a symbolic act. Like hocking her engagement ring.
“You know what this is? It’s poetic justice.” Janet Aims admired the tasteful display of diamonds twinkling in the window of Portman’s Jewelers as if she were buying, not selling. “This is where Banner bought the stupid thing in the first place. I found the receipt.”
“That doesn’t mean they’ll buy it back,” Ellie pointed out. “I don’t think jewelry stores do that, Jan, especially high-class places like Portman’s.”
“They buy estate jewelry. This ring is now part of the Westfield estate, which ought to be enough to impress anyone in this town. I just have to suck it up and be a Westfield one last time.”
She shifted to get a better view of her reflection and finger combed the hairs that barely covered her ears. She wasn’t used to the short haircut yet, but she liked it. It was all part of the new Janet. New haircut, new condo, and new marital status—single, with no dazzling diamond ring to remind her of the biggest mistake of her life.
“Do I look rich and influential enough?”
Her friend laughed. “You were born rich and influential. You can do rich and influential in jammies and bunny slippers.”
“Not Westfield rich. It’s a whole different class of wealth.” She gave Ellie a significant eyebrow wiggle. “One you’d better get used to.”
“Jack’s a Payton, not a Westfield.”
“Payton, Westfield, what’s the difference? They all connect to Elizabeth Payton Westfield, and it doesn’t get any richer than that, at least not in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.” She pulled a white box out of her purse. “Come on, I’ll take advantage of my status one last time and show you how the rich folk throw their weight around.”
Ellie snickered. “You demonstrate. I’ll take notes. You know, it would almost be worth telling Banner what you did with his big, expensive ring—just to ruin his day.”
“Since that would require speaking to him, no way. But I like the sentiment.” She paused to give her friend a quick hug. “This whole mess has been easier having your support. You’re the best.” Taking Ellie’s hand, she pulled her inside the store. “Let’s do this.”
Ellie walked fast to keep up. “I’m glad you’re in such a good mood. I have to ask you a favor.”
“Anything.”
“It involves Rocky.”
Damn! That was not what Janet wanted to hear. She turned, ready to accuse Ellie of taking advantage of her excitement, when a voice behind her said, “Mrs. Westfield! Welcome to Portman’s. How may I help you?”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Janet hissed to Ellie before replacing her glare with a smile. She turned toward the man behind the counter. She didn’t know him, so he must have recognized her from newspaper photos—the wife of the accused. One more reason to hate Banner.
“Hello, Mr. . . .”
“Portman. William Portman.”
“Mr. Portman. I’m Miss Aims now.”
He flushed. “Of course, I’m sorry.”
Letting him feel a little embarrassed might work in her favor. She placed the small box on the glass countertop and opened the white silk lid. “Do you remember this ring, Mr. Portman?”
He smiled as soon as he saw the large diamond flanked by two smaller stones. “Oh, yes. A beautiful piece. We designed the setting exclusively for—” his smile slipped and he cleared his throat. “For Mr. Westfield.”
“Yes, you did. So you can understand why, as beautiful as it is, I don’t want it anymore.”
“Hmm, yes.” He pursed his lips and frowned, apparently unsure of the protocol when acknowledging one’s association with a known criminal.
“How much can you give me for it?”
Portman looked even more uncomfortable. “Miss Aims, Portman’s doesn’t accept returns on used jewelry.”
“Used?” She arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Portman, this jewelry belongs to the Westfield estate. Do you, or do you not, deal in estate jewelry?”
Janet saw his gaze dart across the room to a tall display case labeled, “Estate Jewelry,” then shift quickly away. “Yes, but those are heirloom pieces, crafted by well-known artists. They have historic value in addition to their intrinsic worth.”
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br /> “I see.” She smiled sweetly. “And my ring was crafted by—whom did you say?”
“By, um, us.”
“By Portman’s Jewelers. A name with a longstanding reputation for fine jewelry. One would hope it was well deserved.” She nearly winced at her own arrogance, and reminded herself it was for a good cause—getting rid of the last trace of Banner Westfield. “As for its value, well, I am in possession of the original receipt for this ring. The price was quite impressive. I would hope that a diamond ring costing as much as my BMW would be worth what my husband paid.” Whoops—the BMW had been Banner’s idea, too. The car would have to go. Maybe she should make a list.
Portman turned an interesting shade of dusky purple. “Portman’s Jewelers is competitively priced. The price on your ring was fair. Your diamond is of exceptional quality, Miss Aims.”
“Of course it is. Heirloom quality, you might say. And it does come with a rather interesting history, doesn’t it?” If one were interested in high-profile criminals charged with drug running, money laundering, and attempted murder.
Janet picked up the ring box, admiring the brilliance of the stones. “I had many compliments on the ring. I’m sure you could sell it again. Or even reset the stones. The large one must be quite valuable on its own.”
Portman took the ring from the box, allowing the diamond’s facets to catch the bright overhead lights. Tiny arrows of color shot from its surface as the smaller diamonds twinkled beside it. “I don’t know.” He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “It would be highly irregular and against store policy.”
Janet felt a surge of excitement. If he was waffling, she had him.
“My father still owns the store, you know,” Portman continued. “Going strong at seventy-six. He doesn’t care to make exceptions to the rules.”
She knew just how to handle this final hurdle. “Oh yes, Lewis Portman. I believe my mother-in-law, Elizabeth Westfield, knows him well.” Janet inserted herself back into the Westfield family temporarily, hoping Elizabeth wouldn’t mind. She seemed to like Janet better than her own son these days, anyway. “She’s purchased so many lovely pieces of jewelry from your store over the years.” She paused deliberately. “The Westfields have always been good customers.”
“That’s true.”
She waited while he thought about the possibility of offending a long-term customer. A wealthy long-term customer.
“I couldn’t give you anything near what Mr. Westfield paid for the ring.”
Warm relief coursed through her, spreading heat to her cold limbs. “I understand completely, Mr. Portman, and I trust whatever you think is fair. Oh, and I wonder if you could include this in the purchase.” Before he could object, she pulled a crinkled wad of tissue from her purse and set it on the counter. Inside the thin wrapping, metal rattled against glass. “It was a gift from Mr. Westfield, and I would rather not keep it.”
Portman frowned at the tiny bundle as if she’d placed a toad on his immaculate display case. “I really don’t think—”
Sensing rejection, Janet rushed to remove the tissue. A double-strand pearl necklace slithered out, followed by a clunk from the attached pendant. Portman stopped talking.
Janet angled the pendant toward Portman. Inside an ornate, filigreed circle of gold, a large red stone glowed beneath the store’s strong lights. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it somewhere else. I just want to get rid of it.” No sense blowing the whole deal because he didn’t want her ugly necklace.
Portman leaned closer. So did Ellie, showing the first glimmer of interest in the proceedings. “When did you get that?” Ellie asked. “It’s kind of gaudy, isn’t it?”
Janet nodded. “Banner bought it for my birthday. I didn’t want to offend him by not wearing it, but it’s awfully heavy and definitely not my style.”
Portman touched the pearl chain and spread it across the glass, giving him a better view of the pendant. Janet said nothing, watching his expression grow thoughtful. He lifted the necklace and let the pendant dangle. Areas of solid gold were decorated with curlicues and raised gold beads. In Janet’s opinion, it missed being pretty and went straight to tacky.
“Where did your husband buy this?” he asked without looking away from the necklace.
She was tempted to correct her marital status, but decided not to distract Portman from his obvious fascination with the necklace. If she’d known it would get this sort of reaction, she would have shown it to him first.
“I don’t know where he bought it. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I have,” Portman murmured, lost in his examination. “Somewhere. The style is quite old; it might be a copy of a museum piece. Quality workmanship . . .” His voice faded out as he fumbled beneath his collar and then pulled out a chain with a gold hexagon on the end. He opened it like a jackknife, revealing a jeweler’s loupe. Portman held it to his eye and peered closely at the stone. Seconds passed. He tilted the pendant at different angles, still saying nothing. Janet wondered if he’d forgotten about her.
Portman finally looked up, dropping the loupe to let it hang over his tie. “Fifteen thousand.”
Her mouth opened, but it took a couple more seconds for words to come out. “Sorry, what?”
“Five for the ring, and ten for the necklace. You understand, I’m taking a big chance on the ring. It’s possible no one will want it—with its shady history.” He didn’t even look embarrassed when he said it.
Janet stared. The ring was worth ten times what he offered, but she hadn’t expected more. It was the offer for the necklace that threw her. It had been an afterthought to bring it along, and she would have been thrilled if he’d offered even a few hundred dollars for it.
“Ten thousand dollars for the necklace?”
“Again, a risk on my part.”
He didn’t strike her as the type to take risks with money. “Then the stone is real?”
“Real? Yes, it’s a gemstone.”
“A ruby?”
The corner of his mouth gave an arrogant twitch upward. “No. Quality rubies don’t come that large. I’m sure it’s a spinel.”
His expression was unreadable. She had a feeling he wasn’t lying to her, but he also wasn’t offering information. “Is that good?”
“Depends. Historically, they were often mistaken for rubies and used in fine pieces of jewelry, most notably in England’s Imperial State Crown. Today, they are less common but smaller ones are quite affordable.”
She tried to sort out the pertinent facts. “Are you saying this could be a historic piece?”
He shifted from one foot to the other, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Possibly. It could also be a modern knockoff and relatively worthless.” He pursed his lips as he took her measure, probably weighing how far he could push her. “My father is the expert on antique jewelry. If you’d like to wait a couple days for him to look at it—”
And risk having him reduce the price to two hundred dollars? “No need. I accept your offer.”
Portman gave a brisk nod and moved quickly to the back of the store.
Ellie grabbed her arm. “Are you crazy? What’s the hurry? You should have Rocky look at the necklace. No one knows more about precious gems than he does, and he wouldn’t lie to you.”
“I don’t think Mr. Portman is lying.”
“And he’s not telling you the whole truth, either. That necklace could be worth a fortune. Rocky would know. Why don’t you let me call him?”
Rocky again. Just the thought of him made her insides jumpy.
Trying to keep her voice level, she said, “I’ll take the opinion of a professional over an ex-con jewel thief.” She almost winced at her own words; they sounded so harsh and unfair, but she really didn’t want to discuss Rocky.
“Jack’s an ex-con,” Ellie said, unoffended.
“That’s different. Banner framed him; he was innocent.” Janet could never think of Jack as an ex-con, and she knew Ellie couldn’t, either.
She knew. She’d never asked for the details, but she believed Ellie, and deep down she knew Rocky was a good person. He also stirred other feelings inside her— feelings that she wasn’t ready to have yet.
“It’s not fair to think of him as a jewel thief,” Ellie said, still stuck on defending the man who’d become her business partner and her husband’s best friend.
“I don’t want to think of him at all.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes at Janet’s stubborn expression, which made Janet nervous. No one knew her better than Ellie and eventually, she’d figure it out. Thankfully, Portman reappeared with a check, giving her an excuse to change the subject. She thanked him, tucked it into her purse, and motioned Ellie toward the door.
But Ellie wasn’t ready to drop the subject. Once back in the June sunlight, she said, “Everyone likes Rocky. I can’t believe you don’t.”
Probably because she did like him, far more than she wanted to.
Janet sighed dramatically. “Okay, let’s skip the setup. I can see you’re determined to make me like Rocky. What does he have to do with this favor you want? Because I’m sure I can continue to dislike the man while doing whatever it is you want me to do.” Or at least pretend to dislike him.
Ellie frowned. “Probably. But you can’t let it show, because you’ll be in public. I need you to cover for me and help Rocky with a demonstration we scheduled for tomorrow night.”
“For Red Rose Security? But I don’t know anything about your business.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to be Rocky’s assistant. He’ll show you everything you need to know.”
“Uh-huh.” She bet he would. “You know, you look so innocent with those big blue eyes and your hair in a cute little ponytail. Almost like you aren’t trying to set me up.”
“I’m not.” At Janet’s skeptical look, she threw up her hands. “Honest. Jack and I just finally want to take our delayed honeymoon. But I had the brilliant idea to have Rocky speak to some women’s groups about home security. He’s so charming they fall all over themselves making appointments for personal consultations. We get a ton of business that way.”