by Michele Hauf
“We will press on that weakness. We've put a New York asset on him.”
She picked up another peach slice. “I still think the quickest and easiest route is simply taking back what should have been ours in the first place.”
“Another heist in the same home? You know that's ‘stupid thieves' trick number one?’”
“I do. And maybe we don't have to break in. Maybe we just find Lincoln and take it off him.”
“Why would he have the diamond on him?”
“He took it for a reason.”
“Of which, we have no idea what that reason is.”
“It can only be money. Nothing else in this world would motivate the man. You said the ingredient list was complete with all the other diamonds in the strand?”
“Yes. And one of the stones detailed a location. Are you thinking this final stone was a payment of sorts?”
“Could be. If it's as flawed as the other stones, the actual stone isn't worth any more than a few thousand, but maybe there's something etched on the girdle. A payment?”
That was an excellent theory, and one Xavier kicked himself for not considering. He scribbled “payment” on the notepad, then circled it.
“Blackwell had to have known about the Turk hired to set off the biological weapon,” she said. “Because he knew the countess would be wearing that necklace at the ball. He also had to have known there would be a payment included with the necklace. All that info? The only way he could possibly know any of that was if he'd been tipped off, or had a hand in the process originally.”
“Which doesn't make sense.” He met her inquiring gaze with a shrug. “Why steal something if he's the planner? He had to have been tipped off.”
“He probably doesn't care about the weapon part, only the cash. Asshole. He really doesn't have a care for others beyond how they can stuff his pockets. So if a few thousand die from a biological weapon? At least he gets paid.”
“But the Turkish contact who was supposed to set off the weapon would be very upset if he did not get paid. He may even follow the suspected thieves who got caught in the crossfire all the way to Berlin.”
“Yes. And a guy as angry as that will be hard to control.” She met his gaze. “We need to get the Turk and Lincoln together.”
“I believe so.”
Xavier set down the pen and allowed Chloe to climb up higher on his chest. She tipped his chin with her nose and, for the first time, he decided cats were really quite special.
* * * *
“We've got some movement with Marcus Blackwell,” Hunter Dixon told Xavier over the phone.
Xavier stood before the Mercedes-Benz Gallery on the Champs Elysees, waiting for Josephine, who was inside Massimo Dutti picking up some clothing. She'd insisted on feeling human and wearing something beyond the few items she'd managed to grab when she'd left her country home. As well, she said this elite shopping district was a frequent hangout of Blackwell's.
“Kierce can fill you in. And we've pinpointed a connection to the man that will also aid our efforts.”
“What's the connection?”
“A financial one. We've been able to put the squeeze on him. It should force him to the surface, and soon. Devereaux is with you. You are working on her, yes?”
Working on her? In what terms, Xavier would like to ask. But he suspected the Boss had a good notion for how Xavier could convince a woman to join the ECU. Not that he'd ever use sex to persuade—ah, fuck it. He was not having this conversation with himself.
“It's coming along. I've got her close. My focus remains on the diamond.”
“Quinn suspects the missing stone may be a form of payment.”
“I've come to that conclusion as well. Not the actual diamond, but perhaps transfer numbers to a Swiss account. Is there any way to track something like that?”
“I'll patch you through to Quinn to handle that stuff. You stay on her, Lambert. She's ours.”
He wanted to know why they needed another thief on staff, but wouldn't question. Perhaps the ECU was expanding? Of course, they always were. It was a stupid, jealous notion anyway. He didn't care. He shouldn't care.
He did care what happened to her. The woman had been abandoned by her mother because some asshole thief had taken her fortune?
“On it,” he said.
Immediately, Kierce's voice came onto the connection. “You've figured it's a payment, the missing stone. Good. I've been able to sharpen a portion of the image you took the night of the charity ball. It's numbers; what I suspect might be latitude and longitude. It could be a start.” The guy talked fifty miles a minute. He must be jacked up on one of those energy drinks that were always littering his desk.
“What about Marcus Blackwell? The boss says we've got him where we want him?”
“We've found him and he's talking, but remarkably he doesn't know much. Unfortunately for our intel, I think he's clean regarding this situation.”
They should have shipped Gentleman Jack overseas for that one. He could get anything out of anyone.
“We did get him to make a phone call for us, though. As the boss has said, it'll bring Lincoln Blackwell to the surface.”
“Have you a location on Katirci?” Xavier asked. “He may be key to snuffing the diamond out of Blackwell's hand.”
“That's what the phone call was about. But putting those two near each other could prove risky. Putting the payment in the hands of the guy who was supposed to destroy the entire 8th arrondissement?”
“I would never hand over money to such a person.” But he knew the ECU had no such moral qualms.
“We had Katirci in Berlin after you alerted us to him. We were only able to get him off your asses.”
“I was made aware of that when one of his thugs tried to twist off my head this morning.”
“Yes, and now he's gone off the grid since arriving back in Paris.”
“So he is here?” Xavier glanced about the bustle of tourists crowding up and down the sidewalks of the elite shopping district. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, along with overpriced perfume. “That means he could find us before we find him. Stay with me, buddy.”
“You got it. Just don't turn me off when you feel the need to make out with your girlfriend.”
“Why? You get off on that stuff, Quinn?”
The man chuckled. “I mute it, trust me on that one. But if you cut me out, well…you know.”
“Seph tells me the Champs Elysees is Blackwell's favorite weekend hangout. That's why we're here.”
“Seph, eh?”
Ah, he had to be careful. Not only his job stood in risk but as well, his heart.
Xavier winced and clamped a palm over his heart. Had he just the ridiculous thought that his heart was getting involved in this caper?
“Talk to you later, Quinn.”
He turned to spy a gorgeous woman in a sleek sky-blue sundress and strappy sandals standing not ten feet away. She pulled down the brim of a white sun hat, and her lush red lips curled into a smile as her eyes met his.
Xavier walked up to Josephine and kissed her. He hadn't taken a moment to think it a wrong move. He'd followed…well, he wasn't thinking in terms of his heart, so he wouldn't go there. He had simply been magnetically compelled to kiss her.
“You look like summer,” he said against her ear. And he had the sudden hopeful thought that Kierce wouldn't take that as a compliment. “Let's walk.”
He clasped her hand and took her shopping bag. They blended into the crowd. While the high-end shops catered to tourists, there was also a healthy mix of the rich and perhaps a few famous. Tourists in shorts, t-shirts and sandals rubbed shoulders with men in Armani and Zegna and women sporting an entire year's mortgage payment on their ring fingers. Such was Paris.
Kierce spoke again. “I found Katirci. He's…close.”
Xavier tapped his ear. “What?”
Josephine turned to look at him, but didn
't say anything.
“Wait. That's not him. Sorry. Someone else I'm tracking. But…I don't have an ID on that one. Hmm…”
Tightening his jaw, Xavier did not reply. If the guy intended to cry wolf, he did not want to be the receiver. He considered turning the earbud off, then thought better of it. He clasped Seph's hand again and led her toward the nearest shop, where they could get out of any thug's line of sight.
“Kierce?” she asked.
“He's trying to locate Katirci. The man followed us from Berlin after I showed his thug who he was dealing with.”
“Peachy. I have a certain love-hate relationship with Kierce. I've never met the guy and yet he knows more about me than most, and he's always trying to nudge in on my action.”
Xavier lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. “The only action you're going to get is from me.” And then he realized just how possessive that sounded—and her look said the same—but instead of denying it, he simply led her into the store.
He realized too late they'd walked into a jewelry store.
Chapter 23
“Oh, darling,” Josephine said as she floated into the air-conditioned comfort of the store. “Love, love, love!”
She'd assumed a persona, which, Xavier knew from experience, was impossible not to do when entering a store such as this. Why had he taken her here? He hadn’t been paying attention. He'd merely sought the quickest hide-out.
In a jewelry store.
Such a place was like crack to a recovering addict. Yet Josephine had already approached the counter, tugging down the brim of her wide hat on the left side—the same side as the security camera on the ceiling. He should grab her and pull her out. But the part of the old Xavier—who'd once walked the streets a free man who held the world in his hands and had taken what he'd wanted—lifted his chin and smoothed his shirt. He wanted to watch her in action.
Accepting a goblet of champagne from the smiling clerk, Xavier nodded that he was going to stand aside and let his woman look around. His standard persona in a jewelry store? Quiet boyfriend. Smash and grabs or distraction had never been his thing. He preferred casing the place, noting the security cameras, and returning after closing. Right now, he stood at such an angle that none of the four cameras could get a decent fix on his face, save a side view.
Was he planning a heist? No. He just…no.
He couldn't. Because—tombstone.
Unless he took Seph's advice and went on the lam.
Could he? He could do anything he set his mind to. No challenge was too great for him. Would Seph go along with him? He wanted her to have freedom. To never again have to worry about looking over her shoulder. Could they have a life together?
When had he begun thinking of himself and Seph as a “they?” Josephine's ribald laughter alerted him. Her sudden wink and effusive good-byes came with a promise to return when she could convince her boyfriend to buy her “the ring.” She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him out the door.
Not on his watch.
“Darling.” Xavier hugged Seph tightly. She cooed, her eyes flirting with his. He could fall into those bright blues. Almost.
He walked her back toward the counter where the clerk adjusted the diamond rings on the black velvet display. He clasped Josephine's hand—palming the ring she'd absconded—and leaned onto the counter, catching the clerk's heavily kohl-lined gaze and winking at her. “She wants to get married, but ah, her heart is not completely mine. You know? She has too many distractions.”
“Oh, please, honey, you know you're the only one.” Her hand snaked up along his, but he was too quick. Standing upright and gliding one hand along her cheek, his other moved toward the black velvet.
“Not today, lover,” he said. “But we'll see about tomorrow, eh?”
Wrapping an arm across her shoulders, he steered her around and toward the door.
“Au revoir!” she called, waving and nodding to the doorman as they left the store.
“Really?” he said once they were ensconced within the crowd. Moving quickly, Xavier veered left and crossed the busy ten-lane street.
“What did you expect?” She skipped alongside him. “You took me into a freakin' jewelry store,” she said with all the obvious accusation he deserved.
Yes, that had been a stupid mistake. But all was clear. Or was it?
Across the street, they wended their way around a hornet-yellow Maserati for rent. The crowd milling about the sports car snapped pics and teens posed by the hood. One hundred euros for a quick spin around the Arc de Triomphe? Now that was free enterprise at its finest.
Once out of the thick tourist tangle, Xavier pushed Josephine against a wall, pinning her shoulders to the cool marble of some elite department store and slamming his hips against hers. Not a hint of sexual suggestion in the moment. He was pissed.
Tugging off the oversized hat and dropping it, he said, “Do you think I will overlook that silly display in the jewelry shop?”
“I was having some fun.”
“Yes? And what about that ring you've still got in your pocket? I'm not so stupid I didn't miss that one.”
He gripped her forearm. The defiance in her eyes angered him, but it also made him proud of what she was, how she carried herself. The woman was exquisite. And he doubted the store would miss whatever she'd taken until inventory tonight. Yet neither had worn disguises. Not cool.
He tapped his ear, indicating to her that they were being listened to.
“You let it happen.” She lifted her knee, but he defeated the oncoming defensive move with a rough clasp of his hand up under her neck.
“I lied about not knowing your rap sheet, thief. My organization has more than enough on you to have you arrested right now,” he lied. “Your offenses are many. And if you don't play right—”
Josephine threw the ring at him, and he caught it. “Fuck you! This is over. I never should have trusted you!”
She took off down the sidewalk.
The stone was no more than a few carats. Not a worthy prize. But still, it had been a blatant grab. And it had served to show him of what she was capable. And that she wasn’t calm and completely rational at all times.
“I need some clean up, Kierce,” Xavier said.
“Got it. We've got a cleaner in the area. You should really put that one on a leash. But then again, you did take her into the candy store.”
“Fuck you, Quinn.”
Josephine had taken off around the corner. He didn't expect her to go far. She had nowhere to go in Paris. He was her haven. The cat was at his place. He only had to stay put a bit longer.
A black Citroen turned down the street and pulled up before Xavier. The shaded back window rolled down. He recognized the face, but didn’t know the name of the elderly woman. Probably touching seventy, she wore a sleek elegant sweep of gray hair that models would kill for. He handed her the ring and walked away without a word.
Blowing out a breath, he sought a few moments of…nothing. He just wanted to be away from it all. The subterfuge. The necessary evil of working for the ECU. Of compromising his own integrity because he'd been forced to babysit a less comparable thief.
Of learning that his heart did have a function and that it could control his actions.
Last Chance Ops, indeed.
He hadn't played that one well at all. But his anger over Seph's antics had boiled over. She was not a woman a man could control, and he'd been smacked in the face with that reality.
He needed that challenge…in ways he wasn't prepared to admit right now.
Turning the corner, he paused at sight of the black limo parked half a block up the street. And struggling with two hefty thugs, Josephine's legs kicked the air. Blue skirts fluttered. They shoved her into the back seat just as Xavier took off after them. The car peeled away from the curb.
He sprinted after the vehicle for two blocks. Then it veered to the right, and he ran into a crowd lined up for
a city tour bus. He shoved, but some of the tourists shoved back and told him off in angry American accents. Dodging the line he ran around it, but by that time the limo was out of sight.
“Merde.”
“You lost her,” Kierce stated in his ear. Not a question. And a very unnecessary observation.
Bowing forward, and catching his palms against his thighs, Xavier nodded, but couldn't find the strength to mutter an agreement. Because he'd lost her in more ways than just physically. And that realization hurt his heart desperately.
* * * *
Victor Katirci had come to the conclusion that he was following the wrong people. The thieves could elude and match his minions in battle until he was blue in the face. He must go to the source. The man who had funded his delayed mission. And thanks to a surprising phone call from a stranger who had only called himself Marcus, he had a name: Lincoln Blackwell.
Chapter 24
Twenty minutes later, Xavier stood before Hunter Dixon in the Elite Crimes Unit office. Kierce had sent a car to pick him up from the last spot where he'd seen Josephine.
“Blackwell has her,” Xavier said. “I'll go in after her.”
“She is not the objective of this mission.”
Xavier pressed his knuckles to the desktop and leaned in, meeting Dixon with a steady gaze. “I thought you wanted her recruited?”
“We do. But that's another matter. The missing diamond is what you guaranteed me you were focused on. I'm not sending you after Josephine Devereaux.”
“Then send me in after the diamond.”
“Jack Angelo is in position.”
The Thug? “What can Angelo do? He has no experience with what is required. No finesse!”
“You are letting emotion rule your better judgment, Lambert.” Dixon narrowed his gaze on Xavier. “You can't fuck her and recruit her. That's not how it works.”
