The Cherbourg Jewels (The Cherbourg Saga)

by Jenni Wiltz

  To test his instincts, he curled his hands into fists and punched into the air. Even though his last fight was more than twenty years ago, he knew he could strike when it mattered. And with Ella in danger, everything mattered.

  Sébastien took a deep breath and crept back to the front of the house. He tried the front door. Just as he expected, it was locked. He wondered whether he should shoot the door open. No, he thought. Better save those bullets.

  He put his shoulder to the door and tried to knock it open with the force of his body weight. The door—old and decrepit like the rest of the house—gave way with one push. The wood made a loud splintering sound, ruining any hope of a stealth attack. Peter would definitely know someone was coming.

  Sébastien grabbed the pistol from his pocket. He crept along the living room wall, heading for the kitchen and pantry on the far side of the living area. There was probably a door to the basement somewhere in there.

  He tried to keep his body loose and relaxed, knowing that every second mattered. He’d never had more than a few sessions in a shooting range with Ed Novochek. But then again, he’d never known what it was like to be more frightened for someone else than for himself. It gave him strength and steeled his nerves.

  Once he was in the kitchen, Sébastien paused and glanced around. There were cobwebs everywhere and the whole place was covered with a thick layer of dust. He spotted a door on the far wall that probably led to the basement. He crept toward it slowly and quietly.

  Before he grabbed the door knob, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he might see. Then he grasped the knob, turned it and pulled the door towards him.

  Peter O’Malley stood with his back to him, pointing a gun at Ella. She had nothing more to defend herself with than a pair of fists. Although she was covered with dust, she looked unharmed. Still, the hard lump of fear in his throat threatened to choke him. What if Peter pulled the trigger?

  “Peter!” he yelled. “Get away from her!”

  Ella’s eyes flew towards him, clouded with fear and worry. Her fists were balled at her sides and she’d adopted a bent-knee stance, as if she thought she could fight Peter herself.

  Of course she thinks that, he realized. She thinks she can do anything. She thinks she’s bulletproof. And, he realized, that’s why I have to be with her.

  “Peter,” he said again, this time with more force. “If you want to shoot someone, shoot me. Turn around.”

  “Sébastien, no!” Ella cried.

  But Peter O’Malley did turn to face him. And the look in the old man’s eyes made him want to step backwards.

  Something wasn’t right. The old man had lost his ability to see reason. His eyes were weak and unfocused, with a dangerous gleam that did not bode well for the three of them making it out of that basement alive.

  “Drop the gun, Peter,” he said, pointing his pistol. “It’s over.”

  “No, it isn’t, boy,” the older man hissed. “I swore to your grandfather I’d do anything to protect him, and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Peter, what the hell are you talking about?”

  The doctor’s eyes widened. “I swore I’d never tell!”

  “You told me,” Ella said, giving O’Malley a stare that made Sébastien shiver. “That was your first mistake.”

  Sébastien groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted was Ella inserting herself into the conversation and redirecting Peter’s attention to her. “Ella, stay out of this. Please!”

  Ella’s mouth, open and about to protest, snapped shut. Her blue-gray eyes softened. When she spoke, her voice was soft and silky. “You said please.”

  “Yes, I did,” he said. “And I plan to say it again and again until you listen. Now, please, stay out of this.”

  “I can’t, Sébastien,” she said. “Peter was one of the men who robbed my father.”

  He noticed the strange tone of her voice, as if she were thinking very carefully about what she was saying. It wasn’t like her. What wasn’t she telling him? Was it something she didn’t want Peter to know? “Ella, what are you talking about?”

  Peter O’Malley waved the gun at him. “I didn’t want you to find out, my boy. Not this way.”

  “Find out what?” he growled, tightening his grip on the pistol.

  *

  Ella looked into Sébastien’s eyes, so afraid of what would happen when he found out his grandfather had killed her father. That kind of knowledge was enough to tear them apart. Even if she forgave him, would he let the guilt eat away at him until it destroyed any chance they had at a real relationship?

  You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, she thought. Wait until no one’s pointing a gun to worry about that.

  Peter O’Malley’s back was to her. Could she somehow trip him up and get that gun pointed anywhere but at Sébastien’s head? She began trying to think of ways to distract the old man. She could pretend to be ill, or make a mad dash for the filing cabinet and dig out the black bag once more. Either of those should make Peter turn her way.

  But before she could settle on the best option, Peter started talking. And Sébastien, she noticed, was listening intently.

  No, she thought. I don’t want this. As hard as she’d fought to find her father’s missing gems and his killer, now she just wanted it all to go away. She didn’t want Sébastien to know. She didn’t want him to have to live with the terrible knowledge he was about to uncover. The only thing that could be accomplished was causing more pain.

  But O’Malley kept talking, telling Sébastien the whole story: his grandfather’s philandering, his grandmother’s revoking of their credit accounts, and the terrible conclusion of that night eighteen years ago.

  Ella kept her eyes on Sébastien’s face, feeling the impact of every word as they delivered one horrifying blow after another. She saw the blood drain from his face. The muscles of his jaw clenched so hard she thought he’d snap them in two. She understood every ounce of pain he was feeling and wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy.

  “So it was you,” Sébastien said finally, when O’Malley had finished his tale.

  “What was me?” the dazed old man said.

  “Two mornings ago. The robbery in the vault. You stole the jewels while Ella was down the hall. I want them back, Peter.”

  Ella couldn’t believe her ears. Why wasn’t he reacting to the news that his grandfather was a murderer? “Sébastien,” she said, reaching out her hand as if she could touch him.

  But Sébastien seemed to be ignoring her. “Peter, I want those jewels back.”

  “It’s too late,” O’Malley said. “You know the exhibition can’t go forward, my boy. No one can know how your grandfather acquired those jewels. I promised him.”

  “The exhibition will go forward,” Sébastien said. His voice was low and cold, like an alpine lake covered with a thick layer of ice. “No matter what.”

  Ella watched the two men stare each other down. It was going to end badly, she could see it. O’Malley was stubborn in his deluded loyalty and Sébastien was stubborn in his devotion to his family’s good name. Neither one of them was going to back down. It was up to her to break this strange stalemate.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and offered up a brief prayer to her father. Dad, you always said I could do anything. I sure hope you’re right.

  Ella opened her eyes and unclenched her hands. She stepped forward silently. Neither Sébastien nor Peter paid any attention to her. They were locked in a battle of wills.

  She inched her way forward until she was within arm’s reach of Peter. He stood with his back to her on the stairs leading up to the kitchen. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure both men would know exactly where she was by sound of her own blood pumping through her veins.

  She took a deep breath. “Sébastien, take cover!” she yelled. Then she reached for Peter’s knees and clasped them tight, pulling him down.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ella kept her arms wrapped tightly around
Peter O’Malley’s knees as the older man succumbed to the pull of gravity and fell face-first onto the staircase. His finger pulled the trigger as he went down.

  Ella had no idea where the bullet went. She was too focused on keeping Peter down so he couldn’t raise his arm and shoot Sébastien.

  With all her strength, she fought the older man’s efforts to rise. She grasped his legs with one arm while she reached through the slats of the staircase with the other. Peter’s arm hung down through the slats, dangling the gun. If she could grab it before he raised his arm, she could keep him from firing on Sébastien.

  “Ella!” she heard Sébastien cry. “No!”

  She strained to reach for the gun.

  Suddenly, she felt Sébastien grab her from behind and pluck her up off Peter’s body, as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. He pivoted on his foot and set her down on the floor as gently as he could. The touch of his hands sent a shiver of anticipation through her, even in the midst of danger. There was just no way she could keep from responding to him, no matter what was happening around them.

  But in the moment Sébastien’s back was turned, Peter squirmed until he’d brought his arm back up through the slats. Ella saw the older man reposition his grip on the gun. “Sébastien!” she screamed.

  Sébastien spun back around and raised his leg in a fierce kick, knocking the gun from Peter’s hand and, by the sound of it, breaking the man’s wrist. The older man howled and clutched his hand in pain. Sébastien grasped him by the lapels of his shirt and jerked him to his feet. “You will never threaten me again, do you understand me?”

  O’Malley’s blue eyes snapped with fury. “You aren’t half the man your grandfather was! Would you see his name despoiled?”

  “He murdered a man in cold blood,” Sébastien growled. “I won’t stand by and help you cover it up.”

  Through the thin basement window, Ella heard the sound of car doors slamming outside. There were voices, many of them, and then the sound of booted footsteps. “Sébastien, the police are here,” she said. “It’s over.”

  “Not yet, it’s not.” Sébastien peered into Peter’s eyes. “Tell me where you hid them.”

  The old man smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Never.”

  Ella remembered the glimmer of diamonds she’d seen in the bottom of the burlap sack concealed in the file cabinet. “Sébastien,” she said. “He doesn’t have to tell you where they are. I know.”

  O’Malley’s smile evaporated. “What?” he rasped. “How could you know?”

  A barrage of blue-uniformed men burst into the kitchen, weapons drawn. “Hands up!” they yelled. Ella complied gratefully, feeling an intense sense of relief that both she and Sébastien had made it through unscathed.

  Physically unscathed, that is.

  She still couldn’t absorb the fact that her father had died because Sébastien Cherbourg II wanted to apologize to his wife for sleeping with another woman. She didn’t know if she’d ever fully absorb it. Maybe it would hit her later that night, or in a week or a month…and she’d drop to her knees and cry for the cruelty that one man could show to another. But in this moment, all she knew was that they were safe.

  The police cuffed Peter and led him away. An officer came down into the basement and squatted beneath the stairs, picking up the gun and dropping it into an evidence bag. Quickly, Ella wondered if she should tell them about the bag of jewels in the filing cabinet. If she did, they might be able to prosecute O’Malley for her father’s robbery. Sébastien’s grandfather was long dead and buried, so no good could come of any formal charges for robbery or murder there.

  But what, she thought, would be the point of having even O’Malley charged with robbery? It would be an endless cycle of pain with no healing in sight. Instead, maybe she could choose her own path—to do the most amount of good and the least amount of harm.

  The police officer who collected the gun gave her a pointed look. “Ma’am, I’ll need a statement from you in just a moment. You, too, sir,” he said, nodding at Sébastien.

  “Of course,” she said softly. “Can you just give us a minute here?”

  The officer nodded sympathetically and trotted back up the stairs to drop off his bag of evidence. Ella whipped around and drew the burlap bag out of the filing cabinet. “Sébastien, what do we do with this?”

  His jaw dropped. “Is that what I think it is?”

  She nodded. “I found it earlier. It’s everything Peter stole from you.”

  Sébastien hung his head. Suddenly, he looked tired and in need of a long vacation. His skin, stretched taut over his face, showed the signs of intense emotional strain. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. “Give it to the police, Ella,” he said softly.

  “What?” she said. What was he saying? She was holding the bag of missing jewelry in her hand. If they hid the jewels in all their pockets, they could smuggle them out of here and the exhibition could go on. No one would be the wiser. “Sébastien, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “Maybe for the first time in my life.”

  He reached for her hands and took them gently in his. She looked up into his glowing olive-green eyes and felt her breath catch. That is one damn good-looking man, she thought again…for the millionth time. “Ella, I will never be able to make this up to you. The only reason you grew up alone is because of my family’s ridiculous greed. The chain of lies stops here. It ends with me.”

  “But Sébastien, your exhibition…I know how much it means to you.”

  “No,” he said, pulling her close. She could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks. The nearness of his body made her pulse begin to tingle. “You mean more to me than any exhibition. And I can’t stand here and look you in the eye if I don’t do the right thing. If I don’t put my own needs aside and repent for what my family has done to yours.”

  “But you aren’t the one who hurt me,” she said. “You aren’t your grandfather. You’re different.”

  “Now I am,” he agreed, a flicker of a smile brightening his face. He brought his hands up to cup her face gently. “Hell, I say ‘please’ on a regular basis. But I won’t take the easy way out. I want you to be a part of my life, Ella Wilcox, and I won’t do it with my grandfather’s shadow hanging over us. The Cherbourgs repent when they’re wrong. I know I can’t do anything to come close to making it up to you, but I want you to know that I will die trying.”

  Ella blinked back tears. “Sébastien,” she whispered. “Do you really think we can pull this off?”

  “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “This is going to be the hardest thing either one of us has ever done. But I think we owe it to ourselves to try. I’ve felt so much pressure from other people to be the best leader I can. I knew they were depending on me to secure their futures. But you…”

  Here he stopped and brushed her cheekbones with his fingertips. The warmth of his touch electrified her. Could it really happen for us? she wondered. Can this be true?

  “You,” he continued, “expect something different. You make me want to be the best man I can be, with or without my family’s money.”

  A tide of emotion swelled up within her. She imagined a future where she woke up next to him every morning and went to sleep beside him every night. “Until I met you, I didn’t know how much I’d neglected my own destiny. I was trapped, living a life in search of something I didn’t really need. But now that I’ve seen the way you’ve worked so hard to build something, I want to do that, too. I’m tired of seeing ghosts everywhere. I want something real.” She put her hand on his heart. “I want this.”

  “You have it,” he said, bending his head to hers and kissing her with all the passion their words had unlocked between them.

  Chapter Twenty

  Three weeks later

  Ella’s anxious gaze swept the room, making sure the contents of every case matched the monograph posted beside it. Doreen, the museum’s special events coordinator, signaled her from t
he exhibition hall’s entrance. “Are you ready?” Doreen called.

  “Yep,” Ella said. “Bring it on.”

  In just three short weeks, the police had processed the jewels as evidence, returned them to Sébastien, and arraigned Peter on charges of theft, kidnapping, and attempted murder. O’Malley had admitted to having an accomplice on Sébastien’s security team—he’d needed a younger, stronger man to push the urn from the patio. The security guard had been summarily dismissed and taken into police custody.

  At Ella’s insistence, Sébastien agreed that the exhibition should go forward. The new exhibits contained monographs that explained the sordid history of some of the stolen jewels. Instead of turning people off, the newfound honesty had raised the interest in the exhibition to a fever pitch. Tickets had sold out in a single afternoon.

  Now, as Sébastien stood ready to make a speech for opening night, Ella watched him fidget at the podium. He really is nervous, she thought. But oh-so handsome.

  His black-tie tuxedo jacket fit his broad shoulders perfectly, emphasizing his strong, masculine presence. She felt her knees quiver at the thought of retreating to his bedroom after the opening gala and stripping every piece of that super-expensive tuxedo from his body.

  Ella signaled Doreen again, and Doreen released the velvet cordon holding the museum patrons back. They flooded into the main exhibition room and immediately began oohing and aahing over the gorgeous tiaras, necklaces, earrings, and bracelets on display.

  Ella moved to the sidelines and waited for everyone to file in. The cream of San Francisco society had turned out to see the Cherbourgs triumph over adversity. Sébastien’s mother, already loopy on champagne, stood surrounded by his dour uncles, arms crossed testily over their chests. Even Frau Müller, stationed beside her, had donned her best dress, a gray satin shift, and left her glasses back at the house.