The Diamond Thief: An Enemies to Lovers Romantic Suspense

by Annie Winters

  He glances out the window. “They sure are taking their sweet time fixing the tire.”

  I murmur my agreement. I’m still not sure whether to stand my ground or run.

  He lifts a glass. “Let’s get acquainted. Tell me about your most lucrative job.”

  He’s toying with me. He knows exactly who I am, and he’s gotten everyone else away before he dispatches me. The back of my neck prickles.

  So I decide to play along. I really have no other choice.

  I sip my wine. “Recently, I was on a smallish job, sort of technical, some traditional alarm systems plus a rather unusual one involving action sequences.” I pause to see if he reacts, but his poker face is very much locked in.

  “While I was picking up the items I was interested in, I noticed an unusual safe in the vault, so I cracked it. I took some strange objects from inside, nothing of any obvious importance. They got heavy on the way home, so I dropped them in the Hudson River.”

  He freezes. I have to smile inwardly. If he wants to play cat and mouse, I can do that all day long.

  “You didn’t even check the contents?”

  “No. I didn’t bother. I had what I wanted. Whatever those hunks of metal were, they were heavy and pointless.”

  His thumb brushes across his phone screen, sending my senses on high alert. What did he just summon? Elliott to return? The bodyguard to come collect me?

  I laugh. “None of that is true. I find a lie much more interesting than the dull truth, don’t you?”

  He studies me, and I’m quite certain now that he has seen through everything. He planned this entire trip as a way to trap me. I walked right in.

  I set down the glass on a small table near my seat. “I should check on my friend.”

  My heart bangs painfully, waiting to see what his next move will be, but he doesn’t stop me. I head out the back of the van and hop to the ground. The driver is still by the tire, tightening the last lug nut.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “I just needed some fresh air.”

  The bodyguard stands over him. Nothing seems out of place there.

  I don’t have a lot of options, so I walk toward the trailhead. Elena and Elliot are out here somewhere. I pull out my phone and quickly text Elena that I need her now.

  No response. Figures. I keep walking. What should I do? Make a run for it? I’m in the middle of nowhere. This is all way too convenient.

  I have no doubt Jacob did this to get me alone. But I don’t know what to do about it. Now I’m wondering, if I go into the woods, will I come back out alive?

  13

  Jacob

  This reunion has gone differently than I expected.

  I sip the chilled glass of wine and consider everything that has just happened. Jade has undergone training in subterfuge, but not like mine. I can see that she doesn’t believe that I’ve forgotten who she is. A point for her for that.

  She also didn’t panic, not past the initial shock of seeing me. Another point. She isn’t quite certain about what she wants to do about the situation. She wonders why I’m toying with her. As if it isn’t obvious.

  But the thing I really have to take stock of right now is my own reaction.

  I anticipated that I would feel a rush of murderous rage when I saw that thieving woman again. But that has not been the case.

  In fact, sitting here, the van emptied of her presence, I find myself longing for her to return.

  This is absolutely ludicrous. The only thing I should long for is her head on a pike.

  She looks damnably young and innocent with that blond pixie cut. But everything else about her screams sex. I have already begun to layer this new look of hers on my memories, and I find that I must have more of her. I had the dark-haired Jade.

  Now I want the blond imp, Marissa.

  I’m not one to leave anything to chance. At least not now that she’s busted me once. I have to consider how Antony remarked that I underestimated her. Perhaps that is obvious. But perhaps I was just sloppy.

  I send a message to the guard inquiring about the others.

  He responds quickly.

  The girl has gone into the woods to find her friend.

  I can’t help but ask based on what I know of my comrade.

  Is the red-haired one with Elliott?

  I can almost feel the laugh in his response.

  They seemed rather friendly as they disappeared.

  I shake my head. I told Elliott to seduce the girl, to ensure that there were moments that I could get Jade alone. He seemed all too eager to comply with my request.

  I consider my options.

  I can take the girl now, as planned. Return her to one of my bunkers and pry the information from her. I’m not sure of the point of that little story she told of dropping the swords in the river. It seems possible that she wasn’t aware of what she was taking.

  I set my glass down and decide that perhaps I am due a little fun. I will pursue this Marissa/Jade. Maybe we will even run this job.

  It’s such a minor heist—it’s literally as simple as scratching our noses. But I long to see Jade at work. If she is as good as Antony tries to make her out to be, maybe she is an asset to put on my team. Once we’ve straightened out the matter of the swords, of course. After speaking with her, I feel she will be reasonable.

  I stand and head out the back door. The driver still kneels beside the tire. “We’re done here,” I say.

  The driver nods. “What would you have us do?”

  “You stay with the van.” I gesture to my guard. “You’ll drive my car. I’m going to look for the girl.”

  If my hunch is correct, and my hunches are always correct, Jade will have gone to seek out her friend and alert her to the situation. I head down the trail, my hands in my pockets. I resist the urge to whistle. This is one fine afternoon, the air brisk, the sugar maples pure red fire.

  Jade is back in my hands. Elliott has no doubt put together a well-planned job. And perhaps before this day is out, I will have resolved the matter my swords and possibly even bedded the girl once again. Yes, definitely a fine day.

  A stick breaks to my left. I pause, listening. Quite possibly no one on this job is trained in outdoor stealth and surveillance. They do not know where to step, how to cover their trail, how to slink through trees and leaves unnoticed.

  I do. I am trained in everything.

  I slide next to a large maple and wait. Sure enough, after a moment Jade appears, looking around in concern.

  “Elena? Elliott?” she says in a hoarse whisper. She pauses to look at her phone.

  I watch her, my senses stirring. She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear, a gesture so young and endearing that I almost forget who she is. She is dressed properly for the heist. Black pants and a charcoal gray sweater over a tight turtleneck that accentuates those assets that I held in my hands just a week ago.

  The urge to capture her and take her in the trees is strong. I want to strip her down in the brisk fall air, watch the colors flutter from the branches as I draw her down in a bed of leaves.

  She unravels my control. I sense I cannot cause her pain that she does not enjoy. The strikes of the belt only fueled her. I want to know the edges of her need, the limits of her ecstasy. I want to push every boundary.

  I want her.

  The girl from my past has become a long distant memory now. Jade has obliterated her. I will not lose this one. I will take my swords and then I will have all of her.

  She looks forward on the trail, then turns and looks back. She seems lost. But then she surprises me. She slides off her narrow flexible shoes, clearly custom made for the job, revealing bare feet.

  She tucks her phone in an unseen pocket, also good. She has made her own clothes suitable for her work.

  She leaps up and grasps a level branch. She swings her legs, moving up to the limb with the easy grace of a gymnast.

  Interesting.

  She shifts close to the trunk and car
efully picks her way upward until she is well into the canopy. She looks over the woods, ostensibly to spot her friend. What she doesn’t expect to see is something else entirely.

  Me.

  14

  Jade

  Oh my God.

  Jacob is here in the woods with me.

  He’s followed me.

  I hold on to a slender limb like a kitten who isn’t sure how to make her way down.

  Our eyes meet. He was only a few yards away when I was on the ground, and yet I didn’t notice him. He has the gift of stealth, even in the woods. He is a formidable enemy, and I have made him one from my own ignorance.

  He steps forward. “Have you spotted your friend yet?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Amazing climb. Really. I’m quite impressed.”

  Jacob. Impressed with me. Why wouldn’t he be, since I stole a massive heist right from under his nose?

  I twist several slender limbs together to make a sturdier perch for myself. I glance back toward the trunk. I hadn’t anticipated having a spectator.

  Jacob’s bright white shirt gleams now that he has stepped away from the colorful foliage. I can even spot the shine on his shoes from here.

  A wicked impulse flows through me.

  “Why don’t you come on up?” I ask.

  His expression never wavers. I try to picture him making his way up the branches in two-thousand-dollar shoes and his picture-perfect wardrobe. I stifle a giggle.

  He hesitates. But then he surprises me. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them next to mine.

  Even from here I can see that his socks are not fine menswear but something practical. He unbuttons his shirt cuffs and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. And then he’s coming. He dodges through the branches like Tarzan.

  If Tarzan wore Armani and smelled of Dior.

  Within seconds he’s level with me on the opposite side of the massive tree trunk. The leaves are bright red behind him, like he’s the center of a fire.

  “Nice view,” he says, but he’s not looking out. His eyes are on me.

  “You always wear proper socks for tree climbing?” I ask. I glance meaningfully down at his feet.

  “They are good for most things. Bottom grips. Silent. Would you like a pair? They are custom-made by a manufacturing company I own.”

  Of course they are.

  “You’d spare me some?” I ask.

  “I’d give you the socks off my feet.”

  “Uh, yuck?” I grimace at that, but he grins at me with such an honest smile that for a moment I forget who he is, that I stole from him. We’re a man and a woman in a tree, the woods on fire around us with the glory of autumn.

  I hold fast to the slender limbs, watching him from my side.

  “It’s a bit sturdier over here,” he says, extending a hand.

  I look down. We’re at least twenty feet off the ground, level with the top of a second story house. If he pushed me, I might fall to my death. Or I might break my neck but not die.

  He senses my hesitation. “There is certainly at least that much honor among thieves,” he says. He leans forward so that his hand reaches more closely to mine.

  I can see each of his nails, the creases of his knuckles. I remember those fingers on my body. My throat involuntarily swallows.

  Besides, he can’t kill me now. He doesn’t know where his swords are.

  I reach out and take his hand. He holds tightly to a branch above him, giving me leverage to shift my weight to the new branch and move beside him.

  “Now, isn’t that better?” he asks.

  Jacob turns to grin at me, and I can’t help but feel like we are two kids playing in the backyard. It’s the most unusual feeling.

  I’m not usually this comfortable around other people in general. I mean, I used to be, but ever since I joined the Den, there has been a lot more to my anxiety about getting close to other people. We are actual villains, and it’s impossible to know who to trust.

  But I don’t feel distant with Jacob. In the hierarchy of villainy, he sits squarely at the top. He doesn’t kill people, as far as I know, but he has stolen a lot of things. Pretty much everything he owns has been built on an empire of someone else’s riches.

  The thing I cannot forget, however, is that he is playing me. Same as I played him a week ago. There will be a reckoning for all that soon, but unless he plans to dispatch me from a tree and never learn the location of his swords, I am relatively safe.

  In fact, I’m completely safe as long as I don’t tell him anything. And that’s pretty much exactly what I intend to do.

  “I haven’t climbed a tree in ages,” he says. “Probably not since I did a job on an individual in Central Park in my, oh, mid twenties?”

  “You did a plain old stick ‘em up? That doesn’t sound like a job by Jacob Holt.”

  “So you know my style.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Anyone who’s from the Den knows you.”

  I guess we’re going to ignore the elephant in the room. Or the tree, I guess. The fact that he also knows me. I don’t get why he’s not admitting it. But I will continue to go with it. I want to get to the bottom of his game.

  “Were you a tree climber as a kid?” I ask.

  “Absolutely. My friend Peter and I would always try to build one tree house or another in the acreage out where we lived.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t grow up in Manhattan?” I always picture people like Jacob Holt being born literally with silver spoons in their mouths. A silver spoon stolen from someone else, of course. It is generally known that the biggest and most successful members of the Den come from a long line of family in the profession.

  “No, I was just a normal kid who had normal parents. My dad, Arnold, worked at a shoe factory. My mom, Imelda, sold jars of jam and pickled things on the side.”

  Okay, that story is clearly fake. “Arnold and Imelda? Shoe factory and pickles? So exactly what 1950s sitcom did you get the story from?” I ask.

  He laughs. “It’s ridiculous because it’s true. Small farming community. They had square dances.”

  “Do you square dance?”

  “I could manage a proper do si do in the right circumstance.”

  His grin is pure mischief, and I wonder if I’m seeing a side of Jacob that is rarely shown. Or if it’s still all part of his plan. Establish a rapport with the victim. Antony taught us that, for the close-up stuff. If they like you, they have a hard time suspecting you would screw them.

  “So tell me about yourself,” he says. “You never said what interested you most from the collection.”

  I decide not to kid around. “The Fife tiara,” I say. “It’s been like a ghost crown for over a century.”

  “It’s quite beautiful. I saw the image.”

  “It’s more than beautiful. It’s…” I falter. I can’t quite describe my fascination with it. “It’s heavenly.”

  “So why tiaras?” Jacob asks. “Did you play a lot of princess as a girl?”

  I brush a bit of bark off my pants. A bird settles on a nearby branch, black-winged and glossy. “Quite the opposite, actually. I was discouraged, if not outright banned, from feminine pursuits. Unlike you, I come from a long line of thieves.”

  “Oh.” He seems taken aback. “That explains how you got into the Den.”

  Interesting. Possibly I’ve just given him cause for concern. If he is not old-Den, a legacy, and I am, this might just be the upper hand I need to stay out of his clutches.

  The silence between us stretches long. Birds chirp and hop about, invigorated by the fall air. In the distance a kid shouts to his father. Probably hikers on the trail.

  “I’ve always enjoyed fall,” he says, and now we’re back to the cat-and-mouse. “How are you on pumpkin spice?”

  “Overrated,” I say, and he laughs.

  “And ubiquitous.”

  “Ridiculously ubiquitous. You can’t walk into a store without tripping over something new that has been ruined by nu
tmeg and allspice.”

  “Is that what it’s made of?” he asks. His head tilts, and my eyes catch on his lips.

  “Among other things.”

  “Well, I’m glad we at least have derision of the pumpkin spice takeover in common.”

  I’m shocked for the third time in the last half hour to find I’m grinning with complete abandon, right at my enemy.

  15

  Jacob

  In all the plans that I made for this interception of Jade, I never quite pictured this outcome. The two of us, chatting in a tree. Under any other circumstance, I might have actually enjoyed myself.

  Actually, yes, I am enjoying myself. I have to admit that much.

  But the fact remains that she is the worst sort of liar. A cheat among thieves. Seduction is her trade. The last thing I need at this hour is to fall for it a second time.

  “Oh, look,” Jade says, pointing down. “It’s Elliott and Elena.”

  The pair emerge from the woods. They have not succeeded in whatever they attempted. It’s clear from their postures, the lack of intimate gestures and looks. I have never known Elliott to fail before. I hope nothing is going awry internally on this job.

  “Hey yo ho,” I call down.

  Elliott stops, looking around, then up. He spots us in the tree.

  “Jacob! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Tree climbing!”

  Elliott shakes his head. “Elena, meet Jacob Holt. He is the fourth on our job.”

  Her head snaps up. “You didn’t say there was a fourth,” she says. Her eyes dart to Jade in concern. So they have discussed me prior to today.

  I turn to Jade. “Are you ready to head down?”

  She nods. I grasp a branch above us and stand. I offer her a hand, but she shakes her head. “It’s easier to do it on your own.”

  We all watch as she effortlessly descends. The other girl picks up Jade’s shoes and passes them to her. Not to be showed up, I drop through the trees like a hunter about to jump on prey.

  Elena leans in to tell Jade something while I step into my shoes. I wonder how much she knows. The two of them walk ahead. Elliott allows them to get several steps in front of us before he quietly asks, “So what’s next?”