by Kat Faitour
“Who’s using the old iron knocker?” Mason walked into the room, then abruptly halted when he saw Liam.
Both men moved toward each other. Then stopped.
“How can I help you, Liam?” Mason’s voice was painstakingly formal. Thomas looked from Mason to Liam, clearly confused by the cool currents flowing between them.
“I’m afraid I’m here on official business,” he said. “Is Margaux Taylor here?”
She walked into the kitchen, as if summoned. “I’m Margaux.” She moved closer, hand outstretched. “And you are?”
“Liam O’Donnell.” He shook her hand. “INTERPOL.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “INTERPOL?”
“Yes.” He was used to the reaction. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
Margaux reached behind her and sightlessly pulled out a chair to sink onto. Belatedly, she indicated Liam should join her, but he shook his head. He would keep this brief.
“Julian Jones was found dead two days ago.”
“How?”
“Gunshot wound. It appears to have been self-inflicted.” His bald words echoed. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Margaux pressed her knuckles to her mouth.
“Where was he found?” Mason asked.
“London.”
“He went home,” Margaux murmured. “We grew up together there. Met in school. He wasn’t just my assistant. He was my friend.”
There was nothing Liam could say, so he remained silent until Margaux composed herself.
“Obviously, we’ve concluded our search for Mr. Jones. We’ve also closed the case regarding the death of your employee in South Africa.” Inwardly, Liam cursed himself. He hadn’t been this awkward with a victim’s family since he was a rookie on the force. He zipped his jacket, preparing to leave.
“I’ll walk you out.” Mason held out his arm, gesturing for Liam to lead the way.
Both men kept their silence until they were back outside.
Mason stuck out his hand. Surprised, Liam took it.
“Thanks for letting us know.”
Once, the two men had been like brothers. Now they were strangers, linked only by a common past. And one woman.
“It’s my job.” His tone was harsh even to his own ears. He softened it by adding, “I’m glad Ms. Taylor will have some closure.”
Mason nodded. Liam started down the limestone path, back toward his car.
“Liam,” Mason called.
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Why you?”
“What?”
“How did you get the case? Aren’t you outside your jurisdiction?”
“Not really.” He smiled, but the muscles in his face felt stiff and unused. “Ruby sent a message. Saying you needed help.”
Mason’s face dropped. “And so you came?”
Liam nodded. “And so I came. As I told you I always would.”
He turned and walked away, his boots crushing the gravel into dust.
* * *
Ruby spun the combination dial, amazed people continued to use such outdated technology.
It must be nostalgia, she mused, knowing there was no place in her world for such weakness.
But that must be it. A persistent love of the past, and the things it symbolized.
Otherwise, there would be no point. A child could break a lock such as this.
She grunted. It stripped the fun right out of her work.
With a sharp tug, the vault swung open. Yet another sign of an amateur collector.
She shook her head. Thinking a heavy door would protect your things better than a simple but tried and true time lock was folly. Luckily, Ruby knew exactly how to exploit someone else’s follies.
She walked into the vault. Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting her image back to her.
And on the opposite wall, at least a hundred drawers, mostly the same size. All of them built in, but without individual locks.
She grinned, her teeth flashing white against the unrelenting black of her clothing and ski mask.
She crouched, reading the metal plates affixed to each drawer, stating what was inside.
A couple of names caught her eye, but she consoled herself she was here for one stone and one stone only.
No need to be greedy.
Finally, her eyes alit on the drawer with its shiny, newly engraved plate.
The Grace, it said.
Ruby rolled her eyes. People really were just stupid. They coined pretentious names for gems that had no real worth. At least none outside what a massive marketing machine created.
Diamonds weren’t rare. Neither were humans, but individuals were.
Yet, it was human nature to routinely sacrifice one in the pursuit of the other.
She pulled open the drawer, revealing its plush velvet interior. Nestled in the middle was the Taylor diamond. Its perfect emerald cut refracted the light from her penlight.
Hope really had outdone herself.
Ruby dropped the diamond into a black, silk bag and pulled the drawstrings tight. Reaching into her pocket, she removed a gaudy, dime store cubic zirconia and carefully placed it where The Grace had been moments before.
At least she’d sprung for an emerald cut.
She snickered.
She closed the drawer, scrupulously ensuring it was exactly as she’d found it. She backed up, inspecting every place she’d been, making sure no trace of her remained.
She was about to leave when the name caught her eye. In one corner, the lowest drawer, closest to the floor.
Ruby crouched, sure her eyes deceived her.
The Thornblood.
She gasped, unable to catch a proper breath. An enormous weight settled over her chest, further restricting her ability to inhale. She braced one gloved hand on the floor, afraid she might pass out.
The Thornblood was a massive ruby made notorious when her parents died for it.
They’d discovered it. Oversaw it’s processing and grading. And been murdered when someone decided it should be theirs instead.
The ruby had disappeared. Rumors swirled, swearing the stone was cursed. Destroyed by its own thief.
Ruby had never believed that any of the stories were true. She’d spent her entire adult life searching out leads until they inevitably dead-ended.
Until now.
She hooked a trembling finger into the drawer, pulling it open. The velvet was the color of clotted cream, a rich shade of ivory that would have been a stunning complement to the infamous stone.
Except it wasn’t there. Only a groove shaped for it molded the fabric.
Ruby sank to the floor as she filled her lungs with a deep, shuddering breath. She wanted to rage and weep and destroy everything in her sight. Instead, she clenched her fists and focused.
The Thornblood wasn’t here. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t been.
She sprung to her feet.
Her search had only begun.
A Note From Kat
I’d like to sincerely thank you for reading about Mason and Margaux in Dead Weight, the first book in my Orphans of Antwerp series. I know there are many choices out there, but you’ve given my book your time, interest, and dollars. I’m truly appreciative.
If you enjoyed their story (and I hope you did!) and want to know more about what happens with Ruby and Liam and the rest of the gang, then please stay tuned for the next book, A Cut Above.
As always, I hope you join my readers’ group (sign up at http://www.katfaitour.com) so I can let you know about new releases, sales, and other fun stuff. But the biggest advantage is that you’ll always get the first book free in every series I write. Always. That’s my promise and it’s my way of saying thank you to all my readers.
And finally, if you loved Dead Weight, it would do me a great service if you would leave a short review on Amazon. Or, better yet, please tell your friends! Your assistance in recommending my books spreads the word to new readers and helps others find my series.
Thank you!
Kat Faitour
http://www.katfaitour.com
p.s. If you have questions, comments, or would like to chat, feel free to email me at [email protected]. I love to hear from readers and answer all my messages personally!
Also by Kat Faitour
The London Calling Series
A Matter of Trust
Losing Angeline
Risking It All
The Price of Winning
Angeline’s Return
About the Author
Kat Faitour lives in the upper Midwest of the United States with her stoic husband and two ridiculous cats. Most of her professional career was spent working in healthcare until her last position taking patient complaints nearly sent her over the edge of reason.
After a brief stint studying cuisine, pastry, and wine at Le Cordon Bleu Ottawa, she realized the world was better off if she kept her culinary aspirations to the privacy of her own home. She graduated with a B.A. in Economics from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee and promptly decided to write romantic suspense.
When not reading, writing, and herding cats, she can whip up a mean coq au vin. Or apple galette. Just don't expect both at the same time, because she's really not that coordinated.
Keep up with all her antics at http://www.katfaitour.com (and don’t miss joining her readers’ group—she gives the first book of every series to her subscribers!).
You can email her at [email protected], which she would love because she adores hearing from her readers.
And while you can find her on social media, it’ll probably be pretty disappointing because she’s not very good at it. Except on Instagram where she posts pictures of those two ridiculous cats.
