Devious Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 2)

by Charlotte E Hart

  The moonlight casts a white glow around the room as the organza drapes gently billow at the doors that haven’t been shut. Swimming across the water isn’t my first choice, but it will ensure I’m not seen leaving, and that I won’t wake Nate opening the front door to the bungalow.

  My leg reaches out from under the sheet, and I find purchase on the floor to help slide my body off the bed with little or no movement. Before I move, my eyes study his form as he sleeps.

  He was so open with me last night. Our time together might have been on the clock from day one, but it felt different last night. Precious. Nothing mattered when we were together. We had a bubble of time to be lost in one another and we snatched it with both hands.

  A heavy ache rests in my stomach as I try to reason out my next move, but as my mind runs the excuses, they taste bitter in my mouth, poisoning the words I need to share with Nate. Every time I tried to share what I needed to, he stole them, snatching the moment away until now, it’s too late.

  “I love you.” The whisper chokes my throat and my eyes mist with the sadness that I’ll always carry.

  I tear my eyes away, unable to bear the pain that lances through my heart for a moment longer. My life doesn’t allow for dreams. That’s what I told Nate last night, but it was a lie. I have a dream. The same one since I was a little girl. To have a family and to feel love. And now, I have to turn my back on it because of a sense of obligation to my brother—the only family I do have.

  Every muscle in my body aches in a delicious, used way as I cross the room to the table where the diamonds are hidden. I can still feel Nate over my body. I pick up the vases one by one and carry them to the kitchen area. The kitchen towel makes a useful sieve as I pour the water over it, catching the diamonds and the small pebbles in the material. It’s a slow and careful process and one that I can’t rush. Each stone is over two carats of VS1-VS2 clarity. They’re worth over forty thousand dollars each. My fingers work through the grit and pick each diamond out.

  When I’ve counted each one, I take a pair of scissors to the organza and create a make-shift pouch. With the diamonds secure, I place the bamboo back in the vases, minus the pebbles, and clear up as quietly as possible.

  My mind welcomes the distraction from the pain in my chest. With everything set, there’s no reason to stay. Except for the man I’m leaving behind. He’s a reason. I look towards the bedroom, my heart screaming at me to stay, to leave something for Nate so he can find me again, but that will only bring pain. He’s an accountant, and while he might be worth a fortune, he doesn’t deserve the non-life that I live by. Or the potential threat I’m living under. Watching my back and never knowing who to trust. What decent human would drag someone into that?

  The shadow of my brother’s organisation is long, and even if I stopped all of the more questionable parts of my job, I’d still be a wanted thief in many circles. Nate wouldn’t understand. How could he? What normal person would?

  I slip into the water with nothing on, leaving every scrap of clothing where Nate ripped them from my body last night. The parcel of diamonds secure in my hand, and the evidence from the vases at the bottom of the sea, my lungs fill with a few deep breaths before I glide out into the water and to my own bungalow to finish the cleanup.

  A shiver flares over my skin as I emerge from the water. I don’t look back from where I came. There’s still no sign of dawn breaking in the sky; everything still lingers in darkness.

  I afford myself two minutes to wash the salt from my skin and to hide the tears that won’t stop falling beneath the warm water of the shower. But after I’m out, I switch gears, pushing all of the joy and happiness down into a chasm in my chest just waiting to be filled. And then I lock it up.

  Jeans, T-shirt, jacket, toiletries, and of course the jewellery case are all I pack in my go-bag. I pull my hair into a tight braid, and I’m out of the bungalow in under four minutes.

  Avoiding the security cameras as best as possible, I double back and survey the resort. Checking. Always checking, until I arrive at the reception desk to depart.

  “Miss Andreas, is everything alright?” The puzzled look on the night manager’s face doesn’t deter me from my task.

  “I’m afraid I need to check out early. You have my details on file. Please settle it all. I’ll also need a taxi and transport to the mainland airport.”

  “Of course. We’re sorry you’re leaving us, but I trust everything was to your liking?”

  “It was wonderful. What time will the taxi be available? I’m on a short timescale.” I check my watch and calculate the wait time at the airport.

  “We do have one on standby. However, the cost will be significantly…”

  “The cost isn’t the issue. Time is.”

  “Yes, mademoiselle.”

  The manager prints a receipt for the stay, which I give no attention to and scrawl my alias at the bottom. I leave the paperwork behind and make my way to the jetty where a small boat is tied up. The manager rushes past me and speaks to the driver who looks like he’s been catching some sleep in the small hours of the morning.

  “Safe travels, Miss Andreas.”

  The gentle sway of the boat doesn’t relax me as it has in the past. My stomach rolls and I fight the nausea that climbs up my throat. The engine starts and then, under cover of darkness, we head towards the mainland where I can set about jumping on the next available flight. It won’t matter where. It will help if I don’t take a direct path.

  The gentle vibration from my phone pulls my attention, but I ignore it. The same pattern that he always uses follows. Two messages. One call.

  “What?” I snap, looking out into the inky sea as we skip over the surface.

  “Are you on your way?”

  “You phoned me less than ten hours ago.”

  “And I thought we’d established we aren’t playing games, Gabriella.”

  “If we were playing games I wouldn’t have answered your call.” My teeth bite down in frustration

  “Look, I know I messed up. But as I said earlier, I need those diamonds. I don’t intend to lose this deal because my sister decided to go and do fuck knows what, when she should have come home with my diamonds.”

  “Your explanation was a great deal more critical earlier. I swear, Andreas, if there isn’t a hit out on your head, then all you’ll need to worry about is me. You bailed. You ran, leaving me. You should have thought about the exit strategy, planned for all scenarios.”

  “You don’t get to give me orders. And if you were in the fucking country, you’d be able to verify that I’m marked. Unless you can get those diamonds back and into Mortoni’s hand, it’s only a matter of time.” The normal smoothness of his voice now holds an edge of panic.

  I close my eyes and try not to hate my brother, but right now, resentment for what he’s forcing me to do eats at my stomach. If it weren’t for his desperate call, pleading with me, I’d never have considered leaving Nate the way I have. And now, a few hours later, after he’s got me to do what he needs, he’s back to his usual self.

  “You know I’m on the way. It just may take a while.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not exactly a direct flight back to Miami, you know. Be grateful.”

  “I’m grateful, hermana.” My stupid, weak heart believes him as well.

  “I’ll be with you within twenty-four hours. Give or take.”

  “Travel fast, Gabriella.” He cuts the line.

  As I sit waiting for the next flight to the States in the departures lounge in Tahiti, I can’t help but wonder what Nate must think of me. If I questioned my feelings for him before, I can’t now. Not after last night. What I feel for him is real. As sure as if I can reach out and touch it with my hands.

  But we didn’t agree to love. First names and a holiday fling, nothing more. And even if I didn’t have to leave, who’s to say Nate would want to see me past the expiration date we set along with the length of our stay?

  This is fo
r the best, like tearing a bandage off—look the other way and rip. The pain is over before you realise you felt anything. Except the ache in my chest hasn’t dulled or lessened with the distance I’ve travelled away from him. Part of me feels like I left my heart when I ghosted out of the bungalow, leaving him with no explanation and just his assumptions when he wakes up.

  The sun burst over the horizon an hour or so ago, but the tropical island that held so much peace remains in shadow to me. I sigh, we’d be picking scuba gear soon. Those are the last words I mumbled to him last night as we dreamed our night away and fell asleep in each other’s arms. Scuba diving. Fun. Stupid of me really, but I was swept away in the moment.

  In love.

  Another twenty minutes and I can board the flight to San Francisco. It’s the wrong side of the continent, but it’s the first plane that will get me stateside for half a day. From there, I can catch a number of flights and be back to save my brother within the timeframe I sent him.

  An announcement comes over the tannoy, and I make my way through to the security check. The pain and guilt festering in my stomach have to take a backseat while I focus on ensuring everything goes smoothly for the next few minutes. The backpack that will save my brother’s life suddenly weighs a hundred pounds. I lift it onto the conveyor belt and rummage about, setting my mobile phone and other items in the grey tray ready for inspection.

  My feet edge forward in the small queue and I wait for my bag to appear on the other side. The other passengers around me scatter to collect their belongings, but I’m left waiting.

  A petite woman in uniform carries my bag towards me. “Is this your bag?” her stern voice rings out.

  “Yes. Yes, it is. Is there a problem? I think I took everything I needed to out.”

  “We’ll be doing an inspection. Please come with me.” She walks around to the side of the security area where there is a desk set up with two search stations. A man with a tomato-red face and a large stomach is frantically trying to re-pack all of his items while mumbling to himself.

  The woman with my bag sets it next to this man and pulls on a pair of latex gloves. She unzips the top and begins to take out the contents item by item. At least she’s careful.

  This has happened to me several times before, usually in the States or Europe. The trick is never lie and stay calm.

  “May I ask what the problem is? All my toiletries and my phone are out. I’m so sorry if I missed anything.”

  “There was an anomaly on the x-ray, and we need to make a visual inspection.”

  “Oh, right.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, all the while watching her like a hawk. I know what she’s looking for. It’s wrapped between a couple of items of clothing. My eyes scan the nearest exits and security guards and pick up the cameras operating in the area. It’s a small terminal. Nothing like those in Heathrow or LAX, but I wouldn’t like to take my chances.

  “Would you mind opening this for us.” She’s all business as she places my jewellery case on the desk.

  “Certainly.” I unfasten the popper on the front and unroll the case. I open the two zip sections visible to allow her to find the diamond necklace. She goes immediately for it and pulls the stones out. They sparkle in the artificial light, sending rainbows of colour dancing around.

  “This is an impressive piece of jewellery. Do you have documents of ownership?”

  “I do. I turn the case over and unzip the compartment at the back. My fingers dig the three folded certificates out, which account for each of the items I’m carrying.

  She places the diamonds down, but she can barely take her eyes from the necklace. The paper crinkles as she opens it to scan over and sees the Gemological Institute of America stamp in the corner.

  “Are you carrying anything else of value with you?”

  “No. Just my jewellery. There’s some earrings as well.” I point them out.

  The woman picks up the case and turns it over, running her fingers inside the two compartments. My pulse picks up as she scrutinises what’s in her hand. The hidden compartment is almost invisible, shielded between two pieces of leather that make up the case. The polymer lining protecting the contents from the scan.

  She looks back over at a screen. Her eyes squint as she tries to get a clearer image. I know what she’s seen. A shadow, perhaps, of the stones hidden with the necklace over the top.

  My hand clenches into a fist and releases as I wait for her to give me the all clear.

  “You’ve been on holiday?” she asks, her eyes still focused on the screen.

  “Yes. Bora Bora. You can check at the resort I stayed in.”

  “Yet your clothes don’t include anything that would suggest a sun holiday.”

  “I purchased a beach wardrobe while I was on the island. I’m travelling light and will have no use for them when I return home.”

  “In San Francisco?”

  “No. I’m heading back to my brother in Miami.”

  “You seem to be going in the wrong direction then.”

  “There isn’t a flight from Tahiti to Miami. I can change at San Francisco and be back before the next flight from here.”

  “Not concerned with the cost?”

  “Ma’am, those diamonds are worth over three million. I’ve just spent tens of thousands on a two-week holiday. I’m not going to worry over an extra few hundred for a flight.” My eyes pierce hers with my little speech. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to secure my bag and be on my way.” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to back down.

  “Thank you for your time.” She drops all my belongings on the desk and leaves.

  My eyes close for a moment, offering up a small prayer of thanks before I meticulously repack the bag. As my hands work in front of me, I check both my exit points and ensure I’ve not drawn any interest. I make a show of checking my ticket and look around as if I am searching for the gate number or departure information. It’s not necessary as it’s committed to memory, but I do need to get a better look around me. A trickle of tourists, mostly couples filter past me and on towards the duty-free area. Thirty more seconds.

  A gentleman of Japanese heritage, wearing a leather jacket, is sitting on the first bank of seats past security. He has his phone out with headphones plugged in. His backpack, almost identical to mine, is at his feet.

  It’s probably nothing, but after the delay with security, my nerves have picked up. Slipping back to my old self—my real self—is necessary. I can’t let my feelings cloud my actions or compromise the checks I make for my own safety or leaving Nate will be in vain.

  A group of couples all pile through the security check at the same time, and I slip amongst them as we all travel into the duty-free shop. The man on his phone checks to see if I am still packing my bag but stands up to scan the area as soon as he realises I’ve moved.

  Seems like I’ve picked up a tail. But how, and what does he want?

  Chapter Twelve

  My bare feet walk the boards over to her villa, the sun making me grasp my head because of the hangover that’s interfering with idyllic retreats. I don’t know why she wasn’t there this morning when I woke, or why she left without even taking her clothes, but this is Gabby. It’s becoming normal for her to have another side I don’t know about. Just like that phone call last night at the casino. It’s more secrets I either don’t want to know the answer to or can’t find the energy to ask about. Here is perfect, just the way it is. No outside world. No problems.

  Just us.

  The last thing I remember, before we drifted off into sleep last night, was her talking about scuba diving today. How the hell scuba diving is going to make either of us feel any better after the amount of champagne we consumed, I don’t know, but I care little for the reasoning behind whatever she’s asked for. I’ll do it. I might be a damn moron for indulging her every whim, but like she says—holiday.

  And there’s not enough of it left.

  I want more of my dream.

>   Two days. That’s all we’ve got. Two days of fucking and fooling about, both of us smiling and laughing about anything and everything as if we’re two people in love. Maybe we are, but it can’t be real forever, can it?

  I snort at myself and peer at the lagoon to the side, a couple swimming by in their tranquil bliss. I’ve never laughed so much in my life, certainly not when drunk. Drunk usually means Quinn’s got his dice rolling, a gamble of some sort threatening to blow the calm my numbers balance for out of the damn water.

  A maid pushes a trolley by me as I turn onto the last platform towards her place, dirty sheets piled into the holding bags. I smirk at them as she goes by, amused about the come that’s splattered from our fun, and wonder what other thing I can get her involved in this afternoon. More fruit? Maybe I could tie her up, not that I’ve ever really cared for that, but I might be able to tease that other life she’s got out of her that way.

  Force it.

  Jesus, I need to get a grip of myself. Literally. I look down, dick bouncing beneath the flowery shorts she made me buy. She called me a pussy, told me that if I wasn’t man enough to wear them then perhaps I wasn’t man enough to fuck her.

  I bought the damn shorts.

  “Gabby?” I call, pushing the door open and heading to the deck. No answer. Perhaps she’s playing coy. The thought makes me smile some more, about ready to drop these shorts and find her to do some more damage to that tight little—

  “Monsieur?” I spin around, instantly frowning at another maid who stands in the doorway, hand carrying cleaning products. “Puis-je vous aider?” Yes, she can help me. I check my watch. Where the hell is Gabby?

  “Ou est la femme,” I ask, searching for my rusty French. “Qui reste ici?”

  “Elle est partie.” She points at the door. My frown triples. What the hell is she talking about?