by Lisa Kessler
“You need to return it.” He paused, an idea forming in his head. “Unless.” He shouldn’t even be contemplating it, but once the thought manifested, he couldn’t stop the rush. His gaze locked on hers. “Unless we make a duplicate box. You could surrender the real relic to the government and sell the forgery.”
She sat back against the sofa, a sexy smile curving her lips. “That’s a risky plan for a guy who drives a sensible Lexus and won’t approve a deal unless it’s a virtual sure thing.”
He chuckled, aching to tell her he was the boatswain for the Sea Dog crew. If anyone could see a plan through to its finish, it was him.
“It’s only a risk if you rush in without a well-thought-out strategy.” He left the chair, pacing his spacious study. His heart raced with anticipation. Alive. “How many photos of the box have you taken? I’ll need the exact dimensions and shots of every side, along with the top and the bottom.” He froze, meeting her eyes. “Whatever you do, don’t open it.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “No worries there. I’ve tried everything. There’s no latch or a lock, but the lid still won’t open.”
“Good.” He nodded and resumed walking the length of the room. “I know the finest carpenter in the state. Drake can make us a replica quickly.”
“If I can get the software issue worked out, we could have the money within a week.” She scooted to the edge of her seat, and he couldn’t miss the eagerness in her eyes.
This woman was dangerous, luring him away from the safety of his well-crafted world.
“Once I have photos and dimensions, I’ll check with Drake and be sure we can have the duplicate completed in time.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, unable to believe what he was about to offer. “And I’ll wire money from my private account to your dummy corporation to cover the software.”
She stood, shock plain on her face. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say we’re partners in this.” As the plot gelled in his mind, his eagerness increased. Bale would get Pandora’s box, Harmony would get to save lives, and he could keep her out of federal prison. “And my investment will be returned, along with an equal share in the profit.”
She sighed. “There isn’t any profit in this.” She came a few paces closer to him. “My charity is on the dark web. We’re called the Digi Robins, like digital Robin Hoods. None of us keep any of the money. It flows back out to cover medical expenses for people whose lives depend on it.”
Crappy pirating, he thought, shaking his head. “If I invest in this, there will be something in return.”
She crossed her arms, raising a brow. “It won’t be money.”
“Truth, then.” He came to stand in front of her. “I’ll consider my investment a donation, but there won’t be any lies between us on this scheme.”
She held out her hand. He took it, marveling again at the way his pulse thrummed from her touch. She smiled up at him. “Deal.” She withdrew her hand, her fingertips sliding free of his slowly, making him ache at the loss. She cleared her throat. “You’re the planner, how are we going to get the box back to the feds without them taking me, too?”
“There’s a good chance he’s already cracked open your safe and taken it.” John shrugged.
“Good thing it’s not in there, then.” She disappeared down the hallway.
John hurried after her, frowning. “You lied to me.”
“Of course I did.” She glanced back at him with a crooked smile. The rush of adventure flushed her skin with color, life. “I told you I needed to know if I could trust you.”
He crossed his arms, biting back a grin as she reached for the door handle. “And have I earned that?”
“I did shake on our deal.” She turned around to face him, her chest nearly touching his. “It’s in a secure off-site safe house. I’ll go get it while you make the arrangements with your government agent friend.”
He caught her wrist before she could grab the door. “First. He’s not my friend. Second, until I arrange the swap, you need to stay out of sight.”
“I can do that, just stall for me when the feds get here.”
“I’ll do you one better, lass.” His true nautical accent slipped into his voice before he could stop himself. The lure of danger lowered his defenses. He tipped his head toward the other side of the house. “I’ll get you a head start.”
She followed him to the back of the house, to the garage that opened onto the back alley.
He turned on the light, exposing a cherry-red Porsche parked beside his gold Lexus.
She gasped. “You’ve had a Porsche this whole time?”
“What do you have against my Lexus?” He took the keys to the sports car off the hook on the wall and placed them in her hand. There was a chance he’d never see the car again, but he wanted to believe their deal meant something to her. Besides, he had plenty of gold to replace the car and buy another half-dozen more. “Can I ask something in return?”
“Sure.” She wet her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth, awakening a desire he’d thought died long ago.
His voice morphed into a raw whisper. “Be careful.” He took her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to the back. “Meet me tomorrow night on the deck of the Sea Dog at midnight. It’s docked off of River Street. I’ll have all the arrangements for the exchange by then.”
She gripped the keys and stared into his eyes. Her lips parted slightly as she rose on her toes. He couldn’t resist the temptation any longer, bending to kiss her soft mouth. Her free hand slid up his chest, resting over his heart, her fingers tightening, clutching his shirt. Rum and wine mingled on her lips as his tongue reached for hers. He held her tighter, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. She hummed into his mouth and pushed away, stumbling back a couple of steps.
He couldn’t form words. No kiss had ever affected him like this, like he’d finally discovered fresh water on a deserted island.
She shook her head slowly, her teeth catching her lower lip. “Wow.” Without another word, she jogged down the stairs to the floor of the garage and opened the driver’s side of his sports car. Before she got inside, her eyes met his. “Thank you, John. For everything.”
He clicked the garage door open and watched her drive off into the darkness. And damn it all, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop smiling.
…
“Sir, it’s not here.” The field agent backed up to allow David to inspect the contents of the wall safe.
There were a few antique jewelry pieces, a couple stock certificates, and a college diploma. No sign of Pandora’s box.
“Shit.” David tugged his phone from his pocket and called Kingsley. “What have you got?”
“You mean since the last time you badgered me, approximately six minutes ago?” King’s crisp British accent highlighted his aloof offense at being pestered.
David didn’t give a crap at the moment. “Yes. I need a lead. Now.”
“You’re lucky I’m very good at my job.” He clicked keyboard keys in a frenzied rhythm. “Seems that before you sent out the security camera photos, you should have waited for my background check on our thief.”
David rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for lectures, King. What do you know?”
“Apparently Ms. Andrews works for one of your pirates.”
“Shit. Let me guess…” David’s gut twisted. “John Smyth.”
“Well done. Perhaps you’re psychic after all.” Kingsley wisely changed course. “She’s worked for Privateer Capital for the past five years. No criminal record, but if you bring me her computer, I’m fairly certain we’ll discover she’s also our hacker.”
“God damn it.” David raked his hand through his hair. He ended the call and glanced at his team. “I’m taking the desktop and the tablet. Look around for any laptops and bring them. Toss the place. It needs to look like a home invasion.”
“Yes sir,” the field agent answered.
Chapter Five
Harmony laughed as the Pors
che ate up the empty two-lane highway. All this time she thought she had John Smyth all figured out, but apparently somewhere underneath the organized, methodical, and frustrating level-headedness, there was another side to him she’d never seen.
He could have easily turned her in tonight, but he didn’t. At least not yet. Realistically, he might be reporting his car stolen right now, but she doubted it. They’d made a deal, and from their five years working together, she’d never known John to renege on one. His word was definitely his bond.
Besides, why invite her to meet him tomorrow night if he was going to have her arrested. They were partners now.
Just thinking the word “partners” had her stomach in knots. She shouldn’t have kissed him. It hadn’t been planned, but he’d been so close and smelled so damned good, plus he gave her the keys to a Porsche. Yeah, it was easier to blame the kiss on those things than admit the truth.
The truth scared the shit out of her.
When her parents split and her dad moved back to Texas, it shattered her and her family. While they struggled to eat and buy necessities for school, she’d made many promises to herself, one being she would never be dependent on anyone else.
She’d fashioned her life around that one principle, and it had served her well. She never needed anybody, and in trade, she never went hungry again. Yes, she worked too much, and sure, it was lonely sometimes, but usually she was too busy to notice. Partnerships would only lead to disappointment.
Tonight, John Smyth saved her ass. And he committed to helping her save lives, even if it meant trusting that the ends would justify the means. His own funds in exchange for nothing but the truth. She never should have agreed, and she had no business accepting any of it. Money came with strings attached. A partnership.
And instead of kicking herself in the ass for agreeing, she’d surrendered to a swell of gratitude and kissed him. Shit, shit, shit. What was she doing? Taking his money left her indebted to him. Dependent. This was bad.
She pushed the unwanted introspection from her head and pressed the accelerator. The lights of Savannah shrank in the rearview mirror. She stayed off the interstate, opting for the back roads toward Tybee and the other small islands along the Georgia coast. Once she was safely out of the city, she pulled over. Streetlights were few and far between on the islands. Plenty of shadows to hide in. She took out her phone and called the Savannah police department.
When an officer answered, she launched into her story, doing her best to sound frazzled. “Can you send someone over to check my apartment? My alarm system just sent me a text that the front door was opened.”
She gave them her address and ended the call. The government agent John had mentioned must’ve worked for Department 13, and she was betting they wouldn’t want to explain to the local police department that they were ransacking her apartment without a search warrant.
Next, she fired off a short encrypted text message to Tuck through the app he’d developed for their group.
911 meet me at the dock in Darien. Now. It’s urgent.
Darien was a small town south of Savannah with plenty of inlets and docks along the saltwater rivers. Shrimp boats were plentiful in this area, and if any of the Digi Robins were ever made by the authorities, a boat sat moored at a private dock, waiting for them.
She’d never been there before, but when she joined the virtual band of thieves, she’d memorized the location in case she ever needed it.
Now she hoped it wasn’t all bullshit.
She parked the Porsche a block away and got out. If John did report the car stolen, she didn’t want to lead the police right to them. She didn’t believe he would do that, but she couldn’t allow herself to trust him.
He’d gone from her boss to—she didn’t have time to think about it. Emotions clouded her vision worse than a marine layer of fog. The last thing she needed was for her heart to engage in this mess. Right now, a clear head was her best ally.
She hurried down the dock, checking over her shoulder, but no one followed. Good. She entered her code on the keypad, and the lock disengaged. One last peek around the area, and she slipped inside. Computer equipment and security camera screens lined the far wall. Otherwise the large warehouse seemed abandoned. She set the alarm again and wandered farther inside.
Tuck hadn’t arrived yet, but she took a seat at one of the computers anyway. She could work until he got there. She opened the admin panel on the dark web message board and smiled when a new private email glowed.
I’m prepared to make a preemptive bid on the item you posted. We will wire the money into your account once we verify box’s authenticity. Please respond so we can arrange a rendezvous time.
Trumain
Normally she’d scoff at a preemptive bid. She knew the box was valuable, and having a government agent chasing her only verified her hunch.
But now that this government agent had her home address, taking a preemptive bid might be a good idea. It might be better to unload the box fast and protect the Digi Robins. Besides, if John’s plan worked, they’d be selling a replica anyway. The sooner this deal was done, the better.
The alarm disengaged behind her. She spun the chair around as a tall gangly guy came into the room.
“Tuck?” she asked.
“Yeah.” His deep voice surprised her. They’d never met or spoken before, but apparently, in her head, she’d morphed him into a drunken merry friar, not the pasty-white disgruntled computer programmer taking the seat next to her. “What the hell is going on?”
She brought him up to speed on the events of the night and pointed to the computer screen. “I think we should take his offer. We need to move the box before the feds are breaking down this door.”
Tuck clasped the back of his neck like he forgot his homework instead of just hearing that a top-secret branch of the federal government broke into her apartment. He wore his blondish-brown hair short, and freckles dusted the bridge of his straight nose. His bright blue eyes met hers, and, for just an instant, she thought she’d seen him before. Weird.
He sighed. “How are we going to prove the box’s authenticity when we can’t even open the damn thing to see what’s inside?”
Harmony leaned back in her chair. “We know the carvings are Greek, and I’m pretty sure the guy after me is the same agent I saw when I was nosing around to see if the rumors about the Holy Grail were true. If he works for Department 13, I’d put my money on the box being a priceless artifact.”
“I doubt our buyer is going to take your word on that. If we can’t get that thing open…” He crossed his arms. “I have a bad feeling about this one, Marian.”
Harmony started for a second when she realized he meant her. This was the first time she’d heard someone call her by her codename out loud. She shook her head. “This might be our biggest score yet. Think of all the people we could help.”
She couldn’t tell him about John’s plan. The fewer people who knew about the counterfeit box, the better, but she needed Tuck to help her finish the deal.
“Maybe the government was warehousing it for a reason.” He shrugged. “What if that box is dangerous?” There was that word again. John had warned her about the box, too, convinced her to return it without opening the lid.
“Seriously?” She cocked her brow. “It’s an old black wooden box. An antique. How is that dangerous?”
He shook his head. “Think about it. What’s the one Greek myth with a box in it?”
She chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Pandora’s box is a legend, Tuck. No way that little wooden thing contains all the evils of the world.”
“Then why is the government so anxious to get it back?”
“Because I stole it from them.” She did her best to sound flippant, but a cold chill wandered up her back, like two icy fingers walking up each vertebra. John’s warning about the danger, his demand that she not open the box, came together into a swell of dread. She cleared her throat, clinging with both hands to reality. “They
probably just did a physical inventory and realized I hacked their receiving records. They’re pissed, that’s all.”
“Or Pandora’s box is real.” Tuck dropped his hands into his lap. “Come on, you said the same agent was after the Holy Grail. If that cup is real, then why not Pandora’s box?”
“Even if it is…Pandora already opened it. It’s empty now.” She shrugged. “No harm in selling an empty box.” Especially since it would be a forgery.
Tuck heaved a sigh and glanced at the computer screen. “Let me guess, you want to meet this guy, Trumain, and hear his numbers for a preemptive bid.”
For only knowing her through emails and direct messages, he had her pegged. “I was thinking about it.”
Tuck cleared his throat. “What if this is all a setup?”
“No way.” Harmony shook her head. “I’d bet my life savings this Trumain bidder is really Dr. Bruce Trumain.”
Tuck frowned. “Isn’t he in prison? He flashed a gun and threatened the donors at the Maritime Museum, right?”
“He didn’t shoot anyone.” This conversation wasn’t helping her nerves. “I don’t think the museum pressed charges once the police admitted him into the mental hospital. Anyway, since then, he vanished. His house is in foreclosure, he hasn’t paid any of his credit card bills, nothing.”
Tuck glanced her way. “How would you know that?”
“Oh please.” Harmony rolled her eyes. “Hacking into someone’s credit report is much easier than cracking into the receiving reports for Department 13.”
“If he’s that destitute, how can he make a preemptive bid on the box? He knows it’s going to have to be a big number for us to sell it without an open auction.”
“He’s probably buying for one of the old-money families in town.” She shrugged. “They hired him to find authentic artifacts to decorate their mantel.”
“Shit.” Tuck raked his hair back from his forehead. “What if this box is the real deal? Handing it over to an unstable historian with violent tendencies seems like a bad idea.”
“It’s not real.” Or at least the one they’d be selling to Trumain wouldn’t be. But she couldn’t tell Tuck that.