Kept in the Dark

by Heather MacAllister

  “Fair enough.”

  “Except in this case, I reworked native American silver and turquoise, so there is quite a lot of historical value. You’ve seen the pictures?”

  She nodded.

  “The markings are a family history.” He stopped working with the tables and held her gaze. “My family.”

  “Ohhh.”

  Drawing a breath, Royce concentrated on the tables. “I was entrusted with consolidating the separate pieces into the cuffs.”

  “So how the hell did Tina Nazario get your family history? And why the hell are you having anything to do with her!”

  “Keep your voice down!” Royce shot a look around the room, but the decorators and florists were lost in their own worlds. “I can’t afford to alienate Tina Nazario.”

  “With friends like that…”

  Royce exhaled heavily. “Come on, Kaia. You know how it works.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I wouldn’t just lose Tina as a client, I’d lose her entire social set. And look.” He gestured around. “See what she’s doing for me?”

  “Her way of paying for the bracelets? Which you still haven’t explained how she got.”

  “I lent them to an exhibit of Native American jewelry with the proviso that they wouldn’t be removed from the case. And then the photographers arrived and wanted to photograph Tina wearing the cuffs in the Wonder Woman pose—you know, arms crossed, ready to fend off bullets.”

  “Actually, I don’t know, but I get the idea.”

  “Oh, I forgot. While some kids were watching TV after school, you had to go to cat burglar classes.”

  Kaia leveled a look at him. “For that you should be grateful.”

  “I apologize.” Royce inclined his head. “I am grateful—or I will be.”

  “So you let them take the pictures and Tina waltzed away with the cuffs?”

  “I watched. I never took my eyes off them and then a reporter wanted to ask a few questions and people wanted to see the bracelets up close. I lost sight of Tina in the crowd, and next thing I knew, she was gone.”

  “And when you asked for them back?”

  “After my calls were finally returned, I was allowed to come here and fetch the cuffs. At that point, I was presented with two contemporary silver and turquoise bracelets. They weren’t even my design.” Royce looked so disgusted that Kaia had to smother a smile. “And Tina was out of the country.”

  “Nice.” Kaia wouldn’t insult him by asking if it were possible that Tina had simply been confused. It was funny—she and Tina had a lot in common what with both of them being thieves. Except for the fact that Tina was the trophy wife of the man Kaia hated most in the world, they might have been friends.

  “She’s borrowed before and Mr. Nazario has always paid my invoice,” Royce said.

  Kaia nodded. “But this time is different. I’m suddenly highly motivated to use my evil talents for the forces of good.” Funny how when Tina took something, it was called borrowing, but when Kaia took something it was called stealing.

  “I’ll be in your debt.” The way Royce said it, Kaia knew the sentiment carried real weight.

  “Let’s hope so. This is top-notch security and I’ll be winging it.”

  It was a good story and Kaia knew Royce believed that was all there was to it. However, Casper was forking over some major bucks and had sought out Kaia, so she knew it wasn’t because he cared about Royce’s family history.

  Casper cared about reputation and social standing, the true precious gems of his world. He was powerful enough and wealthy enough to put a reasonable spin on the loss of a couple of turquoise bracelets belonging to a moderately well-known jewelry designer.

  There was something else going on here. She was not the only person in the world capable of a job like this. Casper had insisted on Kaia—the woman he’d lied about—specifically. Why would he think he could trust her after sending her to prison?

  If Kaia managed to get into Tina’s secret safe—which sounded like the title to a porno movie—she was going to take a look around.

  She lined up the tables and shook out the velvet cloths. “These are wrinkled. Did you bring a steamer?”

  “Yes. Oh, don’t cluster,” Royce directed, British accent back in place. “Sprinkle them lightly throughout the room.”

  Kaia gave him a you’ve-gotta-be-kidding-me look as he waved his arms around.

  Whatever. Grabbing the steamer, she dutifully sidestepped one of the florists who was fussing with a centerpiece and carried the table and cloth to the far end of the room.

  And while she was there, she stuck her head through the doorway. According to the floor plan, the neighboring room was a study. Now whether it was Casper’s or his wife’s, she didn’t know, but studies were always good places for safes.

  Dark wood, heavy desk. Too masculine for Tina, so it must be Casper’s. Still, there were French doors on the other side of the room. Knowing where the exits were always came in handy. Holding the steamer in one hand and the plug in the other, as though looking for an electrical outlet, Kaia stepped into the study and crossed quickly to the doors. She scanned the frames and looked across the side yard to the front drive. Workers were installing an awning while a security guy attached a camera to an extension rod. Swell. Blake had everything covered. Clearly, he remembered all the little tips she’d given him thinking it would help keep him safe in his work. To her, clever ways to elude security had been pillow talk, something that excited her. To him, it had been valuable insight into a thief’s mind. And incriminating evidence against her.

  Oh, and let’s not forget that Blake had obviously parlayed what he’d learned into an elite company designed to thwart, well, people like her.

  Kaia drew a deep breath against a microscopic, but unwanted, flicker of pride.

  Behind her, the door clicked softly closed.

  Fixing a smile as she turned around, Kaia said, “I was looking for an outlet for the steam—er.”

  Casper Nazario stood in front of the door. A little grayer and no doubt a lot wealthier. She should have expected they would end up coming face-to-face because, you know, this really was turning out to be one of those this-is-your-life days.

  “Hello, Kaia.”

  At least it wasn’t Hiya, Kaia. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. You’re not in London.”

  He gave a wintry smile. “I’m so glad prison didn’t dull your intellect.”

  “It’s my skills you hope weren’t dulled. I suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m really here?”

  Casper crossed to the desk. Sitting, he unlocked the bottom drawer.

  Kaia rolled her eyes. As if a four-year-old with a paper clip couldn’t open a desk drawer.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Casper said.

  Unlikely.

  “But most people don’t have your skills.”

  He was close enough. Horrors. She was becoming predictable.

  He tossed a slim brochure onto the desktop. “I lock it to keep out the amateur snoopers.” He opened up the laptop and plugged in a flash drive. “Go ahead.” He gestured to the flyer.

  It meant that Kaia would have to relocate closer to Casper and farther away from the French doors, but she might as well suck it up and see what he wanted.

  A photograph of an ornately jeweled snuffbox immediately caught her attention. Fabergé, or done in that style. Setting the steamer off to one side, Kaia picked up the flyer, that turned out to be an invitation to a dinner at the Lithuanian embassy that had been held a couple of weeks ago.

  “She didn’t.”

  Casper gave her a grim look.

  She gave him one right back. “Tell me Tina did not steal this.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you suspect.”

  “But I suspect.” At least Casper wasn’t pretending any longer.

  He turned the laptop around so the screen faced her.

  “You know, I like how we can just cut through all the BS
and be honest with each other and admit that your wife is a thief.”

  The muscle bulged in Casper’s jaw as he clenched his teeth. Okay, enough baiting of the client. Kaia studied the article on the screen about the gift of the snuffbox from an American company to symbolize the opening of trade something or other that Kaia ignored because it wasn’t important. She paged through, looking at the publicity pictures as the box was presented and then at a red-faced chef with an icing tube bent over dozens of other little boxes that looked just like it.

  “We attended the dinner,” Casper said. “The favors were replicas of the snuffbox made in chocolate.”

  “And she switched hers for the real thing?” Kaia guessed.

  “Apparently. No one noticed for a couple of days.”

  “You are kidding.” She was incredibly impressed with Tina and the chef.

  Shaking his head, Casper withdrew a white container with a colorful seal on top from the drawer. “They’re exquisite. See for yourself.” He lifted the lid and the sides folded down. “I put mine in the refrigerator thinking I’d give it to our granddaughter.”

  Kaia caught her breath. She’d heard of edible gold leaf, but had never seen it up close. And how had the pastry chef made the “jewels” shine? Some kind of sugar? Kaia bent to study it and could see the chocolate lid glistening with moisture from condensation after being in the refrigerator. “Go ahead and put it back in the fridge before it gets ruined.”

  Casper folded the sides and replaced the lid. “If you don’t find the real box, I’ll be ruined.”

  Goody, Kaia thought.

  Carefully, Casper replaced the chocolate replica in the drawer. “Officials from the Department of State are quietly interviewing all the guests who were present at the dinner that night. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Time before someone—or several someones—said, “Hey, if you’re missing something, ask Tina Nazario.” Wink wink.

  “So that’s it.” Now everything made sense. “The bracelets were an excuse for you to hire me. You really want me to find the snuffbox?”

  “And the bracelets.”

  Kaia pushed away from the desk. “I was hired to find only the bracelets.”

  “I am aware of that. I will pay—”

  “Not a chance.” Snagging the steamer, she started walking out of the room. “If you want to expand the scope of the job, you can talk to Guardian.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Ditto.”

  “Name your price,” he barked.

  Kaia could make a dramatic exit, or she could actually name a price. She stopped and turned, but stayed halfway across the room. She was still dressed in the black Guardian suit uniform with all the Guardian-issued equipment, including a cell phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and held it up. “You don’t say another word unless my lawyer is on speaker.”

  Casper automatically made a sound of protest and then slumped, nodding his head.

  Oh, man, was he desperate. Kaia thumbed a number. “Tyrone? We’ve got a situation. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  There was rustling in the background. “I’m recording,” Tyrone said. “Who is present?”

  “Me.”

  Kaia nodded to Casper who said heavily, “Casper Nazario.”

  She imagined Tyrone making faces, not that Tyrone would ever be so unprofessional. But Kaia liked to imagine it. “Mr. Nazario would like to amend the terms of his agreement with Guardian.”

  “Continue,” Tyrone said.

  Kaia waited for Casper to call in Alvin the weasel. He didn’t. Holy moley. That meant she was in a most excellent bargaining position.

  “While Kaia is retrieving the bracelets, I want her to catalog the contents of the safe,” Casper stated.

  “And/or safes,” Tyrone said.

  “Agreed. If she finds a certain snuffbox, I wish her to bring it to me.”

  “In London?” Tyrone asked, drily.

  “At a time and place to be determined.”

  “We’ll determine that now,” Tyrone said. “Along with a description of the object.”

  Kaia really did like Tyrone.

  Casper clearly did not. In fact, Kaia noticed quite a similarity between his tight, wrinkled lips and the weasel’s. “At the Perking Lot, a coffee shop located within one mile of this address.”

  “I will not allow my client to leave the premises with any object she does not own.”

  Casper looked as though he was going to blow a gasket. If he did, it would make her day.

  “We’ll meet at the pool house at the conclusion of the party.”

  “I will also be present,” Tyrone stated. “Kaia, you do not leave the main house without calling me first. When I arrive, I will notify you and then, and only then, will you proceed to the pool house.”

  Blake’s people would never allow that. “If I can’t get to the pool house without attracting notice, what do I do?”

  Casper smiled faintly. “Leave the snuffbox in the drawer.”

  “Specify,” Tyrone instructed.

  “He’s talking about his desk drawer and he keeps it locked.”

  “Unacceptable,” Tyrone said.

  “This is absurd!” Casper slapped his hands on the desk and pushed his chair back. “She’ll leave it where I tell her to leave it!”

  Silence.

  “She will leave the object where I tell her to.”

  Atta boy, Tyrone.

  Casper’s gaze flicked to her. Yeah, that’s right. This time, you’re not the only one with high-powered legal backing.

  “Kaia?” Tyrone prompted.

  “In the vase on the third shelf, southwest corner of the room.”

  “In the event that Kaia is unable to take the object to the pool house at the conclusion of the party, she will leave said object in a vase on the third shelf, southwest corner of the room in which you are now present.”

  “Agreed,” Casper snapped.

  “I’ll need a description of the snuffbox.”

  “He gave me a picture,” Kaia said.

  “Fax me a copy?”

  Casper exhaled. “Yes, fine.”

  “And now, remuneration,” Tyrone said.

  Even though he knew she had the upper hand, Casper met her gaze with contempt.

  Contempt. How. Dare. He. Anger bubbled within her and Kaia ruthlessly contained it. “I want my name cleared. And I want the Cat’s Eye. That’s my price.”

  Casper gave a crack of laughter. He was really pushing it for a man on the verge of ruin.

  “You’re right. Forget it,” Kaia said. “Sorry to bother you, Tyrone.”

  “Wait.” And Casper actually chuckled. “One or the other, Kaia. Not both.” And there was the contempt again.

  He’d just asked her to put a price on her good name. Except, she’d never had a good name. As someone once said—perhaps Casper, himself—if she wasn’t guilty of the crime for which she’d been sent to prison, she was guilty of others. True. But having her record expunged and not being subject to the restrictions of her probation would make life a lot more pleasant. And profitable.

  “Clear my name,” she said, sweetly. “Because, as you know, the Cat’s Eye already belongs to me. You’ll just be returning it.”

  Casper was a dangerously powerful man and Kaia was pushing him. If they didn’t come to terms, she had no doubt she would meet with an “unfortunate accident” since she now knew about the snuffbox. Tyrone also knew about the snuffbox, which meant he and his family would be at risk, as well. Attorney-client privilege and Kaia being bonded wouldn’t matter to Casper.

  Failure wasn’t an option here. Neither was refusing him, but that didn’t mean Kaia was going to back down. Casper would expect it of her.

  “No one knows,” he said at last. “No one finds out or our agreement is null and void. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Kaia said.

  4

  BLAKE WALKED INTO THE main party room, stopped, and exhaled. Multiple exits. A wall of
windows. Yes, he’d known all this, but the massive bouquets in six-foot urns, the cascading vines of lighting, and the dozen tables covered in black cloths were all new. The lights, okay, he got it, make those jewels sparkle—but how easy would it be to hide jewelry in the flower arrangements and retrieve it later? The jewelry had to sit on something, but the black, floor-length table cloths not only interrupted the line of sight, they provided a hiding place beneath.

  Again, people hired security, and then ignored all his advice.

  Blake headed toward a man with overly styled hair ending in a ponytail. Yeah, he looked like a Royce. He extended his hand. “Blake McCauley, head of security.”

  “Royce.” The designer shook his hand with a grip that wasn’t as effeminate as Blake had expected.

  He gazed at the open case of jewelry that gleamed expensively, and noted the sister cases standing to one side. “I’m going to have to ask you to hold off on putting out the jewelry until the temporary staff has exited the premises.” Blake accompanied this with a pleasant expression intended to convey that he wasn’t asking anything, he was telling.

  Royce assessed the room and consulted a fancy watch on a chain. “That won’t leave me enough time to construct the displays before the guests arrive.”

  “There’re too many people here for me to guarantee souvenirs won’t walk out with them.” As he spoke, both men had to step out of the way of a florist blindly carrying a huge arrangement toward the stairs. Pollen from one of flowers left a yellow trail on Blake’s sleeve.

  Instead of the argument that Blake expected, Royce capitulated and deftly returned the half dozen or so sparkling baubles to the case.

  Blake brushed at his sleeve. “I appreciate your cooperation. Do you have an inventory sheet for me?” As he spoke, Blake scanned the room, eyes ever watchful.

  Royce removed a printed list from a black folder, and handed a flash drive to him. “Here are the pieces and photographs. The drive contains the detailed specs on the stones as well as any laser IDs. Let’s hope you don’t need it. And I ask that you don’t copy the drive or refer to it unless circumstances warrant it.” And there was Blake’s own pleasant this-is-not-a-request smile aimed right back at him.

  Okay. Some day, if he had time, Blake might amuse himself by delving into Royce’s background. A pity that it was unlikely he would ever have time. “Mind if I verify the list against the contents of the cases?”