by AJ Matthews
“Copy. Over and out. Roger dodger.”
Shaking his head, Dane clicked the earpiece to mute. He took a turn around the area and was about to go back inside when he spied her. How the hell had she got in without them noticing?
Angelique Dubois stood at the stone wall lining the terrace and looked out at the water. Without turning toward him, she spoke.
“It’s so gorgeous here. Reminds me of the south of France—the less crowded seaside towns. Not the wild and tourist-filled Monte Carlo.”
He approached and stood next to her. “I hadn’t pegged you for the country bumpkin type.”
Angelique laughed a musical laugh and looked up at him. She had to lean her head back to meet his eyes, exposing the delicate line of her neck—and the plunging neckline of her dress leaving a considerable portion of curving flesh showing. She had an outstanding body. Petite well proportioned and gracefully sculpted. He stared at her eyes a beat to see if she had the kind of heart and soul to match. It would take some study.
“I didn’t see you arrive.”
“I didn’t—not yet,” she said. “I came around the terrace after we parked. It’s too beautiful out here not to stop and ...” She sighed.
“We? You have a date?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound disappointed, Mr. Blaise.”
“If I wanted to be honest, I’d admit I would be. But whoever you’re with isn’t a date, is he?”
She shook her head and kept her eyes on his, drifting closer so that he could breathe her exotic scent. It sent a message to his libido before he could shut it down. It was only one of those automatic male reactions, but it annoyed the hell out of him. His so-called seduction of her was to be a professional exercise and nothing more. He wanted to catch her in the act of thievery—or catch her with the jewels. He only needed to stick close, charm her and gain her trust. Real seduction would be overkill.
But then he realized seduction was her plan for him, so he’d play the game.
“Non—no date. An escort—a friend who invited me to the party. That’s all.” She smiled up at him.
“His name?”
She tilted her head at him and drew a brow up in question.
“I’m in charge of security—I want to make sure he’s on the guest list.”
“His name is Baylor Bellarine. Satisfied?”
He nodded. He’d seen the name on the guest list. He’d bet the man was fat and middle-aged, but he didn’t ask. He’d pay deference to Jean Luc’s request for secrecy for now. Until he figured out who needed protecting from whom.
“Shall we go inside?” Dane didn’t wait for an answer.
Shana had kept one eye on Dane until he disappeared outside to the terrace. Even if it was irrational, she didn’t like him disappearing from view. It was a leftover effect from their harrowing case in Brazil when she thought he might be dead. She turned away to keep her eyes on the rest of the room. She didn’t spot anyone meeting the description Jean Luc gave them. She kept as vigilant as possible in between begging off invitations to dance, endless questions about the recent shootout and how they’d taken down a notorious criminal at the Lucky Parrot, comments about the intrigue of a jewel thief in their midst and conspiratorial winks. This was the least ‘under’ undercover assignment she’d ever worked. She could be wearing a sign saying ‘I’m undercover looking for a jewel thief and she’d be less conspicuous.’
After an interminable fifteen minutes, she spotted Dane laughing with Miss Dubois as he walked back inside from the terrace. God help her for breathing easier. Shana headed for the kitchen to check out the staff. It was the one place she hadn’t been yet.
She pushed inside the swinging door to the full commercial kitchen off the ballroom and could have sworn she was in a hotel. Spotting Sassy, she motioned the girl over as she scanned the chefs and kitchen help. None of them looked like what she’d call fat, though a couple could be counted as middle-aged.
The girl scurried over to her with surreptitious looks around, stood too close and whispered, “How’s it going out there? Anyone look suspicious?”
“No one except me and Dane,” Shana said. Sassy looked puzzled. “Never mind—who’s the short plump-ish man over there? Is he American? French?”
Sassy turned and took an obvious look before responding. “That’s Chef Goody. He came over from Hyannis. He does all the parties in the neighborhood. He has a restaurant and catering business in—“
“Gotcha. Never mind. How about the short stocky man at the sink?”
“Manny?”
“You tell me?”
“He’s my mother’s cousin. He helps out Chef Goody on all his local catering events—“
“Okay. We’re good in here then.” Shana took a last look around. Everyone else was either too young, too skinny or female. She hoped to hell Jean Luc’s bad guy hadn’t gone on a diet recently. “Keep up the good work and keep your eyes and ears open.”
Sassy saluted and scurried back to her station prepping plates of veggies.
Shana turned to go back outside but before she pushed through the door she caught a glimpse of none other than a fat middle-aged man—and he was bald. Bingo. He stood no more than two feet from her on the other side of the door and he had a phone to his ear. She couldn’t quite hear him, so she pushed the door open a crack.
What she heard then caused her gut to turn to lead and drop. At the same time her heart jumped into piston pumping mode. The man was speaking Portuguese. It was unmistakable—the unforgettable language of the Brazilians from their last case. Hearing it again now raised goose bumps on her flesh in spite of the heat in the kitchen. She forced herself to concentrate and listen, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying, nothing distinct.
Then pushing aside the lump of fear, she pushed through the door and walked by him for a closer look from her peripheral vision. She didn’t walk far. He stopped talking. She took a deep breath. It had to be a coincidence. The Tavares family cartel had been shut down. All the major players were dead or in jail. Thanks to her and Dane. The man slipped his phone in his jacket and without looking around, walked through the middle of the dancers, and disappeared from view.
Shana automatically searched for Dane and flipped her earpiece on talk. She took another breath to calm herself, following the man as best she could. He had to be their man.
He was Angelique’s predator or her accomplice, but he didn’t have to be connected to the Tavares clan. The odds were against that. It was coincidental that he spoke Portuguese. There was only one person left of the Tavares family that she knew of—who had a grudge. That would be Gabriele Tavares—if she weren’t locked up in a Brazilian insane asylum by then. The woman had been mad.
“Dane? I spotted him. We’re headed toward the foyer. Meet me there.” Shana spoke and walked. “Ronnie—you there? Look for a short fat bald man wearing a plain black tux meant to blend in. I lost my visual. See if you can pick him up.”
“Got it—Roger—Over,” the kid answered.
She fought her way through the partygoers to the entry foyer hoping to find her mark there. She hadn’t gotten a response from Dane, but she expected to find him ready to pick up their mark, waiting for her in the foyer.
After coming inside Dane looked for Shana and saw her go inside the kitchen. He needed to watch the ballroom for Jean Luc’s idea of a dangerous man and he decided the best way to do that would be to dance with Angelique. After all, he had promised Jean Luc he’d look out for his niece.
Her fluid black silk sheath felt cool under his hands. Dane held her close, taking in her delicate scent, and said, “It’s remarkable that a jewel thief such as yourself is wearing no jewels.”
“You jest. I am not interested in jewels. That is why I do not wear them.”
“If you’re not a jewel thief, then what are you?”
“I am a museum curator.” She smiled up at him. The music stopped but he continued to hold her.
“What is a museum curator from
France doing on Martha’s Vineyard?”
“So many questions, Mr. Blaise. Are you a policeman after all?”
“What are you doing here, Angelique?”
“Very well, I will answer your interrogation. I am here partly on business and partly on vacation.”
The answer meant nothing, but he led her from the dance floor and looked around for Shana. It was automatic, like a reflex. He needed to know where she was at all times and it had nothing to do with the case. This case was nothing like the last one—a chase to Brazil to tangle with the Tavares cartel. He spotted Shana across the room headed toward the foyer. She was talking and tapping her earpiece. He tapped his, made sure it was clicked on and heard nothing. The sight of her walking away was like an irritant, like he was missing something, but he kept a surreptitious eye on her. The band had started another song. Angelique clutched his arm.
“Is there something wrong?”
“No.” He wasn’t going to tell Angelique his earpiece wasn’t working.
She took a glass of champagne from a waiter—from Ronnie Ryan, who winked as he passed by. She said, “Jean Luc was right—you and Shana are lovers. He warned me that you would still be together.”
“Why did you come here? Are you carrying out some vendetta for your uncle?”
“No, it is coincidental, pure chance these jewel thefts.” She said no more, but lead him back to the dance floor. He went along with her. He decided he ought to stick with her since they hadn’t spotted anyone else suspicious. But he’d need to check in with Shana soon. He brought Angelique around to Ronnie again.
“I’ll have another champagne.”
“Yes, sir,”
Dane spoke under his breath.” Tell Shana my earpiece isn’t working, Have her meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”
Ronnie’s eyes took on that twinkle like he’d just shared an inside joke. Dane hoped the joke wasn’t on him.
“It’s crowded inside—let’s go back outside.” Angelique took his arm again.
“Do you have a partner in crime?” Dane walked Angelique out to the terrace, to where they met.
“You’re incorrigible. I’m not a criminal. I’m not your jewel thief. Do you think I would be crazy enough to try and get away with it with you here?”
He watched her eyes twinkle and he knew he was being played. He needed to play back and come on hard and strong if he was going to win this one. If he were doing his job right, doing it professionally, he would be going home with Angelique tonight.
But he couldn’t tonight. His mind slipped to Shana. They had to stay and talk to their client and check on the jewels. Then he would go home with his girl.
Angelique brought him back when she raised a hand to his cheek and caressed it. An oddly intimate gesture.
“What are you thinking, Dane? About her?”
“Who?”
“Don’t pretend. You are with her. She’s a lucky one.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” He drew a breath for drama and plunged into his role. “But it’s not true. We’re platonic partners these days—spending too much time together sometimes dampens the romance. We weren’t meant to be a couple, Shana and I. We were meant to be partners.”
“Partners? That is all?” She laughed that musical laugh. He regretted for a blink of time that she was a jewel thief and he was there to catch her.
“I don’t know, Dane. I don’t think I believe you.” She drew her hand down from his face and laid it on his chest over his heart. He had a flash of her conducting her own little version of a lie-detector test.
“What can I do to prove it to you?”
That wiped the smile from her face. He shifted closer and pressed his advantage. She was small and he towered over her and enveloped her in his arms until she was lost, tight against him. The warmth of her body and the softness of her small breasts had their effect on him. He held her chin in his hand. She looked innocent. He could feel the rapid-fire excitement of the pulse in her neck. He pressed his mouth to her lips. They felt foreign. They weren’t Shana’s lips.
But Angelique kissed back, a sweet kiss and he responded, falling into his role more comfortably.
Shana rushed around the corner and stopped short before she ran into a couple.
She backed up a step and realized the couple in a heated embrace was none other than Dane and Angelique. They broke apart. Shana’s heart stuttered and the air seemed to get sucked from her lungs.
“Excuse me.” She hadn’t meant to sound breathless.
Angelique smiled. Sweetly. Shana’s judgment of the woman snapped into place. No matter what Angelique Dubois did or didn’t do, no matter what she was or was not, Shana would detest her from that moment forward.
Dane gave Shana a look. One that she had no idea how to read, but she knew there was no apology in it.
“We need to talk.” Shana paused a beat, flicking a glance at Angelique. “When you have a minute.”
She went back inside to do her job and hoped to hell Dane was doing his job. Of course he was doing his job. What else could it have been?
She stopped herself from answering that question. It didn’t bear answering.
In the meantime, she went upstairs to check on the safe—to make sure the Portuguese speaking man hadn’t lifted the jewels while she’d lost track of him. Spotting Bill Gable, she took him by the arm and led him to the entry hall.
“Come with me to check on the safe.” She turned to go up the stairs.
“So that’s what you’re calling it?”
“Pardon?” Shana looked at him and stopped herself in the nick of time from slapping the wolfish smile off his face.
“I’m here to protect your jewels, remember? We’re really going to check the safe.”
“Too bad. You know we’ve had security at the top of the stairs all night—no way anyone got past them—“
“Unless someone bought them off or—“
They stopped at the top of the stairs and she could see the security guard leaning against the wall texting or doing something on his phone.
“See—all is well.”
“Let’s check now that we’re here.”
“I’m with you. I like that you’re being extra cautious.”
They approached the guard and he slipped the phone in his pocket.
“Have you seen anyone come up stairs—maybe ten minutes ago?” she asked.
“No—but I might have been on break.”
“Who covered for you?” She asked.
“Covered for me?”
She didn’t say what she was thinking. None of her thoughts were fit for her client to hear.
Bill said, “No one covered for you—you went on a break and left the hall—the master bedroom—unguarded?” He sounded calm but she knew his voice was not normally so high.
The guard shrugged. He was twenty-something years old.
“You can take a break now. Permanently.”
Shana went past the open-mouthed guard into the master bedroom to the closet where the safe took up the bottom third.
“Nothing looks out of place—but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Will you open it?” She said.
Gable bent and took thirty seconds to open the door, then he took an audible breath. Shana glanced inside.
The jewels were there.
“That’s a relief.”
“Now we need to make sure no one else comes up here.” At least not from the inside. Shana walked over to the French doors leading to a balcony. It was a long way down and nothing was out of place. She let her breath out.
“I’ll have someone else re-assigned—I’ll make sure they put their best man up here this time,” Gable said.
“How many security people do you have here tonight?”
“You mean besides you and Dane? We have six. That’s standard for a party this size.”
Shana nodded. Crowd control was a far cry from dealing with a jewel thief.
“I need to consult with Dane
. We think our suspect has a partner, but we won’t know unless we can catch him. Maybe we should leave the guard off the upstairs duty.”
“And then what? Are you going to hide in my bedroom and surprise the thief? Because I’d—“
“No. No theatrics, Mr. Gable.”
“Call me Bill.”
“We’ll need to catch them red-handed—with the jewels after they leave the premises.”
“That’s very risky.”
“It’s your call.”
“Let’s see what Dane thinks.”
As they walked down the stairs to go back to the party, the looks people gave them were not lost on Shana. She’d better have a chat with Mrs. Gable before her friends did.
Now to find Dane. Her chest tightened. He’d be with his new girlfriend. She walked with her client back into the ballroom.
“There he is—.”
He stood on the perimeter, alone, entertaining a group of guests and sipping a drink she’d bet was tequila over ice. Shana headed in Dane’s direction with Gable.
Ronnie emerged from the crowd and she stopped and took a glass of champagne from his tray. He said, “This party is too cool for anyone to leave—you’d have to be crazy,” He looked around and held his tray high at his shoulder. Shana hoped he didn’t get it knocked off his hand.
“What do you mean? People are leaving?” Gable asked.
“Yes sir. Only a few.”
“I’ll be a minute,” Shana said and pulled Ronnie aside. “Did you see the fat middle-aged bald man I told you about?”
“I think so. He just left.”
“Damn—when?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Double-damn.” She saw Gable pulling Dane aside. “Good work, Ronnie. I have to talk to Dane.”
She caught up with Gable and Dane as they headed her way and met at the kitchen door. She said, “Where’s Dubois?”
“Powder room. Why?”
“Didn’t Gable tell you?”
“That the jewels are still in the safe?”
“Yes. But I’ve been trying to get you on the earpiece—I spotted the suspected accomplice—then lost him. Ronnie said he left about five minutes ago.”
“Then he left without the jewels.”