"Okay," she said, sucking up her welling tears. "There's another safe. A small one, in the desk drawer."
Fat Frankie stepped away but continued to watch her. "Go open it. Slowly."
She crossed the carpet, stepping on an opal on the way. She stood so that Frankie couldn't see the knife from his position near the safe. She picked it up with one hand as she opened the top drawer with the other. She lifted out the petty cash tin. It wasn't even locked. But it would do. It would have to.
She turned around and nearly smacked into Frankie's well-cushioned chest. He reeked of sweat and garlic. She gagged on a sob. Please God, let this work.
She thrust the tin into his stomach. He humphed and caught it with both hands, lowering the gun. Ruby lunged, pressing the blade into his fleshy side then using the moment of distraction to snatch the gun off him.
He squealed in pain, clutching at the knife sticking out of his side. "You bitch!"
He shouted obscenities at her as she grabbed her handbag off the desk and raced out of the workshop. She ran down the stairs, through the shop and onto Collins Street without looking back. There were no sounds of Fat Frankie following her but she couldn't be sure and didn't wait to find out. The sooner she called the cops the better, but she wanted to be safe when she did it.
Collins Street was deserted on a Wednesday night. The office workers had long gone, the shops were closed. There wasn't even a café open where she could make a call. She pushed on to her car, parked a block away. By the time she reached it, she was sweating from both the fear and Melbourne's heat wave. Even at night the warm air clung to her like a second skin.
She drove to the nearest police station but changed her mind and didn't stop. If she reported Fat Frankie's confrontation she would have to explain about the Florentine and that would lead to questions as to why she hadn't reported Guy Beauvoir's latest acquisition to the authorities earlier. Technically she hadn't done anything illegal as the Florentine wasn't stolen property—it had simply disappeared nearly a hundred years ago—but it would certainly lead to doubts about her own clean reputation. If it became known that she was dealing with someone of Guy Beauvoir's reputation, her clients would stay away. Celebrities and socialites couldn't afford to be connected to a jeweler with a dubious reputation, and she couldn't afford to lose their custom.
Instead she broke the speeding laws to get to her St Kilda apartment as quickly as possible. Fat Frankie may be injured but if he was smart—and the jury was still out on that one—he would head straight there. She didn't have much time. Get in, grab some essentials then get out. The most essential of her essentials wasn't the toothpaste, spare underwear or the ring her father had made for her, although she shoved all of those things into an overnight bag. The most important thing was a phone number scribbled on the back of a napkin in her brother's handwriting.
She thrust it into her handbag and left, locking the door behind her. She passed Evie from number six on the stairs.
"Hey, Ruby," she said cheerily. Evie was always cheery even at six a.m. on their morning run. "There's a man checking out your car. Big, fat ugly mother. Want me to call the cops?"
Fuck! "No thanks, not necessary. Hey, will you need your car for the next couple of days? Mine broke down and I know you catch the train to work. I promise I'll take good care of it."
"No need, it's a piece of trash. It's insured so do whatever you want with it." She tossed Ruby her keys. "You okay, Sweetie?" For once, Evie sounded worried. Her pretty brow furrowed. "You're not in any trouble are you?"
"Nothing a few margaritas won't help me forget when it's all over."
Evie's smile returned. "Deal." She moved on up the stairs. "Take care, Hon."
Ruby gave her what she hoped was a nonchalant wave as she raced down the stairwell. She'd parked her car out the front of the apartment complex so she snuck out the back door to the residents' parking lot behind the building. Evie's blue Ford really was a piece of scrap metal but it was better than her own Honda right now. No doubt Fat Frankie would take it apart looking for the Florentine once he realized she'd left the building.
She drove south along Nepean Highway, not really for any reason except that it was away from her apartment and her shop. She had no ties in Melbourne, no family except her brother and he was fighting in Afghanistan. There was no way Frankie could trace her in Evie's car.
But there was nowhere for her to run to either. No one to shelter her.
She drove down the Nepean for about fifteen minutes, constantly checking her mirrors. When she was sure no one had followed her, she pulled into a side street and fished out her mobile phone from her bag. She punched in the number scrawled on the napkin.
It was picked up on the second ring. "'Lo," came the gravely voice down the line.
"Is this Jake Forrester?" She tried to sound calm and in control, not an easy task when fear skimmed along her skin like tiny flames.
Silence on the other end for a few heartbeats, then: "Who wants to know?"
His gruffness didn't soothe her fractured nerves. "Ruby Jones. Matthew Jones' sister. He told me—"
"—To contact me if you ever got into trouble." The man swore.
She blew out a breath and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Thank God Jake Forrester still had the same phone number. "Something like that," she said. Actually her brother's words had gone along the lines of, 'Only call Forrester if you're absolutely desperate. He's not the sort of man to bother if you get a parking ticket.' Well, she was desperate. And Jake Forrester had all the credentials she needed. He'd once worked alongside her brother in the army's elite SAS unit before quitting to run his own security business. If he were anything like Matt, he would be resourceful, tough and clever. Even better, he apparently owed her brother a favor.
"I'm not interested," he said. So much for favors.
"Wait! Don't hang up. You don't even know what I want."
"I know enough. Someone is after you. An ex, the tax man, whoever. It doesn't matter. They're all the same."
She got the feeling he meant you're all the same but she didn't say so. She didn't dare. Jake Forrester sounded like a man who didn't like being corrected.
"Please," she said, hating the desperate whine in her voice. "You're the only one I can turn to."
"I can't help you," he said again, but this time she heard the note of indecision. She seized it. It was time to pull out the big guns. Appeal to his masculine pride. It worked on Matt all the time and she hoped it would work on the man on the other end of the phone.
"But Matt said you owe him," she said. "He told me if I needed to, I could call in the favor."
Forrester swore again, louder this time. "I can't afford this right now."
It wasn't an outright ‘no'. "I can pay," she said.
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh. But I can pay anyway. Whatever your fee is, I'll meet it plus expenses. Please. I'm desperate."
"Yeah, I get that." He made a sound, half grunt, half sigh. "Do you know O'Brian's Bar in Ascot Vale?"
"Yes."
"Meet me there in half an hour."
O'Brian's was a popular bar, even mid-week, and she didn't want to be seen right now. "Can we meet at your place?"
"No."
She blinked at his abruptness. "But it'll be less open." And she'd feel less vulnerable.
"You'll be safe in a public space," he said.
How did he know she was worried about her safety? He didn't even know what kind of trouble she was in. For all he knew it was trouble with the police. His assumption annoyed her a little.
"How will I recognize you?" she asked. "What will you be wearing?"
"Black."
She waited for more but Jake said nothing. "Don't you want to know what I'll be wearing?"
"No."
What was he going to do, ask every female who walked in if they were Ruby Jones?
"Half an hour," he said then hung up. He hadn't even asked her if half an hour was e
nough time for her to get to Ascot Vale.
She sighed and turned the car around. Jake Forrester better be worth the attitude. If he couldn't help her, or wouldn't, then she was going to make her brother's life so miserable he'd want to stay in Afghanistan.
That's if she lived long enough to tell him.
***THE DIAMOND AFFAIR is now available for immediate download***
Finders Keepers Losers Die Page 26