Connor shakes his head and sighs.
“Capo won’t hand off the diamond to anyone,” I say. “He will be curious about why I want to meet at the Palace to give it to him instead of him picking it up from Reynard’s like he usually does and meeting him there afterward, so I’ll have to come up with something plausible.”
I look at Tabby and Connor for ideas. Tabby answers first.
“Because you’re worried Reynard’s place is bugged. Yes, this is good,” she says, warming to the idea as the rest of us stare at her like she’s been drinking. “It will appeal to his paranoia, make you look trustworthy, and deflect suspicion, all at once. You can say you saw a man who looked strange hanging around the utility box down the street, heard an odd click on the phone when you last spoke, whatever. It’s a classic hide-in-plain-sight diversion technique. Look at this suspicious thing over here so you don’t notice this even more suspicious thing happening right under your nose.”
“If I tell him that before the meet, he’ll just send his guys over and sweep the shop for bugs.”
“So tell him you can’t discuss over the phone why you need to change the meet spot. Make it sound like you think your call is being monitored. Then use some kind of code only he would know to suggest the Palace.”
“That won’t work,” Ryan interrupts. “He’ll suggest a meeting place of his own, somewhere he can control, somewhere probably on his turf.”
My brain turning, I say slowly, “Unless I give him a more compelling reason to meet me at the Palace. A reason he won’t be able to resist.”
Ryan and I lock eyes. When he reads what I’m thinking, he says loudly, “No.”
“I’d be able to get him away from his men that way, too.”
Another no, even louder, punctuated by an index finger pointing at my face and a thundered, “DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Connor says.
“Mariana wants to use herself as bait,” Tabby responds.
“She’s already doing that.”
“No, honey.” She looks at him meaningfully. “Bait bait. The kind a sadist with a yen for virgins can’t resist.”
“Ah. Gotcha.” Drumming his fingers on the desk, he glances at Ryan, at me, then back at Ryan. To me, he says, “I can’t sign off on that unless your man does.”
“He doesn’t!” Ryan hollers, rattling the framed picture of the American flag on the wall.
Connor leans back in his chair and laces his hands together over his flat stomach. “Any other ideas?” he asks me mildly. “’Cause that one’s not gonna fly.”
I hold Ryan’s supercharged gaze for a moment. Finally, I say, “I’ll think of something. Let’s talk about the rest of the plan. What happens after the FBI has Capo in custody? Won’t they want to keep the diamond and return it to the Smithsonian? How are you going to explain that?”
“The FBI doesn’t give two shits about the diamond,” Ryan says. “They want Moreno.”
“Why do you have to bring the real thing to the meet?” Tabby asks. “Wouldn’t a fake suffice if he’s not even going to keep it?”
I shake my head. “He can spot a fake a mile away. Gemology is one of his passions. He’ll have a jeweler’s loupe to magnify it, but there are a dozen easy ways to test a phony diamond without bringing it to a lab. He’ll know as soon as I set it in his hands.”
“We need to put her in body armor,” Ryan says abruptly. “She’s gonna be in a room with six armed assassins, then the FBI’s gonna blow down the doors—”
“Like a bulletproof vest wouldn’t be obvious,” says Connor, dismissing the idea with a shake of his head.
“I don’t need body armor. I’ll have my seamstress make me a dress.”
When everyone looks at me blankly, I smile. “She’s not a regular seamstress.”
“Nanotechnology?” Tabby asks.
I take a moment to marvel at how she seems to know something about everything, then respond. “Yes, exactly.”
“Like the Kevlar suits the troops used in Iraq?” Ryan asks.
I nod. “Only the fabric is much thinner, and far more stylish. It will look like just a regular dress, not impenetrable body armor.”
“Cool.”
I can’t help but smile at Ryan’s and Connor’s identical expressions of awe. “Just one of the perks of being an international criminal, guys.”
Something happens to Ryan’s face. His expression changes, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking until he speaks. “You gonna miss that? Your old life? Your old friends?”
“I don’t have any friends, or what you could call an actual life.” I answer more sharply than I intend because I’m still rattled by all the terrible memories that talking about Nina and Capo have evoked.
But Ryan softens all my sharp edges when he says, “You have friends, Angel. They’re right here in this room.”
My throat tightens. The hot prick of tears threatens at the back of my eyes.
“And as for a life, it sounds like you and lover boy here got all sorts of plans for that already,” Connor drawls. “Paris, Morocco, oysters…” His grin is huge. “He’s not ever gonna want to come back to work.”
“That’s right,” says Ryan, staring hard at me. “Gonna need some paid sick leave, ’cause I’ll be too chapped and dehydrated to work for a few months.”
Tabby wrinkles her nose. “Yuck. Just got a gnarly visual of your chapped junk. Thanks for that.”
“We done for now?” Ryan asks Connor. He’s still looking at me.
“Yeah, go on. I’ll call the agency and get it together. Mariana, what’s the address of this joint you call the Palace?”
I give it to him.
“They’re gonna need to meet with all of us before the op. Paperwork, briefing, the whole enchilada. Seeing as how we don’t have much time until you need to be in London, it’ll be soon. Why don’t you both go home and get some rest.” Connor chuckles as Ryan and I continue to stare at each other. “Or whatever.”
Tabby gives me a hug before we leave. Ryan and Connor hug, too, thumping each other on the back so hard, I’m sure there will be bruises.
As we walk out the door, I stop. “Wait! You haven’t shown me the diamond!”
Ryan only smiles. “I never said it was here, darlin’.”
* * *
I spend the ride back to Ryan’s in even deeper thought than I spent on the ride over. Thinking of what’s ahead of us, of all the possible things that could go wrong, my brain is scrambled eggs. I keep a calm demeanor, though, and keep my hand in Ryan’s loose and light so he doesn’t guess what I’m going through and change his mind about allowing me to take part in what’s by far the most dangerous job I’ve ever attempted.
If I fail, Reynard dies. If I fail, I die. If Capo discovers Ryan’s part in the plan, Ryan dies. So do Connor, Tabby, anyone associated with Metrix…basically everyone I’ve been in contact with, including people I haven’t been in contact with yet, but will, like the FBI agents I’ll meet before we go. Hell, the boys from the Smithsonian might even be in danger.
Basically, the plan should be called If Anything Goes Wrong, Everyone Dies.
“I promise it’s gonna work out,” Ryan says firmly.
I should’ve known he’d guess what I’m feeling. The man’s intuition is almost female. “This telepathy of yours is spooky. Have you ever considered a job in the field of psychic readings? You’d make a fortune.”
“Nah,” he says, sending me a wink from the driver’s seat. “I can’t see the future. Only what’s right in front of my face.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it.
“That’s because your teeth have an unearthly glow. You could find your way through a haunted forest just by smiling.”
“Your jealousy of my dental perfection is flatterin’, darlin’, but considering you have beautiful teeth, it’s also a little weird.”
My teeth were crooked as fishhooks until I was fifteen and Reynard paid for my braces
“Excuse me, woman, but I’m an excellent driver. Example.”
He swerves hard to avoid a squirrel that has darted into the road, then cuts back into his lane just as quickly, saving the squirrel but leaving a swath of squealing tires in his wake from other drivers slamming on their brakes to avoid colliding with us.
“Hmm,” I say, my heart thumping. “Seeing as how your example was accompanied by a chorus of horns and what is probably a nasty case of whiplash on my part, I reject it out of hand.” A black BMW speeds by us in the next lane. “Oh, and that guy wants you to know you’re number one. Boy, does he have a long middle finger.”
“What does he know? He’s driving a Beemer!” Ryan scoffs. “Douche.”
I sense this is some vestigial prejudice from his fraternity days and decide silence is the most intelligent reply.
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re a fan of German cars.”
He’s looking at me in dread, like I might be about to sprout horns. Despite my better judgment, I decide to engage in this ridiculous line of conversation.
At least it will keep my mind off how difficult it’s going to be to meet Capo with a blank, innocent face.
“I’m guessing by your tone and expression of horror that that would be a terrifying development in our relationship?”
“Nothing is terrifying to me,” he says with utter disdain. “I’m a Marine.”
“You were a Marine,” I point out with what I consider solid logic.
He makes a face like I’ve just said his mother is ugly and that he also has a small dick. “Once a Marine, always a Marine, woman! Semper fi!”
I sigh. “Great. I’ve awakened the Macho Kraken.”
“You know you get that face you have right now from Reynard, right?”
When I look at him with one eyebrow cocked, he answers. “Yeah. That face. That ‘How’ve you managed to live to this age with your gnat-size IQ?’ face. That ‘How did you get here, did someone leave your cage open?’ face. That ‘You must have a terribly empty feeling inside your skull’ face!”
I can’t help myself. I clutch my stomach and dissolve into laughter.
“Good,” he says, sounding satisfied. “Laughter is better than worry lines. Trust me, darlin’, it’s all gonna work out.”
This is when I realize the entire back-and-forth was a ploy—a very effective ploy—to make me feel better and put my mind at ease.
He doesn’t give a shit about German cars one way or another. He just gives a shit about me.
My laughter abruptly ends, and I’m fighting tears.
I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him.
I’m a thief. A professional criminal. An outlaw and a miscreant, down to the marrow of my bones. I take things from people, things that don’t belong to me, cherished things that hold meaning to their owners. I lie and cheat and steal, I have since I was a small child, and I don’t deserve anything even close to the goodness of this man, the hugeness of his heart, the promise of a better tomorrow that shines in every one of his beautiful smiles.
“We’re creatures of the underworld, my darling. We have no business in the dealings of heroes.”
Reynard’s words echo in my head like a bitter winter wind. I suck in a breath and stare out the passenger window, my vision blurred by all the water in my eyes.
“Ah, darlin’,” Ryan sighs, squeezing my hand. “It’s not what you’re forced to do to survive that shows your character. It’s what you do when no one’s looking. Perfect example? You puttin’ that pillow under my head after you roofied me. That was fuckin’ sweet, Angel.”
I start to laugh again. How could I not?
“Better,” he says, pulling me closer. “C’mere and snuggle up. You need some body contact.”
No, cowboy. I just need you.
When I sigh into his neck as I fit myself against his body, Ryan squeezes me tight.
I hope he’s strong enough to hold on for the both of us, because I think we’re in for one hell of a roller coaster ride.
Twenty-Four
Mariana
“God,” I groan. “You’re carrying me again! I’m not an invalid!”
Ryan, holding me in his arms as we descend in the elevator, kisses my temple. “I’m a man, you’re a woman,” he explains, apropos of nothing.
“I don’t understand your logic.”
“That’s ’cause your primary hormone is estrogen.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No need for you to walk when you’ve got a man around who wants to carry you.”
The elevator doors open, and we enter the house. Ryan calls out the cue for the lights and they flicker on. Then he turns and heads toward the bedroom.
“Keep this up and my legs will atrophy,” I say. “Wait. Are you just using me as a workout for your biceps?”
He doesn’t answer, but his smile is highly suspicious.
“Fine. Moving on. Where’s the diamond?”
“You’re obsessed with that fuckin’ thing, you know that?” he grumbles, but spins around and heads back to the kitchen. In front of the refrigerator, he sets me on my feet.
He takes out a carton of milk and puts it on the table, then gives me a meaningful look.
“Do you think I’m deficient in calcium?”
His eye roll is extravagant. He picks up the carton and shakes it back and forth.
When it rattles, I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “No! You didn’t! In there?”
“Why not? It’s not gonna spoil. And who’s gonna think to look in the fridge for a big ol’ blue diamond? Anybody tries to hit this place—they’d totally fail, by the way, not even a spider’s gettin’ in here—they’d be lookin’ for a safe. Which I do have, but I only keep crypto phones in it. You wanna see it?”
He rattles the carton again. Speechless, I nod.
He turns to the cabinet, retrieves a drinking glass, and sets it on the table, then pours milk into the glass until a big chunk of something falls out with a plop, spraying milk on the tabletop.
He fishes the diamond from the glass with his fingers and holds it up. Even dripping milk, it burns with an eerie gray-blue brilliance.
He offers it to me. I take it without a word and simply stare at it glittering in the palm of my hand. I think of an heiress who died broke and a king who lost his head, and am filled with trepidation.
After a moment, I find my voice. “Do you also have the crown jewels in the vegetable drawer?”
“Freezer,” he answers without hesitation. “Wrapped up in white butcher’s paper marked pork roast.”
It’s disturbing that I actually believe him.
He holds out his hand. I give him the diamond back, watching in silence as he casually drops it back into the milk carton, then pours the glass of milk in over it. He folds the top of the carton closed, sticks it back into the fridge, rinses his hands and the glass in the sink, then turns around and looks at me.
“What?” he asks when he sees my face.
“That stone is worth more than two hundred million dollars. And you’re keeping it in a nonfat milk carton in your refrigerator.”
“It’s just a pretty rock, darlin’. It’s only worth what people believe it’s worth. For me, it’s just a means to an end.”
“What end?”
He walks slowly toward me, then takes my face in his hands. “The end of you havin’ to work for a monster. The end of you tyin’ sheets together and disappearin’ after a night with me. The end of anything that doesn’t make you happy or keep that beautiful smile on your face.”
He kisses me softly, cradling my head. It’s deep and slow and achingly sweet, the kind of kiss that could make you fall in love.
I pull away with a little gasp.
“Don’t run away,” he says, his voice soft and earnest. “Promise me you won’t ever run away from me again.”
My heart thrums like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings inside the cage of my chest. “You know they say promises are made to be broken. Let’s not tempt fate.”
He finds my mouth again, takes it like he owns it, like all of me belongs to him and always will. I curl my hands into his shirt, taking fistfuls of it as he eats me with kisses.
“I don’t want you to do this,” he says roughly, breaking away only long enough to speak those words, then kissing me again, hungrier this time, his hands around my head tighter. “This shit with Moreno. It’s that last thing in the world I want.”
“I know,” I whisper.
He bites my lower lip, sucks it into his mouth. “You also know why I agreed to it, right?”
I nod, clinging to him. His arm slides around my waist. His hand fists in my hair. “Why?” he asks into my ear.
I know what he wants me to say, but I can’t. I can’t say those words out loud. So I only make a small noise in my throat and shake my head.
“Chicken,” he whispers.
Without warning, he swings me up into his arms and turns for the bedroom.
This time, I don’t make any smartass comments about his biceps. I hold on to him as he strides past the wall of succulents and stare at his handsome profile. A rising pulse of heat starts to simmer through my body because I know what he’s going to do as soon as we get to the bedroom.
And he does. He lays me down on the bed, shucks off his boots, wordlessly strips off all my clothes, gets on his knees, and puts his mouth on me.
I arch and cry out his name, already desperate.
“Shh,” he hushes me gently. “We’re gonna go slow this time. Slow like I’ve wanted to every time, but we always ended up goin’ hard and fast.”
He dips his head and presses the softest of kisses to my clit. I jerk and suck in a breath.
“Hush, Angel,” he whispers. “Just feel this.”
His breath is warm on my exposed flesh. It feels decadent and so sexy, knowing I’m totally exposed to him and he can see everything, but he’s just languidly running his rough palms over my belly and breasts, hovering between my legs like we have all the time in the world, stroking my skin like there’s no tomorrow.
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