The Diamond Affair Page 6

  Jake handed Ruby a glass of wine. "Dinner's nearly ready," he said, turning away from the tantalizing sight. She wasn't Matt's little sister, she was...something else. Those legs! She might be small but she was perfectly proportioned and her legs were as shapely as the rest of her. And that shoulder...

  Best not to think about it. He'd seen the way she looked at him when he got out of the shower. Much the same way he'd just been looking at her—with a fierce hunger that he knew would never be sated. There was no way in hell he was going to take advantage of Ruby. Apart from the Matt factor, she was Trouble with a capital T. He could sense it. A girl like her could put down very deep roots in a man's soil if he let her get a start.

  No way was he going to let Ruby settle anywhere near his soil.

  He served the pasta and she wolfed it down. "This is fabulous," she said, licking pasta sauce from the corner of her mouth. "You must give me the recipe."

  He needed a drink. Since all he had was water, he gulped that down instead.

  She frowned and pointed to the empty glass. "You don't drink?"

  He shook his head. "Not alcohol."

  "Why?" She wasn't one for beating around the bush. Ordinarily he liked that in a person, but not when the questions hit an open wound. His wound.

  "Personal reasons," he said.

  She looked like she wanted to find out more but instead she got up and cleared the plates away. She insisted on doing the dishes too. He kept out of her way, not wanting to be too close to those shoulders and legs, and got out his laptop again. With nothing else to do, he might as well have a look at Penny Beauvoir's files.

  By the time Ruby had finished the dishes, he'd learned that Penny led a typical teenager's life. Her files consisted of school projects, photos of herself with friends, downloaded music and computer games. He did find an awful, angsty poem dedicated to an anonymous boy she'd nicknamed Big Boy, but there were no photos of him or any emails sent to or from him. He could have been a figment of her imagination.

  "Find anything interesting?" Ruby leaned over the back of the couch beside him. If he turned his head to the side, his nose would touch her cheek, she was that close. Close enough that he couldn't escape the smell of his apple shampoo in her hair. He'd never be able to use it again without thinking of Ruby—the way her hair curled around her ears, the way her eyes reflected her thoughts, the way her mouth was made for kissing.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her turn to look at him. As if his head was being pulled by an invisible string, he turned too. Her dark blue eyes smoldered beneath lowered lids, watching him with an intensity he'd never seen in them before. Heat and desire made a direct hit on his groin, grabbing him by the balls.

  "Well?" she whispered hoarsely. Her mouth puckered on the W and the tip of her tongue appeared between her lips on the double L. Such a small word. Such a big impact.

  He was going to kiss her.

  In the instant he thought it, she closed the gap and kissed him.

  CHAPTER 7

  The kiss was tender and magical and mind-blowing, and Ruby couldn't get enough. She hadn't planned on taking the initiative, but he'd looked so sexy, smelled so delicious, that she just had to taste him. She wasn't disappointed. The man knew how to make a woman's knees wobble and inner thighs throb. Just with a single kiss.

  He touched both cheeks with the tips of his fingers, tentatively caressing at first. Then he cupped her face, held her there as his tongue did some tasting of its own.

  He broke away but only to move onto her throat. His lips trailed a line of kisses across her tingling flesh to her bare shoulder. The beat of her heart echoed throughout her entire body, pulsing to its own crazy rhythm.

  His breath, coming in heavy, ragged spurts, warmed the skin at her throat and she threw her head back. There. Oh yes, there.

  The move pushed her breasts into his chest, two layers of fabric annoyingly separating her from his bare skin. Her nipples hardened at the contact, aching to be touched, kissed, sucked.

  "Jaaaake," she moaned, gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer.

  Except he didn't get closer. He moved away. Far away. To the end of the couch. He placed the laptop on the coffee table and stood. He didn't look at her. Not even a sideways glance.

  He wiped his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. Wiping away the kiss? Then he dropped his hands to his sides and strode into the kitchen. "Sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

  "I seem to recall doing a fair amount of it myself." Her voice sounded harsh and throaty. "But I'm not going to apologize for something I enjoyed."

  He'd pulled back but she knew for certain that he had enjoyed it too. No matter how much he denied it, he'd wanted that kiss just as much as she had. She might have started it, but he'd deepened it.

  So why had he pulled back?

  "You're Matt's sister," he said as if reading her mind. "He'd kill me if I so much as looked at you the wrong way. If he knew we'd...done what we just did...he'd make sure my death was a slow and painful one."

  "Somehow I don't think a guy like you has to worry too much about Matt. He might be big and trained to within an inch of his life, but so are you. And I get the feeling you're a whole lot scarier."

  "You think I'm scary?"

  "I wouldn't want to get on your bad side."

  He shrugged and finally made eye contact. "No, you wouldn't. And this way, as friends, there's no chance of that happening. I tend to keep my friends."

  "But not your lovers?"

  Again, the shrug. "I don't want that kind of distraction right now anyway. This job isn't going to be easy and I need to stay focused. So do you. If you can't then I'm afraid you need to find someone else. There are other guys I know in the security business. Happily married ones."

  "I'm not starting all over again with someone else," she snapped. "Matt trusts you so I trust you. I can stay focused if you can."

  He poured himself a drink of water and offered her one. "Good. Now, tell me about the layout of Harry Sinestri's office."

  ***

  Sinestri's office had state of the art security. None of which worked when Jake short circuited the electricity for the entire street. There were only a few padlocks and a CCTV system powered by a backup battery left to deal with. A black ski mask and lock picks had both of those covered.

  The office contained only a large desk, a metal filing cabinet pushed up against one wall and a small safe in a corner. He didn't have time or the right equipment to open it now and it was too heavy to take with him so he left it. He figured if Sinestri had the Florentine, he wouldn't keep it in his office safe anyway. Too obvious. It would probably be in a bank's safety deposit box. If he could find that bank and account number, he was half way there. He used the lock picks to open the filing cabinet but found no banking details.

  He turned back to the desk. Apart from the computer, a pen and notepad, it was clean. Sinestri disliked clutter. A business card was slotted between the keys on the keyboard. He focused his flashlight on it. Sinestri's business name and contact details were printed in neat black text on a white background. Jake turned it over.

  Thur 8pm Maxim's.

  The handwriting looked familiar, but he couldn't place it. Today was Thursday. Was Sinestri still with whoever had written the appointment time or had he left Maxim's restaurant?

  Jake pocketed the card then checked the desk drawers but found nothing of interest. He glanced at the computer. With no power in the office, he'd have to take the hard drive back to his place. If a password was required to log on, he could get Damien, his techno-wizard mate, to crack it.

  He unplugged the monitor and mouse, then had to duck down as a light shone through the front window. Great, that's all he needed. A quick response from the electricity company. He waited in the shadows of the desk but the light didn't move away. Instead, he heard the front door open. Heavy footsteps stopped on the threshold. The flashlight scanned the office, twice, before the footsteps started again.
>
  "I saw your light." It was Fat Frankie.

  Fuck!

  "And since you're hiding, I'm thinking you're not supposed to be here."

  Speaking of people who weren't supposed to be there, why was Fat Frankie paying Sinestri a visit late at night? Did it have something to do with what was written on the business card?

  "I have a gun on you," Frankie said, "so stand up where I can see you, nice and slow with your hands over your head."

  If Jake did as ordered, he'd be a dead man. So he waited. Make the lazy fucker come and get him.

  Frankie swore. "I said get up!"

  Again Jake said nothing, did nothing. Didn't breathe.

  "Now I'm getting pissed off." The footsteps drew closer. Thick-soled boots came into sight. Close enough.

  Jake sprang up from his crouching position and tackled Frankie low. The air left the big man in an oomph as he fell back like a sack of potatoes to the floor. A single gunshot blast reverberated around the office, followed by the sound of plaster raining down on the floorboards.

  Frankie's flashlight slammed against the wall and went out but Jake didn't need to any light to see. Frankie hadn't moved. If his deep gasps for air were any indication, he was winded and couldn't move.

  Jake stamped his foot down on Frankie's arm and aimed his own gun where he estimated the other man's chest to be. Then he turned his flashlight on and trained it on Frankie's face.

  "Finally wised up to the fact Ruby's no thief?" Jake said.

  "You!" Frankie wheezed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Trying to find out who really stole the diamond, because Ruby didn't do it."

  "Sinestri?"

  Jake shrugged. "He's as likely as any. Isn't that why you're here?"

  "You sure she didn't do it?" Frankie said. "Because I know how a great screw can, well, screw you over. That what she did? Wiggle that sexy little ass in your face— Ow! I think you broke my wrist, you crazy sonofabitch!"

  "If you don't stop talking I'll break every bone in your body."

  "I was just offering some advice. Don't want a fellow security officer getting caught up in someone else's mess."

  "You and I are not fellow anythings. And if you and your boss would just use your heads you would realize Ruby hasn't stolen your diamond. She's not the type."

  "No? What about her assistant?"

  "Aaron?" A sick feeling congealed in the pit of Jake's stomach.

  "Do any research on him before you dismissed him?" Frankie said. He was taunting now. Gloating. "The guy's in debt up to his eyeballs. If your girlfriend told him about the Florentine, don't you think he'd have taken it first chance he got? Or used her to get it?"

  The sick feeling just got worse. He'd dismissed Aaron based solely on Ruby's opinion. She'd vouched for her assistant and he'd instantly forgotten about him. And they'd alerted Aaron to the danger that morning. He could be anywhere by now.

  Damn it. Aaron should have been top of his list. Ruby had got under his skin almost immediately. She'd distracted him from his job, made him skip a step, made him trust her.

  Yet another reason not to let her get any closer than she already had.

  "Are you going to get off my arm and point that gun somewhere else now?"

  Jake removed his foot. "The gun stays put until I can be sure you're unarmed. Now get up and empty your pockets."

  It took a lot of effort for Frankie to stand. He rolled to the side, leaned on one knee and pushed himself—

  Jake dove out of the way as a knife whistled past his ear. Frankie must have stashed it in his sock. For a big man, he could sure spin round and throw fast.

  In the instant it took for Jake to roll and stand, Frankie had pulled out another gun. His first one still lay on the ground on the far side of the office.

  Jake dodged as Frankie fired. The whine of the bullet was too close for comfort.

  "Bloody hell!" he shouted. He'd been shot at enough in Afghanistan, he didn't need it in Australia too. Another shot and again he dodged but this time as he rolled, he was ready.

  He got to one knee, aimed, fired.

  Fat Frankie's gun dropped to the floor and went off, shooting out the computer tower sitting near the desk. So much for getting Damien to check it out.

  "Fuck!" Frankie roared, shaking out the hand that had held the gun. Blood dripped from the fingers but not much. The bullet had only grazed him.

  Jake kept his gun trained on Frankie and backed up toward the door. "Follow me and I won't miss next time." He crossed through the doorway then took off.

  His car was parked a short distance away in the next street. As he turned the corner, he glanced back over his shoulder. In the moonlight, he could just make out Frankie jumping into a sports car parked outside Sinestri's office. The car revved and headed straight for Jake.

  He pressed the unlock button on his keyring and sprinted the last few feet to his car. He dove into his SUV and threw it into gear. The sports car pulled up alongside. The front passenger window slid down and the barrel of Frankie's gun appeared.

  Jake spun the wheel and turned down a side street. The bullet pinged off the back bumper and tires squealed behind him. It seemed Frankie was going to follow him despite Jake's threat. He had to hand it to Beauvoir's man, he was determined.

  He also would have memorized Jake's license plates by now. With Beauvoir's contacts it would be easy to find out who owned the car and from that learn Jake's address.

  Ruby would be a sitting duck.

  Jake swiped a bead of sweat from his brow and pressed his foot to the floor. But the SUV didn't have the speed of the sports car and it soon came up behind him. This time, he was ready. He pushed the button to lower his window. The sports car swerved out from behind the SUV and came up alongside. With only its hood in his sight, Jake aimed.

  A horn blared on his other side and he instinctively turned his head. Car lights blinded him. He hit the brakes and spun the wheel but the SUV was going too fast to stop and it went into a roll. Without a seatbelt, Jake was tossed around the cabin. His body slammed into the roof, the dashboard, the doors. Pain, that familiar enemy, ripped through his shoulders, chest and head.

  When the SUV came to a groaning halt at the side of the road, he tried to stay focused, tried to stay awake, even though his brain was hammering against his skull.

  He had to get out of the car. Had to shoot that sonofabitch before he got to Ruby.

  The last thing Jake heard before everything went black was the screech of the sports car's tires as it sped away.

  ***

  Ruby rubbed her eyes and glanced at the green display of the clock beside her bed. It was after two. She'd decided to get some sleep after Jake left but something had woken her.

  The doorbell. She climbed out of bed, yawned, and padded to the front door. The bell rang again.

  "All right, Jake," she said, fluffing up her bed-hair, "I'm coming." She unlocked the door. "Didn't you take a key—?"

  The door opened. A big, sweaty body barreled through and grabbed her, spinning her around and pinning her against a well-padded stomach. It wasn't Jake. Jake didn't smell or feel like that. And Jake would have a key.

  Stupid idiot!

  "Good evening, Mizz Jones. Expecting someone?" The big, sweaty body belonged to Fat Frankie. And he was pointing a gun at her temple.

  CHAPTER 8

  Fat Frankie drove fast along the Calder Highway out of Melbourne. From the middle of the back seat, with her hands tied together in front of her, Ruby could see the road ahead and knew exactly where she was.

  Then he turned off the main road and onto a narrow one surrounded on both sides by tall gum trees, their branches meeting overhead in a twisted embrace. She guessed them to be close to the regional center of Bendigo, but far enough away that only farms and unpopulated bushland surrounded them.

  Oh God. Why had she opened the door? Her sleepy brain had got confused, remembering that she'd opened the door to Jake earlier in the day when he'd gi
ven her his keys.

  Stupid, dumb, idiot!

  Now she was heading God knows where with a thug, and Jake was...somewhere. Something had gone wrong. Sickeningly wrong. When she'd questioned Frankie, he'd mentioned an accident then laughed. No matter how hard she'd tried to get him to talk, he said nothing more. Jake could be injured, lying in a ditch or in hospital. Or he could be dead.

  A fist punched through her chest and squeezed her heart. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't stop the tears tumbling down her cheeks. A sob caught in her tight throat and she choked, spluttering snot all over her knees.

  "You're not going to puke are you?" Frankie said, trying to see her in the rear view mirror.

  Puking meant pulling over. If she could catch him off-guard she might be able to escape. "Yes."

  He swore and wound down his window. "Make sure you get the floor and not the seats. This upholstery was expensive." He didn't even slow down.

  Ruby lowered her head and cried harder.

  The car turned onto a smaller gravel road then a short drive later, turned again. It was a long driveway, Ruby realized. At the end, surrounded by trees and dense bush, nestled an old log cabin that looked as exhausted as Ruby felt. The sides sagged inwards and the porch roof drooped like a lazy eyelid over the front door. A light was on inside. Someone was home.

  A dark BMW was parked around the side. Guy Beauvoir's car.

  They got out and Fat Frankie prodded her in the small of her back with his gun. Her bare feet trod over pebbles and dirt to the front door. Frankie hadn't even let her put shoes on back at Jake's apartment.

  The door swung open and Guy Beauvoir stood on the other side. "Ah, Ruby Jones." He smiled, revealing too-white teeth. "You made it in one piece."

  "Where's Jake?" she snapped.

  Beauvoir raised an eyebrow at Frankie, hovering nearby, the gun held by his bandaged right hand. The big security chief shrugged.