Chapter 2
Savvy
“I need to go.” I back into the door, holding onto the door handle. “Can you unlock the door?”
“No.” He drops the papers onto the countertop, jabbing his middle finger into them. “These are good.”
They’d be better if I’d had more time. Then maybe he wouldn’t be looking at me like he wants to skin me, or eat me, or do other things that would make me scream.
Seriously, my nighttime reading habits need to change.
“The diamonds? Yes, they’re beautiful. I’m sorry to part with them. In fact.” I push off the door, my hands already reaching out to snag the pouch. “I think I’d like to keep them. I don’t want to take a loan or sell them.”
As I reach for the black leather pouch, he snaps his hand around my wrist. Instinctively, I yank, but I’ll need the jaws of life if I’m going to get free of him without his help.
“I have questions.”
“Do you?” I try to smile innocently, like a lost, scared puppy, but all I can manage is a smirk. “I really do have to go, I’m meeting some people who will be upset if I’m late.”
While not completely a lie, it’s also not entirely true. The people waiting on me are probably just as angry as this man is.
Though he hides it better. He’s calm, collected. I would have thought quiet control would be preferable to loud rage, but I was wrong. Very wrong.
“Where did you get these papers?” He tugs on me until I’m standing in front of him. With his extra foot of height, I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.
Which is a mistake all of its own.
His eyes are a dark brown accented with light amber flecks. Like an angry werewolf glaring down at me. If they start glowing, I will faint.
Actually, if he keeps staring at me like this at all, I might not be able to stay upright.
“I told your employee, my grandmother—”
“I know what you told him. But I’m asking now, and I want the truth. Where did you get the papers?”
“Is there something wrong with them? She’s had the diamonds in her family for decades.”
His jaw clicks. His nostrils flare. I’m exhausting him with my lies.
Good, maybe he’ll go lie down for a nap and let me slip away.
“That’s one.” He holds up a single finger. “Where did you get the certificates of authenticity and the grading reports?”
“I already told you.” I try to keep my voice firm, just like his, but he’s leaning closer to me, and cold electricity shoots down my spine.
I’ve really done it this time. I’ve gotten myself into situations before. But I’ve always been able to talk my way out of it or trade the problem for another, more easily managed one.
Like this one. Getting the money from this deal will pay off a worse problem. Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul is what my foster mother would have called it. She should know, she taught me everything she knew.
Except what to do when there’s six-foot-something mobster glaring down at you with your life literally in his grasp.
“That’s two. You’re going to keep lying to me?”
“I’m trying to tell you what you want to know, but you’re not listening.
I got the diamonds from my grandmother. She died just a few weeks ago.
” I pause, wishing I’d mastered the ability to cry on command, but I still haven’t, so I push on.
“I need the money to pay for her funeral expenses and to pay off her car.”
The dark eyebrow over his left eye arches and he lifts his chin.
“Her car,” he states flatly. “And that’s three.”
“Yes, her car.” I nod, then it hits me. I’ve messed up the lie. “I mean no, yes, and no. I do need to pay off her car, but I also need to fix up the house so I can sell it.”
He’s not buying it. Or the diamonds from the raging storm that’s blown into his expression.
Cassie warned me if I wasn’t more careful, I’d find myself at death’s door.
But to be fair, she’s been saying that since we were kids stuffed into a locked basement of our foster parent’s house.
Plus she was talking about my attempt to shimmy through the broken window to freedom not trying to scam powerful people out of money.
But, if I get through this unscathed, I will heed her advice. No more trying to make big deals, only smaller scale stuff. A flat fee, no trying to get rich by stealing from the rich.
“Are you going to tell me where you got these from, or should we continue this discussion somewhere more private? I should warn you, you’ve already racked up a list.”
“A list of what? And what do you mean more private? You’ve locked me in here, I don’t think it gets more private than that.” I scoff and immediately regret it when his fingers dig into my arm.
Still holding me tightly, he pulls me closer and draws my bag down my shoulder. When I try to grab it from him, he shoots me a look that makes me freeze. If it’s possible for a human to die just from a piercing stare, that’s how I’ll die.
He puts the bag on the counter and rummages through it, first finding my phone. I get only a flash of it before he stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he pulls out my wallet.
This is more concerning.
I try again to take it, but he reacts with lightning speed. He spins me around and shoves me down over the countertop. The edge of the glass digs into my stomach. But that’s not the problem. The bigger issue is that he has my arm twisted behind my back, and he’s pushing against my ass.
Correction. His steel rod of an erection is pushing against my ass.
“I would stay still if I were you.” He holds me effortlessly in this position while he goes through my wallet. A moment later, there’s a dark chuckle escaping from him.
“I’m not really seeing the humor in the situation,” I can’t help but say.
He leans over me until the warmth of his breath brushes across the shell of my ear.
“You have five different names in here; which is the real one?” He shows me the cards, fanned out like a poker hand, and I shake my head.
“You don’t know your own name?” He purposely misunderstands me. “Last time, what is your name?”
“I don’t understand what this is all about, but I really do need to leave.” I close my eyes, knowing my time is running out. If I’m not across town with the money in the next hour, I might as well ask this barbarian to kill me now. “Please.”
“Then tell me what I want to know. What is your name and where did you get the papers?”
“Why do you want to know about the papers? What will you do to them if you find them?” It’s tempting to continue the lie that my grandmother had them for years and years, but I’m cutting my losses. Getting out of the shop alive is now the goal.
“I’ve seen this work before. The forgery cost me a hundred grand.” He pauses then asks, “What do you think I should do to them?”
There is absolutely no good way to answer that question. I can’t tell if he realizes the forgeries were done by me or if he only suspects I know who did them. And since I don’t know what he’s thinking, it’s safer to say nothing.
“Please. Let me go. You can keep the diamonds.”
A phone rings. His cell phone.
And he answers it, sounding like he’s just hanging around doing nothing.
I’m only hearing half the conversation and there isn’t much of anything going on this end. A lot of acknowledgments but no new information. He shifts to my side but doesn’t let my arm go as he finishes it up.
“Bob!” He calls, and Bob immediately appears. I have a feeling if this guy snapped his finger and yelled for a genie he’d have more than three wishes granted.
“Yeah?”
“Get the car and bring it out back,” he orders, and Bob toddles off to do his bidding.
When we’re alone again, he helps me up, letting go of my arm. I roll my shoulder back and forth to work out the tenderness.
Since he hasn’t said anything, I assume I can leave now. He obviously has something more important to attend to, so I reach for my bag. He pulls it out of reach.
“Last chance. Your name and your contact.”
“You’ll let me go?”
“If I like your answer. Maybe.”
Maybe isn’t a yes, but I can’t be delayed any longer.
“My name is Stephania Sloane, and I really did get the papers from my grandmother.” I swallow. “I swear it.”
His eyes narrow at the edges.
“Car’s out back.” Bob pops his head in.
“Good.” He hands me my bag, and a whoosh of air fills my lungs. “Take her. Roman will be waiting for you.”
“What? Wait. No!” I turn on my heel and dart for the door. Which is locked, but in my panic I’d forgotten.
Hands are on me next, and I kick out. Doesn’t do me any good. I’m spun around and hoisted up in the air, dropped over a huge shoulder.
“No! Stop! Please!” I kick and swing my hands. My fist makes contact with the concrete God used to build him.
I’m carried through the back of the shop, then through another door into the soft glow of the setting sun.
Then I’m dumped into a trunk, and as I scramble to get my bearings and jump free, I see his face. The unmovable fierceness makes me shrink back.
“Sit tight. It’s a short ride.” He slams the trunk, casting me into darkness.