Chapter 12
12
RUTGER
S he possessively grabs the blue diamond at the center of her necklace, shaking her head. “Raul wants the Blue Moon. And he can have it over my dead body. Besides, he’s got better things to do with his time, like figure out how to get out of this country and to Ecuador.”
“Why Ecuador?” I ask.
She laughs bitterly. “Sixty percent of the Lefevres live in Ecuador because the country won’t extradite them to the United States. The other unlucky forty percent are stuck stateside—either in the clink, minimizing losses, or wasting time until their next arrest.”
I throw my hat in the backseat, running my hand through my hair. “Back to the Blue Moon. What do you mean he has better things to do with his time? You once told me some blue diamonds fetch upwards of one million per karat at auction. No reason to think yours couldn’t do the same thing. All six karats…”
“More like five point two karats,” she corrects. “But Raul knows better.” She alludes to the family story I learned while engaged to her. To me, it’s cockamamie. But she believes it.
Originally brought to the American Colonies from India during a trading voyage captained by one of her Creole ancestors, the diamond was a gift for his betrothed. The Lefevre women have held it in their possession ever since. But as the legend goes, any male who attempts to possess it, including family members, faces fatally bad luck.
As I recall, her great-grandfather and an uncle both learned this the hard way, although the details escape me.
“He may know better, but he’s desperate and out of options,” I declare.
“How would Raul sell it at auction, anyway? It seems like a lot of work for a fugitive?—”
“For a couple million? Hell, if he got even half that price, it’d be worth it. You can do a lot with that kind of money—fugitive or not.” I catch her eye, adding, “Now, can we cut to the chase? I know what you’re wearing around your neck is a replica. Is the original still in your Grandma’s safe deposit box in New Orleans?”
“This is the real one.”
I shake my head. There’s no way she’d wear a five-million-dollar necklace on her neck while performing in a dive like the Bow.
“You really don’t trust me one bit, do you? Even with simple questions. Why keep interrogating me, then?” There’s a bite in her voice.
I glance in her direction for longer than I should, memorizing every inch of her mocha skin, sultry pout, and the fine smattering of freckles on her cheeks that I long to trace with my tongue. “You’ve given me no reason to trust you and every reason to doubt you.”
She fists her skirt in her hand. “I haven’t lied about anything I’ve told you. You just don’t like my answers.”
“Provide me with actionable intel, and maybe I’ll change my mind.”
She sinks her head into her hand.
Frustration rages inside me. “Beauty, give me something to work with. I know he’s your baby brother and all, but it’s time he got the payback he deserves for fucking up my life.”
“Fucking up your life?” The thick emotion in her voice mirrors the stab in my chest.
Without hesitation, I reply, “Hell, yeah, he fucked up my life, and he fucked up yours, too… Didn’t he?” I wait breathlessly for her answer.
Of course, I should know better. The stubborn woman ignores me.
I continue, “I don’t know all the details of how it went down. But I know in my gut that Raul had something to do with the way things ended between us. I realize there’s no fixing the past, but the least I can do is serve up a little karmic retribution now.”
“At what cost?” Bijou demands.
“I’ve already paid the highest cost possible. What else of value can he take from me?”
The cab grows quiet, and she looks out the passenger window, weeping. Under her breath, she whispers, “Your life. He could take your life.”
“You should have more faith in me, Bijou.”
Her moist cheeks and unconvinced eyes wound me. So do her words. “But you’re one person against a powerful family.”
My gaze rakes over her stunning countenance, wavering on the edge of believing her. I can’t do this. I can’t trust her. After leaving me at the altar, she made it clear where her allegiances lie.
“So, what’s your plan once you lure my brother using me? You’ll be outmanned and outgunned.” Her voice trails off as she touches the necklace again.
“Leave that to me.”
The delicate way she caresses the diamond wrests my attention. Her reverent fingertips imbue it with value. It’s a far cry from how I remember her treating the replica she wore during performances.“Wait a second. You really are wearing the Blue Moon, aren’t you?”
She looks at me for one long, unguarded moment. “It’s the only way to be sure it’s safe.”
“Fuck,” I exclaim. “And does Raul know?” I feel my imminent demise—and quite possibly hers—much closer than previously anticipated.
“I don’t know.”
Her face clouds in thought, and my head churns.
Finally, Bijou suggests, “Since you’re hunting Raul, maybe we should go to my apartment. Where he knows I’ll eventually show up?” Her almond-shaped eyes look large and lovely as they drink me in, cool as the jade from which they’re cut.
“I’d have to trust you to make that plan work,” I confess, observing her from the corner of my eye.
Her brows hover. “Don’t you? On some level?”
I laugh. “Those are rich questions. Not after the way you betrayed me. On our wedding day and during our last phone call, you made your real feelings for me abundantly clear.” My voice cracks unexpectedly over the last sentence.
Pulling sharply off the side of the highway, we bump along a dirt road that follows a steep embankment down to the marshy banks of the Cumberland River. I wend my way carefully until we reach a grove of thick underbrush and trees, shielding the car from passing traffic.
An overgrown outlet beyond the spot where I stop teases the potential of escape. And my GPS backs up this assessment, but I won’t know until we take the road. We’ve either reached a safe hiding spot or a dead end.
Either way, I have to give P Boy and his crew the slip. The interlude will also buy me time to set Raul’s final trap. Play my cards right, and I’ll bring the bounty straight to me. But the slightest miscalculation could put me at the bottom of the old Shawnee.
Mid-March means nighttime temperatures remain chilly—forty degrees with a light drizzle. I reach into the backseat, throwing Bijou my tan Carhartt jacket in response to the fine sheen of goosebumps on her arms and chest.
“Why are we stopping?” she asks, snuggling into the coat and burying her nose in it. My heart aches at the adorable gesture.
The black of night presses in on us as the rain drizzles halfheartedly. I push my seat back, motioning for her to do the same to negotiate the limitations of the handcuffs. Once we’re both in full recline, I cover my face with my cowboy hat.
She repeats her question, “Why are we stopping?”
I reply testily, without removing the hat, “Because I’m the one that does the chasing. Not the other way around. We’ll lose P Boy’s goons here. Then, I’ll settle my score with your brother.”
“What if P Boy finds us, though?” she asks in a shaky voice.
Sighing, I lift the hat, eyeing her quietly. I despise the fear written on her face. It speaks to a lack of faith in me. Even worse, I can’t comfort her. Everything about the current situation forces me to override my natural inclinations—to trust her, to love her, to hold her. Instead, I grumble, “Quit worrying. You should know I’ll keep you safe.”