Chapter 22 — A House of Cards #3
“Severance, huh?” He mulled it over. “Makes sense. Vance changes women like he changes suits.”
Greed won out over fear. It was a three-million-dollar piece. Even if he had to dismantle it, sell the stones separately in Antwerp or Hong Kong… the profit would be astronomical.
“I can’t give you market value,” he said, slipping back into negotiator mode. “Too much risk. Gotta dismantle it. Gotta recut the emerald to remove the laser marking.”
“I need fifty thousand,” Maya said. “Cash. Now.”
Solomon laughed out loud. A laugh that made his jowls shake.
“Fifty thousand? For this?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I was gonna offer you two hundred grand and figure I was robbing you. But if you want fifty… who am I to argue?”
“Forty,” Maya corrected, remembering the exact amount Kyle had asked for in his earlier message, even though now he wanted more. “Forty thousand. Small bills. Untraceable.”
“Done.”
Solomon stood and went to a safe on the back wall. He spun the combination and opened the heavy steel door.
He came back with a thick manila envelope.
He counted the money in front of her. Stacks of hundreds and fifties.
“Forty thousand dollars,” he said, pushing the envelope through the rotating tray. “And some free advice: get out of town. If Vance decides he wants his toy back, he won't ask nicely.”
Maya grabbed the envelope. It was heavy. The weight of Kyle's freedom. The weight of her betrayal.
“Thank you,” she said.
She picked up the empty purse. The necklace stayed with Solomon. The diamond collar had been traded for dirty paper.
She ran out of the shop.
The taxi was still there.
“Corner convenience store,” she said. “Stop there.”
The driver obeyed.
She went into the convenience store. Western Union.
She made the transfer. Her hands were shaking so badly she entered the code wrong twice. The clerk looked at her with suspicion, but the cash silenced any questions.
Sent.
She texted Kyle: Money sent. Forty thousand. That's all. Disappear.
She went back to the taxi.
“Back to the Wynn. Fast. Double the tip if we get there in ten minutes.”
The driver accepted the challenge. He wove through traffic like a maniac.
They arrived at the Wynn service entrance at 2:05 PM.
Maya ran to the loading dock. She climbed the fire stairs, ignoring the burning in her lungs.
She entered the service corridor.
The VIP suite door was ahead.
She opened the door silently and entered the room.
It was empty.
The dresses were still on the sofa, untouched.
She looked at the main door.
Was Miller still there?
She walked to the door and pressed her ear against the wood.
“...ma'am, the client is taking too long. I need to go in.”
It was Miller's voice. Tense.
“I can't allow a man to enter the fitting area while a client is dressing.” The manager's voice was nervous.
“I'm going in. Now.”
The handle turned.
Maya ran to the sofa. She grabbed a dress and held it in front of her body, pretending to look at herself in the mirror.
The door opened.
Miller entered, his hand near the holster under his jacket, his eyes sweeping the room for threats.
He saw Maya.
She turned, holding the green dress against her chest, her face a mask of offended surprise.
“Miller!” she exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this? I'm changing!”
Miller stopped. He looked at her. Looked at the room. Looked at the service door (which was closed).
He relaxed his posture, but his eyes remained suspicious. He saw the sweat on her forehead. Saw her slightly labored breathing.
“You took too long, Miss Brooks. And you didn't respond when I called.”
“The soundproofing in here is excellent,” she said acidly. “And I was deciding. It's hard to choose when you have a bodyguard breathing down your neck.”
She threw the dress on the sofa.
“I didn't like any of them. Let's go. I've lost interest.”
Miller watched her for one long, dangerous second. He knew something was wrong. His instincts were screaming at him. But visually, she was there.
“As you wish, ma'am.”
He stepped aside to let her pass.
Maya grabbed the Prada bag (now light, empty of the necklace, but heavy with the Western Union receipt hidden in the lining) and left the room, head held high.
They returned to the car.
The ride back to the penthouse was silent.
Maya stared out the window, her heart slowly returning to normal, each beat still painful. She'd done it. She'd saved Kyle. She'd fooled Miller.
But when the elevator opened at the penthouse and she saw Ethan standing near the window, holding his glass of whiskey, his back to her, the atmosphere in the room told her everything she needed to know.
The air was charged with static.
Ethan turned slowly.
He didn't need to speak. His look said everything.
He knew.
Maybe not the details. Maybe not where. But he knew she had lied. He knew she had gone off the radar. And he knew the necklace was no longer in her purse.
The house of cards was standing, but the desert wind had just begun to blow, and the foundations were trembling violently.
“You took a while,” Ethan said.
And in those two words, Maya heard the sound of the trap closing.