Page 23 of Cherish Me

“Now, my dear sir. You have something in your vault that I want. Something a buyer I know is prepared to pay a great deal of money for. Enough that I can retire. And I do so very much want to retire. You wouldn’t want to interfere with my retirement plans, would you?”

“N-n-n-o.”

“Good. Now, we’d intended to blow your vault open, but that’s such a messy proposition. Much easier for you to just give me the combination.”

“And then you’ll let us go?”

“Of course.” Malone smiles, thin and terrifying. “I don’t want murder on my conscience. Tell me the combination, and we’ll all go home.”

Auber looks around the room, but it’s obvious he has no choice. “I—”

“The combination, Mr. Aubert.”

The jeweler nods, then rattles off six digits.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Chuck, be a good boy and go get our stone. Tell Barclay to join you, just in case, after he takes care of our other little problem. I’ll watch our guests.”

“Yes, sir. But sir?”

Malone glances over his shoulder at Chuck. “Yes?”

“The girl. I sent you a text.” He looks right at me and grins, as malicious as I’ve ever seen. “You’re gonna want to read it soon.”

“Will I? Thank you, Chuck. Go on now.”

Chuck salutes and scurries off, leaving us hostages with Malone. We could take him, I’m certain of it.

But I’m equally certain that there would be casualties. I meet Red’s eyes and see that he’s thinking the same thing. His eyes dip to the fork still on the table, and I shake my head. Try it, and we might all die. Damien is still out there. The police are outside. If we can just hold out a little longer…

“Nina Stanfield,” Malone says, peering at his phone. “Funny. I’d say you look more like a Nichole. Or a Nikki. For that matter, you look remarkably like Nikki Stark. Honestly, I’m embarrassed I didn’t recognize you myself. Out of context, I suppose.”

“How—”

“Google reverse image, apparently. Chuck took a picture of you and put it out on to the wonderful world of the web. And back came the truth. Poetic, don’t you think?”

I don’t, but I keep my opinion to myself.

“Your husband stole our guns and explosives, and snatched one of our radios. He killed two of my men. You better hope he’s still listening in.”

I glance at Red, whose expression is as tense as I am.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think, you fucking bitch? I want you to shut your husband down. Get him to come here without a fight, and I promise you—my word as a gentleman—that he’ll get out of here safe.”

“Really?”

“All I want is the stone.”

Aubert sits on the other side of the booth, and he looks at me, his eyes dead and flat. Defeated. Red squeezes my hand.

“You promise?” I press.

“Yes. I promise.”

I swallow, then nod. “Then give me a radio.”

Chapter Thirteen