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Before she can say a thing, I just shake my head. “No. This is bullshit. I don’t care what a piece of paper says. Your friend isn’t about to turn it in. And if she does, there aren’t any museum police. We’re the fucking Quinate.” I turn to Hendrick. “You know it’s mine.”
“And yet ownership’s nine tenths of the law.” He grins darkly. “You won’t get it, Jac. But handing the necklace to the museum does end some of the issues.”
“Give it to me,” MG says. “I’ll get the gems to the museum.”
“Fuck you.” I’ve had enough. “They’re not going anywhere. Make sure they’re locked away, Hendrick, and you, MG? Keep your hands off the Heart of Dark Desires.”
TWENTY-NINE
MAGDALENA
The guilt is harder than I thought to keep at bay.
When Jac touched the necklace, the real one, I saw the little boy. It broke my heart because it wasn’t a man or boy looking at something pretty, but a lost child touching a happy memory.
I don’t give a shit when someone’s upset about losing something worth millions that’s insured. Or stolen in the first place. That crap’s meaningless.
Jac’s face is why I don’t take things that are memories.
Even for Hendrick, there’s something there, too. I don’t know what. It wasn’t anything like Jac’s level of guilt-making feels, but it was there, poking places that I don’t like being poked.
Like conscience. Heart. That shit.
I can’t give into any of that. Not even for a moment because this is the dangerous part of the game. These two men are deadly, and I’m trying to get out of it all still breathing.
Switching the blinged up fake for the real ones was the easy part. This is the hard part.
I look at the two men, and they make my heart squeeze, and a different kind of guilt along with shame comes up and over me.
Feeling bad over banging them both one last time can go fuck itself. They’d do it. I just…it felt different with both of them, and not just on my part. It was like hitting a different level.
That’s not helping me, either.
The three of us are all looking at each other.
“I’ll see you downstairs, Carlos,” Jac tells his overgrown security.
Hendrick’s men aren’t in the room, and soon it’s just the three of us.
“Did you get what you wanted?” Hendrick asks.
Jac gives me a narrow-eyed look. “He wants to know if you creamed yourself.”
“Jesus, Jac, always classy.” Hendrick shakes his head. “But…did you?”
I don’t know if he’s asking if my panties are wet and I’m turned on, or if I got what I wanted.
The answer to both of those is yes.
And my fantasies are having a field day. The two of them. Me.
Shit. I take a deep, shaking breath.
I don’t need the necklace to go to the museum. I don’t need anything but for them not to call in someone else to check them over. Lock them up, donate them back to that Seattle museum, hire a lawyer to set up visitation rights for the Heart of Dark Desires and Jac and Hendrick.
Whatever floats their little worlds of death and destruction.
As long as they don’t go and wave them about.
