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“We don’t know that he isn’t, and even if we did, it wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t even matter if he believes himself to be right and just. It isn’t his decision to make, regardless of how it makes people feel about it. If people feel that someone has something that was stolen from them, there are proper channels for them to go through to challenge someone’s provenance and recover what they believe is rightfully theirs.”
“Who? Who do they go to? There may be places to report it, but in the end the police are overworked, the insurance company doesn’t want to lose out and the various commissions that were set up to deal with this have no teeth. They are powerless. I say let this thief, whoever he is, make right what was put so wrong by evil men.”
God she was gorgeous when she was impassioned. He wondered what it would be like when her crystal blue eyes flashed and filled with passion and arousal for him?
She shook her head. “I don’t know Fletch; I think you’re gorgeous and there’s a lot about you that appeals to me, but I think at the end of the day we’re not all that suited to one another. Kind of like oil and water… or maybe even nitro and glycerin.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, sweetheart, but nitro and glycerin get along just fine—it’s the rest of the world that has to be careful about how they deal with them.”
“Maybe, but you have a job to do, and I have a Hogson at home calling my name. The owners found it behind an old plow in the back of a barn. Thank you for lunch.”
Claire stood and walked away from him and past their car and driver.
What went wrong? We were getting along so well.He looked up at her and could see her literally shut down.What was she hiding?The only thing he could think was that she knew more about the jewel heists than she let on. Could she be the thief’s accomplice? She hadn’t even been born when the first heists were pulled, but then again, whoever started had to be too old or dead to have been pulling off the heists over the past decade.
“Claire?”
She turned around.Had she just tried to hide a look of sorrow?“Yes?”
“You should know someone is going to catch the thief. And as there is a ten-million-dollar reward, I intend for that someone to be me.”
CHAPTER7
CLAIRE
“Shit! Shit! Shit,” said Mia in her ear.
Apparently, Mia had heard everything. “I know,” Claire said as soon as she could quietly talk into her hand and not attract attention. “We purposefully tried to change things up for each heist.”
“Do you think he suspects you?”
“I think ‘suspect’ is too strong a word, and I don’t think he has any idea I’m the actual thief. What I think is that he may believe I know more about it than I’m letting on. I should have kept my damn mouth shut about possible reasons why.”
“You should have gotten the hell out of there and never gone to lunch. I’m on my way to your location. Are you walking east or west?”
“West. He has a driver from the Savoy so they should head east back into London proper. I don’t want him to see me get into a van with someone. We’ll need to make sure we’re clear of him, and even then, let’s find an alley or secluded spot.”
“Gotcha. What about that tunnel that runs under the bridge? No one is ever around there; well, at least not during the day.”
“That should work. I should be there in about half an hour. I’ll keep looking for Fletch and the car from the Savoy.”
Claire picked up her pace, glad she’d worn her riding boots. They were sturdy and comfortable and made for rough terrain. She doubled back and crossed the road several times to ensure she wasn’t followed. Fletch must have taken the hint—more’s the shame. He was all of the romantic dreams she’d ever had—dominant, self-confident, authoritative, and a good leader.
Very few people thought Claire capable of following, but the fact was, she craved it. The idea that she could give up having to be in control all of the time was like nirvana to her. No one believed because she tended to challenge anyone who tried to control or assert any kind of authority over her. It wasn’t that she wanted to be in control, she’d just never had much of a choice. She longed for the day when there was a man strong enough to draw a line in the sand. She’d sensed that Fletch might just be that, but he would never understand her need to steal. It was a promise she’d made Poppi, and one she meant to keep.
And he was just her type physically—silky dark hair that had been deliberately and expertly cut for a slightly disheveled look or as though a lover had just run her hands through it. She realized now that his rumpled look from the night of the gala had most likely been a ruse. He had a gorgeous face—sexy, masculine with what seemed to be a permanent day’s worth of scruff. He was tall and muscular, and he made her feel as though she was just the right size and feminine. She’d long ago realized that somewhere along the line she’d decided she was just ‘too much’ of a lot of things: height, boobs, hips, hair, all of it. But Fletch had made her feel sexy and vulnerable as though only he could keep her safe.
A small thrill had run through Claire’s body when he’d tucked her hand into the crook of his arm—not once, but twice, and then had steered her into the car. It was all she could do, when he pulled her close, not to just snuggle in and inhale his scent. There had been a burgeoning intimacy between them—as if they understood each other on a whole other, visceral level that no one else could. It was intoxicating, thrilling, and dangerous.
Ten million dollars? Ten fucking million dollars? Maybe she should just offer to stop if they paid her—but then where would that leave all the countless victims who really had no other hope but her?
She picked up her pace and headed for the tunnel under the bridge. As Mia had predicted, there was no one there, but just to be safe, she took refuge in a small space behind one of the pillars—one where she couldn’t be seen from the front or either side, with her back to a stone wall.
Hearing a vehicle approach she almost stepped out to flag Mia down, but as it slowed and rolled past her position, she realized it was the vintage town car from the Savoy. The windows were rolled down and she could see Fletch scanning what passed for a sidewalk on either side of the tunnel.
She heard another vehicle approaching and knowing how sound would carry, said very quietly, “That’s Fletch. Don’t even slow down, just keep going. Go back to your place and I’ll meet you there.”
“I can’t just leave you here.”
