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“Let’s start questioning people. I’ll coordinate working with the Yard.” As his people went to do their business, he grabbed Carter’s arm. “Run a deep background and detailed timeline for Claire Mitchell…”
“That cute little art restoration expert you’ve had your eye on?” Fletch nodded. “Anything in particular?”
“Check to see who the guy that raised her was. She indicated he was her grandfather and worked as a horse master. I need to know if either of them had any past criminal associations and/or a connection to looted Nazi treasure.”
“On it,” Carter said, turning to rejoin his computer.
“And send me the security feed from around the time of the heist.”
She’d done it. There was no doubt in his mind about it. Claire had stolen the fucking necklace and probably every other piece of jewelry. She wasn’t old enough to have performed the first heists, and yet, it had to be her. She was the only one emerging from all the data that he’d gathered that made all the pieces of the puzzle fit.
His cell buzzed and Fletch looked down to watch the camera footage. Everything looked fine. He watched as Claire walked past the diamond without so much as a glance. She was headed for the gallery where the three paintings were hung. A blip and everything in the footage went dark as the camera cut off. Less than ninety seconds later, the camera came back online just in time for him to see Claire walking unhurriedly from the room that housed the necklace.
Fletch could feel the muscle tick in his jaw. What the hell was she thinking? How the hell were they supposed to have a life together if she was in prison? Role-playing conjugal visits might be fun, but in reality, it would suck. He realized he wanted more than just sex with Claire; he wanted a life. Resolving to do whatever it took to make his fantasies become reality—regardless of whatever ‘it’ was and however ‘it’ had to play out, he vowed to himself to take care of it.
CHAPTER10
FLETCH
Fletch leaned back against one of the pillars close to the case which had once contained the Grenadine Necklace. Fuck! She’d done it. He was sure of it. Whatever the gizmo was that had obscured the thief and made a halo around most of her body might have disguised her enough to fool everyone else, but he knew it was her. He knew it. That little criminal had played him—or had she? Whether she was the thief, or at least very involved, was not in question, but why she’d done it, whether she was acting alone, and whether she had used him were yet to be resolved.
It had been a long, long afternoon. He’d met with Scotland Yard and had negotiated a way to work with them, allowing his team to take the lead. He was now juggling how to maintain his working relationship with the Yard, keep his team doing what he needed them to do without getting them focused on Claire, and figure out how to keep Claire out of prison for a good portion of the rest of her life.
He didn’t even think the United Kingdom allowed conjugal visits and he was damn sure not going to do without her while she served a prison term. Claire might not know it but Fletch was about to rock her world—in more ways than one. He would put an end to her thievery; she would walk the straight and narrow from now on, even if that meant handcuffing her to the headboard when he couldn’t actively have eyes on her.
Come to think of it, that might be kind of fun.
Focus!
He looked at the palm of his hand. Surely, she wouldn’t have given him her phone number if she didn’t want him to help. She must have known he would figure it out. He texted her.
Meet you for dinner at seven at the Savoy Grill
Claire’s reply was a thumbs up emoji. So far, so good. That would give her time to go out to her place and feed her horses. He called the restaurant and made a dinner reservation—corner table at the back by the window. He was going to need a little privacy to get her set up, not only for a night of scintillating sex, but to let her know he expected her to return the Grenadine Necklace. Or maybe he should wait until she was asleep, search for it, find it, and return it to its owners, taking her to task privately. There were a lot of ways she could make it up to him—most of them involving his dick and some part of her sexy body.
At the end of a long day, Fletch made his way back to the Savoy and up into his room. He wanted to grab a quick shower while he figured out what to wear. Part of him wanted to look suave and dapper for her, but if he planned to search her house, the best way to get her to take him home was to be in jeans and boots.
As he stripped out of his clothes, his painfully hard dick reminded him that it had plans for their evening, as well, and they didn’t necessarily include romancing their target or searching her home. No, what his dick wanted was to be shoved deep inside her and remain there until it fell off. His dick tended to be overly dramatic about these things, but never more so than when contemplating having Claire.
As he stood under the rainfall showerhead with the body sprays pulsing away, all he wanted to do was pound his head against the tile. How the hell had he let himself get caught up in all of her? He had never felt this way about a woman, never. He turned the water from hot to cold—as cold as he could stand it. Goosebumps started to cover his body, but did that affect the stiffness of his dick? Not even a little bit. It gleefully pulsed in anticipation of getting inside Claire. It had never been this unruly. Even as a teenage boy, Fletch had been able to control the damn thing. But not now. No, his cock was firmly in control, to the point a drop of pre-cum dripped onto the shower floor.
Regardless of how cold the water was, his dick knew Claire and her pussy would be hot—so very hot. It wasn’t that Fletch disagreed with his dick, he just needed the thing to behave if he was going to be able to think through everything that needed to happen for them to have their own happily ever after.
‘Happily ever after?’ When did I start thinking in romantic terms?
Did he want to save Claire from herself? Yes. Did he want to fuck her so hard she never thought to step out of line again? Most definitely yes.
There were a lot of things to consider. Things like how to return the Grenadine Necklace and anything else she had in her possession without implicating her. Things like how he ensured she never stole again—although the idea of handcuffing her to their bed did have some merit. Things like making sure he could broker a deal that would keep her and her friend Mia safe and out of prison. Things like figuring out why the hell she’d done it, and who had done it before her?
Eighteen months of nothing but celibacy or his hand was about to come to a screeching halt. He’d figure out all he needed to do, and he would keep her safe. If the Yard, the insurance companies, bounty hunters, or anyone else got too close, he would take Claire and run. They’d disappear. Maybe buy a large sailboat and cruise the waters of the world until he could figure something out. But one way or another, her thieving was going to end, and they would be together.
‘Now!’ throbbed his cock. ‘Now!’
He shook his head. There was no help for it. He needed to get his dick to settle down until they got through dinner, and he could get her alone. Then he would take the leash off his dick and the damn thing could go to town. He soaped up his hand, wrapped it around his cock, and began to stroke. His hand, no matter how slick and slippery, was no replacement for Claire’s soaking pussy, but it would have to do. He had to stay in control of the situation if he was going to save her. And he had to save her.
Applying a bit more pressure, he leaned his head back and began to stroke faster, acknowledging his dick’s whining about Claire’s pussy feeling so much better. He had to agree. He closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to have Claire in the shower with him, impaled on his cock as he thrust in and out of her, her pussy spasming all up and down his length. He’d use the wall of the shower for leverage and fuck her until she was either screaming his name or biting down on his shoulder to keep from doing so. He would fuck into her until she came at least twice, and he could drive deep, grinding himself against her as he filled her completely.
His entire body clenched in orgasmic bliss as his warm seed spilled onto the floor of the shower. He continued to stroke himself until he didn’t have anything left. The climactic storm over for a moment, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cold tile. His body relaxed and his breathing became more regular. He increased the temperature of the water and let it beat against his muscles as he retook control of his unruly cock.
