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Evangeline didn’t even have the good grace to seem embarrassed that Claire might have overheard them. She had. In the months and years ahead, she knew that was the moment that something hardened inside her. Something made her become determined to prove Evangeline and all her friends wrong. And she had.
They admired her now for her outer worldly success. She was seen as one of the most successful art recovery and restoration experts in the world. Her Tudor-era studio and home were located in an old millhouse in Greenwich on the River Thames, just outside London. The renovation and her business had been covered and photographed in numerous art, home, and architectural magazines. Her services were in demand with some of the biggest and wealthiest insurance companies and individuals in the world.
Claire had watched and learned. She looked and dressed like them. She still might not fit into those designer clothes, but she could afford to have close copies made that fit her within an inch of her life.
She snapped out of her reverie when the man in front of her caught her wrist.
“That’s enough,” he said with an edge to his voice that indicated he was used to people following his commands. “It was an accident, and I’ve offered to have your dress cleaned. Besides which, the day I decide to have my way with you, I won’t ask for the damn dress, I’ll take it.”
“Claire, don’t.” Mia said stridently in her ear. “Whatever it is you’re thinking don’t. People are starting to look your way. Get out of there. They’re flashing the lights. The event is winding down and they’re going to take the necklace. You don’t have much time to get into position. Ask yourself which is more important? Ripping this guy’s nuts off and shoving him down his throat, or getting the Grenadine Necklace back to its rightful owner.”
She stepped back and tugged her arm from his grasp. “Of course, you’re right. My apologies for letting my temper get the best of me. It’s been a long evening.” She turned to walk away.
Mr. Muscle in his Dolts Are Us tuxedo and cheap shoes, moved with speed and grace and put himself in her way once again. If he made her miss this chance at the necklace, she was going to do some damage to this asshole.
“Don’t let it concern you. I did spill my drink down your dress. I would like a chance to make it up to you. Why don’t you come to the Savoy tomorrow and bring your dress? I’ll have it cleaned while we have breakfast. They have the most amazing staff there. I’m convinced that there isn’t anything the head concierge, Felix, can’t do. He’s pretty amazing.”
“Is that really how you’d prefer we meet for breakfast?”
“Claire, stop it,” Mia hissed in her ear.
“No, what I’d prefer is for you to roll over and we order from room service, but I was worried if I told you that, you might give into the impulse you had to do something very unladylike to my nuts, which I’m very fond of.”
Claire stepped back, shaking her head. “No. I think I will avoid the Savoy until you leave.”
She needed to put distance between them. This was not the kind of man to whom she allowed herself to be attracted. She preferred the more leanly muscled men of London’s elite—those who made their money, and lots of it, with their minds and not their broad shoulders, devastating smiles, and calloused hands. But if she was being honest with herself, she’d never been more wildly attracted to any man in her life. She could well imagine those rough hands skimming over her body and grasping her hips as he plunged into her again and again.
No. Not going there. That way lies heartache and madness!
He took a step toward her. “How will you know? You don’t even know my name.”
“Nor do I want to.” The lights flickered again. “They’re signaling for us to leave—make sure you take your cheap shoes with you. They’ll never pass for glass slippers, and I really don’t want to see how bad all of this,” she said circling her finger to indicate all of him, “gets at the stroke of midnight.”
Claire hurried away from him, ensuring he wasn’t following her. People were already leaving the building as she made her way toward the woman’s loo. Once inside, she locked the door, kicked off her heels and searched for the air duct that would be sealed the following day.
Standing on the toilet in the last stall, she pried the grate off the ducting. “Okay, Mia, I’m in place. Tell me when to activate and send the canister.” There was no snarky comeback. There was silence on the other end. “Mia? Mia, this is not funny. I get it; you hate it when I go dark on you. I won’t do it again.” Still nothing. “Mia?”
“Fuck,” said Claire, putting the canister back in her clutch.
For Mia to not answer, something had to have gone very wrong. Claire needed to get out without anyone taking notice of her, and she needed to get to Mia.
Unlocking the door to the loo, she joined a small crowd of stragglers and exited the venue. Claire walked to the end of the block, uncertain as to whether to go to the point where Mia had dropped her off or the one where they planned to rendezvous. Chances were Mia had not remained at the drop point and Claire had been talking to her right up until she was supposed to give her the go ahead to get the necklace.
Fearful Mia had been pinched, discovered, or worse, Claire raced to the agreed upon meeting place, praying that her need to make things right had not harmed Mia. It took every fiber of self-control that she had not to race down the street calling for her friend. She was vaguely aware that the Grenadine Necklace might now be lost to her, but that was a poor consideration next to Mia’s safety. Claire could not allow herself to even contemplate losing Mia.
CHAPTER3
CLAIRE
Once she had left the street and entered the dark alleys, Claire removed her high heels and ran as fast as her feet would carry her, watching for anything that might cut her feet. There was a small semblance of relief when she saw the van right where it was supposed to be. The lights were off and there was no smoke coming out of the tailpipe, but Mia often turned the van off and relied on generators to run all of her tech gear. She said if the van was parked and the motor and lights were left on, it tended to look suspicious.
Reason returned to the fore and Claire slowed down, looking around for something to use as a weapon. The canister of the knock-out gas would be no good, as she would dose herself if she wasn’t careful. No rebar, no hunks of wood with nails in them, just your normal London garbage. Maybe it was time to rethink carrying a gun or some kind of mace.
Claire slinked along the side of the van between it and the wall of the building it was parked next to. When she finally reached the passenger side door’s window, she peaked in. Mia had her head down, furiously punching her keyboard. Claire tapped on the side panel door and breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped inside.
Closing the door behind her, she hit the automatic lock. “What the hell, Mia?”
“We’ve got problems.”
