Seven of Swords Page 5

  “So what are you more interesting in doing? The job or the man?”

  “Both!” she says.

  “So are you in?”

  “We are, my dear. He said he was looking for two incredibly beautiful women.” She sighs. “He thinks I’m beautiful.”

  “Why would he do a small job like this himself?” Elliott was right up there with Jacob. If it wasn’t ten mil, he didn’t bother.

  “He told me there was a ring in the collection that he has particular interest in."

  “And he wants to steal it himself?"

  "Yep. You know it's going to run smooth as silk with him there. It's like easy money." She sips her latte. "That ancient tiara is as good as yours."

  "Did you talk to anyone else about the tiara?"

  “No.”

  “Did Elliott ask who you were bringing along?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you told him my name?”

  Elena sets down her cup. “Of course I did. He has to know who is going. Is everything okay?”

  Panic darts through me. “Was Jacob Holt in the Den?” I had to know.

  “Yeah, sort of lurking in the corners.”

  “Is he going?”

  “No way. Jacob Holt pisses more money in the toilet than you can get on this job.”

  I sit back in my chair. “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” I say. “I’ve been a little paranoid.”

  “Marissa, what is going on? You have to tell me. You’re like a ghost.”

  Should I tell her? If I’m going to do this job with her and Elliott, I need to let her know that something has happened between me and Jacob. I don't have to say it all.

  “All right,” I say.

  She tilts her head at me. "I had a feeling you were hiding something."

  "Okay. I slept with Jacob Holt. It ended badly. I have to avoid him. Are you positive he’s not going on this job?”

  Her jaw has fallen open. "My God! Jacob Holt! Girl, you have to dish.”

  I really didn't want to do that, but she’ll need some details to buy in. She has to understand that it’s critical I not see Jacob.

  "He knows me as Jade. And he was crazy. He took me on his balcony. Naked. Anybody could have seen.” I hope these dirty bits will be enough. I do not want to have to explain how I met him or what exactly happened to make me want to avoid him now. She’s not a part of my larger mission, although if I succeed, hopefully she will be one of the women who benefit.

  She sits back and stares dreamily out at the rain beyond the edge of the overhang. "I can't even imagine being inside Jacob Holt's place. What was it like?"

  "He had this crazy red living room that looked like a mass murderer designed it."

  She leans forward. "And why do you have to avoid him?"

  I should've prepared an answer. I fumble for a moment, and then I say, “He didn’t like the way we…separated.”

  "He wasn't any good, was he?" she whispers. "I should've known. Those super hot rich guys are rarely awesome in bed. Slam, bam, fall at my feet, ma’am.” She taps her finger to her chin. "Do you think Elliott is going to suck in bed too?”

  I should feel some shame for talking bad about Jacob that way, particularly since we were outrageously compatible. I can’t think too long about what we did without tingling from the need to feel it again. But it has to be this way.

  "My guess is that you’re going to find out," I say.

  "Maybe! Do you think I have a shot at him?"

  "Of course you do."

  Elena prattles on about hot guys and possibilities and melt-proof panties. She tells me that we’re meeting Elliott tomorrow to review the plan. She’s more worried about what to wear than the details of the job.

  I think about that Fife tiara. At the palace it would have been an enormous job to steal. But on the road? So easy. An opportunity like this doesn’t come often.

  But after this I will have to disappear. Maybe if some time passes, I can stop worrying about when the shoe will drop. Because I’m really in for it if Jacob Holt finds me before I’ve figured out what to do about his swords.

  11

  Jacob

  Everything is at the ready. Our plan has been executed perfectly.

  My car glides along the interstate. I’m an hour outside of Manhattan, following the route of the armored truck, and everything bursts with color.

  The trees grow thickly right up to the silver barricade to the highway. They’re in full fall splendor, and I relax a bit as I take in their autumn glory. Whoever says New Jersey isn’t beautiful has never taken this particular drive.

  Elliott communicates with me regularly. He met with the cherry-haired girl, Elena, and her friend two days ago. He surreptitiously took a photograph of them. When he sent it to me, I recognized Jade immediately, even though her look had completely changed.

  Her hair is now blond and barely reaches her chin. She has outrageous eyelashes, dramatic eye makeup, and sports a new beauty mark just beside her lip.

  My first urge upon seeing it was to kiss it, which irritated me to no end. This woman is the devil, and I’m going to make her pay. But she is also on the job. I can bide my time now. I practically have her in my clutches.

  The three of them ride in a van about ten miles ahead of me. They have a driver and an armed guard, both in my employ. I will intercept them in about an hour. I want them out in the woods with nowhere for Jade to go when I see her again.

  Once I have her alone, I will get the location of my swords out of her, by whatever means necessary. She has to have stashed them somewhere.

  I’ve already checked every black market storage dealer approved by members of the Den. She has sourced this outside of our circles. Of course. I would've done the same thing. But she can’t sell the swords without me knowing. Anyone who had an interest in the hilts has already been contacted by me.

  Damn it. The auction of the swords was supposed to be a prime event in my career. She stole that glory from me and made me a laughingstock instead.

  Sometimes I wince at the thought of these incredibly valuable and rare swords being stuck someplace improperly secure. But Jade was trained by Antony, so hopefully she did right by the swords and kept them safe.

  I try to enjoy the sights. Occasionally, the car stirs up a whole flurry of fallen leaves, and I drive through them as if they are dancing in my wake.

  A message comes through from Elliott.

  Girls relaxed. Armored truck on target.

  I message him back.

  Excellent. All is at the ready.

  I sit back in my seat, my shoulders relaxed. Elliott will seduce the friend to get her away, if necessary. Everything is running like clockwork. I see no reason to delay. The sooner I have the swords back, the more swiftly I will see nine figures in my bank account.

  I send him one last message.

  Catching up. We'll meet at rendezvous one.

  I roll down my window, satisfied with our plan. The air is brisk and fresh. I feel invigorated.

  I arrive at the rendezvous point precisely on time. I spot the white van ahead, the flower delivery logo on the side. I slow down to assess the situation.

  Elliott stands outside at the gravel entrance to the trailhead, watching the driver change a tire. It blew out just as planned.

  Beside him is Elena, her red hair practically glowing in the sunlight.

  Jade must still be inside the van. Excellent. It’s even easier if I can trap her right away.

  Elliott spots my car and pulls on Elena’s hand, tugging her toward the trail. She resists for a moment, and he kisses her. She seems aghast, then practically runs with him into the trees.

  The driver and the bodyguard are aware of the situation. They both give me a nod. The guard points to the van, confirming that Jade is inside.

  I kill the engine and glance in the rearview mirror. My eyes glint with anger, but I bring it down. I don’t know exactly how Jade will react to seeing me. I have multiple plans based on her behavior. In
itially, I will pretend not to know her, throw her off balance.

  But if anything goes south, I will gladly resort to physical tactics.

  I’m ready. I open my door and step out into the chilly fall sunshine.

  The swords are as good as mine.

  12

  Jade

  I admit I’m feeling a little suspicious.

  A few minutes ago, an unexpected thump at the back of the van startled all of us.

  "What was that?” Elena asked.

  The driver looked back at us. “Sounds like we popped the tire.” He slowed down the van, and we pulled into a small gravel lot next to one of the Appalachian trailheads.

  "Won't take me but a minute to put on the spare," he said. He and the armed guard got out of the front two seats to tend to the tire.

  Everyone seemed calm about the situation. Elliott Gill leaned back in his swivel seat behind the driver, his fingers interlaced behind his head.

  Elena’s alarm fell from her face, and she settled in her seat next to him. She kept crossing and recrossing her legs in a slender black skirt. I didn't think her outfit looked very practical for the job, but I was starting to think that for her Elliott was the job. He was a much bigger catch than any Egyptian gold.

  I sat in an inward-facing seat toward the back. All around me was every type of gadget, computer, weapon, and device we could possibly need for the job. The van was as much of an armored vehicle as the one we were pursuing.

  It just struck me as odd that a van this technologically advanced could be struck down with something as basic as a flat tire.

  But I said nothing. The driver started banging around the outside of the back door, probably untethering the spare. We would be back on our way in a few minutes.

  Elliott stretched his arms. "I think I'm just going to step outside for a minute while we have the chance," he said. He winked at Elena. "Want to come with?"

  "Totally," she said.

  I liked Elena, but it was hard for me not to roll my eyes.

  The two of them stepped outside, leaving me alone in the van.

  And it’s been that way ever since. At least five minutes have passed since everyone left.

  How long can it take to change a dang tire?

  I glance out the window. Elliott and Elena head into the trees, holding hands. I wonder what they are up to. Looks like our delay might get a little longer. They are acting fast.

  But I’m not one to talk. I hadn't been with Jacob Holt more than ten minutes, barely enough time to down some whiskey, before he had me undressing.

  Crazy line of work. Crazy everything. Maybe I should sell the swords and get out. Maybe I should get out without even selling the swords.

  But even thinking about it for a moment makes my blood chill. I’m good at my work. And I love it. People like us don't get caught. We sometimes fail on a job, but we’re trained to know when we will be successful and when to abort.

  No, the real problem is that this often becomes a lonely profession. I have friends, like Sabrina and Elena. But they don’t do me any good when I’m in over my head, like now. I can’t involve them for fear of getting them caught in the web due to my mistake with the swords.

  I’m not sure how people like Jacob Holt do this long term. I mean, obviously, things aren’t perfect for him. He hires escorts rather than finding a wife and a family.

  I certainly hadn't been able to maintain a relationship in this environment, not for more than a few months. Eventually, they ask questions, or I go on a job that I can't explain. Nobody wants to put up with that. And that isn’t even talking about the risk. Steal from the wrong gang, or the mob, or an organized ring, and I might put someone I care about, someone totally clueless to the game, in the line of fire.

  I lean my head back against the wall of the van. Maybe I can cut a deal with Jacob Holt. I don't know. He’s pretty ruthless, but nothing I’ve seen from him or heard about him in the two years I’ve been in the Den tells me that he would kill me for what I did.

  And I have no proof that he has told anyone. I can't imagine he would advertise the fact that the chick he banged stole his one-hundred-and-forty-million-dollar heist.

  Actually, for all I know, he doesn't even know the swords are gone. Maybe he hasn't been in the vault. All this worry and stress could actually be for nothing.

  I’m glad I agreed to go on this job. I might have missed the biggest tiara find of the century over nothing.

  I close my eyes. I can still hear the driver tinkering with the tire. I guess it doesn't matter if we get too far behind the armored car. We can always catch up.

  I hear a click at the back of the van but don't bother to open my eyes. It's probably the driver finishing up the work. I’ll be glad to get a move on. It's not a bad idea to have a new ally in Elliott. If anything is going to go down later with Jacob, the more people who can vouch for me, particularly at the highest levels of the Den, the better.

  Who knows, maybe I will confess to him and ask for his advice.

  That is actually an incredibly good idea. I could impress him on this heist, and afterward, admit that I took Jacob’s swords and see what he would have me do.

  The back door opens and the road noise fills the quiet of the van. I turn to look and then suck in a breath.

  I can't believe it.

  It's Jacob Holt.

  "Oh my God," I say.

  But he just tilts his head at me. "Are you okay?"

  My heart hammers ninety miles an hour. Does he not recognize me? I touch my hair. It is a big change, but still, my face is my face.

  I can’t even answer. My breath is stolen.

  “I’m sorry to have rendered you speechless,” he says. "I'm Jacob Holt. I’m the fourth.”

  What? He’s part of the job?

  My voice barely squeaks out my words. “I didn’t know there was a fourth.” I look around wildly. There’s no one nearby.

  "I hope that's okay," he says. "Elliott and I are good friends. We thought this would be a fun little low-key adventure for us."

  He settles in the seat across from me, completely calm.

  I'm not quite sure I believe it.

  Jacob Holt is sitting right in front of me. I just stole his biggest heist a week ago. Something has to be off.

  "What’s your name?" he asks. "I apologize that I don't already know it. I'm not familiar with many of the female thieves from the Den."

  I try not to stumble on my words. The others will call me by what they know. I should go with that. “I’m Marissa.”

  “I assume you are from the Den,” Jacob says easily, his head tilted. He’s so laidback compared to the last time I saw him. Does he really not recognize me?

  “Yes. But my friend Elena told me about this job.”

  "So you haven’t been at the Den for a while? That would explain why I haven't seen you."

  “No, not in a little while.” I'm still stumbling.

  He tugs on his shirt cuffs, making them more impeccably straight than they already were. His collar is open at his throat. His suit pants are pressed and perfect. His shoes gleam as though he just stepped off a shoeshine stand.

  My heart pounds at his nearness, just like before. I will not make another mistake just because I’m hot for him. I refuse.

  "So what is your area of interest on this job?" Jacob asks.

  I almost say tiaras, then realize that would be incredibly stupid. The Jade he knew stole his tiaras.

  "There are lots of amazing things on it," I say, and decide to deflect. "My friend Elena is here for the Egyptian gold."

  He nods. "I am a great lover of ancient things. I'm hoping there might be some undocumented items on this exhibit that are of interest to me. But otherwise, I am here for the companionship." He flashes a charming smile. If Elena had been here, she probably would've insisted that her panties fell off for this one too. Except that I have a feeling her panties are already off for Elliott.

  I have to pull myself together. He either d
oesn’t recognize me or he is playing some game. I feel very alone and now question everything that has happened in the last few hours. The van. The blowout.

  In fact, that was interesting timing. The flat tire. Elliott leaving the van. Jacob’s arrival.

  My blood begins to pound again. Time for some questions of my own.

  "Interesting how you showed up right as we had a tire blowout."

  He leans forward conspiratorially. "I have a small confession. Can I trust your discretion on this matter?"

  I hadn't expected this. "Sure."

  He sits back. "I own this particular van. It has more features than even Elliott and the crew know about.” He lifts his phone. "I can blow out a tire with the tap of my phone." He holds his finger over the screen.

  I reach out my arms. "Don't do it again. I believe you."

  "I got sidetracked," he says. "Elliott despises people who are late. For the sake of our friendship, I decided to find a way to catch up."

  "For the sake of your friendship, you blew out the tire and delayed the job." I do not keep the incredulity out of my voice.

  He shrugs. “Members of the Den are not particularly known for their honesty," he says with a grin.

  I have to give him that.

  He reaches into a small compartment next to him and pulls out a bottle of chilled white wine. "Also something I keep aboard all my vehicles," he says. “Please tell me I can interest you in a glass?"

  “Okay,” I say. He asked in a way that didn’t really leave room for a no.

  He removes a corkscrew from its holder in the door and sets to opening the bottle.

  “I’m generally more of a liquor sort of man,” he says. “Do you like whiskey?”

  This can’t be a coincidental question. He’s playing a game.

  “Can’t stand it,” I say. I can play too.

  “A pity.” He sets aside the corkscrew and withdraws two stemmed wine glasses. He fills them both and hands one to me.

  He glances out the window. “They sure are taking their sweet time fixing the tire."

  I murmur my agreement. I’m still not sure whether to stand my ground or run.