Page 80 of The Expat Affair

“A ride where?”

“First your house, then hers.” Lars stabs his gun in Fleur’s direction. Two Prinses; two vaults full of diamonds.

But the fifth generation heirs of a diamond house have learned a thing of two in the last hundred-plus years. Like how to safeguard their stones with multiple levels of security, for example, by programming a code that opens the vault at the same time it sets off a silent alarm at the police station. Not that Lars will ever get that close. I only need a second or two to whip the gun out and pull back the slide, and then I will shoot that asshole through the heart.

“Tell your kid to come here.” He swings his own gun to Sem. Pointing it at his little head. “Tell. Him.”

“Okay, okay. Come, Semmy,” I say, signing through the glass. “It’s okay. You can come.”

I tell him more, too—to come straight to me, to not look anywhere else but at my hands.

Slowly, Sem slides from the chair. Leaves the iPad flashing cartoons and moves to the open doorway at the end of the wall. He peers around the corner, his gaze zeroing in on my hands.

I sign it once more:When I sign run, go as fast as you can down the stairs. Not the elevator but the stairs. Wait for me outside.

Lars shoots me a furious scowl. “What’s wrong with him? Does he talk?”

I nod, motioning my son to come straight to me. He scurries over, and I tuck him behind my body, holding him there with both hands. It’s what I was trying to do earlier, become a human shield, before Lars spotted him over my shoulder.

“At least let them go,” I say, gesturing to Rayna and Jan’s blonde apprentice—Astrid? Ingrid? I don’t remember her name but I also don’t really care. It’s Rayna I’m concerned about. I need to get her out of here so she can do what I asked and call the detective. “They have nothing to do with this.”

Lars laughs, a dark, angry sound. “Not a chance in hell, lady. I’m notthatstupid.”

The blonde spouts off a stream of vehement Dutch, promises she won’t tell, that she’ll keep her mouth closed, but Rayna keeps her gaze trained on me. She tilts her head to the side, and I can see the questions swirling in her pupils, questions she knows better than to ask out loud. Questions like:Where’s the gun? Why haven’t you pulled it out yet?I stare back with what I hope is an unambiguous answer:Soon. Be ready.

“Yo, kid.” Lars leans down, propping a hand on his knee as he shouts at the side of Sem’s head. “You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you? Look at me when I talk to you.”

If Sem hears anything, he doesn’t respond. He just buries his face in my back.

“I’ll give you everything in the safe. Just leave Sem out of it.”

“Sem. Nice Dutch name. Hey, Sem.Sem.”

Nothing. No response. My fingers tingle with adrenaline, with determination. Two seconds. That’s all I need.

Lars straightens. “I thought you said he could hear.”

I spread my feet, make my body a bigger shield. “He can, normally. The batteries in his implants must be low. They—”

Lars lurches forward before I can finish, before I can react with more than a blink of surprise. He grabs Sem by the collar and gives a mighty tug. Sem squeals, his fists gripping at the fabric of my coat, his cries for help clawing at my heart.

But Lars is too quick and too strong. He wrenches Sem loose and drags him into the air, pinning him to his chest with one steely arm.

With his other, he holds the gun.

“Lars, please.” My eyes fill with tears, and so do Sem’s. His mouth opens in a silent wail. “Please.I’ll give you anything you want.”

I stare at my son, at the twin streams of tears rolling down his cheeks, and Lars might as well have shoved his fist through my chest and ripped out my heart. My hand wanders to my bag, one finger ducking under the flap. “Point the gun away from my son. Aim it at me instead.”

“Not until I get my diamonds.”

“Here.” Fleur tugs the velvet bag from her pocket, pries loose the strings, and pours the stones into a palm. “Fifty carats. You can have all of them in exchange for Sem.”

Lars’s cheeks flush red with fury. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve had those in your pocket this whole time?”

“They’re yours. Put Sem down and come get them.”

“How do I know they’re real and not fakes grown in a lab?”

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