Page 15 of The Diamond Thief
7
Jacob
Putting off the buyers of the swords has been a pain in the ass. Two of them accused me of lying about having stolen them in the first place. One of them said the rumors must be true that I was a fraud. The fourth one had merely smirked on our video call, wondering who had bested me on this heist.
It has not been a good day.
To make Sylvester talk, I bought off three of his top girls, all ones I had hired before and who had been cloyingly difficult to get rid of. They all resigned within an hour and threatened to reveal the identity of their political clients.
Sylvester contacted me swiftly, providing the bank account information where he deposited the money he paid Jade.
At least that part of my plan worked.
I was surprised to learn the account was a dead end. The woman he paid was Anna Browning, and upon finding her profile, I realized she was not the girl who came to my door. I contacted one of my comrades who specializes in hacking bank accounts and quickly learned that shortly after my call, she had been wired a sum that was almost exactly double the one I usually pay.
Jade had paid her off and taken her place.
The incoming wire went nowhere. A newly created bank account in the same name, Anna Browning, made it look like an internal transfer.
Money laundering 101.
Jade was trained.
No wonder I felt a connection. She used all the same moves. Probably her body posture, the ways her eyes took in a room, and her care to avoid revealing too much of her intention struck a chord in me.
Thank God I didn’t actually like her for real. All that hogwash I felt about keeping her around — just seduction training. And I know where it came from.
Antony.
He will know who she is. He is the linchpin, the sun we all revolve around. No one gets into the Den without his personal hand. And Jade is from the Den. I can smell it.
There are very few thieves worth their salt in this part of the country who haven’t apprenticed under Antony, including myself.
Female jewel thieves are common, but they usually work on the personal level. They are trained to be liars and cons. They are pretty dolls, using sex as a distraction. Their skills are never honed like the men.
She is no different.
I loathe female thieves.
Her above all others.
She used her thieving wiles on me, and I didn’t even catch it.
I pace the bedroom, once again catching a whiff of lilacs. I want to suck all the air out of my apartment so that no trace of her remains. And yet even as I try to escape her scent, I picture her everywhere. Sipping whiskey by the bar. Examining the glass case. Stripping in my bedroom. Naked on my balcony.
Damn, but we had been compatible. Such a startlingly good ruse.
I will come for her. And she will feel my wrath for fooling me.
I will own her. Oh, she will pay.
I sit on a chair in one of the guest rooms, mainly because there is no memory of her in those walls, no trace of lilacs. I dial Antony’s number from memory. Members of the Den know better than to keep him stored on any of our electronics. He has slit throats for less.
The line rings exactly twice when he picks up with a gruff, “What the hell?”
“Antony, it’s Jacob.”
“The word of your situation is already getting out this morning,” he says. “So did you steal the swords or not?”
