Page 31 of The Diamond Thief
14
Jade
Oh my God.
Jacob is here in the woods with me.
He’s followed me.
I hold on to a slender limb like a kitten who isn’t sure how to make her way down.
Our eyes meet. He was only a few yards away when I was on the ground, and yet I didn’t notice him. He has the gift of stealth, even in the woods. He is a formidable enemy, and I have made him one from my own ignorance.
He steps forward. “Have you spotted your friend yet?”
“No,” I say.
“Amazing climb. Really. I’m quite impressed.”
Jacob. Impressed with me. Why wouldn’t he be, since I stole a massive heist right from under his nose?
I twist several slender limbs together to make a sturdier perch for myself. I glance back toward the trunk. I hadn’t anticipated having a spectator.
Jacob’s bright white shirt gleams now that he has stepped away from the colorful foliage. I can even spot the shine on his shoes from here.
A wicked impulse flows through me.
“Why don’t you come on up?” I ask.
His expression never wavers. I try to picture him making his way up the branches in two-thousand-dollar shoes and his picture-perfect wardrobe. I stifle a giggle.
He hesitates. But then he surprises me. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them next to mine.
Even from here I can see that his socks are not fine menswear but something practical. He unbuttons his shirt cuffs and rolls his sleeves to his elbows. And then he’s coming. He dodges through the branches like Tarzan.
If Tarzan wore Armani and smelled of Dior.
Within seconds he’s level with me on the opposite side of the massive tree trunk. The leaves are bright red behind him, like he’s the center of a fire.
“Nice view,” he says, but he’s not looking out. His eyes are on me.
“You always wear proper socks for tree climbing?” I ask. I glance meaningfully down at his feet.
“They are good for most things. Bottom grips. Silent. Would you like a pair? They are custom-made by a manufacturing company I own.”
Of course they are.
“You’d spare me some?” I ask.
“I’d give you the socks off my feet.”
“Uh, yuck?” I grimace at that, but he grins at me with such an honest smile that for a moment I forget who he is, that I stole from him. We’re a man and a woman in a tree, the woods on fire around us with the glory of autumn.
I hold fast to the slender limbs, watching him from my side.
“It’s a bit sturdier over here,” he says, extending a hand.
I look down. We’re at least twenty feet off the ground, level with the top of a second story house. If he pushed me, I might fall to my death. Or I might break my neck but not die.
