Blue Steal Read online

  Flicking on the ancient TV set, he half-watched a trashy Sunday evening current affairs program while his mind chewed over the matter at hand. The necklace.

  There was no reason to believe it was still at the Empire. The most likely scenario was that the burglars absconded with the necklace when they ran out the door fifty years ago. But the Petrovskys weren’t taking any chances and they’d hired him to find it. It hadn’t been thrown down the shaft with the ring—that much seemed sure. When the ring had turned up last week, the surrounding area had been searched thoroughly, without success.

  Despite that, he could almost sense its presence in this decrepit old hotel.

  It was something Charles de Crespigny, owner of the agency he worked for and Jack’s long-time friend, wouldn’t get. Charles was a man of logic, method, deduction. A control freak. Jack went with his gut. They were poles apart, but even Charles would have to concede that Jack was rarely wrong. Scratch that. Never wrong—Jack had the one-hundred per cent success rate to prove it.

  Not bad, considering it wasn’t what he’d expected to do with his life. Three years ago, Charles, fresh from opening de Crespigny Investigations, had asked for Jack’s help, claiming he had more work than he could keep up with. Jack was at a loose end, having just walked away from the career he’d spent his life working towards. He hadn’t needed the work—he’d made enough in his five-year stint as an actuary to ensure he’d never needed to work again—but he’d agreed to help Charles out. Now of course, he wondered who’d been helping who.

  Much to his bemusement, Jack discovered he not only enjoyed detective work, he was good at it. Good at sitting for hours filtering and processing streams of data. Good at schmoozing up to people and encouraging them to divulge crucial nuggets of information without them even realising. Good at catching people doing naughty, disappointing things, because Lord knows, the world was full of that.

  Good at finding long-lost necklaces? Here’s hoping, because having a hunch the necklace was here and actually finding it were two different propositions.

  If he was right in the first place.

  There was so little to go on, it was hard to know where to start. Presumably, if the necklace were somewhere obvious, it would have been found by now.

  But he had a week. A week to pit his wits and wiles against …

  A flick of choc-caramel hair, a small red suitcase.

  The Empire. That’s who he was pitted against.

  As to why his thoughts had strayed once again to Selina … He shook his head in self-recrimination. Too long between dates.

  In a couple of hours, when things had died down, he’d go for a wander. Give his subconscious some fodder to chew on. Not much of a plan, searching every nook and cranny until he found some sapphires, but it’d do, to start.

  Mission impossible. Just the way he liked it.

  ***

  Selina spent the hours between leaving Jack and midnight in her small, basic, chintzy room, working her way through the Everest of work her boss had sent through. The fact that it was Sunday evening and she was officially on leave for the first time in forever hadn’t stopped Mark. He’d been far from happy about her taking the week off, despite the excess leave she had accrued. Given her plan, she supposed it would have been possible to take less leave, or even continue working during the days, but she wasn’t sure how things were going to pan out, and she only had one shot at this. She wanted to give herself as much time and space as possible to succeed.

  And besides, that’s what temping agencies were for. Something Selina had tried to point out to Mark, but to no avail.

  Which she’d taken a certain measure of satisfaction in, because she’d worked damn hard to become an indispensable executive assistant. As the sole income earner in her family—Anna was still in school and nonna hadn’t worked since her time at the Empire—Selina simply couldn’t afford not to be indispensable. Even working full-time, Anna’s medical expenses meant they lived pretty much hand-to-mouth. It was nice to know Mark regarded her as impossible to replace—she’d be sure to use that the next time they negotiated her package.

  Devoting herself to her work had the added benefit of taking her mind off Jack.

  Just how worried should she be about that guy?

  Rational thought said not at all; there was no way he could know anything. And yet, she just couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he should. It was the way he looked at her. Like he was picking up on every single nuance of what she said. And every single nuance of what she didn’t say. And he knew. But he couldn’t.

  It’d been a mistake to go traipsing around the first floor. She’d been feeling curious and sentimental, and she’d indulged in some unnecessary reminiscing. It had backfired big time, because Jack had found her, and started talking about sapphire rings and missing necklaces! Coincidence? It must be. After all, the ring turning up last week had got a fair amount of air time, and she’d had her head all but stuck down that dumbwaiter shaft. Perhaps it was as simple as that.

  Checking her watch, she decided it was time. A final check in the mirror and she’d set in motion step one of her two-step plan to find and steal a priceless antique necklace. Tonight was all about gathering intel. If she was going to walk out of here with the necklace, she needed to know exactly where the linen room was and how to get in.

  She assessed herself critically in the wooden-framed cheval mirror thoughtfully tucked into the corner of her room. Her black silk robe ended well above her knees. Her hair was brushed into full, sleek waves. Her lips were plumped into glossy cherries.

  Were the red stilettos too much?

  The red stilettos were too much. She slipped them off and padded out of her room in bare feet. In the lift down to the lobby she took some deep breaths, but the fact was, she was feeling pretty relaxed for someone about to embark on highly illegal activities. But tonight shouldn’t be too risky. In fact, it shouldn’t be risky at all. Tomorrow night? Well, that was another story.

  When she saw who was on the front desk, she smiled ruefully. Those stilettos could have stayed on after all, because she’d been gifted with the most stereotypical night clerk ever. Not much past adolescence, skinny and awkward, he even had a decent case of acne. She couldn’t have hoped for an easier target.

  She loosened the tie to her robe as she sashayed towards him, exposing a decent amount of cleavage. Or indecent, she supposed, depending on your point of view. The desk clerk looked up as he became aware of her, and his jaw literally dropped.

  This was going to be a piece of cake.

  Selina used to hate the way she looked. Loathed it, and loathed herself. She’d been an early developer and by eleven, when she’d still been very much a child on the inside, men had seen a precocious Lolita. She’d been bewildered, uncomfortable, ashamed. For years she’d attempted to make herself invisible, hiding her body in baggy track pants and shapeless T-shirts, keeping herself make-up free, pulling her hair back into severe ponytails. It hadn’t worked. Eventually, she’d realised if she didn’t take control of the situation, it was going to control her. So she’d learned to use her looks to her advantage. Why not? She paid the price for them, why not reap the benefit? Men could look all they wanted, but she’d be the one calling the shots.

  Piece of cake.

  ‘Hi Tyler,’ she purred, reading his name badge.

  His throat worked reflexively as he attempted to swallow and a red flush spread up his acne-studded neck. His eyes dipped to her generous swell of cleavage before he dragged them up to her face. She had to applaud his valiant attempt to keep them there.

  ‘Madam. How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve had a silly accident. I’ve gone and got all my towels wet. Dropped them straight in the bath. Would you be a sweetheart and get me some fresh ones?’

  ‘Well … the thing is …’ he stammered. ‘We’re not supposed to hand over towels outside of office hours.’

  ‘But you are supposed to make sure yo
ur guests are comfortable.’ She leaned in against the counter, and smiled her equivalent of warm honey pie, equal parts comforting and enticing.

  ‘Yes. Definitely,’ he managed, as he raked his hand through his hair, looking everywhere except down her robe. ‘We’re definitely supposed to make sure our guests are comfortable.’

  ‘I feel terrible for asking. I realise it puts you in a difficult position. But I’ve got a steaming bath waiting up there and no towel to dry myself. Imagine me standing there with no towel!’ Judging by the colour of Tyler’s neck, he was imagining just that. Selina moved in closer, and said in a conspiratorial murmur, ‘I don’t suppose you could break the rules, just this once? The towels will be safe with me, I promise.’

  ‘Um … Okay.’ He could no sooner refuse her than he could look at her without blushing.

  ‘Aren’t you a sweetheart? I’m going to tell your manager in the morning. Recommend you for a promotion.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay. We all got fired anyway. This is our last week,’ Tyler stammered, eyes dropping to the counter below.

  How could she forget?

  And then Selina realised Tyler was looking for the keys. She shifted so she could watch as he retrieved a bunch from a little hook hanging behind the counter. Just like her nonna had described. Excellent. The good thing about this place being so neglected was that nothing had changed. Low-tech everything and minimal security.

  Smiling, she rejoiced in her first taste of victory. She was going to need those keys and chances were, when she did, she wouldn’t have time to muck around. Now she knew exactly where they lived.

  She stepped aside to let Tyler pass, and he almost flattened himself against the wall in an effort not to touch her on his way past. Sweetheart, but she had to do what she had to do. She followed his bouncing gait across the lobby and up the passage she’d been in earlier that evening. He pulled up in front of the third closed door on the left.

  ‘I really am sorry to put you to all this trouble,’ she said, watching carefully as he rifled through the bunch of keys.

  ‘Oh, it’s okay,’ he said, eyes down. ‘This is nothing. You wouldn’t believe some of the weird sh— things I’ve seen working night audit.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I even have my own … you know … blog.’

  Wow. Maybe she’d get her own entry once she was done here. After all, things were about to get a whole lot weirder.

  Tyler found the key he was after, one with a little yellow sticker on it, and opened the door. Inside was a small entrance with two other closed doors leading off. Selina pushed forward a little to observe as Tyler found another key, this time with a red sticker on it.

  Yellow then red. Easy peasy.

  He opened the door, switched on the light, and there it was – the linen room, in all its glory. Bigger than she’d realised, she thought, biting her lip. Sheets and towels galore were stacked neatly on the deep shelves which ran along the edges, along with blankets and thin hotel duvets. Trolleys filled with dirty linen dominated the centre of the room.

  A shiver ran up her spine. She was here, finally, and it was close, the lost piece of jewellery with the power to change her life. One way or another, she was going to get back in here and she was going to find that necklace.

  If nonna knew what she was talking about, she reminded herself. And that was a big if.

  Nonna had been upset when the news surfaced that the ring had been found. Selina had understood, or thought she did. She’d heard the story of how her grandfather had been shot dead by the fleeing burglars while trying to prevent the theft. It was natural that the ring would bring up bad memories, natural that nonna would feel upset.

  But her grandmother’s reaction was extreme and prolonged. She’d been agitated, distant and moody. Selina had started to have serious concerns. A few days later, she’d woken Selina in the middle of the night, full of a strange, manic energy. Andrew had visited her in a dream, urged her, over and over, to remember what he’d said to her the last time she’d seen him.

  And it had all come out—the version of family history Selina had been fed was a lie. Andrew hadn’t been killed trying to prevent the theft—he’d been the one stealing the jewellery! He’d gone to Maria’s room, given her the ring, telling her that he’d secured their future, that it was hidden in a place he’d never think to look.

  Almost fifty years after they were spoken, her grandmother understood his words. She knew where the necklace was—buried in the linen room, where she and Andrew had made love, where he’d had dozens of hidey-holes, where no one had ever thought to look.

  Go, she’d urged Selina. You must. Get the necklace. For Anna.

  In the end, Selina didn’t have much to lose, but a hell of a lot to gain.

  ‘Here you go.’

  The towels. She’d almost forgotten about them. She took the pile from Tyler and followed him back to reception, checking that he returned the keys to their little hook. Where they’d be waiting for her tomorrow night. He’d been incredibly helpful and she gave him a last gift of a smile. ‘Thank you so much for your assistance, Tyler. Have a lovely night.’

  That was good, solid progress, she mused, as she made her way back to the lifts. In fact, she could hardly have asked for a better start. She now knew exactly where the linen room was and how to get inside. One set of keys, two doors. No passcodes, no alarms and, except for Tyler and herself, no one around at this time of night.

  She stepped out of the lift into the dimly lit second-floor corridor.

  Of course, she’d need the lobby to be empty of guests again tomorrow, but given most of the hotel was booked out by the conference, she liked her chances. Especially if they were all like Jenny. She couldn’t see too many of those bug academics hanging around the lobby past midnight.

  No, her biggest problem was undoubtedly Tyler, or whoever was working night audit. She had a plan to get him out of the picture, but would it work?

  She had tomorrow. She’d practice until it was seamless. She’d make it work.

  She hugged the towels against her chest, feeling more optimistic than she had in a long time. This might just work. And if it did … God, if it did …

  Rounding a corner, she collided with a hard mass. Hands held her elbows, and she found herself looking up into a pair of hot winter-blue eyes. Her heart was hammering, leaping about in her chest.

  Jack. Again. The guy was everywhere.

  Chapter 3

  Jack had been walking the corridors, hoping to pick up on something, but he hadn’t expected to find Selina. What the hell was she doing wandering around the hotel in the middle of the night?

  Once she’d steadied, he released her elbows. She took an immediate step back, eyes wide, towels clutched between his body and hers like some kind of shield.

  ‘It’s …’ He glanced down at his wristwatch. ‘Half-past one in the morning.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep. I’m taking a bath,’ she supplied quickly.

  And then all he could see was Selina in a steaming tub. Flashes of flushed skin peeking through bubbles. Hair up, but a few tendrils, curling from the moisture, lying against her nape. She was smiling at him, inviting him to join her …

  He gave himself a mental shake, screwed his head back on, and found he wasn’t ready to accept her answer. Selina couldn’t sleep so she was taking a bath. Something wasn’t adding up. ‘You didn’t get towels in your room?’

  ‘I needed fresh ones.’

  ‘Already? How many times a day do you bathe?’

  ‘I dropped them in the bath.’ And then she added an afterthought of a smile, like she’d just remembered that what she was saying was some kind of punchline.

  He smiled back, but he was far from amused. She what? That whole scenario wasn’t computing. Selina was no klutz. Quite the opposite in fact. Her movements were planned and efficient. He couldn’t begin to see her dropping a stack of towels straight into the bath like something from a bad Sandra Bullock movie.
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  What was going on?

  And then he realised he was doing it again. Since he couldn’t get her out of his head, he was mixing her up in his thinking about the case and treating her as some kind of suspect. Drilling her with totally inappropriate questions about her bathing habits.

  How was it any of his business why she needed towels?

  The towels were still death-gripped to her chest. No wonder she was tense. She’d joked about him stalking her before, but maybe she was starting to think there was something to it.

  He ran a hand over his jaw, uncharacteristically unsure of how to proceed.

  He didn’t usually have any trouble charming women, but how was a guy supposed to start with a woman like Selina?

  ‘Quite a coincidence, us meeting again in such …’ he started, but found himself trailing off, words forgotten, as the pile of towels slipped in her hold. He didn’t mean to stare, but the towels were still dropping, a slow reveal of the most spectacular cleavage he’d ever seen. A delicate gold cross nestled between the tops of her breasts. Some part of his brain was functional enough to wonder whether there wasn’t something wildly inappropriate about that juxtaposition.

  His blood thickened and slow, he was bathed in a lovely warm languorous feeling he didn’t have the strength, or indeed the will, to counter. He’d never claimed he wasn’t a breast man. Long moments passed as he stood transfixed, unable to move, unable to think, barely able to breathe as the towels worked their way lower and lower, until they were dangling at Selina’s side instead of in front of her.

  Her robe had fallen apart, open in a deep V down to her navel. His gaze travelled up from the vertex of the V, to where the robe was balanced on the tips of her nipples, suspended in an amazing feat of erotic engineering. The rise and fall of her chest shifted the robe in small degrees, and he was fascinated by the prospect of it falling from those stiff peaks.

  Just a little further, just a little wider, and he’d be able to see everything … But the towels weren’t getting any lower and the robe wasn’t getting any wider.