Blue Steal Read online

  Brrrring.

  She leaped back, hand to her heart.

  Just the phone, but her heart had started pounding so hard it was all she could hear. Even the piercing urgency of the rings faded and blurred. All of a sudden she felt faint. The lobby was too bright, too hot, and she was struggling for breath.

  This was nuts! What was she doing here, stealing keys in the middle of the night? How could she have possibly convinced herself this was going to work?

  She looked at the keys, took a deep slow breath and pictured Anna. Camping.

  She had a job to do. No more losing the plot.

  Snatching the keys, she headed towards the corridor, holding them against her thigh to keep them quiet. Once she was out of the glare and dreadful open of the lobby, she calmed a little. She couldn’t believe she’d let the phone spook her. After all, it was a good thing it was ringing. She knew what it was—another guest complaining about the loud music.

  She unlocked first one then the other door. No fumbles, no mishaps. Moved calmly and quickly back to the desk and returned the keys to their rightful place. She couldn’t have Tyler returning to his desk and noticing the keys were missing. That really would spell trouble.

  She was halfway back to the linen room, had almost started to relax, when a subtle sound reached her ears. A quiet thud, somewhere behind her. She whirled around, gaze flying manically around the lobby, but she couldn’t see anything.

  She forced herself to slow down, look again.

  Nothing. She couldn’t see anything, she couldn’t hear anything.

  A bump in the night? Must be. Old hotels obviously creaked like old houses, and there was nothing to be gained from standing like a petrified lump in the middle of the lobby. She continued, out of the lobby, into the corridor, through the first door, then into the linen room. Closing the door behind her, she slumped against it and drew in deep grateful breaths. She could admit it, her legs were somewhere far along the jelly scale, but she’d done it. She was in.

  A few more steadying breaths and she was ready to search.

  According to nonna, Andrew had had hiding spots everywhere. He’d had to. He’d had to hide things from his fanatically strict parents. He’d had to hide things from the hotel staff, who often ‘found’ things to show his parents as they cleaned. He’d even had to hide things from his brother—growing up in an environment with no respect for privacy had obviously taught Lewis to treat his brother the same way. Andrew would write nonna love letters and read them to her—nonna couldn’t read well in Italian, let alone English—but then insist on taking them back so no one else would find them. The only way for him to keep anything private was to stash it, and stash it well. And he’d hidden the letters in secret caches under the floorboards in this room.

  This large room. Luckily the night was relatively young, because she might have a big job ahead of her. Method would be her friend. She’d start in the top left corner of the room, and work her way back and forth like Snakes and Ladders.

  Light or no light? That was the next big question. It would help to turn it on and it was unlikely to attract any attention. The glow would have to pass not only under the linen room door but also be discernible under the second door to the corridor. Unlikely, especially given there was no one around, but did she want to take any additional risk, no matter how minor? She decided to stick with her torch at first, and reassess as required. Perhaps she could line the cracks with towels or sheets if torch-only proved a problem.

  Weaving her way around various linen trolleys, cabinets and shelving, she dropped to her hands and knees when she reached the top left corner. Sticking the torch in her mouth, she started feeling around with her hands. Even with light, she was looking mostly with her hands anyway, searching for tell-tale signs of unevenness and instability which might indicate a hidey hole. If she had no luck, she’d move to the shelves themselves, because apparently Andrew also—

  A soft thud.

  She froze.

  One second. Two seconds.

  Old hotel, remember? Smiling slightly, she turned her attention back to the floorboards.

  Another thud.

  Crap!

  Paralysed with fear, her mind grabbed at anything it could find to rationalise the noise. Someone on the floor above? Tyler, returning to his desk? Rolling around on his chair?

  But it had seemed closer than that. Much closer.

  The unmistakable creak of a door opening.

  She switched off her torch and plunged head-first into the nearest industrial-sized linen trolley, scrambling to cover herself with what she guessed were damp towels and dirty sheets. Gross, but she couldn’t afford to worry about it.

  Just in time—the inner door was opening. She hunkered down, willing herself as still and quiet as a statue. The door clicked shut. Her heart was going bananas. She didn’t even dare breathe as she waited for some indication of whether the intruder was still in the room.

  She couldn’t hear anything. Maybe they’d left. Maybe they’d opened the door, looked in, and left.

  The light came on—a click and a slight change in ambience under her pile of sheets. Mio Dio! She had no idea how well covered she was, no idea if her shape was clearly discernible. And she couldn’t risk attracting attention by rearranging the dirty linen.

  Who was it? What were they doing in here?

  It wasn’t Tyler. Last night when he’d been getting towels for her, he’d grabbed them quickly and they’d left. This was not the same. This was not the same at all.

  The soft padding steps of a thousand horror movies.

  Oh crap! They were walking around the room. Looking for someone. Looking for her.

  Selina was in the far corner. If she stayed really still, whoever it was might do a quick scan and decide the room was empty. Could happen, right?

  She wanted out! A thousand instincts told her to flee, but she forced herself to stay still. Her ears fought to pick out sounds, attempting to interpret them into some kind of meaning, but over the hammering of her heart, she wasn’t sure of anything. And sooner or later, she was going to have to start breathing again.

  How could they know she was here? That noise in the lobby—had that been someone watching her? She’d never dismiss her instincts as paranoia again.

  Footsteps, soft as snowfall. Working their way around the room. Slowly. Searching.

  If they were looking, they would find her.

  Should she give it up now, make a run for the door? Take advantage of the element of surprise?

  Silence, but whoever it was was close. She could feel it.

  God, this was excruciating.

  She held tight. Tried to envisage herself as a sheet, inanimate and invisible among the other sheets.

  Was that another change in the light? A subtle shift in the air around her?

  A hand snaked around her ankle.

  Chapter 5

  Selina let out a gasp, shoved the dirty linen out of the way and hauled herself out of the trolley. Appalled but not entirely surprised, she found herself staring up into Jack’s handsome face.

  Jack Tierney. She should have known.

  ‘Not the kind of sheets I was hoping to get you between,’ he drawled in that raspy voice of his.

  Cute. Really fucking cute.

  For a long moment, neither of them moved an inch. Jack’s blue eyes were fixed on hers, and the only sound was Selina sucking in breaths.

  The air was thick, electric with tension.

  What was she doing, standing and staring at him? She needed to get out!

  Jack had a leanly muscled build, but he was almost a foot taller than her, and must weigh around twice as much. So she must have the advantage when it came to making a run for it through this awkward, crowded room, right?

  She bolted, weaving around trolleys and shelving, heading straight for the door. The only sound was two sets of sneakers scuffing across the floor. And now she was glad the light was on, because it was helping her navigate. She didn’
t check Jack’s position behind her—that would only slow her down—but she was almost there, salvation was right in front of her. She reached for the handle, for safety, but instead collided with the hard wall of Jack’s chest as he slid between her and the door.

  ‘Not so fast, bella.’

  She jerked back, scrambling for a next move. She whirled to her left, to her right, shifted about on the balls of her feet, ready to spring, but there was nowhere to go. There was one door and Jack was blocking it. As the realisation that she was trapped hit, she stopped. Still panting, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  Jack smiled, and she noted that he was not out of breath at all. In fact, back against the door, arms folded across his chest, one leg over the other, he couldn’t have looked more at ease.

  ‘Move,’ she hissed.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  She hadn’t really thought that would work. She gave it one more shot. ‘You can’t stop me from leaving.’

  He didn’t even bother responding. Clearly, he could.

  She was well and truly trapped.

  He wouldn’t hurt her, would he? Not Jack with the white lighting smile and the flirty eyes. She didn’t think so, but … ‘I’ll scream.’

  ‘Go ahead. The night audit’s still off on the wild goose chase you sent him on.’

  The hairs on her scalp and the back of her neck stiffened.

  How? How could he know that? He couldn’t know that!

  ‘Tyler will be back soon,’ she said, using his name pointedly, as if that might mean something.

  He shrugged. ‘Go ahead. Scream. Then you can explain to Tyler, and quite possibly the police, what you’re doing in here in the middle of the night.’

  Jack had a point. That would be highly undesirable.

  She had to think this through. She didn’t know how he’d figured out she was in here or how he’d figured out that she was responsible for Tyler’s ‘wild goose chase’, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to get out of here. The first rule of negotiation? Find out what the other party wants. ‘Stalking me again?’

  The smile didn’t leave his face, but he wasn’t playing. Not this time. For a moment, she felt a frisson of fear. ‘Your technique could do with some work,’ she rambled. ‘Stalking’s no way to get a girl. You should just ask me out on a date.’

  ‘What are you doing in here, Selina?’

  ‘Asking questions shows an interest in the other person, but you don’t want to get too personal. Not on a first date.’ It came out confident and sassy. No one had ever been able to say she didn’t know how to fake it.

  ‘Selina,’ he chastised. ‘What are you doing in here? Tell me, and you’re free to go.’

  Tell him, and he’d find the necklace.

  She drew her arms across her chest. ‘You’re going to let me go anyway.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Delivered low, soft and sexy in that gritty voice of his.

  She could listen to him all night, though if she were going to indulge in a Jack Tierney fantasy, these weren’t the circumstances she’d choose.

  ‘Let’s try again. What are you doing in here, Selina?’

  She shrugged. He wanted an answer, she’d give him an answer. ‘I needed towels.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘I just keep dropping them in the bath.’ She paused, thinking. She hadn’t planned a cover story, hadn’t imagined she’d need one, but this would do, wouldn’t it? ‘I came down to get more towels, but Tyler wasn’t at his desk. I waited for a minute or two, but when he didn’t show, I assumed he was busy dealing with something else. Being the enterprising type, and having observed him the night before, I decided to do everyone a favour and help myself.’

  Yes, that would do nicely.

  ‘So, what you’re saying,’ Jack responded, ‘is if Tyler and I, and some of Melbourne’s finest, were to go up to your room right now, we’d find a tub full of water and a couple of drowned towels?’

  Maybe she should have prepared for this eventuality by doing exactly that, but she hadn’t. ‘It’s a little embarrassing to be so clumsy. I’d prefer you didn’t mention it to anyone.’

  ‘I’m sure you would.’

  Damn Jack Tierney. He was doing it again, putting her on the back-foot. What was it they said? The best form of defence is offence. ‘What’s your excuse for being in here, Jack?’

  ‘I’m stalking you, remember?’

  ‘Stalking’s illegal, remember?’

  ‘Sure you want to start discussing illegal activities?’

  Why could she never get around him?

  ‘One more time. What are you doing in here? Give me the truth, and I’ll let you go.’

  He probably would let her go. But he’d also search the room himself and find the necklace. She’d never see it again.

  What were her other options?

  She could try another lie, but there was no point. No matter what she came up with, no matter how plausible, Jack wouldn’t buy it. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, or something like that. And there was no point telling a lie that wouldn’t be believed.

  She could scream for Tyler as she’d threatened. He’d come and Jack would have no choice but to let her go, even if it was into police custody. The more she thought about it, the less the threat of police involvement troubled her. At the end of the day, she hadn’t done anything wrong. All they could accuse her of was letting herself into the linen room. She hadn’t even stolen any towels. Not exactly lock up and throw away the key territory.

  It might get her evicted from the Empire though. Worse, it might bring her and the linen room under suspicion. Her plan had worked because of how lax the security was here. She wasn’t at all confident she would get back in under closer scrutiny.

  She could try to take Jack on.

  Considering the idea, her eyes trailed down the lean muscular length of his body. Tennis, she decided—he had the delicious broad shoulders and the long, clean lines of a tennis player.

  Her eyes swept back up again, and she met his gaze. The air between them grew heavy. His eyes weren’t wintery anymore, they were a hot blue, as if he knew she was considering throwing herself at him in an attempt to wrestle him out of the way, and wasn’t at all averse to the idea.

  Well, brute force wasn’t the only way. What if she were to crook her finger, beckon him forward …?

  It wouldn’t work. He might want her, but it wouldn’t work. He’d proved that last night.

  Last option?

  She could always do nothing. In a move any ballerina would be proud of, she sank gracefully to the floor. Cross-legged and calm, she waited for him to make the next move.

  ***

  Killer looks and chutzpah by the bucket-load. He might just be a little in love.

  Following Selina’s lead, he slid down against the door. Knees out loosely in front of him, forearms propped lightly on top, he settled in for a long, slow battle of wills.

  Selina looked different tonight. She’d lost the jewel-toned silky clothing in favour of basic stretchy black. She was make-up free and her hair was pulled back in a basic ponytail. She looked younger, fresh rather than glamorous, and if possible, even prettier.

  ‘Ms Migliore,’ he said, ‘we seem to have reached an impasse.’

  She smiled at that, and there was more than a hint of smug in it. Apparently, she was content to sit and wait to see what he could come up with.

  The ball was in his court. So what was he going to do about it?

  Intimidation wouldn’t work. Not with Selina. Which was a relief, because he’d never used his greater strength against a woman, no matter what the job seemed to call for, and he wasn’t about to start now. Usually he didn’t even need to consider it, his carefully developed charm was sufficient, but since that wasn’t going to work on Selina either …

  He looked down, considering, and his eyes skipped from his hands to hers, mere inches away. Standing, there had seemed a reasonable distance between the
m. Seated with their legs and arms out in front, they were almost touching. It wouldn’t take much for him to reach forward and pull her to him, so her breasts pressed against his chest and her lips touched his. Kiss the information out of her? Now that was an idea with potential.

  ‘You know,’ he started, raising his eyes to hers again and speaking slow and easy, ‘I keep getting this feeling we’re after the same thing.’

  Nothing. Not a blink of an eyelid. Not even a slight falter in that small, smug smile. If he’d thought he might be able to shock her into a confession, he could think again.

  So cool, calm and collected. What would it be like to get Selina Migliore into his bed and drive her out of her mind? Hot, unhelpful images shot through his brain.

  Like she could tell exactly what he was thinking, her lips curled up and her eyes gleamed green.

  He’d like nothing more than to sit here opposite her all night, he realised. Engage in the flirty sparring they seemed to do so well. Until that wasn’t enough anymore. Then …

  Reluctantly, painfully almost, he dragged his attention back to the matter at hand.

  Could Selina’s presence in this room, in this hotel, be about anything apart from the necklace?

  In a world of infinite possibility, sure. Realistically, no.

  What did she know? And how did she know it?

  This wasn’t a random search—Selina had gone to a lot of effort to get into this particular room. The natural conclusion was that she had reason to believe the necklace, or some clue to its location, was right here. Which suggested she was somehow connected to the crime that had taken place all those years ago. Which tied in with the weird connection to Lewis Holloway he’d witnessed this afternoon.

  So far, so good.

  She’d chosen to search at night, which provided uninterrupted time. So, while she believed there was something of interest in this room, it seemed likely she didn’t know exactly where it was. He glanced around; the floor-to-ceiling shelving stacked with neat piles, the stark barrenness of the empty corners, the chaotic mess of the trolleys filled with dirty linens. He wouldn’t know where to start and the woman sitting across from him, still seemingly unfazed by the turn of events, wouldn’t tell him. Presumably if the treasure was somewhere obvious, it would have been found by now.