The Diamond Affair (2 page)

Evie's smile
returned. "Deal." She moved on up the stairs. "Take care, Hon."

Ruby gave her
what she hoped was a nonchalant wave as she raced down the stairwell. She'd
parked her car out the front of the apartment complex so she snuck out the back
door to the residents' parking lot behind the building. Evie's blue Ford really
was a piece of scrap metal but it was better than her own Honda right now. No
doubt Fat Frankie would take it apart looking for the Florentine once he
realized she'd left the building.

She drove south
along Nepean Highway, not really for any reason except that it was away from
her apartment and her shop. She had no ties in Melbourne, no family except her
brother and he was fighting in Afghanistan. There was no way Frankie could
trace her in Evie's car.

But there was nowhere
for her to run to either. No one to shelter her.

She drove down
the Nepean for about fifteen minutes, constantly checking her mirrors. When she
was sure no one had followed her, she pulled into a side street and fished out
her mobile phone from her bag. She punched in the number scrawled on the
napkin.

It was picked up
on the second ring. "'Lo," came the gravely voice down the line.

"Is this Jake
Forrester?" She tried to sound calm and in control, not an easy task when
fear skimmed along her skin like tiny flames.

Silence on the
other end for a few heartbeats, then: "Who wants to know?"

His gruffness
didn't soothe her fractured nerves. "Ruby Jones. Matthew Jones' sister. He
told me—"

"—To contact
me if you ever got into trouble." The man swore.

She blew out a
breath and leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. Thank God Jake
Forrester still had the same phone number. "Something like that," she
said. Actually her brother's words had gone along the lines of, 'Only call
Forrester if you're absolutely desperate. He's not the sort of man to bother if
you get a parking ticket.' Well, she was desperate. And Jake Forrester had all
the credentials she needed. He'd once worked alongside her brother in the army's
elite SAS unit before quitting to run his own security business. If he were
anything like Matt, he would be resourceful, tough and clever. Even better, he
apparently owed her brother a favor.

"I'm not
interested," he said. So much for favors.

"Wait! Don't
hang up. You don't even know what I want."

"I know
enough. Someone is after you. An ex, the tax man, whoever. It doesn't matter. They're
all the same."

She got the
feeling he meant
you're
all the same but she didn't say so. She didn't
dare. Jake Forrester sounded like a man who didn't like being corrected.

"Please,"
she said, hating the desperate whine in her voice. "You're the only one I
can turn to."

"I can't
help you," he said again, but this time she heard the note of indecision. She
seized it. It was time to pull out the big guns. Appeal to his masculine pride.
It worked on Matt all the time and she hoped it would work on the man on the
other end of the phone.

"But Matt
said you owe him," she said. "He told me if I needed to, I could call
in the favor."

Forrester swore
again, louder this time. "I can't afford this right now."

It wasn't an
outright ‘no'. "I can pay," she said.

"That's not
what I meant."

"Oh. But I
can pay anyway. Whatever your fee is, I'll meet it plus expenses. Please. I'm
desperate."

"Yeah, I get
that." He made a sound, half grunt, half sigh. "Do you know O'Brian's
Bar in Ascot Vale?"

"Yes."

"Meet me there
in half an hour."

O'Brian's was a
popular bar, even mid-week, and she didn't want to be seen right now. "Can
we meet at your place?"

"No."

She blinked at
his abruptness. "But it'll be less open." And she'd feel less
vulnerable.

"You'll be
safe in a public space," he said.

How did he know
she was worried about her safety? He didn't even know what kind of trouble she
was in. For all he knew it was trouble with the police. His assumption annoyed
her a little.

"How will I
recognize you?" she asked. "What will you be wearing?"

"Black."

She waited for
more but Jake said nothing. "Don't you want to know what I'll be wearing?"

"No."

What was he going
to do, ask every female who walked in if they were Ruby Jones?

"Half an
hour," he said then hung up. He hadn't even asked her if half an hour was
enough time for her to get to Ascot Vale.

She sighed and
turned the car around. Jake Forrester better be worth the attitude. If he
couldn't help her, or wouldn't, then she was going to make her brother's life
so miserable he'd want to stay in Afghanistan.

That's if she
lived long enough to tell him.

CHAPTER 2

He hadn't given Ruby
a description of himself but she knew who Jake Forrester was the moment she saw
him. Like her brother and other SAS officers she'd met, the man leaning against
the bar exuded power and authority even at a distance. But that's where the
similarity ended. Where her brother was affable and fun-loving, Jake Forrester looked
formidable. It seemed incongruous that Matt could ever be friends with the brooding
giant glaring back at her, arms crossed over a broad chest. His deep scowl and
don't-mess-with-me expression ensured everyone gave him a wide berth.

Ruby got the
feeling she was about to regret ever calling this man.

She approached,
determined to meet him glare for glare, but a few steps away she couldn't help
lowering her gaze. His dark eyes were too intense, too all-seeing and she felt
like she would lose something in them if she stared too long.

"Can I buy
you a drink?" he said after introductions.

"No. I'll
buy you one. It's the least I can do." She got the bartender's attention. "A
margarita and another of whatever he's having," she said, nodding at Jake's
glass which contained what looked suspiciously like water.

"You don't
have to buy me drinks," Jake said. "But it helps."

His face remained
deadpan so she wasn't sure if he was joking. She smiled anyway. It helped her
nerves to think that the brick wall of a man had a sense of humor. Even so, she
remained on tenterhooks.

He drained his glass
in one gulp just as the bartender set down the next one. He picked it up and
indicated a free table in the corner. "Let's sit."

She walked to the
table, feeling more self-conscious than she had in years. Not only because of
the powerful man behind her, possibly staring at her ass, but because she
suspected everyone in the bar of being an associate of Fat Frankie. A man like
Guy Beauvoir would have eyes everywhere, even in an Ascot Vale bar.

She slid into the
booth seat, her back to the wall so she could see everyone.

"No, you sit
here." Jake held out the chair opposite. "That's my seat."

Her temper
flared, heating her face, but she managed to keep it under control. "Why?"

"Because you're
paying me to help you and I can't do my job with my back to the room."

Her anger
evaporated, relief taking its place. He was going to take her on as a client. Thank
God for that. She gave up the seat readily. "So you're happy to help me
out?" she asked when re-seated.

"Happy is
not a word I'd use in this situation." Jake's gaze flicked around the room
then settled back on her. Unblinking. Penetrating. "I'm only doing this as
a favor to Matt. No discounts. Understand?"

She resisted the
urge to salute. Somehow she didn't think Jake Forrester would find that funny. "Business
must be booming if you're not taking on new clients."

"Business is
moving. To Sydney. I'm winding down operations here in Melbourne for a while. I
should have been gone by this weekend."

Now, because of
her, he would have to stay longer. "Sorry." She cradled her glass,
twisting it between her hands. "If there was anyone else I could trust I'd
go to them. And I mean
anyone
."

Unexpectedly, one
side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. That simple twitch transformed him
from scary to handsome in a heartbeat. If he didn't scowl so much he'd be
gorgeous. Too bad the smile vanished just as fast as it had appeared.

"So you're
stuck with me thanks to your brother."

"And you're
stuck with me."

His expression
darkened. "Hopefully not for long."

Her sentiments
exactly.

She told him about
Fat Frankie's attack and how he'd followed her home, then when he asked her why,
she told him about the Florentine diamond and Guy Beauvoir.

"He
contacted me yesterday saying he wanted to buy some of my jewelry, but that turned
out to be a ruse. When I arrived at his office building, he whisked me into his
private rooms and showed me something...amazing," she said on a breath.

"The
diamond?"

"The
Florentine, yes."

"He stole
it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe.
But most likely he bought it on the black market."

His scowl
deepened. "So what's so special about it that he wanted you to check it
out?"

"It's the
world's most magnificent and most mysterious diamond. It was once owned by the
Medicis and then European royalty but went missing in 1918 when the Hapsburg Empire
collapsed. It was rumored to have been taken by the Nazis during World War Two
and presumably sold on the black market some time after that. It's incredible
that it's turned up after all these years in Australia." She sighed. "It
was truly beautiful. Everything I had imagined it to be. More." She lifted
her hand, palm up, still able to feel the weight of the diamond. All 137 carats
of it. "To hold it was a dream come true for me."

"Okay, it's
valuable, I get it. But why did he ask you to authenticate it and not one of
the other thousands of jewelers in the city?"

"I'm a gemologist
as well as a jeweler and I'm the only Australian expert on the world's famous lost
diamonds. This country is not exactly a haven for the diamond black market so
there's very few people who specialize in gems of such value or infamy here. Not
that I'm in the loop regarding black market gems," she added quickly.

He raised a
single eyebrow but said nothing.

She felt
compelled to add more. "Studying the lost gems has been a hobby of mine
from childhood. Instead of reading me bedtime stories, Dad used to tell me
about gems like the Florentine. I loved it. Their mystery, their romance...everything
about them. Over the years my passion grew stronger and I collected every piece
of information I could find on the diamonds, rubies and other stones thought
lost to the world. I was fairly sure the Florentine was still somewhere in Europe
based on my research and rumors."

She'd been
staring into her glass, recalling the Florentine's brilliant sparkle beneath
the lamp in Beauvoir's office, and when she looked up, she found Jake watching
her intently behind hooded eyes. He lifted his shoulders as if shrugging off an
irritable thought.

"I take it
you clarified for him that he had in fact purchased the Florentine?" he
asked.

"Yes. But..."

"Oh great. A
but. There's always a but."

"Hey, if you
want to be childish about this—"

He held up his
hands. "Just tell me."

Another command. Boy,
he had arrogance in abundance if he expected her to obey him all the time. She
was not the sort of woman who liked being ordered around.

For now, she
needed him more than he needed her business so she would bite back her retorts.
But not forever.

"To be
completely certain it was the Florentine," she said, "I'd need to
take it to a specialized workshop, do some tests and take a closer look. When I
suggested it to Beauvoir he refused. He didn't want to let it out of his sight."

Jake grunted a
laugh as if she'd said something funny, or stupid. "And now Beauvoir
thinks you stole it from him."

She slouched back
in her chair, suddenly feeling like a deflated ball with all the breath and
energy gone from her body. "Yeah."

"He's not a
man to get off-side."

"Thanks,
Sherlock. If I didn't get that before I certainly get it now."

He didn't rise to
her snarkiness. He sat with his arms crossed on the table before him, his body
relaxed. If it wasn't for his gaze constantly flicking between her and the
other bar patrons, he could have been mistaken for someone who didn't give a
damn about her predicament. She wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not.

"So did you
steal it from him?" he said.

"No! I can't
believe you have to ask me that!"

"Why? You
could be a master thief for all I know."