The Sapphire Affair (A Jewel Novel Book 1) (6 page)

Devon’s mouth formed an
O
and he nodded like a wise man. “I get it. You want to know how Sapphire is doing.”

She mimed whacking a hammer. “As always, you hit the nail on the head.”

“That place is red-hot. All the young people are partying hard there. They talk it up when they come in the next day. It’s a huge hit. Crowds every night. Packed to the gills. It’s like a goddamn mint.”

Mint.

She gritted her teeth, biting back the comments that threatened to fall from her lips.
Is Eli making a mint with someone else’s money? Did his company unknowingly fund that damn club?
She sucked down those words, because this was what she needed to know. Eli Thompson still had the Midas touch. Nothing changed.

She leaned across the counter and planted a soft kiss on Devon’s leathery cheek. He pretended to catch the kiss in his hand. “Now I’ve got my next seven years.”

“If only a kiss from me had such powers.”

“Oh, I suspect it has great powers.”

She returned to a kiss from a few hours ago and sent a silent wish to the universe that Jake had come back for her note, that he’d decipher it, and that she’d see him again. So bizarre to want to see a stranger so badly. But perhaps kisses did have great powers. His had the power to make her long for him. The man whose last name she didn’t even know.

Devon parked his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, I know your parents split up, and it wasn’t so pretty the way it all went down. I get that you’re not on the greatest terms with your stepdad, and that’s a damn shame,” he said, and though Devon wasn’t privy to every sordid detail, he knew enough about how hard the divorce had been from her conversations with him during her visits. “But I’m all for family getting along and putting the past behind them, and I hope you’re able to do that. Even though he’s not your flesh and blood, he’s the man I saw taking care of you when you were a kid,” he said, and she pursed her lips, wishing what he’d said wasn’t true. Because it would be so much easier to write Eli off as an asshole if it were.

“Just remember—he’s done some real good here,” Devon added. “He hired a bunch of local companies when he built out his club. He did his part to invest in the Cayman economy, and a lot of folks here have been damn grateful for the business he’s brought to them. He did right by a lot of people when he remodeled the club. Penny even did some work for him before she started working at a flower shop. Assistant type stuff when he was setting it up last year. He was real good to her, I hear.”

“Penny?” Steph asked, as if the name of the woman she knew was suddenly foreign. She couldn’t picture pink-haired, tattooed Penny working for her stepdad, but this little nugget was all the more reason to track down her friend. Penny was a free spirit, a true island girl who flitted from random job to random job, sometimes as a nanny, sometimes as a Girl Friday, sometimes as a dog walker.

Penny had just moved near the top of the list of people to see. Someone else was on that list, too.

Later that night in her small and exceedingly cheap hotel room, she called the man of the hour, bracing herself to hear that voice she’d so adored as a kid. The happy, carefree sound of the man who had helped raise her.

“Sweetheart!”

His voice boomed loudly above the sound of music. The music faded, and the background noise died. He must have moved someplace quieter.

“Hey there, Eli,” she said. “I’m in town. Want to have brunch tomorrow?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Drum-heavy techno music pulsed loudly.

Actually,
vibrated
was a more accurate way to describe the volume. The electronic beat of the music reverberated in his bones as Jake weaved through the sardine-packed crowds thronging the dance floor.

The nightclub lived up to its name.

The sleek, silvery Sapphire shimmered. Mirrored walls behind the bar were edged with neon blue. Jewel-toned lights flashed from the ceiling, moving and swaying in colored spotlights. Women in barely there black dresses that skimmed the top of their thighs on one end and plumped up their chests on the other sidled up beside girlfriends or next to men. The crowd was mostly young, but sprinkled with the evidence of tourists of many ages—the mom and dad on a getaway from the kids, groups of fortysomething friends reliving their younger days with a hot night on the town, and lots of single men, from frat boys up to sugar-daddy age.

Jake leaned against the bar, soaking it in, taking mental notes about Eli’s new world. Everything sparkled. The lights, the bar, and the disco ball. His eyes roamed the dance floor, then he raised them higher, up to the second level, and he saw him.

No question about it.

That man had to be Eli Thompson. The face matched the images Jake had scoped out online. Like a middle-age Robert Redford, Eli had that golden-boy look to him still. He rested his hands on the railing and surveyed the scene, like a prince presiding over his subjects.

Jake narrowed his eyes. What a sneaky fucker. Stealing from his company, skipping out of town with it in art. Maybe even turning that art back into dough here in the Caribbean.

Funny thing, though. If Eli had poured the dollars he pilfered into this club, the man had picked wisely—much better than his failed cocoa bean investment. But it sounded like the cocoa beans were meant to fail. So he could have this, perhaps? Jake scratched his chin, wondering if this club was the endgame—did the man steal to build this new business?

Judging from the liquor flowing, the cover charge, and the lack of elbow room, the man was making money hand over fist, and he played the part well with a crisp button-down and tailored pants. A feline-esque woman with jet-black hair and a wine-red dress joined him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Eli glanced briefly at her, clasping her hand, then stopping to run a finger across the hollow of her throat.

The new woman in his life. Something about her throat interested Eli. Which meant it interested Jake.

Setting his glass of ice water on the bar, he worked his way to the coiled metal staircase at the edge of the dance floor. Keeping his eyes on Eli and the woman, he headed up the steps as quickly as he could, given the heavy press of crowds pushing in both directions. His focus narrowed to the two of them. Like a sniper staring down the barrel of a gun, he only saw Eli and his lady. He rounded the corner as the woman planted a kiss on Eli’s cheek.

Eli cupped her face in his hand and returned the smooch, his fingers drifting to her neckline. Even from Jake’s spot ten feet away, he was nearly blinded. The stone on her necklace was brighter than the sun, and it was the object of Eli’s affection. Stroking it, caressing it, fondling the stone, the man was fixated on her rock. Jake managed to sneak a few feet closer to snag a better look at the stone. Square, with just a trace of a bluish tint to it.

Like a sapphire.

Eli was dating an art dealer, all right, but the man sure seemed fonder of jewels than art. And there
was a big diamond business on the Islands
.

Before they could see him, he swiveled around. As he walked to the exit, Jake played connect the dots in his head. Money, art, diamonds, club. He didn’t have enough information yet to draw a conclusion, but he didn’t want to leave any stones unturned. He peered up at the balcony one more time—Eli reached into his pocket and pressed his cell phone to his ear. In two seconds, his face lit up with an almost childlike glee. Whoever had called him had made the man’s day. Eli turned around and opened a door, extracting himself from the crowds.

Jake reached the exit, too, where a burly security guard manned the door. His arms were crossed, revealing ink on his forearm of his rank in the army. Jake had put himself through college thanks to the army ROTC, then traveled to Europe where he was stationed with the 66th Military Intelligence Brigade.

“Staff Sergeant,” Jake said to the man with a nod, reading his stripes.

The big man raised his gaze, and the expression in his eyes shifted from one of standoffishness to connection. “Yes.”

Jake tapped his chest. “Captain. Six years.”

“Served for seven myself,” he said, then named his unit. “Cal Winters.”

“Jake Harlowe.”

“Thank you for your service.”

“Thank you for your service.”

A while later, at his hotel, he researched his plan of attack for tomorrow, and also tackled Kylie’s tutor project, firing off e-mails to a few of the names she’d sent him already. Then, as he lay in bed, he unfolded the napkin from the Pink Pelican and tapped his fingertips against his chin as he reread the details. Earlier, he’d been certain he’d follow this trail back to Ariel. But, through no fault of the woman, tonight’s visit to Sapphire had reminded him that this was no easy job. He’d only just begun, and he had a lot of legwork ahead of him to get to the bottom of the missing $10 million. Finding stolen goods wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Hell, the best gigs with the biggest payoffs were the toughest ones, with the most twists and turns on the road.

Distractions like beautiful women were ultimately just that—distractions. They were pitfalls that could rattle his concentration on an assignment that didn’t yet have a direct path to the prize.

But was there room for a little tryst on the side? He’d never liked to mix business with pleasure. Ever since the romance with Rosalinda went belly-up, he’d been a rules man through and through, and the number-one rule was to maintain lines. Rosalinda’s trickery had endangered the assignment and nearly cost him one of the biggest jobs he’d ever nabbed—the payoff for the Medici gig had gone a long way in funding Kylie’s college bills.

Thank Christ he’d caught up with Rosalinda in that damn shoe store.

He pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, crumpling the napkin with his other hand, balling it up.

Best to forget Ariel. Do the job. Get in. Get out. Get home.

But then, as he tossed the napkin in the trash can near the door, he rewound to those moments in the Pink Pelican. Images played before him of her delicious lips, the swell of her breasts, her sexy-as-sin legs, and most of all—the way she fit in his arms. That kiss had obliterated his brain cells, and now the rich, ripe memory of it was making it hard to think about anything else.

Too hard.

Try as he might to banish all thoughts of her, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. Nor could he erase the effects on his body just from thinking of her.

He rose, walked over to the trash can, and fished for the piece of paper. He read it one more time. It said:

123. Happy Turtle. Tomorrow.

Fuck it.

He was an adult. He could handle this. He could see her again and still do his job. Besides, nothing more was going to come of a little rendezvous. This would merely be a lush tropical affair. She had nothing whatsoever to do with the job. He was fine. Completely fine and maintaining those all-important lines.

He’d keep things separate from work and enjoy a little something with quite possibly the sexiest woman he’d ever met.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, Jake waited in his rental car a safe distance outside Eli’s house, keen to gather some intel on the man’s habits. Sunglasses on and ball cap pulled low, he roamed his gaze over the house. The silhouette of a tall man wandered past a window on the second floor a few times. Jake couldn’t make out what room the window opened into. Bedroom maybe. Perhaps an office. Or even a hallway.

Peering through mini binoculars, he tried to scope out the scene. No luck. Too many branches from trees framed the home, and blinds covered most of the windows.

He lowered the binoculars and kept his eyes on the front door. As he waited, he alternated between watching the house and answering e-mails from potential tutors for Kylie. His sister had also texted him this morning—an emoticon of lips smooching.

He sent her back a monkey, covering his mouth. He was glad that her playful side was still alive and well, despite her overarching worries about school.

Then, he thumbed through Kate’s e-mails about inquiries from new clients.

Have I told you before you need to bring someone else on board? Lots of work coming our way.

He sure did enjoy those words
lots of work
, because lots of work was the one guaranteed way for him to pay off all the college bills for his brothers and sisters.

Excellent. Try Dan if it’s not too crazy a job.

Dan was a buddy from Jake’s army days who picked up occasional work with his firm. Dan could certainly handle the so-called crazy jobs, but Jake still preferred to take those on himself. Like this one. There was so much that was open-ended about this job and so many potential directions. He thrived on hunting down the leads, circling the evidence, and then nailing the goods.

Nailing.

Wrong word, because it whipped him right back to last night and exactly what he’d been picturing when he was alone in his hotel room. His brain had been working those images hard before he fell asleep. He was damn eager to see his dart coach again today, but he shoved all thoughts of that hot blonde from his mind when Eli strolled down the stone path of his house, tossing his keys lightly in one hand. Eli stopped to admire an orchid tree, then bent his head toward a bush of red roses, wafting the scent toward his nostrils with his other hand. The man really did know how to enjoy himself. From the nightclub to his lush tropical home, Eli Thompson seemed to savor every little moment that his life laid out before him on a red carpet.

Eli raised his face to the sky and held his arms out to the side. Like he was inviting the glory of the sun into his day. Jake laughed to himself. What must it be like to stroll through the day with that kind of devil-may-care attitude? That attitude must be precisely what allowed Eli to take money that wasn’t his. Jake clenched his jaw. The reminder of Eli’s thievery fueled him.

The man walked to his car in the driveway—a gleaming black Audi.

Minutes later, Jake drove a few vehicles behind him as Eli motored toward town. “Thank you very much, Mr. Thompson. That’s exactly where I’m headed after I follow you,” Jake said to himself.

He slowed at a red light, a few cars behind Eli, and alongside a green Honda. The light changed, and Eli jetted into the financial district.

Banks, banks, and more banks lined the main street that cut through the heart of Grand Cayman, slicing the island into water and money.

To Jake’s left, the ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, a vast sheet of cool blue. To his right, row after row of big, imposing white structures towered high, with names like Royal Bank and Cayman Finance that promised to squirrel away your coins for as long as you needed them abracadabra-ed.

No questions asked. No explanations needed. Just open the account, drop in some dough, and your money gets all the insulation it could ever need. Sleek black cars rolled along the concrete stretch of street, dropping off sharp-dressed women in monochrome skirts and blouses and men in crisp suits and ties, their outfits a stark contrast to the island lifestyle. The bankers had their own uniform—that of the financiers who had made this country wealthy, and made shady businessmen and women richer.

The man in question parked outside a tall, stark white bank.

Jake grabbed a nearby spot and was about to venture into the same bank, when Eli popped back out. Whoa. That was fast. Eli couldn’t have been in the bank long enough to do anything but grab a few bucks at the ATM. No chance he’d dropped off any hefty sums of cash or checked on goods in a safe deposit box.

Jake ducked out of the way of the revolving door, then walked purposefully to the gurgling fountain with an angel statue outside the bank. He fished for some coins in his pocket and tossed them in, making a wish that this job would pay off.

Eli crossed the street, then headed up a set of steps to a chichi restaurant called Tristan’s with a terrace one story up from the road. Eli rapped on the door, and a tall man answered it, letting him in. Jake couldn’t get a good look at the guy; he only saw a head full of salt-and-pepper hair. Once Eli was inside, Jake walked up the steps.

The restaurant was quiet and the sign said
O
PEN FOR
B
RUNCH AT
T
EN
.

He glanced at his watch. That was one hour from now.
What was Eli doing here so early?
He must be meeting with someone who worked there, and Jake would add Tristan’s to the list of places to check out. For now, this extra hour gave him time to get some other work done. After he left, he weaved through the late-morning crowds in the financial district, until he turned on a side street that boasted smaller banks, perhaps for smaller deposits. He cruised by a few offices, until he reached Wayboard Street with small storefronts bearing signs like
D
UTY
-F
REE
,
W
HOLESALE
, and
U
NCUT
.

The last one sounded vaguely like a porno flick. He shuddered at the thought, and then shoved it out of his brain.

Rolling the dice, because that was all he could do, he tried the first diamond shop.

Given Eli’s laser focus on that rock on his fiancée’s throat, as well as Marie’s comment about gems, Jake wanted to take the temperature of the diamond business.

Posing as a curious customer, he spoke briefly with the proprietor, but the man was deluged with new customers and quickly told him he didn’t have and hadn’t seen any diamonds with a bluish tint.

Undeterred, he tried another shop. A pear-shaped man with a metal nose ring—such an odd accessory for a guy peddling jewels—tried to pitch him on walking out the door
right this very second
with a 20 percent discount on a fair-trade diamond set in a white gold band that was a size six but could be reset for the woman of Jake’s dreams.

No such woman fit the bill.

At the next shop, Jake used the weather as a warm-up, with a simple remark about the sunshine.

“They say not every day in the Caymans is wonderful,” the woman replied. “For instance, we only get sunshine and perfect temperatures three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”

“That three hundred and sixty-fifth day is a rough one, isn’t it,” Jake replied with a smile as he perused the jewels. “I trust business is as fantastic as the weather?”

He was met with a blank stare. Then a curt “yes.”

She bent down to straighten out some displays, making it clear to Jake she wasn’t the type to gab about who was moving what in carats these days.

“Thanks for your time,” he said on the way out, peering down the block, hunting for more. He was flying blind on this recon mission. There were no guarantees he’d glean anything useful from this trip, but he had to keep trying. Porny name or not, he headed into Uncut at the end of the block. The glass cases by the wall were lined with so many necklaces, they nearly blinded him.

A dark-haired man with a thick beard and an eager grin strode up to him. “Greetings and welcome to Uncut, where we specialize in the best duty-free diamonds on the island,” the man said, sounding like a TV commercial. “Are you looking for something for that special someone?”

“Potentially.”

The man placed his hands together, as if in prayer. “Ah, excellent. So this is for a lovely woman in your life you want to make your wife?”

Jake laughed and shook his head, ready to nix that notion. He wouldn’t even go there in a cover-up. He leaned on another answer—one that could be true. “I don’t see that happening anywhere in the near future. Or even the far future. But my little sister is graduating college soon, so I thought I might get her a little something. What’s a good graduation gift?”

The bearded man walked behind the counter, unlocked a glass case, and gestured to several diamonds that could be set into a bracelet or earrings. “Surely, a lovely pair of simple diamond earrings would be a wonderful gift for your sister as she embarks on her first job after college. They say
classy and elegant
, and what employer wouldn’t want that?”

Jake rested his elbows against the counter, taking in the sea of sparkling gems that shimmered like brilliant reflections. “So many to choose from. What do other customers get?”

The man reached into the case for a handful of small diamonds, and he sprinkled the gems on a swath of black velvet. “These are very popular. And the price is incredibly reasonable.”

Jake nodded, as if considering his purchase. He screwed up the corner of his lips. “Business is good these days?” he asked casually as he studied one of the gems. “I keep hearing all about diamonds in the Caymans.”

The man nodded vigorously and gestured to the door. More customers were starting to stream in. “Business has never been better. Sometimes it’s so good I can’t even handle it. I am a lucky man to work here. The only thing that would make me luckier would be if I can beat my brother at darts someday.”

Jake cracked up, thinking of his dart coach from last night. “Is that so?”

The man nodded. “Oh yes. He plays a mean game of darts.”

“As a matter of fact, I got some pointers last night from a lovely lady. It’s all about the angle,” Jake said, then raised his arm and mimed tossing a dart.

The man nodded approvingly. “I shall try that next time.”

Jake flashed him a smile, then snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. “Say. Do you happen to have any of those diamonds with a sort of bluish tint to them? A very faint blue glow?”

The man shook his head. “Ah, sorry to say I do not. Those are quite special. One of my colleagues down the street at International Diamonds has some from time to time. A few months ago, he handled a small batch of them for a new customer, who brought them in from the United States. International Diamonds is where you want to go for a stone like that. He might even have one or two left over from that batch.”

Ding, ding, ding!

“Excellent,” Jake said, reining in a grin and extending a hand to shake. “I appreciate that. And I’ll be back to pick one up for my sister soon. What’s your name?”

“Wilder.”

“Nice to meet you, Wilder.”

The man bowed once more, then headed over to his new customers as Jake took off.

As Jake walked away from the shop, he grabbed his phone and called up that e-mail from his case file—the one Andrew’s IT guy had resurrected from the deleted folder.

Jake scrubbed a hand across his chin as he studied it once more. The note referenced an amount. The sender discussed safe transport. But there was no mention of paintings or art, specifically.

The luxury good itself had gone unnamed. Andrew had suspected art given Eli’s affinity for it, as well as his fiancée’s business venture.

Perhaps the e-mail was about art. But maybe it was
actually
about something else. After all, how many $5,000 paintings did you have to move to equal $10 million? A fuck ton, that was how many. And paintings took up a helluva lot more space on a plane than gems did. Especially when they required safe transport.

Jake’s instincts were telling him something. To pay attention to the little details, too—the name of Eli’s nightclub, the bling on the woman, the tint of the diamonds, and the timing of the jewel trade.

Was Eli ferrying something else entirely from the United States to the Caymans?

He called Andrew and ran the new possibility past him.

“My team is still working on deciphering those other documents to see if we can get any more intel, but I’m looking at the e-mail now to Constantine,” Andrew said in a focused tone. “And if that’s what he took to the Caymans, they’d be the rightful property of the Eli Fund.”

“Let’s get ’em back, then.”

“Let’s do it.”

Jake located International Diamonds, a sprawling shop that occupied a huge street corner. The sign said
O
PEN TOMORROW
.

Looked like he was free to rendezvous with the mermaid for now.