To Have and to Heist(26)
I turned over the possibilities, the risks, and the rewards. “Altruism doesn’t suit you. Why wouldn’t you keep it for yourself?”
“I’d be willing to ensure it was returned to the museum so you and your friend would be cleared of all charges,” he said. “What happens to it after that would not be your concern.”
So he was going to steal it again. Not that it mattered. Chloe and I would be free. But the risk of going to jail was very real. This time we would be committing an actual crime.
“I don’t know you,” I said. “We met under suspicious circumstances and now you show up with a proposal that could get me into real trouble. My cousin is one of the best criminal lawyers in the city. I’m going to take my chances with him.”
“Think about it,” Jack said. “I’ll be at the Black Dog in the West Loop on Wednesday at eight p.m. if you change your mind. Bring your friend. If we go ahead with this, we’ll need her help. In fact, we’ll need a crew.”
Cristian still hadn’t returned, so I brought Jack to the waiting area. “Good luck with the suit. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands. Cristian knows his stuff when it comes to tailoring.”
“There’s a reward,” Jack blurted out after I turned away.
“I don’t think even a few thousand dollars will change my mind.”
“What about five million?”
Eight
The Black Dog is a dimly lit, seriously sexy bar located in a basement beneath the Hobie Hotel. The bar’s interior is decidedly British, with red velvet banquettes, tufted couches, prints of London, and bookshelves filled with leather-bound books. But what makes the Black Dog unique is the seating configuration that gives every party a sense of privacy. It’s a great bet for a secret rendezvous, or when you’re meeting a thief to discuss a heist.
“This is just a fact-finding mission,” Chloe said for the third time. “We’re not agreeing to anything. We’re just assessing the risks.” She sipped her Negroni, one of sixty cocktails on the beautiful hand-drawn menu. We’d already worked our way through the daiquiris and margaritas. I was taking the sugar down a notch with a gin-based, floral-scented concoction that tasted like cherry liqueur, but Chloe was full steam ahead with her cocktail extravaganza.
Chloe rarely went out, so she took advantage of every opportunity. She’d blown out her hair into soft waves and dressed up in a gorgeous flowy mauve slip dress that had a boho crochet lace bralette top and a light and airy skirt with a tiered hem. I felt almost underdressed in my favorite shimmery silver camisole, big hoop earrings, and a pair of black jeans.
“We’ve talked through the risks for two days,” I said. “We could go to jail. Our lives could be destroyed. Olivia would be on her own. Fences are not nice guys. We might get hurt if we’re caught. Maybe even killed.”
“On the other hand,” she said. “If Jack knows what he’s doing—and it sounds like he does—we could walk away with our freedom and a share of $5 million. My attorney said it was a bad sign when you got called back to the police station. She thought we should start thinking about a plea deal. And you said Riswan was concerned.”
To say Riswan was concerned was an understatement. He’d told me in no uncertain terms that if I hadn’t mentioned the man in the bushes, the police wouldn’t have been able to make a case for anything other than trespassing. But throw a third person into the mix, and suddenly there was a plausible explanation why neither Chloe nor I had the necklace in our possession.
“It’s a life-changing amount of money,” Chloe said. “It would mean no more loans and no more debt. I could buy the house I always dreamed about. I could set up a trust fund for Olivia where there would be no risk of Kyle waiting in the wings to steal her money. I could travel, buy nice clothes, get another degree. I could get a pet. Olivia’s always wanted a dog . . .”
I finished the rest of my drink. Why hadn’t I ordered something with more alcohol, like a Long Island Iced Tea? My nerves were still jangling, and Chloe wasn’t helping by sharing her plans to spend money we didn’t even have. “Or we rely on our lawyers to get us out of this mess and move on with our regular lives,” I countered.
“Is that what you want?” She put down her drink. “A regular life? Debt? A basement apartment that floods every few months? Bouncing from one job you hate to another? Humoring your family’s attempts to find you a husband when it’s the last thing you want? You had dreams about how your life would be when you didn’t have to play second fiddle to your brothers. You don’t have to be the ‘good girl’ anymore. Live life on your own terms. Be bold. Be brave. Find your passion. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Chloe clearly hadn’t come for facts. She’d made her decision. I wasn’t surprised. She’d been through so much in her life, she wasn’t afraid to take risks. I was the one who’d been suffocated by familial expectations. My small attempts to break those chains—business instead of law or medicine, a rental suite instead of living at home, refusals of proposals from decent men—had come at the high cost of family disappointment.
“We’re not going to a lost city to find a hidden treasure,” I said. “This is real. The risks are real. If it all goes wrong, a wise-cracking, irreverent-but-devilishly handsome archaeologist with a wry, witty, and sarcastic sense of humor and a fear of snakes won’t be swooping in to save us.”