“I’m not signing up to get murdered,” I said.
“That’s why Gage is here.” Jack tipped his head in Gage’s direction. “He keeps people safe.”
I could imagine. Intense masculinity seeped from Gage’s pores. His arms were like twin pythons, intricate tattoos covering his smooth, tanned skin.
“How do we know the reward is real?” Chloe asked. “You could just be using it to lure us into helping you, and the minute you get your hands on the necklace, you’ll disappear into the ether.”
“Fair point.” Jack glanced over at Gage. “You want to show her?”
Gage’s voice was a rough rumble that emanated from deep in his chest. “You got a Dark Web ID?”
Chloe snorted a laugh. “What hacker doesn’t?”
They exchanged the kind of information non-computer-literate people like me don’t understand. Moments later, Chloe was scouring the dark side of the Internet on her phone. “He’s not lying. The reward has been posted on several Dark Web forums. But this just means we won’t be the only people after it.”
“They don’t know what I know,” Jack said.
“What’s that?” I sucked the lime from my gin and tonic and immediately wished I hadn’t.
“The location.”
“What’s in it for you?” I asked him, drawing on my vast knowledge of crime shows and murder mysteries featuring middle-aged women who lived in crime-ridden towns. “Why would you help us?”
“That’s my business.”
That right there was the crux of the problem. We would be throwing in our lot with a man we didn’t know—a self-professed thief with underworld connections. I could have shut it down right then, but a spark of giddy anticipation rushed through me—the same rush I’d felt when I’d gone to help Chloe. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t for years.
I looked up and caught Jack’s gaze. Whether it was altruism or self-interest, he’d tried to save me at the museum. I could still remember the warmth of his body against mine, his solid strength. Against all odds, I’d felt safe with him. I’d trusted him when a childhood of being mercilessly teased by my brothers and overlooked by my busy parents had left me unable to trust at all.
“If you’re so experienced, why don’t you do it yourself and hire your own crew?” Chloe asked. “Why do you need us?”
“I can’t take the risk that someone will tip off Angelini. Like I said, he’s well connected.”
“And you trust us?” Chloe asked.
“The kind of people who would have an interest in the necklace don’t know who you are, so if you go nosing around, they won’t be suspicious. And I’m not worried you’ll tip anyone off because you wouldn’t know who to tell.”
He had an answer for everything, and his explanations made sense. My mind raced. Maybe I could do this. Save Chloe and get out of debt. Live life and find my passion instead of struggling every day just to keep my head above water. For once, instead of being the “good girl,” I could take a walk on the wild side.
I looked at Chloe and she grinned. That’s the thing about having a best friend. You can communicate without using words. We were doing this. Together.
“Okay,” I said. “We’re in.”
Jack held out his hand and we shook, heat sizzling through my veins at his brief touch. “Now, about your crew . . .”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
?It was surprisingly easy to find information about assembling the perfect heist crew. All it took was dinner with Rose after work on Friday night. I had no hesitation telling her what was going on. Rose and I had shared many secrets, although hers were the kind I didn’t really want to know.
“The most important thing is trust,” Rose said over smoked salmon timbales, confit duck with redcurrant sauce, and fondant potatoes. With Stan in the hospital, she’d wasted no time finding a replacement and had hooked up with a French chef who had offered to prepare dinner so we could chat.
Always a fashion icon, Rose had dressed in her favorite Leopard Jeanne dress with a plunging neckline and multiple strands of white pearls. Her hair was cut into a neat shoulder-length bob and dyed silvery blond. It was hard to believe she was eighty years old. I felt positively unkempt in my T-shirt and jeans.
“In almost every heist, there is a twist, a betrayal, or some unexpected surprise,” Rose said. “As a result, you don’t want strangers in your crew.”
“Should we be having this conversation in front of Chef Pierre?” Chloe dropped her voice, her gaze cutting to the short, balding, round-faced gentleman in the kitchen. “If he tells anyone . . .”
Rose waved a dismissive hand. “He’s an exchange student from a seniors’ culinary school in France. He’s here to learn how to cook American food. He doesn’t speak much English.”
“How do you communicate?” Chloe asked.
“At my age, dear, you don’t waste time talking.” She blew a kiss to Chef Pierre. He caught it and pretended to eat it. Then he licked his hand. Suddenly the confit duck didn’t look so good.
“I can’t think of anyone I know who would be willing to commit a crime,” Chloe said.
“People will surprise you when money is involved.” Rose sucked on a chicken bone, her gaze on Chef Pierre. He murmured something that ended in a groan. I have never been so glad to have failed French.
“The most important role is the driver,” Rose said. “There’s no point putting in all the work to steal the necklace if you can’t get away. You need someone who can think fast, drive faster, and evade the police or whoever will be chasing you from the scene of the crime.”
My fork froze in my salmon timbale. “What do you mean, ‘whoever will be chasing you’？”
“You won’t be the only people after something that valuable,” she said. “If one person knows where it is, others will know.”
“Jack says no one knows.”
“The thief from the museum knows,” she said. “He’s probably at a bar right now bragging to his friends. Someone overhears. The message gets passed along. Suddenly, everyone is planning a heist. The key is to get there first.”
“How many heist movies have you watched?” Chloe nibbled her duck. She was such a dainty eater. I just opened my mouth and shoveled the food in.
“All of them. I did a little murder mystery dinner theater between Broadway shows, and the movies helped me get into character. I also played a cat burglar in a fringe production a few years ago. I was nude except for a tail and a pair of ears. They dropped me from the ceiling to steal a diamond with my teeth.” She mimicked the motion with her hand, fingers splayed.
Chloe choked on her duck. I handed her a glass of water and thumped her on the back. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chef Pierre stagger back against the stove. Either his language skills were better than he let on, or the concept of naked cat women falling from the ceiling was universally translatable.
“If you need a ‘grease man’ or in this case ‘grease woman’ on your crew to hide in small spaces, contort around laser beams, and drop down from the ceiling to avoid pressure plates on the floor, I’ll be happy to help out,” Rose offered. “As Chef Pierre can attest, I’m very flexible, and I still have all my old theatrical rigging. I bought it when the playhouse shut down. I was thinking of setting it up in the garage when Stan gets out of hospital as a ‘welcome home’ surprise.”