Nor would this woman, even after what I’m about to do to her.
I always love this part of the hunt, running into unexpected detours that add an extra something to the fun.
“No!” she protests, as I reach out to grab her ankle, dragging her toward the edge of the deck chair. Her eyes dart first to Constantin, then to the other men with me, as though any of them would dare defy me to save her.
“You animal!” Constantin roars.
“Please don’t,” the woman whimpers, pleading for mercy with her eyes.
“I do love it when they beg,” I say with a laugh. “There’s something to be said for making a man work for it.”
Her eyes practically double in size when she realizes it: I have no intention of showing her anything resembling mercy.
“No…please,” she cries.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. This is going to be painful,” I warn her as I drag her back inside. “You have only Constantin to blame.”
I take her to one of the bedrooms inside and slam the door shut behind us. I throw her onto the bed, causing that lacy thing to fly up high enough to fully expose the thong bikini underwear underneath. She wastes no time trying to scramble away from me, but I quickly grab her ankle again and drag her back across the sheets toward me.
“You’ll stay put, if you know what’s good for you,” I growl.
I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to kick out at me or punch me with one of her fists, still clenched at her sides. I suppose she realizes that would only make things more difficult for her in the end.
I can see the defeat and fear flash in her eyes as I lean in closer. When I’m near enough to practically breathe down her neck, I grab the first balled fist and pry it open.
Hidden inside is a small velvet pouch. I snatch it out of her grip and roll it around between my fingers, feeling the small gemstones inside. A peek through the opening reveals several brilliantly clear diamonds.
“Well, that was definitely worth it for me. How about you?” I ask before laughing down at her.
“Bastard.”
“Open your other fist, and I may just go easy on you.”
Her mouth is set in a defiant frown before realizing she holds absolutely no cards. Her tense body goes slack, and she slowly releases the other fist to reveal a set of emerald and platinum drop earrings, five carats total for the gemstones by the looks of it, not counting the precious metal settings.
“I can see why you put up such a fight,” I say, grabbing those as well.
“How did you know?” she asks in a petulant voice.
“Body language,” I explain. “You didn’t bother trying to hide or cover yourself with your hands or arms. No woman on earth, even one who basically makes a living from her body,” this earns me a scowl of resentment, “would present such open access to said body, unless she had something far more valuable to keep hidden.”
“Those are mine, not his,” she says with a pout. “He can afford to lose so much money. I can’t. I worked for those, dammit!”
I consider her for a moment. “You know what, you’re right. I believe you have worked for these.” A flash of hope shines in her eyes. “But it was still bought with dirty money, so I’m only going to let you keep one of your precious treasures. You choose. The earrings or the diamonds.”
If she has any brains, she’d know how much more valuable the emeralds are than what’s in the velvet bag. On the other hand, the diamonds will be easier to use as currency. Her gaze darts back and forth between the two choices with greedy frustration. Finally, she rolls her eyes and picks the diamonds, no doubt already planning a trip to Belgium where she can quickly trade them for cash.
“Kudos, I say, dropping the bag in her lap. That should leave you with enough to buy a plane ticket to your next Sugar Daddy. First class, in fact. Next time, do a better job of hiding them, maybe in your mouth. I’m sure it’s used to being put to work to support you.”
“Asshole,” she spits, but not before wisely taking hold of the bag in her lap.
I laugh. It was a harsh insult.
With the emeralds in hand, I walk back out to where my men are waiting with Constantin. He stares at me like the monster that I am, no doubt wondering what’s been happening back inside.
“Now that I’m done with her, it’s your turn, Constantin,” I warn as I approach him. “You see, we need your retinal scan to access the vault in your house in Santorini.”
His eyes go wide with outraged surprise, probably wondering how we know about it. It’s where all the account numbers and routing information for his various offshore holdings are held. “Never!”
“Au contraire. My friend Bob—” A fake name “—is going to use this device in his hands to copy it…or we can just take your fucking eyeball. Your choice.”
He chooses wisely.
* * *
We’re meeting in Madrid, just five men, all of whom are especially jovial for some reason, enjoying a beer.
“Congratulations,” I say, lifting my bottle up toward them.
“Congratulations!” They enthusiastically echo my toast and tap their bottles to mine with a laugh.
As they drink and joke about the fantastical ways they will one day spend their money—we’ve all made a pact to lay low until this is over—my eyes circle the table to get one last look before we go our separate ways until the next heist. Deigo, the ex-muscle for a mobster. Francis, a crooked charmer, whose former occupation had him dealing mostly with wealthy widows. Tiago, who used to make his way skimming ATMs.
Ulrich is the one I’m closest to, probably because I met him first. Our introduction to each other was on the streets of Barcelona the summer after I graduated university. Ironically enough, I caught him in the
