the sidewalk in her high heels.
She passed by the jewelry store once and waited until the lone customer had left. Then she approached the door and stabbed the buzzer. They must’ve liked what they saw because the door clicked and she pushed through with butterflies taking flight in her belly.
Two clerks. Deb smiled. In her affected Southern accent, she said, “Ahm lookin’ for a diamond bracelet?”
One of the clerks, probably a jeweler, looked up from poking at something on a glass table. The magnifying contraption he wore on his head enlarged his eye and Deb felt as if he were staring right through her disguise.
He went back to his work, and the female clerk crossed the room to a velvet-lined case. “We have some beautiful bracelets over here.”
“Perfect.”
While the clerk bent over the case to unlock it, Deb stepped back and locked the door to the shop, flipping the sign to Closed. She withdrew the gun from her purse as she yanked on the cord to the blinds.
“Excuse me?” The noises had caught the attention of the jeweler and he looked up with his hideously magnified eye.
Before turning around, Deb pulled the ski mask over her head, blond hair and everything, and swung the gun toward him. “Ahm sorry, sir, ahm goin’ to have to ask you to move away from the counter.”
He dropped his hand from the top of the counter and Deb aimed the gun at his head. “Please don’t.”
The clerk stood with her mouth open, holding a tray of bracelets in front of her.
“We’ll start with those.”
While the jeweler kneeled in the middle of the store with his hands behind his head, Deb had the clerk scurrying around the store dumping trays of jewels into her big bag.
Deb apologized repeatedly, but she knew these people would be traumatized. If she could make it up to them one day, she would.
Zendaris never told her how much to steal, so with the bag bulging and half the cases empty, Deb held up her hand. “That’s enough. Both of you in the back room. Ahm not goin’ to hurt y’all.”
She herded them into the back office, which Zendaris had known about. She’d already collected their cell phones, and now she ripped the desk phone out of the wall and smashed it.
“Ahm goin’ to lock you in here now, but you should be able to get out soon.”
She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to wedge it beneath the doorknob. That should hold them until she got away. If she got away.
She pulled the ski mask from her head, shook out her blond hair and replaced her sunglasses. Hoisting the bag with the loot over her shoulder, she slipped from the store, keeping it locked behind her.
Her heels clicked down the sidewalk as she clutched a key chain in her hand and made for the corner. She let out a breath when she saw a blue compact car parked at a meter.
The remote Zendaris had included in the duffel unlocked the car and she slipped inside, her heart pounding unsteadily. She adjusted the rearview mirror and brushed the blond locks from her sweaty brow.
Deb pulled away from the curb. Nice and easy. No hurry. No cops were on her tail. No sirens wailed in her wake.
What did Zendaris want her to do with the jewelry? He didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. He just wanted her—her total submission. He had that. As long as he had Bobby.
But when she got out of this mess, Zendaris would pay. Unless she wound up dead or in jail.
Following the instructions to a T, she drove across the bridge to Cambridge and pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. She hadn’t noticed any cops following her, although she’d seen a couple of possible tails and had lost them.
Maybe Zendaris’s guys making sure she got to her destination.
She tilted the mirror down and fluffed up the wig. Then she wiped the lipstick from her mouth with a tissue. Not her color.
Checking in was a breeze with her fake ID and the cash Zendaris had provided.
She hitched the bag stuffed with jewels over her shoulder and made a beeline for the elevator. Once inside, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.
What did he have planned for her next? She’d see the fear in that poor jewelry store clerk’s eyes before she fell asleep tonight.
When the elevator jostled to a stop on her floor, Deb stepped through the doors and wandered down the hallway looking for her room. A couple passed her, arguing on their way to the elevator, and a maid emerged from one of the rooms.
Deb turned a corner and located her room number. She slid the key card in and out. Red lights blinked at her. She tried again and grasped the handle, bracing her hip against the heavy door.
A soft footfall sounded behind her on the dense carpet. She turned her head to the side. But she was too late.
Something hard and unforgiving prodded the small of her back, and a hoarse whisper grated against her ear.
“Keep moving into the room...and maybe I won’t kill you.”
Chapter Two
Deb marched in front of him, her long blond hair swaying against her stiff back.
She looked better as a redhead.
“Drop the bag and the coat, and pin your shoulders to the wall next to the bed.”
She swung around, her green eyes wide and shooting sparks. “You!”
“Do it, Deb. Right against the wall, and don’t try any funny business or you’ll be eating carpet.”
Her bag and coat fell to the floor. Two red spots formed on her cheeks and her hands clenched into fists, but she backed up to the wall, nearly stumbling in those ridiculously high heels. Who robbed a jewelry store in stilettos?
She lined up against the wall, tucking her hands behind her back. “What are you doing here?”
Beau held up his hand—the one without the gun. “Spread your legs and put your arms out to your sides.”
Her nostrils flared, and he could almost see the steam coming out of them.
She widened her stance and flattened her palms against the wall. “I’m not carrying.”
“That would be a first.”
“The gun’s in that pretty designer bag on the floor.”
He raised his brows. “At least you’re honest.” He took one step back and kicked the bag toward the open bathroom door.
With his weapon still trained on Deb, he reached out and ran his hand down one side of her body and then the other. He lightly cupped each of her breasts, and then slid his hand beneath her straight skirt.
The last time they’d done this it had been a lot more pleasant.
He whipped a plastic tie from his back pocket and twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
She complied and he grabbed her wrists with one hand, dragging his gaze away from her rounded derriere. He hadn’t bothered to tell Prospero that he’d met Deb before, but he knew he wouldn’t let this get personal. He always kept things professional—until the night he’d met her.
Once he had a firm grasp on her arm, he placed his weapon on the bed and cinched the plastic tie around her wrists. He retrieved his weapon and pulled her toward the bed until the back of her knees met the mattress. “Sit.”
She dropped to the bed, and her skirt hiked up around her thighs.
Beau shoved his gun in the back of his waistband and yanked down the hem of her skirt. Keep it professional.
“Start