Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Oops.
I guessed I hadn’t calmed down. The teeny bit of Zen I’d managed to achieve in the water had evaporated.
“Careful there,” Devon warned.
“Sorry,” I said with genuine remorse. He’d been my friend for ages and hadn’t done anything to deserve having his shop damaged by my anger and frustration. I called up my best chipper tone. “Everything’s ready. The underwater treasure is now underwater.”
And chipper I would be because it was business time. I would make sure every single customer had fun in the water with the stingrays. I wasn’t letting a man get in the way. Not even a man I wanted as much as I wanted Jake.
Had wanted. I couldn’t want someone I didn’t trust. Couldn’t fall asleep cuddled up beside him. Couldn’t wake contentedly in his arms.
My sentimental heart didn’t want to believe Jake could do those things and then rob me. If I really dug down deep, I’d have to admit I wanted to trust him.
My brain, though, said, “Trust fish, not men.”
I loved my work at least, and when two women, smiling and holding hands, and their kids arrived for a private stingray tour, I greeted them with an upbeat, “Who wants to kiss a stingray and get lucky?”
Devon and I escorted the family into the shallow waters.
If only luck were that easy. I’d thought I’d gotten lucky with a guy I wanted and who wanted me. But it had come with a price this morning.
A ten thousand dollar one.
32
A BIRD’S EYE VIEW
Jake
I stopped to drop a few coins in the donation box as I entered the island church. The air inside was cool, and the midmorning sun streaked through stained-glass windows, casting jewel-toned splashes of light across the white walls and the wooden floor. Churchgoers dotted the pews, their heads bent in prayer.
Silently, out of respect for their quiet contemplation, I moved to the staircase near the corner of the vestibule then climbed the curving steps to the second-floor loft. The windows around the perimeter made the space feel light and airy, but the best feature was the view—a clear sightline into the art gallery across the street.
It was wedged between Atlantis Submarine Tours and an empty storefront, with a slim alley between the gallery and the vacant shop. I imagined that might be the property that Willow and Eli were trying to purchase in order to expand the gallery but that was conjecture. Everything was conjecture at that point, and I had no words to express my frustration about that.
Well, no words I could’ve said in a church.
I was hungry for real answers. Answers I could sink my teeth into. I felt like I’d gotten as far as I could on informed guesses. And more than anything—almost anything—I wanted to pin Eli down so the slick bastard could pay the piper. About fucking time.
Made sense that the rocks might be in there. The more I thought about it, the more I could picture them stuffed inside the frames.
I slipped on my sunglasses and leaned on the window frame to take advantage of the bird’s-eye view of the gallery. Thanks to the binoculars built into my shades, I had a clear, close-up view of the front and back door of Willow’s Island Gallery, as well as the alley alongside it. I noted the number of employees visible in the gallery—three, including one at the reception desk—as well as the steady stream of visitors to the establishment.
A tall, graying man parked his Honda in front of the gallery. He struck a familiar chord, but I couldn’t entirely place him. Instead of going in, he glanced at the doorway, lingered there for a while, and then popped into a souvenir shop down the block. A burly man in a suit strolled into the gallery, stayed about five minutes chatting with Willow, then left. The next visitor was a woman in a flowy red dress. When she reemerged, Willow held open the door for her, and the woman blew her a kiss then breezed down the street, glancing at a brochure she’d taken with her.
I checked my watch. An hour until go-time. In Ruby’s hotel room that morning, we’d scoped the location, studying every angle of Willow’s Island Gallery with Google Street View as we’d prepped, but there was no substitute for having eyes on the objective. That was what had brought me there—and maybe some impatience to get my hands on the diamonds I was sure waited inside that gallery.
Okay, a lot of impatience.
I patted my pocket, running my thumb along the outline of a little something I’d taken from Ruby’s hotel that morning. I chuckled silently at the memory of lifting the sweet object. So easy.
Hopefully, snagging Eli’s diamonds went as smoothly. Once those blue-tinted beauties were safe in my hands, my work there would be done. I’d deliver the ice to Andrew, head home to Key Largo, see my sister, ride bikes with my nephew, and maybe have a brew with my buddy Dan while we fished off the dock near my house.