Page 4 of Thief

“Not in London. My parents are retired and live in Cornwall.”

“Beautiful part of the world.”

Kat nodded. “My older sister is a journalist and landed a great job in New York a couple of years ago with Reuters.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them.” He took a big gulp of his drink.

“I miss her terribly. We’re very close and talk on the phone loads but it’s not the same as chatting face to face.” She paused. “What do you do to pay the bills, John?”

He shifted his weight and stretched his left leg under the table. For a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to offer anything, then he said, “I’m a jeweller.”

“Gosh, are you really? How interesting.” She smiled and leant forward. The necklace she was wearing fell from the upper groove of her cleavage and swung into the air between them. “My sister sent this a few weeks ago for my birthday.” Kat didn’t have to say what she was referring to—his concentration was already settled in the direction of the pendent. “What carat do you think it is?”

He reached and took the small gold disk between his thumb and index finger, turned it and examined the back. His movements were surprisingly dexterous for someone with such massive hands.

“The hallmark is tiny. And the diamond’s clarity is…er…very good”

Kat could feel the heat from his hand against her breast, burning off him like a roaring fire. “It doesn’t really matter,” she breathed, wondering why he was affecting her temperature. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Mmm.” John agreed with a frown. He didn’t let go of the diamond necklace.

Kat tilted her head and gave a questioning lift of her eyebrow. Something had shifted in the depths of his eyes, but she wasn’t sure what. Before she could ponder the change, he stretched his hand forward and laid the necklace perfectly central between her breasts. He let the pads of his fingers settle on her skin. He kept them there for a moment, his wide mouth set in a straight line and a muscle flexing in his jaw, twice, three times.

Kat didn’t pull away from his touch, she let him be the one to sit back.

For the next few hours they continued to chat, flirt and drink until the barman called last orders.

Heading towards the exit, John strode forward and held open the heavy wooden door. Kat brushed past him. Even in her towering heels, she didn’t come anywhere near his gargantuan height; he was a whole foot taller. It made her feel tiny, doll-like, female. It should have made her feel vulnerable, but Kat didn’t invite that emotion into her world. Not anymore, not since she’d broken away from an endless string of dismal foster homes, made it off the bread line and learnt to look after herself. Okay, she was immoral and a liar, but she was just doing what she needed to survive in a world where she’d only ever depended on one person—herself. She couldn’t see what was so wrong with that.

She stepped out on to the bustling street and turned to face John’s looming shadow. He threw a glance left and right and stepped quickly up to her. He didn’t appear drunk, or even tipsy, but he wasn’t walking quite right. Kat hoped the whisky had affected his body more than it showed. She needed him drunk; it was crucial to her plan.

“Thanks for a great evening,” she said, locking her gaze on his. “It’s been so much more fun gossiping with you than it would have been with my girlfriend.” She hung the statement in the air and watched as he pondered his next words. How such a big, not-bad-looking guy had been targeted as a loner was a complete mystery. She hoped Carlos knew what he was doing with this one.

But she didn’t have time to worry about what-ifs. She needed to get down to business— the business of survival—and in the eight months she’d been working for Carlos, he hadn’t got it wrong yet.

She stepped in closer. The swell of her breasts touched his chest as she pouted a shy but sexy smile up and fluttered her lids. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” he answered without hesitation. “It’s just around the corner.”

He draped his weighty leather jacket over her shoulders, placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her past the front windows of The Fox and Goose. Two guys eyed him and sidestepped out of the way, their banter hushing for a moment.

John’s apartment really was just around the corner. There were no clubs to stop off at for another drink and no off license to buy more ammunition. Within seconds, he was tapping in a four-digit security number and leading her towards a battered lift.

Kat began to wonder if this was going to be one of the rare occasions she actually had to perform to get her loot. As a rule, she was even better at getting guys drunk than she was at seducing them. John, however, whilst not immune to her considerable charms, appeared unnervingly alert despite their evening of heavy drinking. Hell, even her knees were wobbly and she could handle wine better than most.

“Here we are,” he said, shoving the key into the lock and pushing open the door with a spread palm.

“Thanks,” Kat said as she stepped past him. She glanced around. It wasn’t a fancy pad. No pictures, no ornaments, no plants; just plain walls, a pale green carpet and a stark white kitchen at the end of a corridor. Minimal and practical.

She strutted into the kitchen towards the fridge, trying to give off an air of cool confidence even though her heart was skipping. “Any more wine?” she asked.

“Sorry.” His deep voice was suddenly right by her ear.

Kat spun round, startled. He’d arrived close behind her in utter silence. She almost bumped her nose on his chest.

“I’m not much of a wine drinker. Other things turn me on.”?

“Oh…” She got the feeling he wasn’t talking about drinks anymore.

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