Page 44 of Thief

Lifting her hands to shield her eyes from the dazzling glare, she peered into the distance. She could just make out St Paul’s Cathedral seated majestically on the horizon. She loved looking at London from here. It made her feel like she’d made it after all of those years of poverty. All those years of being a no one.

Her mood was flitting about today. It had been a strange, new experience to share not just her body but her also emotions with another person so totally, and to actually fall asleep with someone had been another first. But waking up surrounded by John’s solid arms had felt good. Even better, in fact, when he’d gently made love to her all over again before she’d even opened her eyes to the day.

But now the contemplation of what they had lined up for that evening was making her nerves tense and jumpy. She knew John would try and take over the bit she was good at, and she couldn’t relax into the day the way she normally would. It was all so different from her normal existence. Different…but in a good way.

She was shaken from her thoughts by John huffing. “Did you get one like this for me?”

“Yes, only it wasn’t in the post. Carlos handed it to me the night before when I dropped off a set of Ferrari keys.”

“Have you still got it?” He turned to face her.

“No, I memorise the information then destroy the evidence.”

John said nothing, but his silence was as loud as words. For some reason, his mood was getting heavier by the minute. Kat wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t see what had changed between them since the letter had been delivered.

He tore open the envelope and shook the contents onto the table. The usual photo and small slip of paper covered in Carlos’s scrawling, childish handwriting fell out.

Kat leant across, picked up the paper and read aloud. “Nick Turnbull. The Bakers Arms, Amersham. Drop off point Lloyds Bank, Amersham High Street.” She turned to John, cocked her head and said lightly, “Apparently Nick has a nice new Mercedes Carlos wants to get his hands on.”

“Lucky Nick,” John grunted, studying the photo of the unsuspecting victim. It had been taken as he was mid-step, hand outstretched, walking into a bar, probably The Bakers Arms. Early forties, reasonably fit, he wore suit trousers and a loose white shirt. He had a pleasant enough face and short blond hair, or maybe it was grey, it was hard to tell from the photo Carlos had sent.

Kat set down the paper and snatched the photo from his hand. She studied the man closely, trying to commit his facial features and his general appearance to memory. When she’d finished, she raised her eyebrows and nodded.

“What the hell does that look mean?” John snapped.

“What does what look mean?” Kat was surprised at the sudden angry tone in his voice.

“Oh, come on, you know what I’m talking about. That little smile and nod. Are you looking forward to getting together with him or something?”

“Oh, don’t be so bloody ridiculous.” Now she understood the reason for the sullen mood, the reason he’d been spiralling downwards into a full-blown male sulk—he was jealous.

Jealous of Nick Turnbull.

She’d known from that day in the supermarket John had a green-eyed monster lurking. She’d thought she might use it to her advantage back then, but now, she couldn’t see how it would work. In fact, it could be a hindrance.

* * * *

John scraped the wooden chair on the balcony floor and stormed through the patio doors.

She hadn’t even bothered to deny it.

He walked straight to the drinks cabinet and reached for the whisky bottle even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t drink today. He needed to be on full alert tonight, no hazy glows. No gaps in his thought processes. His reactions need to be sharp and precise.

But right now, he needed a drink. Not for his knee, but because Kat was winding him up on purpose, getting under his skin for the sheer hell of it. Why she felt the need to do that he had no damn idea.

He’d taken his first sharp mouthful when her arms slide around his waist and her soft breasts press against his back. “Don’t be like this, John. You knew the score all week. It was even your idea.”

“Yeah, well, I feel different now that we…we…you know.” He paused and threw another mouthful of drink back. “I don’t want you jumping into bed with Nick-bloody-Turnbull tonight, not after you were in bed with me last night. It’s not right, and I won’t let you do it.”

“But it’s business. My business. The same as usual. No, make that a more lucrative business than usual.” John could have sworn she purred as she spoke onto his shoulder blades. “Sex means nothing to me when it’s with a hit, nothing at all. I completely switch off. I thought you understood that.” She went on, “But I probably won’t have to sleep with him anyway. I’ll just get him drunk and help myself to his keys. I’ve done that loads of times.”

Tightening her hold, she rubbed her hands from his abdominals up to his chest, gently reminding him of her touch as she whispered over his shoulder, “Don’t forget, when I get the keys to Nick’s car they’ll be our ticket to the diamonds, and for you, John, your ticket to paradise. The life you’re dreaming of, far, far away.”

He banged his drink on the cabinet, turned and scooped her into his arms. He looked deep into her eyes. “Without those diamonds, I’m screwed, Kat. Totally screwed. I need them so badly.”

He bent to kiss her.

* * * *

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