Page 19 of Thief

“The main problem now…” he chewed the inside of his cheek as he studied her, “is what to do with you until that time?”

“What do you mean, ‘what to do with me’?”

“Well, I don’t fancy my chances of finding you again if I let you out my sight.” He raised one thick eyebrow. “There’s only one thing for it, I’ll have to shack up here with you.”

“You’re joking. I’m not having you here all week.” She stood and banged her drink on the low coffee table. “This is my home. No one else ever steps foot in here but me.” She pointed to the hallway. “You have to go. I’ll meet you, take you to the hit. Why wouldn’t I? I’m getting half of the diamonds. I can’t stand you here. I can’t breathe with you here. It won’t work.”

John stood, appeared to hesitate before putting weight through his left leg then stepped up to her. “The thought of me hanging around repulses you, does it?”

“Yes.”

He loomed down, lowered his face and pushed in so close their whisky breaths mixed. “Get used to me being around, Pussy Cat. You made your bed, now you’ve gotta lie in it.”

He chuckled, straightened and hobbled out of the living room into the kitchen, adjusting the towel around his waist.

Kat glared after him. What could she do? It wasn’t as if she could physically throw him out. Perhaps she could give him the slip at some point. But where would she go? She had nowhere to run and no one to run to. Besides, she did ultimately want her share of the diamonds. Now she knew about them she could visualise them all pretty and twinkling, nestled deep in the palm of her hand, each tiny, perfect gem worth thousands and thousands of pounds. If hanging around with this big, irritating guy for a week was the only way, she’d have to somehow cope with his intrusion into her solitary existence.

She stomped after him and watched as he pulled open the fridge door and studied the contents. There were half a dozen microwave meals for one, all from Marks and Spencer, several bottles of unopened chardonnay lay on the top shelf and one open, half full, stood in the door next to a pint of skimmed milk. Other than that the only other inhabitants were a bag of green seedless grapes and two strawberry yogurts.

“Jeez,” he said blowing out his breath. “Is this all you eat?”

“What’s the matter with it?”?John swung the fridge door shut in disgust and leaned his behind against the counter.

“It’s not real food, that’s what’s wrong. Microwave meals, no wonder you’re so small.” He paused and let his eyes slide down her body—all the way to her red toenails— then just as slowly all the way back up again.

She pursed her lips in irritation and tightened her dressing gown farther.

He yawned and pushed away from the counter. “Get some rest,” he said as he brushed past her. “We’re going shopping in a few hours.”

“Shopping, what for?”

“I can’t eat this girly shit all week. I need proper food, and in case it escaped your notice, we need some kind of wheels to follow Carlos. That is unless you have a car stashed away somewhere?”

Kat trailed behind him. “I use cabs.”

“Well, you better cough up some cash to replace my car.” John sank onto the sofa, folded his arms behind his head and exposed dark shadows of underarm hair. “I’ve got a few grand on me but we’ll need another ten to get something decent.”

“As long as I keep it after we get the diamonds back.”

“Whatever.” John adjusted the cushion behind his head and closed his eyes. “Turn off the overhead light on your way to your bedroom, will you, and don’t bother trying any more sexy business with me. I’m knackered.”

“As if,” she spat then headed into her bedroom and slammed the door. She didn’t turn off the overhead light.

* * * *

Six hours later, Kat and John were browsing around a vast Kawasaki dealership. John fingered the hard cash folded in thick wads in his front, jeans pocket—the ten thousand Kat had produced from a mug in her kitchen cupboard should buy them something reasonable.

“I like this one,” Kat said, sliding her denim clad butt onto a lime green Kawasaki Ninja ZX. She grabbed hold of the handles and leant forward, twisted the throttle and made a low purring noise.

“You just like the colour,” John said then nodded to the hovering sales assistant. “We’ll take this one.” He pointed to the one Kat was straddling. “Now, for cash.”

“No problem, sir. Just give us a few minutes, and you can collect it from the forecourt.”

John reached for Kat’s elbow, tugged her off the bike and steered her towards the adjoining accessory shop. “We need to get you something more suitable to wear.”

“Hey, what’s the matter with what I’ve got on?” She tottered alongside him to keep up with his long strides. “These are Rock Republic, you know.”

John paused and spun her away from him. He studied her butt in her impossibly tight jeans. “I’m not complaining, but I don’t fancy you having your perfect honeyed flesh peeled from your bones if we go skidding along the tarmac.”

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