Page 5 of Thief

“Whiskey,” he murmured. “You want a whisky?”

“Er…yes, that would be lovely.” Kat didn’t fancy a whisky, but she hoped he would down his.

He extended his arm over her head, flicked open a high cupboard and wrapped his fingers around a half full bottle of Scotch. Kat slid sideways and upturned a couple of glasses on his drainer into which he splashed several generous inches.

“Cheers,” he said, passing her a glass. “Here’s to your friend not turning up, very fortuitous…for me.”

“And me,” Kat said with a strained smile. This really was not going to plan. The guy was acting stone cold sober. She could see his keys next to him on the kitchen counter, one of which was definitely for a car but she had no idea where the actual car was—there’d been no sign of it on the way in. At this rate, she was going to put out for nothing, the absolute worst-case scenario, for her and Carlos.

“Shall we sit down?” she asked, hoping to buy some time.

“Sure.” He led the way to the small living room they’d passed on the way to the kitchen. He flicked on the overhead light—a bare bulb—which filled the room with a harsh white glow.

Kat watched him pull the thin cream curtains shut. As before, his stride wasn’t quite right. “Have you hurt your knee?” she asked.

“Yeah, old injury. Plays up from time to time.”

“So, er…how do you get around? You can’t walk to work, to the, um…jeweller’s shop if you’re in pain.”

“Too right I don’t,” he said, sinking onto a low burgundy three-seater. “I’ve got a set of wheels in the garage downstairs.”

“The garage? I didn’t see a garage.”

“No, we came in the front way. It’s round the back. Behind the bins there’s a row of three garages. I rent one of them. I don’t reckon my car would last a night out here. It’s hardly the best neighbourhood in London.”

Kat perched on the edge of the sofa next to him. She felt suddenly lighter, more optimistic about the evening. In the garage by the bins, that should be easy enough to find. Now it was just a case of knocking him out and sneaking off with the keys.

“Hey,” John said, shuffling closer and resting his broad hand in the centre of her back. “You look worried, what’s up?” He rubbed a big circle over her shoulder blades. His fingertips brushed onto the exposed skin of her upper arm. Irritatingly, the feather light touch made her skin tingle and a snake of sensation wriggled to the base of her spine.

“I’m fine.” She turned to him with a forced smile. “Really, I’m fine.”

He studied her, his eyebrows fell low and his mouth set in a tight line. “You sure? You don’t look it.”

“Yes.” Kat laughed softly. “Really, I’m absolutely fine.”

His face broke into an easy smile. “Good,” he said. “Because I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you know, just life and stuff, it gets in the way of meeting people, people like you…beautiful women.” He knocked back the rest of his drink. “I’m pleased you’re here, really I am, but if you want to go home just say, I’ll call you a cab.”

If only it was that simple. Carlos would have her guts if she didn’t turn up with the goods. He was expecting her to deliver a Porsche in a few hours, and if she didn’t, well, he knew where she lived and Carlos in a bad mood was not something she wanted to witness tonight—or ever.

She studied John’s face. He appeared desperate for her to believe he wasn’t going to hurt her even though he could crush her like an ant if he decided to. Perhaps she should try and extract herself from this line of business—it was getting too damn stressful.

“There you go again.”

“What?”

“Drifting.”

“Sorry, it’s all the wine, I guess.” She could hardly say she was thinking of a career change.

“Well, it’s not the whisky. You haven’t touched a drop.”

She looked down at the fiery liquid. “No, it’s not really my thing, after all.”

“Doesn’t turn you on, eh?” John took the glass from her hand, straightened out his left leg and pushed up. He moved to the mantel, knocked back her un-drunk whisky and placed the empty glass on the fake marble. “Come here,” he said, turning to face her and shifting his weight onto his right leg.

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