Page 3 of The Criminal

“Lee Vance, proprietor of Oleander Fine Jewelry. It’s quite a transformation from Amber Lee, sulkiest teen girl in Atoka, Oklahoma.”

“I’ve had a few decades to work my magic.”

The look he shot at me didn’t say he thought I’d improved. Fuck him. I tossed my slick black hair over my shoulder and moved down the long display table, leaving him in my wake. The merchandise was my reason for being here, not a trip down memory lane.

A gilt clock with an automated lion on the top caught my eye. The description explained it was a rare and important seventeenth-century French table clock, estimated value one hundred and thirty thousand dollars—another unique and priceless item.

I sighed. This was a waste of my time. Ten years wouldn’t be enough time for this collection to cool off. I couldn’t move any of this unless I planned on ending up in jail—a fate I’d avoided for decades. I’d be damned if my last job sent me there.

Ready to call an end to this night, I dug one of my cell phones out of my evening bag. I scrolled to a previous message from an unnamed contact. I didn’t know who was on the other side of the text message, only that it was one of Uncle Jimmy’s people. Anonymity was the rule in the world of stolen goods. Knowing things made you a liability.

I am not interested,I texted.

A moment later, a reply came as if my contact had been waiting for my message.A shame. I thought you wanted out.

Without consideration, I typed:I do.

No reply.

Fuck. Fuck. I bit back a frustrated groan.

Out was what I promised myself on the day I turned forty. But that was almost a year ago. And the criminals I worked with weren’t the kind that threw a useful asset like me a retirement party. They were going to bleed me dry on my way out the door. So far, I had met all of the impossible demands they’d tossed at me. But I felt like my luck was running out.

Uncle Jimmy promised I could retire if I could shift the merchandise from one last big job. I sent them a few ideas. Easy jobs. High return and low risk. And they’d countered with this ill-conceived heist. Millions in one-of-a-kind watches stolen from a high-profile charity event.

It was a horrendous idea with no upside.

Derek’s hand on my bare shoulder made me jump, and I almost dropped my cheap burner phone. I spun, brushing away his touch.

“Problems?” he asked.

“What? No.” I shook my head emphatically.

“You’re looking at that phone like it’s delivering a doomsday message.”

“Work problems.”

“A fine jewelry emergency at this time of night?” He tilted his head and looked at the black screen of my cheap phone. His gaze lingered on the crappy cell. I couldn’t shove the damn thing in my purse fast enough.

“Something like that.” My skin flushed, and I felt suddenly hot. I had to get the hell away from too-perceptive Derek Sawyer ASAP.

“Shit. You’re still up to it. Aren’t you?” He was so close now I could smell his aftershave, something clean and manly. Anger pulsed off him. He grabbed my wrist, dragging me tight to his broad chest before I could step away. My blood heated to the boiling point at his treatment and the accusation.

“No.” My answer came out breathless and husky, trapped in my chest by a million conflicting emotions. Rage. Shame. Anger. And the memory of longing for his touch in the way only a teenage girl can.

“Bullshit. I caught you red-handed.” He nodded back down the table where the Panerai with my fingerprints sat. The flare of his nostrils and his harsh breathing told me he was just as keyed up as I was.

“I haven’t stolen anything since…” I tried to yank away from him, but he wouldn’t yield. He was a fucking statue. “Since I made you that promise.”

It had been the night after Ray’s funeral. The promise changed everything and forced me to evolve. It shaped my future, but not how he and my brother expected.

And there was no way in hell I would tell him I was grateful for him setting me on my career path as a fence. It was a more lucrative and safer position than a thief, and one I’d thrived in. I was one of the best on the East Coast, moving millions in stolen gold and jewels through Oleander every year.

He shook his head and cursed, but his hold didn’t loosen. Everywhere our bodies touched felt molten hot. I didn’t know if I wanted him to pull me closer or push me away so I could slap his face.

“If I’d been planning on stealing that watch, you’d never have caught me.” I jutted my chin up and glared at him. Asshole.

“I don’t believe you. Prove it.”

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