Read Online The Family Jewels by Christine Bell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Bell
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wasn’t fond of.
"So you're telling me you took nothing."
"Yes, that's what I'm telling you." She could feel a bead of sweat sliding down her back and hoped it wasn't dotting her upper lip too. Nothing looked guiltier than sweating literally in the face of an interrogation.
"So then it won't bother you if I pat you down?"
She drew back and gasped like he’d slapped her. "It certainly would." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "I don't know if you just want to cop a cheap feel, or what your deal is, but surely you know there’s a code of honor among thieves and I wouldn’t lie about-"
She felt it the second before she heard it. The watch she had wedged in the side of her underwear slinking down her leg. She flexed, hitching her hip to the side in hopes of saving it, but a second later it fell to the marble floor with a jangle and a ping that echoed like a gunshot.
She stared at Jake and held her stance like it didn't even happen but her hands had gone icy cold, and her pulse was racing so fast she felt dizzy. What the fuck was she going to do now? And then her father’s gritty baritone rang in her head, like a voice from heaven.
When in doubt, girlie, kick 'em in the balls and run.
"I hope you know how sorry I am about this," she whispered. Then, she drew back and let her knee fly, nailing Jake square in the tackle. He grunted and doubled-over. And she?
Well, she scooped up the watch and ran like hell.
6
F orty minutes later , Sadie threw the door open to her tiny apartment and tossed her keys into the bowl on the kitchenette table. Then she collapsed onto a chair to take the first full breath she'd taken since she'd left Hannigan's estate.
That had been a close call.
No.
“Close call” didn't even come close to describing the near disaster of her night. Even as she’d flown down the stairs and out the front doors of the estate, she was sure Jake Callahan would be hot on her heels, loaded for bear. It was only after she’d gotten into her rental car and driven a full mile without him following her that she had any expectation of getting away.
God, what an idiot. She should've aborted this mission after the gala debacle. Rule number three of a good con? You catch a whiff of something fishy, then you move on to the next. There was a whole world full of assholes with money. No reason to get stuck on one particular asshole.
But she'd gotten sloppy. Personal issues had clouded her mind, and that had almost been her downfall. Still might, actually. Who knew if she was in the clear?
She'd have to quit Roberto’s. There was no question that Jake would go there at some point to try to find out where she lived. Maybe she should call tomorrow and warn Monica that a bill collector was on the hunt for her and ask her not to give him any information.
Not that they had much to give. She'd used a fake address and last name to land that job for exactly this reason. He'd be looking for a Sadie who lived in the twenty-mile radius of the bistro and that would be a pretty tall order with just a first name to work with. She’d just have to keep a low profile for a few months. Unfortunately, that was going to be much harder to do now that she’d only gotten twenty-grand worth of merch from Hannigan rather than the fifty-plus she’d been counting on. Definitely not enough to take care of Clarissa for the next year while she took some classes and tried to go legit.
She blinked back the hot tears of frustration that rushed to her eyes and shoved herself to her feet. Like most things in life, there was no use crying about it. Tears wouldn’t change a thing.
She dragged her ass to the bedroom to take a hot shower, wash the powder from her hair and change into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. When she finished, she headed straight for the couch as the last of the adrenaline drained from her blood leaving her physically exhausted and emotionally drained.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would have a long,
"So you're telling me you took nothing."
"Yes, that's what I'm telling you." She could feel a bead of sweat sliding down her back and hoped it wasn't dotting her upper lip too. Nothing looked guiltier than sweating literally in the face of an interrogation.
"So then it won't bother you if I pat you down?"
She drew back and gasped like he’d slapped her. "It certainly would." She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "I don't know if you just want to cop a cheap feel, or what your deal is, but surely you know there’s a code of honor among thieves and I wouldn’t lie about-"
She felt it the second before she heard it. The watch she had wedged in the side of her underwear slinking down her leg. She flexed, hitching her hip to the side in hopes of saving it, but a second later it fell to the marble floor with a jangle and a ping that echoed like a gunshot.
She stared at Jake and held her stance like it didn't even happen but her hands had gone icy cold, and her pulse was racing so fast she felt dizzy. What the fuck was she going to do now? And then her father’s gritty baritone rang in her head, like a voice from heaven.
When in doubt, girlie, kick 'em in the balls and run.
"I hope you know how sorry I am about this," she whispered. Then, she drew back and let her knee fly, nailing Jake square in the tackle. He grunted and doubled-over. And she?
Well, she scooped up the watch and ran like hell.
6
F orty minutes later , Sadie threw the door open to her tiny apartment and tossed her keys into the bowl on the kitchenette table. Then she collapsed onto a chair to take the first full breath she'd taken since she'd left Hannigan's estate.
That had been a close call.
No.
“Close call” didn't even come close to describing the near disaster of her night. Even as she’d flown down the stairs and out the front doors of the estate, she was sure Jake Callahan would be hot on her heels, loaded for bear. It was only after she’d gotten into her rental car and driven a full mile without him following her that she had any expectation of getting away.
God, what an idiot. She should've aborted this mission after the gala debacle. Rule number three of a good con? You catch a whiff of something fishy, then you move on to the next. There was a whole world full of assholes with money. No reason to get stuck on one particular asshole.
But she'd gotten sloppy. Personal issues had clouded her mind, and that had almost been her downfall. Still might, actually. Who knew if she was in the clear?
She'd have to quit Roberto’s. There was no question that Jake would go there at some point to try to find out where she lived. Maybe she should call tomorrow and warn Monica that a bill collector was on the hunt for her and ask her not to give him any information.
Not that they had much to give. She'd used a fake address and last name to land that job for exactly this reason. He'd be looking for a Sadie who lived in the twenty-mile radius of the bistro and that would be a pretty tall order with just a first name to work with. She’d just have to keep a low profile for a few months. Unfortunately, that was going to be much harder to do now that she’d only gotten twenty-grand worth of merch from Hannigan rather than the fifty-plus she’d been counting on. Definitely not enough to take care of Clarissa for the next year while she took some classes and tried to go legit.
She blinked back the hot tears of frustration that rushed to her eyes and shoved herself to her feet. Like most things in life, there was no use crying about it. Tears wouldn’t change a thing.
She dragged her ass to the bedroom to take a hot shower, wash the powder from her hair and change into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt. When she finished, she headed straight for the couch as the last of the adrenaline drained from her blood leaving her physically exhausted and emotionally drained.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would have a long,
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