Sex, Lies & Diamonds (Sex and Lies Book 7) Page 13

“If he did that, it would just look like a box. But the card—honey, the card is too hard to miss. It’s the ace of diamonds,” I said, holding my left hand in the air again. “This ring was supposed to be in the safe. Right?”

  I nodded.

  “We’re supposed to be dead and this ring should’ve been in the safe. But I don’t think this is just a ring.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “What are you talking about?”

  Jumping off the bed, she picked up her purse and pulled out a USB drive. “Remember the day in Zakynthos? The jeweler said something was engraved on the girdle of my ring. Right?”

  I nodded, but remained silent.

  “Tree’s father is a science teacher at a local high school. We went there and I had him look under the microscope and you know what we found?”

  “Numbers. We know that already, cher.”

  She gave my shoulder a playful smack. “Guess what kind of numbers?”

  I shook my head. I was tiring of the games and I knew it was showing in my face.

  “It’s a Dewey Decimal number.”

  “A what?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Like in a library?”

  “Weird, right? The question is…”

  “Which damn book?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, jumping on the bed. “But more than that, which library?”

  I took the jump drive from her hand and walked naked to the writing desk in the corner. Opening the laptop there, I plugged it in and waited. She followed me, wrapping her arms around my bare body from behind, watching with intent. “See?” she said. “There it is.”

  “And how do you know that’s a Dewey decimal?”

  “Tree’s father said so.”

  I turned in her arms and stared down at Polly. “That’s what we’re basing this on? Tree’s father?”

  She broke our embrace and began to pace the room. “Look Leo, it makes sense—at least to me. Balivino wants this ring. He comes to the house to break into the safe and the ring isn’t there. He beats Oscar up, trying to get it out of him—maybe not even where we are or if we’re alive, but he thinks Oscar knows something about the ring or where it is. Or he thinks Oscar has taken it for himself or is hiding it.”

  I hung my hands on my hips, trying to follow her.

  “Why else would Oscar grab my diamond, Leo? Why would he draw the Ace of Diamonds? This is something. Even if you don’t think it is.”

  I rubbed my cleanly shaven face with my hands, digesting everything she’d just said. “Let’s say for a second you’re right. Let’s say it is a clue to a book. How would we know which library?”

  She bit her lip. “It’s the classification for art, but not just art—paintings.” Walking back to Oscar’s drawing, she pointed to the shaky lines, the rudimentary A on the top corner of the playing card he’d drawn. “Oscar is doing his best to tell us something. I feel like I’m letting him down.”

  Standing in front of her, I took both her hands in mine. I knew I smelled, I knew I needed a shower in the worst way, but I didn’t want her to think what she was doing or thinking wasn’t important.

  “Why don’t you come into the bathroom while I shower and we can talk some more? Because honestly, I smell.”

  I barely kissed her lips, not wanting the disgraceful day still present on my skin near her. Backing up, I locked the door to our room. It was a silent invitation to join me.

  “What are you up to, Leo?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t you think this is important?”

  “I do. I’ve heard every word you’ve said and if you think it’s something, then we need to look into it.” I turned on the water and began to strip. Polly put the lid down on the toilet and sat, watching attentively. “I fully expect you to join me, cher.” I wanted her—needed her. Especially after the day I’d had. On the outside I did my best to seem collected. On the inside I was screaming. I needed her to calm me.

  I stood naked in front of her, rubbing my chest with my open palm. She didn’t want to get in the shower with me—yet.

  “Stop doing that.”

  “What?” I murmured, staring back at her through my hooded gaze.

  “Rubbing your hands over your muscles. You know. Touching yourself.”

  I didn’t answer her, but stepped into the shower and under the steamy spray, groaning with a deep breath. Aside from the show I was putting on for Polly, I welcomed the chance to wash away what happened with her lookalike, the dirt, and the hard knot that had been residing in my gut all day.

  Soaping up my body, I reached for the shampoo and quickly washed and rinsed my hair. Shaking the water from my wet head like a dog, I opened my eyes and found Polly standing on the threshold of the open shower—fully clothed. I blinked, water cascading in my eyes. “C’mon. Join me, cher,” I drawled.

  “We have to look for that book, Leo.”

  Leaning into her, I kissed her long and hard, my wet face brushing against hers, soaking her lips and chin. Just the touch of her was enough to get me started. I whispered into her open mouth. “Okay. I agree. We’ll look for the book. Now get in.”

  Defiantly, she crossed her arms. “That’s not going to work on me, Leo. I’m serious.”

  Stepping back into the shower, I poured gel into my palm and lathered my chest, working my way down. Leaning against the wall where I knew Polly would have the best view, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and dropped my hand to fist myself. I was already hard from the kiss and the idea of making her crazy drove me. Opening my eyes, I saw her watching me—her gaze transfixed on my hand and the incessant rhythm. “Cher.” I nearly purred. “This is what you do to me.”

  I watched her face heat, her teeth bite down on her bottom lip. “Leo,” she breathed. “You’re not playing fair.”

  I could feel my face flush, my heart pound. I needed her. There was a kilo of heroin in the other room, but Polly was my drug. “I’ve never needed anything in my life, but I need you, cher. I physically ache for you.”

  Her eyes glistened in the light of the chandelier. She peeled off her clothes, dropping them in a pool at her feet. Stepping into the rainfall from overhead, she stood before me. Not stopping or touching me, but watching with great interest.

  Leaning in, I parted her wet lips with my tongue, stroking her mouth and moving my hands from touching myself to touching her. She moaned as I reached between her legs, working in the same rhythm I’d used on myself with a gentler touch. Tilting her head back, I kissed her jaw, licking my way down her body. I was more connected to Polly than any human being in the world—ever. She was my world. My lifeline. Cupping her breast, I suckled her nipple and felt chills erupt on her skin.

  Picking her up under her arms, she wrapped her legs around my waist and nuzzled her head into my neck “You’re incorrigible. You know that?” she whispered.

  I pulled at her ear with my teeth and traced the outline of it with my tongue. “You know you make love to me without even touching me. Every day. You came into my world and then you became my world. I love it that I can tempt you—make you crazy for me like I’m crazy for you.”

  I sat us down on the marble bench in the oversized walk-in, Polly’s legs straddling my lap. She pushed my long wet mane from my face with her delicate hands and stared down at me. “Let’s get something straight,” she murmured. “You didn’t tempt me.”

  “No?” I asked as she reached down and stroked me—picking up where I’d left off. She stared through me, seeing into my soul.

  “I just don’t like you playing with my toys.”

  I smiled and she angled her face to capture my mouth, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Pressing myself against her, I rolled my hips and gripped her graceful ribcage. Polly slid her fingers across my throat. The sound of her murmur washed over me like her hands—soft and loving. “God, I love you.”

  From the moment I’d met Polly, I’d never been able to hide how I felt about her, what she did to me. I could control my life with the FBI,
the ruse I’d carried out with the mob, even my family’s history, but when it came to Polly—I was wrecked. Bared and open, I was helpless. My chest tightened. Even after celebrating our first wedding anniversary together, I still couldn’t believe she was mine. The fact that she loved me, desired me—that we were still hungry as hell for each other no matter what—drove me in ways I couldn’t understand.

  Pulling her in to my torso, she arched her hips and lowered herself onto me slowly, hissing with a sexy gasp.

  I let out a feral moan. “Cher.”

  Cupping her beautiful bottom, I rocked my hips into her over and over. Her hands fisting my hair, I could feel her body tightening—possessing me. Taking her mouth in a lust-fueled kiss, our bodies slid against each other, my need seizing all control. Her thighs clenched and released around me as she tossed her head back to cry out. As she gripped my shoulders, I quickened my pace, moving into her in waves, the water raining down on us, washing away all inhibitions.

  “That’s it, cher,” I encouraged hoarsely. “Let it go. Let it all go.” I said the words, but I was the one surrendering.

  She cried out my name. I stood, pinning her to the side of the marble wall, sinking myself deeper and deeper. Her fingers digging into my arms, she bit down on my shoulder. It was the moment that drove me over the edge to ecstasy. Jolting violently, I shuddered. My knees nearly buckling under me, I regained my footing and held her in place as I growled out in panting euphoria.

  I caught my breath and kissed her, running my wet mouth across the seam of her quivering lips. “You are my everything, mon amour.”

  15

  POLLY

  “I need to eat,” Leo said, pulling a t-shirt over his head before searching the drawers for a pair of jeans. I watched him casually step into the soft Levi’s, buttoning them up at the fly. Making his way to me in his bare feet, he pressed his warm lips to my temple, then nibbled at my neck. “You spent me, cher. I’m ravenous and I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

  I nodded, tightening the belt around my robe. “All my clothes are next door.”

  “Hurry and get dressed. I’ll have Dinah move our things,” Leo said, hesitating at the door. “That is, as long as you’re ready to be in the master suite again.”

  Awkwardly, I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and stared into the corner where the blood had been completely cleaned. “I guess.”

  Leo shut the door and came back to me. “You know, mon amour. Eventually we will need to move back in here. This is the master. I don’t want to live in a guest room for the rest of my life.”

  I dropped my shoulders in surrender. “I know. It’s fine. Tell Dinah to move my things.”

  With a sexy wink, he was gone and I sat alone in the room thinking two things: how would I solve the mystery this Dewey Decimal number presented? And unless I was mistaken, Leo just said that someday we would live at Jackson House.

  I padded into the Gold Room and sifted through the clothes I’d packed from the Andromeda. Not finding anything I wanted, I went to the closet to see if any of the other clothes I’d left behind two years ago were still hanging around. I wasn’t disappointed.

  A sleeveless denim fit and flare dress was sandwiched in between a group of pants and draped in a red cardigan. Pulling them both from the hanger, I took them to the bed and spread them out for a better look. I pulled a matching set of red lace panties and bra from the drawer, tossing them over my shoulder, aiming for the bed.

  Walking into the bathroom, I turned on the light and dried the remaining dampness from my hair, running a makeup brush full of blush across my cheeks and a swipe of ChapStick across my dry lips. I stared into my reflection and took a deep breath. “You’re smart, Polly. Think. They want the ring for the number. Do they want the number because they know what it means?”

  I walked away turning off the light, but continued to carry on my conversation. “Do they know it’s a Dewey Decimal number? Maybe they don’t even know what’s on the diamond, so even if they have it, they wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  I slipped on the red lace undies and bra, unbuttoning the dress down the front to step into it. “But Oscar knows what it means. That’s why they beat the hell out of him. And I’d bet my life he didn’t tell them. But he tried to tell me.”

  I buttoned up and slipped the red cardigan around my shoulders, then pulled my thigh holster—a gift from Mitch—from the drawer, and slid it up my leg. Lifting my dress, I holstered my Glock that had been sitting by the bedside. Leo and the team weren’t the only ones ready for action.

  Walking out of the room barefoot, I shoved my hands into the pockets of the dress and found a slip of paper. Pulling it from my pocket, I closed my eyes against a rush of tears.

  A note from Dax, it simply had a heart and his name written in green crayon. I remembered the day he drew it for me and I longed for a world where I could visit with him and his little sister. I wanted to spend time with my best friend, Samantha. I wanted children of my own with Leo—here at Jackson House.

  Folding it up again, I slipped it back into my pocket and went back to the master for a pair of comfy flats. Pausing at the closet, I leaned against the wall, gliding the second shoe onto my heel with the hook of my finger. I stared along the wall, remembering the moment I discovered who Leo was—how the Marcellos changed my family. It was a book. A first edition of For Whom the Bell Tolls.

  Stepping away from the wall, I stared at the collection of books then moved closer, praying they were sorted via the Dewey system.

  Starting at one end of the wall I worked my way down, running my finger across the titles and let out a heavy sigh. The library in the master was extensive, but it was in alphabetical order by author. “Damnit.”

  I pulled a couple of books from the shelf and opened them, double checking for numbers on the inside. There was nothing. It blew my theory right out of the water. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe Mr. Knight didn’t know what he was talking about with the number on the side of my diamond. Maybe it did have something to do with a heist from long ago as I suspected the jeweler in Zakynthos believed. I didn’t know what to think anymore. I only knew our options were running out.

  “Polly?” Leo called up the staircase to me, his voice echoing off the massive walls.

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Walking over to the laptop, I stared at the image Leo had left on the screen. Keying in command P, I sent it to the printer hidden in the cabinets below the bookshelves.

  “Cher!”

  Leo’s voice rang out again.

  Opening the cabinet, I grabbed the paper from the tray then did a double take before shutting the door. On the shelf next to the printer was a shining aluminum case.

  Pulling it out, I sat it on the edge of the writing desk and unlocked the two brackets. Inside the black velvet lined case was a set of five hundred poker chips, three sets of dice and two new decks of playing cards. I closed the lid and put it back where I’d found it before shutting the cabinet door.

  Folding the photo, I grabbed the drawing Oscar made and placed them both in the pocket opposite my note from Dax. I didn’t know what it all meant—not yet. But I wasn’t giving up.

  Not rushing, I took each step down the grand staircase with purpose, taking in everything about Jackson House and my surroundings. I’d always been so fascinated by the stories of the old home and the people who’d lived there. It was, after all, over a hundred and fifty years old and the generations of Leo’s family had occupied the property the longest of all the families who’d called Jackson House home—including the builder, Ephraim Jackson.

  Honestly, the oil painting of Ephraim that hung in the front parlor spooked me a bit. It was the type of painting that always watched. Leo once told me that as a little boy, his Yaya said Ephraim watched over the house, even though he didn’t live there anymore.

  I walked across the main entry hall at the bottom of the stairs and into the parlor opposite the action. Hawk was walking about the m
ain room mumbling something under his breath to Leo and I stole into the room across the way, turning on the light to stare at the enormous oil of Ephraim that hung in the corner. Nearly floor to ceiling, he stood in the middle of a winding lane in the woods with his bare right hand on a globe. Wearing tan pants, a dark brown tailcoat and tan vest, a hunter green cravat graced his neck. In his gloved left hand, he carried a top hat, wooden cane and the other glove. There was a gleam in his eye as he looked across the room at me with a tilted gaze. His eyes followed me as I walked the length of the long parlor to stare at Ephriam from afar. The rest of the room was just as opulent as Jackson House, but this room held little of the original artwork. Truth be told, I didn’t know some of the artists with works around the house by name, only that they were important to either Ephraim or Kostas in some way. Demetri, Leo’s father, hadn’t been a lover or collector of art like his grandfather. Leo had a great appreciation for art and wanted to collect more pieces. We’d even purchased a few originals that were on the Andromeda now at port in Sicily.

  Circling the room with my eyes, I searched the walls for books. Tree’s father said the Dewey number was associated with books about paintings. This parlor held only Ephraim’s portrait, but it was by far the largest painting in the house.

  “Cher?”

  Facing Leo, I rocked on my heels.

  He looked around the room as if he was missing something. “What are you doing in here?”

  I hesitated. “Nothing. Just…looking.”

  “For?”

  I shrugged, slipping my hands into the pockets of my dress to feel Dax’s note on one side and the photo of my ring on the other. “I don’t know exactly. Nothing, I guess. I saw you were deep in conversation with Hawk.”

  Leo held his out his hand to come with him. Giving Ephraim one last glance, I could’ve sworn he was staring down at me as I turned off all the lights in the room with one switch by the door.

  Leo slipped his warm arm around my back, gripping my shoulder with a loving squeeze. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.