“You told her. At some point you told her. Or enough she understood.”
“Enough,” he agreed. “I think enough. Something about traveling to London, then holding my future in my hands, and being foolish enough to say I wish I’d kept some of it, as she’d look brilliant in emeralds.”
“That would be enough for her. It’s all deliberate. You have to see that.”
“We hadn’t met when she targeted Henry Barrister. You said she was twenty.”
“Sometimes fate bites you in the ass. That’s something you’d say.”
She made herself breathe, reminded herself to think like a cop.
“She used him, then fate bit you in the ass and he gave her a direct line to you with those fucking emeralds. All this is deliberate.”
“How?”
She pulled at her hair. “How can you be so goddamn smart and still have a blind spot for her?”
“I don’t. I know what she is. I took steps to keep her out of our lives. I’m gobsmacked she had the bloody nerve to come to New York after I sent her off.”
“I’m the one who punched her in the face.”
“And me as well, as I recall very clearly. That was after I’d told her to leave New York, that she’d be hauled out if she tried to stay at any of my properties in this world or any other. I simply don’t follow you on this as deliberate.”
“For fuck’s sake. You stole the emeralds. I punched her and you gave her the boot. She finds out where they are. What better way to tie you up, to pay you back than to take them—only them—and make a splash out of it?”
She began to pace. “She’d know Interpol looks at you, probably knows about Abernathy. She’d make it her fucking mission to know. She waits until Henry’s dead—nobody, in her mind, can link her to the theft. After she rakes in her share, she’ll give Abernathy or someone like him a big fat hint to the original.”
“Why would anyone believe her?”
She spun around to him. “Why did you? Ever?”
Chapter Seventeen
Even understanding her anger, he felt his own rise.
“Bugger it, Eve, I was besotted. That was the beginning and end of it. She wasn’t just another beautiful woman I could enjoy, but someone I could work with, talk to about the work because she wanted what I did.”
“Which was?”
“More.” He threw up his hands. “I trusted her, and she betrayed me for that more. For whatever good it did her. It was a period of my life that’s over and done. We didn’t come to each other as children. I can’t tell you she meant nothing to me, because she did. But I can tell you that whatever she meant is less than nothing compared to you.”
“I don’t need your reassurance.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.” She struggled for calm, then repeated, “No. I’ve never understood why you wanted me, why you love me. But I know you do. I don’t need you to tell me what we have is more important, more real, moreeverything than whatever you had with her. Because I know it is. She’s also everything I’m not, and that can be a hard swallow.”
“She’s cold, careless with people, incapable of putting anyone above herself, without a single ounce of loyalty. Yes, everything you’re not.”
It struck him, amazed him. “Here you are, such a sharp cop, with instincts and insights that often seem preternatural. And you think she wanted to hurt you because you were less than she is? Christ Jesus, Eve, she wanted to hurt you because she knew you’re so much more.”
“I don’t care about any of that.”
“You do. Yes, of course you do.”
“It can’t be top of the list right now. She played you back then. She played you when she came to New York, and played me, too. Don’t let her play you now.”
“I won’t. She hurt you, deliberately, cruelly, and I don’t forgive it.” The rage bubbled up again, so this time, he walked to the open doors. “The bloody, buggering nerve of her to come back here. She’s been careful to avoid what’s mine. Only last year she mistakenly booked a room in one of my hotels—I’d only recently acquired it, so it’s doubtful she knew. And was escorted out by security.”
