Twice the Temptation (33 page)

 
“Good.”

 
Samantha took that moment to stroll into the room. Her timing was so perfect that he had no doubt she’d been standing outside the door listening. When she winked at him from behind the inspector’s back, he knew it for certain.

 
“Hello, Mr. Larson. All ready for our big day today?” she asked, making a beeline to the sodas.

 
“I believe so, Miss Jellicoe.”

 
“Good. Because the press will be asking you all sorts of questions about the different gemstones. Especially the cursed ones, or the ones somebody was wearing when they got beheaded.”

 
“I’ll defer those questions to the museum staff,” he said stiffly.

 
“That makes sense. And don’t forget I want to see your authorization from Scotland Yard in writing before I give you today’s access codes.”

 
“It’ll be here before the press arrives.”

 
“I hope so, for your sake.” Selecting strawberries and toast, she took the seat beside Richard.

 
For a second Rick felt guilty that he’d put the diamond in her pocket without telling her, because he would have hell to pay if she found it before or during
the outing with the press. She was giving hell to Larson right now with no other ill effects, though, and if they made it until afterward, it would be worth the risk to prove to her that this superstitious nonsense was just that—nonsense. And that owning a diamond didn’t spell doom.

 
Chapter 5

 
Friday, 9:58 a.m.

 
Press cars and television vans were alreadylined up outside the main estate gates by the time Samantha and Larson walked through the garden to the old stable. The V & A crew had assembled from the hotel down the road where they’d been staying, and her security team had been doing patrols since the gems arrived yesterday.

 
Larson hit the day’s new security code and pulled open the door. Samantha helped her guys roll the metal detectors out from the doorframes and set up the purse-check tables. Privately, as both a former thief and a citizen of the world, she hated the idea of opening her private possessions for some stranger’s perusal, but neither did she have any intention of letting anybody in with so much as a pocket knife. She’d done jobs with just that much equipment.

 
The museum gang took up their information stations throughout the large room, while the remaining three
manned the small gift shop at the far end. So far, so good. She lifted her walkie-talkie. “How do we look, Craigson?” she asked.

 
“We’re good, Sam,” he replied in his Scottish brogue. “One hundred percent on cameras and sensors.”

 
“Okay. Have Hervey open the gates.”

 
“I’d like one of those walkies,” Larson said, coming up beside her.

 
“It’s my name on the contract, Larson,” she returned. “I’ll work the security with my team. If you want a radio, get your own guys to order around. Or hold drills for the museum personnel. You’re supposed to be their boss.”

 
“I don’t want to have to report your lack of cooperation to my superiors, Miss Jellicoe.”

 
“I gave you the security codes on your superiors’ say-so, Larson. That’s it. If anything goes hinky, then we’ll talk. Until then, you don’t get a walkie-talkie.”

 
His lips tightened. “I could order you to hand one over.”

 
“Go ahead.” She folded her arms across her chest. For once she hadn’t done anything shady to precipitate the law showing up, and she wasn’t about to let this guy walk all over her. She’d let him in the door, and that was already going to give her nightmares. Her, working with cops. Again.

 
“Give me a walkie-talkie.”

 
“No.”

 
“You have to.”

 
Samantha narrowed her eyes. “You might have gotten a tip from some rat about a possible robbery here. You might have bullied or conned Armand Montgomery and the V & A into letting you step in here. But I know my job, and I know you’re here because you told
your boss you’d use your own time to do it. That sounds to me like you want really bad to impress somebody, and that your career is in the crapper.”

 
He actually took a step backward. “I—”

 
“Now,” she cut in before he could get started, “if you’re actually here to keep an eye out for bad guys instead of to impress the gang at the Yard, that’s fine. Hang out, eat my strawberries, drink my sodas. But this ismy responsibility and it’s my show. You’re just the guy with the handcuffs and the shiny badge. Got it?”

 
A warm hand slipped around her upper arm. “Inspector, Samantha,” Rick drawled. “Put on your happy faces, because you’re about to make the evening news.”

 
Without giving her or Larson a chance to comment, he steered her toward the door. As soon as they were out of close earshot of anybody else, Samantha yanked her arm free. “Stay the fuck out of my business, will you? For the—”

 
“Two things,” he interrupted, putting on his placid professional face as he gazed toward the entrance. “First, things that affect you, affect me. So stop telling me to ignore that fact. Second, you live to a certain extent by virtue of your bravado. So do people like Inspector Larson. Tearing him down like you just did could be hazardous to his health. And by extension to ours, for as long as he’s here. Try to keep in mind that you two want the same thing.”

 
Samantha blew out her breath. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Smart-ass. I’m not apologizing.”

 
“I didn’t expect that you would.” Before she could head out through the door, Rick took her free hand. “Good luck.”

 
“Thanks.” She shrugged, tugging him forward before pulling free again. “But luck’s for schmucks.”

 
Holding his hand would have been nice, but Larson obviously thought she’d gotten this job because of Rick rather than because she deserved it. She damn well wasn’t going to give the press a jump-start to reaching the same conclusion.

 
Larson waited with Diane McCauley from the V & A just inside the entrance. He’d probably realized that if he went forward alone he would be faced with a lot of questions he couldn’t answer. Samantha led the way around to the front of the building where the press waited. Holy crap, she hated this part—the publicity, her face in print and on TV. In her past life, that would have been a death sentence.

 
“Good morning,” she said with a smile as they reached the herd of reporters. “I’m Sam Jellicoe, and I’m supplying the security for this exhibit. Sorry, but I’m not going to tell you about any of that. Instead, I’m happy to introduce Dr. Diane McCauley with the Victoria and Albert Museum, who’s been traveling with theAll That Glitters exhibit since its inception. Diane?”

 
Dr. McCauley stepped forward to explain the reasoning behind the exhibit and how it was determined which pieces should be included. Samantha moved out of the way as the museum thanked Rick for allowing them to use the beautiful Rawley Park location.

 
As soon as Samantha stopped beside Rick, cameras began clicking in earnest; apparently even after eight months the Addison-Jellicoe cohabitation was still big news. Bigger even than a ton of money in the form of precious gems.

 
“Hey, I have an idea,” she muttered, nudging Rick’s arm with her shoulder.

 
“Fishing in Scotland?”

 
“Donating the Nightshade Diamond to the exhibit. Nobody would be holding it or owning it, so nobody would have bad luck. Especially us.”

 
“Iwould have bad luck, because you would have forced me to give away a priceless family heirloom because of a bloody superstition.”

 
“Just wait until that safe of yours falls through the floor and kills Sykes or something.”

 
“Technically, according to Connoll’s note, since we’ve both seen it and have set it aside, we should havegood luck now.”

 
“Tell that to Sykes after he gets flattened. That thing was in a wall for two hundred years. It’s probably going a little wacky with the evil mojo.”

 
Diane finished her introduction and led the way to the entrance. The press filed through the metal detectors one by one, handing over cameras and bags for a quick inspection by her guys. Probably perfunctory, but if it got them to write a line about the exhibit’s tight security, it would be worth it.

 
One of the photographers turned around to snap a picture of her, grinned, and handed his camera over for inspection. Samantha shifted from annoyed to alert in the space of one hard beat of her heart.Shit .Shit, shit, shit .

 
“Are you all right?” Rick asked, touching her arm. “You look—”

 
“You know how much I love having my picture taken,” she improvised, shaking herself. “I’ll get over it.”

 
Okay, Rick was wrong about having good luck once they set the diamond aside, and she was right about the bad juju. And Henry Larson’s stupid tip had been correct; someone was making plans to hit the exhibit. She just hadn’t expected that it would be Bryce Shepherd.

 
How the hell had he gotten press credentials? Of course she could have done it, and easily. In fact, she would probably have approached this gig in exactly the same way—go in legitimately, at a time when photos would be allowed, and use the pictures to create a layout and pinpoint any weaknesses in security. Samantha took a breath, working to keep her expression the alert and calm one she’d been practicing all morning. That had been for the benefit of their guests, though now she had to convince Rick, too—at least until she figured out what was going on.

 
Bryce Shepherd. Dammit.

 
“I think I’ll go mingle,” she told Rick, “just to make sure nobody touches anything they shouldn’t.”

 
He nodded. “This is your moment, Sam. I’ll join Larson and try to puff up his punctured ego a bit.”

 
“Don’t go overboard with that,” she returned, because he would expect her to.

 
She left his side and strolled up to the entrance. The last of the press passed through, and with a quick word of thanks to her team, she skirted the detector to follow them in.

 
A quarter of the way through the exhibit she spotted him, leaning over a case of sapphires that showed their progression from raw form to exquisite piece of jewelry. She cleared her throat.

 
“Surprise,” he murmured in his charming Irish brogue, his gaze still on the gems. “You’ve got some real beauties here.”

 
“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.

 
He lifted his head, lanky blonde hair falling across his deep brown eyes. “Is that any way to say hello to an old friend, sweetheart?”

 
“Don’t call me that.”

 
“As pleases you, Sammi—though I know about doing that as well, don’t I, now?”

 
It took everything she had to keep from looking over her shoulder for Rick. “Do you even have film in that thing?” she asked, indicating his professional-looking camera. “Or are you just here to bother me?”

 
“Ah, Sam, it’s not always about you. Sometimes it’s about some very fine jewelry. And I’ve gone digital—it’s easier to crop out the parts you don’t need. Like that rich fella, for instance.”