Family Jewels Read online

  Being barred from her home and the work she needed to do was bad enough. Not being able to find Moses anywhere was unbearable! Her brave cat had vanished from her apartment after the attack. To make matters worse, the police made it pretty clear that her lost pet was not their concern.

  Staying at a public shelter didn’t appeal to her at all. She chose this hotel because it was closer to home and to the possibility of finding Moses. Of course, it also provided more privacy. Nobody, not even the police, knew what she’d taken from her safe hidden in the bathroom wall.

  And it was none of their business.

  The leather backpack with the diamond inside it rested on the ground beside the hot tub, well within her reach if need be. There was no way she’d be able to leave it in the hotel room unattended.

  After getting settled in her room, Cynthia called Mr. Andrews again. As with her two previous calls, his phone switched to voicemail immediately. She waited impatiently for the beep and left him another message.

  He’d be very concerned about his diamond and the certificate, wouldn’t he? Meeting him in public would allow her to explain about the foiled burglary incident and let him know she’d kept his precious gem safe. Her reputation in the business depended on him believing that.

  One whisper of unprofessional conduct would snuff out her career faster than a candle flame in a hurricane.

  With nothing to do and no chance of getting any sleep, waiting around in her hotel room proved agonizing. The temptation of the hotel’s all-glass enclosed rooftop pool and spa captured her interest. Cynthia called the front desk and bought a swimsuit from the lobby store which was already open. She gave the smiling Latino maid a nice tip for bringing it to her room. When she left her apartment a few hours ago, all she’d taken was her purse, a single change of clothing stuffed into her small backpack and her jeweler’s case from her bathroom safe.

  The pale green swimsuit stretched uncomfortably tight across her breasts and dipped much lower in front than she liked. It also rode up her hips, crept in between her butt cheeks and squeezed the sensitive lips of her pussy together when she walked. She squirmed in the bubbling water now, pulling and tugging at the taut fabric, trying desperately to relax.

  Every nerve inside her body was still keyed up for action. She needed release that didn’t involve either alcohol or drugs. There was only one way she knew how to soothe herself.

  Unfortunately she hadn’t thought to pack her favorite toy—a pink jelly Rabbit vibrator. Thinking about how snugly the thick shaft filled her pussy and how nicely those bunny ears felt while they worked magic on her clit had her juices flowing. The simple ecstasy of self-pleasure always did the trick to relax her body and mind. Why not now? She had all the privacy she needed.

  The door to the pool area squeaked open and then slammed shut. Her eyes flew wide open. So much for privacy and fantasies. She twisted sideways in the water for a better view of the entrance.

  A tall dark-haired man walked in. His mouth and angular jaw were set in tight lines. Dark brows arched over piercing blue eyes, ruthless and hard-looking. His hair needed a trim. It tumbled over his forehead and curled at the base of his neck. The look was roguish, rebellious. A white hotel bathrobe draped his broad shoulders and hung open down the center of his body, giving her an eyeful of a sculpted chest and stomach. She glimpsed a navy blue swimsuit covering his groin. After a quick glance in her direction and a single nod to acknowledge her presence, he headed for the pool.

  Raw desire stabbed into Cynthia like the tines of a fork into a sizzling, rare steak. She closed her eyes in an effort to diffuse the urgency inside her. After just a few seconds she was unable to resist and peeked at him from behind her lashes. When he dropped his robe on a lounge chair her eyes widened in disbelief.

  Ho-lee, mo-lee! The man was built like every red-blooded heterosexual girl’s wet dream. Was he a professional athlete staying at the hotel while in town for a competition? She bit the inside of her cheek when he stretched his arms overhead. Muscles surged across his shoulders and back, tapering down to a lean waist and tight butt. Long powerful legs propelled him off the edge and into the water.

  So that’s what working out eight hours a day does to your body.

  Such masculine beauty didn’t exist for ordinary women who dated ordinary men. Her ex-boyfriend had been cute in his own way. But he didn’t look anything like the dreamy man swimming in the pool only ten steps away. This guy was fiction incarnate.

  Cynthia stifled a moan. She had a new reason to squirm in the hot tub now. Her pussy lips swelled and ached with renewed need. She’d never felt a man like that one in her arms or in bed. Nick had had a slim build, not very well defined. He liked to skip the enticing preliminaries of lovemaking unless she reminded him she needed it—wanted a little playful licking and touching first. And being the same height as he was Cynthia often suspected she weighed almost as much as he did too. That was embarrassing.

  But a man who looked like the one in the pool, tall and hard, he’d be stronger and weigh a lot more. Oh yes, he’d fulfill a fantasy or two.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts and rubbed her semi-hard nipples with her thumbs, then pinched them until they firmed into pebbles. The pulsing desire between her legs grew more urgent.

  Just to make sure she still had total privacy in the hot tub Cynthia peeked out toward the pool. The hard-bodied demigod sliced through water with the ease of a shark, totally oblivious to her self-pleasure. Smiling and feeling safe from prying eyes, she sank down until hot water lapped at her earlobes. She braced one foot on the wall and spread her thighs wide. If she angled her hips just right, a stream of hot water jetted across her pussy.

  She closed her eyes and delved into her own pleasure. One hand thrummed and pulled on her nipples, alternating between both tight nubs to keep them hard and peaked. Her other hand slid down between her thighs. She pushed the swimsuit fabric aside and stroked the exposed, silky inner lips of her pussy.

  The man in the pool would be great in bed, wouldn’t he? Oh God, I bet he’d have the stamina to fuck me all night long.

  With the jet pounding delicious heat against her eager flesh it didn’t take much stimulation using her fingertip on the plump bud of her clit. She tried to prolong her pleasure but it came too fast. Waves of ecstasy washed through her body, starting inside her belly and spreading like slow, liquid fire right down to her toes. She arched in the water with her climax, barely remembering to bite her lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

  “Mmm,” a man’s voice murmured appreciatively. “That was beautiful, darling.”

  Cynthia’s eyes snapped open. She gasped, scrambling upright in the water. The man she’d been lasciviously fantasizing about wasn’t swimming anymore…oh no. He stood at the edge of the hot tub and looked directly down at her. A thoroughly devilish smile turned up the corners of his lips.

  Suddenly, she was too hot. Her cheeks burned and sweat beaded her forehead. She cleared her throat, loudly, keeping her eyes averted while she tried to figure out what to say, what to do.

  “Would you mind if I joined you?”

  His accent was British, very clear and crisp, the tone of his voice deep. Smooth. Sexy. A bedroom voice. And, oh God! He waited for her permission to come into the hot tub. That would be entirely too close. She risked a quick glance. Water dripped off his chest, arms and legs. She didn’t dare look directly at the bulging package tucked inside his wet swimsuit. From her peripheral vision it was obvious enough that he was aroused. When she glanced quickly at his face, humor and interest flared in his dark blue eyes. He cocked an eyebrow at her swift but thorough perusal.

  “I should get out now.” She stood up and moved through the water toward the steps.

  “What a shame. I was hoping to share.”

  Cynthia stepped out of the water and picked up her towel, quickly wrapping it around her body. When she tucked it tight in front, she noticed her skin was as pink as a strawberry. “I’m sorry. I thought I w
as…I thought you were—”

  “I’m not sorry at all.” The interest in his eyes hardened for a brief second, into something dark and dangerous. “I rather enjoy seeing a woman pleasure herself to orgasm. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s intriguing.”

  “Wh-what?” she coughed. “Excuse me. I have to go.”

  She picked up her backpack with its precious hidden cargo and spun around on her bare heel. Clutching her towel with as much dignity as possible she moved quickly to the door. As handsome as he was, thank God, she’d never see him again.

  Chapter Five

  Arriving at the Sixth Police Precinct building before nine a.m. the first thing Trevor had to do was temporarily relinquish possession of both his firearms. Even though he worked for Interpol, was an officer with international jurisdiction, he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t American.

  The black female police officer who maintained order in the lobby greeted him with cold disdain after she asked for and read his ID. She stored his weapons behind a locked gate, pocketed the key and motioned with a crook of her finger for him to follow. He stepped aside to allow her through the door first and dogged her heels through the maze to Captain Darren Hill’s office.

  The police building was a veritable zoo inside. Desks crammed every corner of available floor space. Phones never stopped ringing. Neither did the shouting from one person to the next. Bright fluorescent lighting overhead cast an unhealthy green tint onto everyone’s skin, no matter what their natural color. Criminals stumbled past wearing handcuffs and occasionally shackles too. They were either locked to a desk like errant dogs for processing or spent their time lounging behind the bars of a holding cell at the far end.

  The noise and activity amused Trevor more than it disgusted him. Police stations were pretty similar all over the world. The effective word to describe them was “crowded”. He was very grateful he’d chosen to be a field operative instead of a normal grunt working inside an office like this one.

  Leading him through the labyrinth and up the stairs, Sergeant Mary Moser waddled ahead in her tight uniform. Her generous hips sashayed from side to side with her walk. A swishing noise rasped from the fabric that rubbed between her generous thighs. He wondered if strict police standards for proper weight and a strong physique didn’t apply to those assigned to desk work. This woman certainly wouldn’t be able to run after a swiftly fleeing crook. But if she caught them, he had no doubt she’d keep them in place until help arrived.

  Sgt. Moser sidestepped a box on the floor overflowing with paper files and stopped at an office, rapping her chubby knuckles on the half-opened door.

  “Captain? This is Agent St. James, from Interpol. You’re expecting him.”

  Without waiting for further instructions, Sgt. Moser turned and left. Captain Darren Hill swiveled his leather chair around to face the door. “Ah, finally. Yes, come in.”

  Very short, silver hair frosted Hill’s temples, leaving the top of his head bald and gleaming in the light. A pair of bushy eyebrows weighed heavily over sharp hazel-brown eyes. He removed half-rimmed reading glasses and tucked them inside his breast pocket. Beneath his sagging chin heavy jowls protested the tight knot of a patriotic American flag tie. Gray sweat stains at both armpits marred the crisp white fabric of his shirt.

  He stood up, shorter than Trevor expected and extended a hand in greeting. The bulk of his belly brushed over the loose papers on his desk.

  “Welcome to our home away from home,” he said.

  Trevor shook his hand, not surprised at the firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Captain Hill.”

  Hill turned back to his leather chair and settled his body into it with a groan. “Damn cold weather makes my arthritis act up. Have a chair. Coffee?” He gestured to the corner where a pot of dark liquid rested on a hot plate.

  “Yes, thanks.” Trevor helped himself to a cup and selected one of the straight-backed swivel chairs in front of the captain’s desk for his seat.

  Hill shuffled the loose papers together, piled them up and tucked them into a manila folder. He stabbed a blunt finger on the folder and then slid it across his desk. “These are for you to deal with.” He leaned back into his chair and folded his hands over his ample stomach.

  “Thank you.” Trevor eyed the folder. It was awfully thin. Not much paperwork to go by and probably less than he already knew about the case.

  Hill grunted. “Since this incident with Miss Lyons early this morning, the mayor’s office informed me that it’s now an international investigation under your command.”

  “Yes, it is. I appreciate your help and cooperation, Captain.”

  The older man scratched his flabby chin. “How long have you been on this case, Agent?”

  Trevor stared into the dark depths of his coffee cup, trying to decide how much information to impart without seeming rude and secretive. Doing that only served to make a fellow cop dig deeper. Generalities were pretty safe, if transparent. He sipped his coffee as a stall tactic surprised to find this was one cup that didn’t taste half as bad as television shows always made it out to be.

  “I’ve been working this case for six months,” he said, “following the trail across most of Europe and now here in America.”

  The older man listened quietly, pushing out his fat lower lip. “You cover a lot of territory. Strange that something as small as a local burglary attempt could attract Interpol’s attention. This isn’t just about a foiled attempt at burglary, is it?”

  “No,” Trevor sighed. “I’m afraid it’s much more complicated than that.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed. “That must be why I get the feeling there’s more going on than Miss Lyons is letting us know. She has something you want, doesn’t she? Something of value. A large diamond, perhaps? But there’s more to it. I can feel it.”

  Tiny hairs on the back of Trevor’s neck prickled with warning. How much had Miss Lyons let them know? He’d figured she would be defensive and not say much. As a whole, jewelers and gemologists tended to be a tight-lipped bunch. Introverted and paranoid. Very secretive. Had he been wrong?

  “No offense but I’m not at liberty to discuss the finer details with you, Captain. Or anyone else. For Interpol Command to contact your mayor in the first place and give me total control of the case after you’ve started an investigation along the same lines takes a lot of cooperation between our organizations. If your mayor didn’t agree with that I wouldn’t be here.”

  Hill grunted again and then leaned his chair back to stare up at the ceiling tiles over his desk. He blew a long, whistling breath through his nose.

  Trevor cleared his throat. He’d had enough conversation with him to understand the man was curious—which was natural and expected. But too curious hinted at something else entirely, especially regarding the nature of this job. “Is Miss Lyons still available for questioning?”

  Hill smiled but his hazel gaze was sharp enough to pierce a hole through steel plate. He straightened his posture and reached for a button on his desk phone. It buzzed like an angry bee trapped beneath his plump fingertip.

  “Yeah, Captain?” said a man’s voice through the intercom.

  “Tell Ed and Jack their time’s up. Our special agent has arrived. He’ll take over.”

  “Sure thing, Captain. Is he comin’ down here? Or do I bring the lady upstairs?”

  “Bring Miss Lyons up. She can leave with him.”

  He folded his meaty hands together and leaned his elbows on his desk. Tense lines drew the captain’s mouth down, making him look like he’d bitten into something rotten and didn’t know how or where to spit it out.

  “I don’t like having my hands tied behind my back, Agent St. James. I answer to the mayor but this is still my jurisdiction. Miss Lyons is a lifelong law-abiding citizen of this proud city. Here, possession is nine-tenths of the law and as far as we can see she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  Trevor nodded agreeably, finished his coffee and tossed the empty foam cup into
the wastebasket without looking at it. An uneasy silence followed.

  “Do we understand each other, Agent St. James?”

  “Trust me, Captain Hill, you’re not the first to question my absolute authority on a case. In my line of work certain rules must bend. If they can’t bend, they’ll be broken. I won’t take anything from anyone that isn’t freely given. After I question Miss Lyons I’ll be on my way and she can continue to be a good citizen in your proud city.”

  The captain murmured a guttural sound that could be interpreted as agreement. Or not. Trevor decided to project a calm, unruffled appearance. The Americans were a protective lot especially in New York City. It would be best if he allowed Hill to freely express his misdirected frustration about losing control of this case without getting equally ruffled. He hoped his lack of verbal confrontation helped the man see that he was just doing his job.

  Hill continued to grumble like a dog worrying a meaty bone. “As long as you understand I won’t make things easy if this all goes apeshit on you.”

  Trevor lifted an eyebrow. Apeshit?

  “Make your investigation here quick and painless, Agent,” Hill continued, “because if you piss in my pond I will make life hell for you.”

  Trevor smiled affably. A knock sounded on the door behind him. He turned to see an older uniformed male officer slouched in the doorway, blocking Trevor’s view of the woman who stood quietly behind him.

  “Captain? Miss Lyons is ready to go,” the officer said.

  The man stepped aside, moving with a noticeable limp. The woman behind him moved up and smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Officer Riley. It was nice talking with you. When you want that fortieth wedding anniversary ring let me know and I’ll create something really special for you.”

  The officer’s smile creased his entire face with deep but happy lines. “Thank you miss. I sure will. You take care of yourself.”

  She stepped into the office. Well, well. Here was the lovely young woman who’d masturbated in the whirlpool. His cock twitched eagerly inside his pants. She’d left him standing there with a raging hard-on that he feared would rip through his swim trunks. It wasn’t her actions that turned him rock-hard as much as the complete and open pleasure that played on her face. After witnessing her erotic sensual display he’d returned to his room and jacked off in the shower. That had only served to leave him feeling rather cheated and hollow, especially since all he could think about was sinking his cock into her tight, curvy little body.