Partners in Crime, page 20
The fire alarm stopped, but his phone ring took its place. The vibration in his hand shocked them both. He spun away and answered it, not realizing until he did that it was a video call. “Naveen, I woke up to a missed text from you, I was worried—” His mom stopped. “Was that . . . that wasn’t Amira that was just behind you?”
Fuck. He looked over his shoulder at Mira, who stood frozen after having taken two giant steps out of frame of his camera. “Uh. Yes.”
“Interesting.” His mom drew the word out. “Very interesting.”
“Mom, we’ll talk about this later.”
“We most certainly will.” His mom’s eyebrows were pushed so high, they’d nearly disappeared under her hair. “I didn’t know you were still in contact with her.”
“Yeah, it’s a recent thing.”
She lowered her voice. “She was your first match from Hema.”
“I know, Mom.”
“I liked her very much.”
He grimaced. His mother had loved Mira. “I know. Mom, don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, I wanted to make sure you were fine.”
“Where are you? What’s that fake necklace behind you? It’s so gaudy. Wait, are you in a jewelry store? Is there one open late?” Her voice rose. “Naveen, why are you texting from a Nevada number, are you buying your ex-girlfriend a fake diamond ring in Las Vegas and getting married in some tacky ceremony?”
“No, no—”
“Wait,” Mira whispered. “Did she say fake?”
“Of course I said fake, I can spot good jewelry ten miles away,” his mother said loudly. “Just like I can spot a real Vermeer, like the one next to it. Though that’s odd, I thought that one was stolen years ago, I must be rusty on my art history. Amira, if my son is buying you diamonds, please make sure they’re real. I can’t be embarrassed like that.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mom, I’m going to call you back.”
“Wait!”
He paused. “Yes?”
Anxiousness drew his mom’s face tight. “I know what this is. My sweetie, it’s okay.”
Mom, stop calling me your sweetie in front of Mira. “What’s okay?”
“I know why you reached out to me. Your grandfather said you called him, too. Now I see you in Las Vegas with your ex and lying about a date. You found out, didn’t you? Your brother didn’t purposefully keep the baby a secret—”
“Wait, wait. Baby?” He took a few steps away from Mira without even thinking about it. “Kiran had a baby?”
She stopped, like she realized she’d said too much. “Payal’s six months along. I thought you knew. Oh no.”
He puffed out his cheeks. “I did not know.” He wasn’t sure exactly what he thought about this, beyond shock, but he was abruptly reminded of where they were when he shifted, the floorboard creaking. Right. They were in the process of stealing jewelry from an extremely rich man.
Fake jewelry? No. Impossible. “I have to go, Mom. We can talk about this later.”
She nodded meekly. “Please call me back. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow.”
“I will.” He shook his head to recover from the curve ball she’d thrown him. “Make sure your alarm’s on. You’re okay, right?”
“Not with fake diamonds for your new girl. I demand you have the wedding I dreamed of for you, Naveen! Not some Elvis dancing schmancing one.”
“There’s no wedding,” he said, mildly desperate. “Goodbye Mom.” He hung up, both thrilled she was fine and horrified by the whole conversation.
He turned to Mira. She was watching him with detached interest. “Your brother is having a baby?”
“It seems that way.”
“Congratulations. Is Payal his wife?”
“Yes. His wife.” Naveen shifted his weight from one foot to another. “My ex-fiancée.”
Loud footsteps cut off any response she might have made. They froze for a second, then Mira reached behind her and unzipped her dress. The fabric sagged on her front, and he barely had a chance to process that before she launched herself into his arms.
Oh. Yes, he was on board with this plan.
This had the added advantage of his getting to kiss her, though he wouldn’t focus on the kissing, not when they had their lives on the line.
He wouldn’t focus on it . . . much.
Her lips softened against his, and parted slightly. He flicked his tongue out, collected her sighs. She tasted like spearmint.
Adrenaline and fear pulsed together with lust, turning into a heady cocktail that zapped his brain cells. Her breasts were soft and heavy against his chest. He placed one hand on her hip and pulled her close, his other hand drifting down her back, pausing briefly to skate over the clasp of her bra. Her skin was so soft and warm. He rested his fingers just below the small of her back, his knuckles pushing the fabric down. If he flexed his fingers slightly, he could finally get that good look he’d wanted before. Or, at least, a good feel.
That didn’t happen, though, because the next sound that pierced his hunger was a throat clearing. And it didn’t come from either of them.
Chapter Fourteen
Mira considered herself a woman who always had her wits about her, but not when she kissed Naveen.
At some point, she’d stop being shocked by how good he was at the art of lip-locking, but that point wasn’t during this kiss. His hands were heavy and hot on her hips and back, and they molded to her body. He used to love her butt. She hoped he still did.
That too-perfect mouth moved over hers, ready to find out every single one of her secrets. How could she have been ready to settle into a passion-less marriage?
Because a passion like this could sweep you away, and that’s really terrifying.
When he yanked his lips away, she nearly groaned and dragged him back. Then she heard the sound behind them.
Oh, right. They were in the middle of a heist. See, the passion was a problem. It made her forget everything.
Mira whirled around, holding her dress to her chest. The two men standing there stared pointedly above hers and Naveen’s heads. They looked like twins, both bald with shiny heads, in dark suits. “You’re not supposed to be up here,” one of the men growled.
“Oh, um. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear anyone. Oh gosh. So sorry,” she babbled, and her dismay wasn’t an act, even if she’d intended the kiss to be.
She reached behind her awkwardly to zip up her dress, but Naveen was already there. He quickly did up the closure. He placed his hands on her shoulders, subtly moved her aside and came to stand in front of her. “Gentlemen, apologies.”
“You’re not supposed to be up here,” the man repeated again.
Naveen adjusted his jacket. “My fiancée and I were merely looking for a private spot.”
“The first floor is for guests.”
“We weren’t aware.” Naveen gave them a smile. Neither of them reciprocated. “Hey, we’re sorry. The alarm was going off, and it was quieter in here, is all. We’ll get out of your hair.” Naveen took a step, and the two men moved as one to block him, folding their arms over their chests.
They looked like an impenetrable wall of muscle. “Our boss would like to speak with you first.”
Oh no. Oh no, oh no. The boss had to be Wyatt. How had the man found out about them so quickly?
Because they’d been right, and it had been too easy for them to get in here. Either this had been a trap, or they’d tripped some alarm. Fuck.
To his credit, Naveen didn’t look bothered at all. “There’s no need for him to be called away from the party.” His hand tightened on hers, belying his cool facade. “If you don’t mind, we’ll leave.”
“We mind.” One of the men moved his suit jacket, revealing a gun. A big, scary gun.
Mira froze. How many times could they be threatened with a gun today?
“Come on, guys,” Naveen said easily. She’d learned that soothing kindergarten-teacher voice was his de-escalataion tactic, the one he used to try to get everyone to do what he wanted. It hadn’t worked amazingly well tonight, but she was willing to let him try. “We got engaged yesterday, and we wanted some time together. You understand how it is, right?”
Why had she left their gun in the car? They should have brought it with them, even if she would have had to get creative with where she stashed it. Her dress wasn’t exactly meant to hold a weapon. There were no pockets, which was maddening. She’d had to hide the lighter and her phone in her bra.
“Our boss is very curious about anyone who seeks privacy in certain areas of his home.” The man walked to the wall and pressed against it. The section swung open, revealing another room.
The man motioned. “This way.”
As cool as a secret hidden room was, Mira didn’t believe that going inside one could ever lead to a positive thing. Especially if guns were involved. “I’d love to speak with him,” she said weakly. “But I’m sure he’s enjoying the party. We’ll go down and say hi.” She took a step backward and walked right into a brick wall.
Slowly, she tilted her head back. A third bald man had appeared behind her, and he raised an almost invisible eyebrow. Was being hairless a prerequisite of working for Wyatt? “On second thought, we’ll go with you,” she finished.
The wall behind her grunted and jerked his head toward the secret door. Mira slowly started to walk, and Naveen followed, after a brief hesitation.
They entered the door to find a small office, dimly lit by a lamp on a huge wooden desk. Two leather chairs faced the desk. There were more bookshelves in here. She was sure part of Naveen’s brain was cataloging the impressive library and stuffing it into the recesses of his book-loving brain.
Did his fiancée love books, too?
She shushed the catty voice inside her. Why did it bother her at all that Naveen had gotten engaged to the next woman Hema had brought along? It shouldn’t. Not after Mira had been the one to end things.
And it was his ex-fiancée. There were a million questions she’d wanted to ask about that, including what the hell had happened with his brother, but they’d been interrupted. She wasn’t sure it was her place, even if they hadn’t been.
“Sit,” one of the goons growled.
“Gentlemen, I fear you’re taking this a bit too seriously. We have apologized—” The guy with the gun opened his suit jacket again, and Naveen shut his mouth. He gave Mira a glance, but she was similarly at a loss.
Mira lowered herself into a chair, her mind racing a million miles an hour. She had anticipated this as a worst-case scenario, of course. Her anxiety allowed her to do nothing else.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time to formulate a real plan for what they would do if they were confronted by the man they were stealing stolen jewels from.
She held her breath, until her head grew light. What were they going to do?
Before she could spiral fully into panic, a light touch brushed her hand. She looked at Naveen in the chair next to her. He gave her a slight shake of his head, and that was all she needed to take a deep breath. One-by-one, she relaxed her fingers.
He leaned over and murmured into her ear. “Sunil knows where we are. We’ll get through this, don’t worry.”
Don’t worry. Ha. Worrying over all the worst possibilities was how she’d made it this far in life. Anxiety was her one and only superpower.
We’ll get through this.
In the beginning when he’d said that tonight, it had been resentful, then it had been a promise. This time, and she didn’t think it was her imagination, the emphasis was hard on that first word. For most of her life, it had been I.
We had been what she’d sought with her whole foray into finding a husband, what she’d been chasing for the better part of the last three years.
No wonder she’d chased it so hard. It was heady, this sense of us against the world. They were a unit. Partners.
It’s only for tonight, and out of necessity. Do not get comfortable.
She settled for pressing her palm to Naveen’s and letting his larger fingers close over hers. The guards hadn’t searched the two of them yet. They still had their phones. Naveen could fake appendicitis. She could . . . something-something related to her period? That had used to work when she was a kid in gym.
Before she could respond, the door behind them opened and closed. Mira didn’t stiffen—no need to make them look guiltier—but she couldn’t help but internally sweat when the owner of the house rounded the desk and braced his hands on it, smiling benignly down at them. She didn’t trust that smile one little bit.
Naveen was muscular like a runner. Steve Wyatt was muscular like a wrestler. His tux was high quality, but Mira didn’t find that surprising. He had the money for a gold-encrusted suit.
“Hello, there,” he said to them, and the soft tone coming out of his broad face surprised her. “I understand you two wandered into an off-limits area of my home.”
Mira blinked at the greeting. Was it . . . was it possible that the man wasn’t furious about that? Or was this like a creepy silent rage kind of calm?
The same thing seemed to occur to Naveen. He cleared his throat. “We do apologize, sir. My fiancée and I got engaged yesterday, and we were looking for privacy.” He winked at the man, and if Mira wasn’t in a pickle, she might be annoyed at the boys-will-be-boys smirk.
“Oh, engaged.” Wyatt dragged the word out and sank into the seat behind the desk. The wood was a three-foot-wide expanse between them. “Congratulations. Amira Patel, right? Thank you for your generous contribution to the cause tonight.”
Mira blinked. Perhaps, for the first time tonight, Naveen was going to talk them out of something. “Yes. That’s my name.”
“I looked you up,” Wyatt continued. “You’re from L.A., right? An accountant. Hefty donation you made on an accountant’s salary.”
Shit.
“I do well.” She crossed her legs.
“It’s funny, you don’t seem to have much of a history in philanthropic circles.”
“We do our philanthropy quietly,” Mira added, as regally as possible. That wasn’t a lie. She wouldn’t be caught dead telling everyone who or what she donated to.
“What’s your name, again?” Wyatt asked Naveen. “The list said ‘and guest.’”
Fuck. They’d been so focused on getting in, they hadn’t created an elaborate enough cover story for them.
In her mind, she imagined her father tsking and shaking his head. Amateur move, Mira. You should have been more prepared. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.
“Kiran,” Naveen supplied.
Wyatt’s smile slipped. “I can tell you’re both lying. FYI, I don’t care for people casing my home, let alone when I’m hosting a charity event. Taking out trash at a time like this is inconvenient as far as my public image goes.”
Mira drew herself up, trying to look as dignified as possible. “We certainly weren’t casing.”
“No?”
“No. In fact, if the bathroom hadn’t been occupied, we would have stayed on the first floor and we wouldn’t be in this situation. Perhaps you should work on having more restrooms for your guests.”
A glimmer of amusement lit Wyatt’s eyes. “Are you saying this is my fault? Because I don’t have kissing booths on the first floor?”
She folded her arms over her chest. It was a losing argument, of course, but she had no choice but to go down with this ship. Fake it. She was good at that, playing the cold bitch until people were unnerved. “Yes.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded at his bodyguards. “I have to return to my party. Hold them here. We’ll question them after and figure out what to do with them.”
Oh no.
The clock on the mantel chimed on the hour, as if to remind them of their rapidly dwindling time.
Naveen shifted. “I don’t think you want to do that, sir.”
Wyatt leaned back and adjusted his cuffs. “Why not?”
“People know we’re here. They’ll call the police when we vanish all night, and I don’t think you want the police to know what kind of art you have in here. I saw at least three paintings back in that room that I bet have fairly questionable provenance. That Vermeer, for example, is stolen property.”
Something flashed in Wyatt’s eyes, something dark. Mira tensed. “What do you know about my art?”
“We know a good chunk of it’s not from legitimate sources.” Mira wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. “Like the necklace.”
Wyatt paused, then glanced at the bodyguards, standing at attention. He nodded at them, and they left.
When the three of them were alone, he linked his hands over the desk. Wyatt’s smile was calm. “Uncertain origins make things fun, in the collector world, you know?”
That wasn’t how the law worked, but Mira wasn’t about to explain how theft made all future sales of a piece void. They had bigger fish to fry.
“Who are you two, exactly?”
Mira willed herself to be calm, pulse even. “My name’s Mira Chaudhary, and this is my friend, Naveen Desai.”
Wyatt stiffened. “Wait a fucking minute. I thought you looked familiar.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re Vassar’s kid.”
“Guilty.”
“Son of a bitch.” He drew himself up, somehow making himself look even bigger. “That snake? You’re coming in here to, what? Rip me off like your dad and his buddy did?”
Naveen leaned forward. “Listen, her dad took the necklace he sold you from someone named Cobra.”
“Yeah, I know that.” He waved his hands impatiently. “I didn’t care where Vassar got it from. He cheated me. The diamonds in there are fake, the asshole switched them out.”
Mira inhaled. “What?”
Wyatt pushed back from the desk. “Stay here.” He left the room through the secret entrance.
Mira looked at Naveen. “Your mom needs to work for a jeweler, if she can spot a fake in a second over a video call.”
“No kidding.”
Wyatt returned and tossed the diamond necklace to Naveen, who caught it in midair. Again, his fast reflexes impressed her.
