The French Detective's Woman (37 page)

Never mind. His partner was as reliable as they came. He’d see everything went down exactly as it should, leading right up to the final arrests.

In the meantime, Jean-Marc walked determinedly to the service elevator, folded his arms over his chest and took up his stance in front of it.
No one
was getting past him tonight.

“All right, men,” he ordered. “Positions, everyone.”

No turning back now. He thought grimly of Ciara, and the guilt and apprehension nearly overwhelmed him. But there was no calling it off, even if he wanted to. The trap was in place.

All he could do was pray his quarry walked into it.

♥♥♥

“Goddamn it, Beck!” Ciara sputtered angrily. She could not
believe
what was happening. “Only a fool would take the cash! Money is traceable. Besides, the diamonds are worth twice this amount. And they’re unmarked!”

She had managed to talk Beck into lowering his gun, but the man was adamant. He wanted the cash, not the diamonds.

“How much is in the case?” Beck demanded for the fourth time. He whipped his gun up again, pointing at her face. “Tell me or I’ll—”

“Six million euros,” said Valois, who had been silent up until now. For a man about to lose a substantial chunk of change, he seem strangely unperturbed.

“For six million, I’ll take my chances. Open the briefcase, bitch.” Beck’s gun jerked in warning.

Jetting out a furious breath, she snapped open the metal locks and raised the lid as Valois held it. Beck dug down to the bottom of the case and carefully inspected several bundles, fanning the bills to be sure they were legit.

Cackling like a hen who’d just been fed, he said, “Now close it up and hand it over.”

“No.” Her firm refusal reverberated down the hall, surprising both men. “Go ahead and shoot me. I’m not giving you the damn money.”

Hell, paranoid as Villalobo was, if he thought he’d been betrayed, she was good as dead anyway.

Becks gun-slide cocked menacingly. “Hand it over,
connasse
, or you’re dead!”

“You can wait for the diamonds like we agreed,” she gritted out.

“Ciara, listen to the man,” Valois pleaded softly. “I can handle Villalobo. Trust me,
ma petite.
” He looked at her imploringly.

She ground her teeth together, trying to decide what to do. Hell, the old man had faced down Nazis. He could probably handle one slime bag drug dealer. And as for Beck, catching him with stolen cash wasn’t as damning as blood diamonds, but he’d still go to jail. Which meant Sofie could press charges for rape without fearing for her life.

“Okay fine,” she acceded. “But I’m warning you, leave the country tonight and don’t ever come back. Or I’ll tell Villalobo exactly who double-crossed his deal.”

Beck snorted, grabbing the case from her. “If you live past tonight. Goodbye bitch. Give Sofie my love.”

And with that he was gone.

Ciara spit out a choice oath, then turned to Valois. “God, I’m sorry. I can’t believe Beck did this. All your money, gone.”

“Not to worry. There’s more where that came from.”

“Like I could ask you to do that. Damn, I could
kill
him!”

Valois sighed, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Listen,
ma petite
, there’s something I must tell you.”

“Later. Right now I need to find—”

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said from behind her.

She spun. And was overjoyed to see Pierre Rousselot standing there. He didn’t hold a gun in his hand, but one was tucked under his tuxedo jacket in a holster, clearly visible.

“Thank God! Just who I wanted to see,” she burst out in relief. “
Brigadier
Louis Beck just stole six million euros from this man. He’s getting away. You—”

“Yes, I know all about that,” Pierre interrupted, a slight curl to his lip.

“You need to go after him! Call Jean-Marc. He’ll tell you—”

“Forget Jean-Marc. He’s busy downstairs.”

“But Beck—”

“Forget about Beck, too. We have more important things to take care of.”

Her jaw dropped. What was going on? Then suddenly, she faltered. Oh, God...
He and CoCo
—
She should have listened to her instincts
. Painful as they were.

“You want the diamonds,” she said, her heart breaking in a million pieces. CoCo had been like a little sister. Her betrayal cut like a razor.

But the betrayers were going to be very disappointed.

“The buy will go as planned,” Pierre said. “With one small change. I’ll be accompanying you as a bodyguard. We’re already late. Let’s go.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she informed him acidly as he took her arm in a vise-like grip and towed her along the corridor toward the Palm room, Valois following along behind. “There’s no money.”

The news didn’t faze Pierre, or slow him. “Not a problem,” he said. “Monsieur Valois has kindly made available an equivalent amount in a bank in Switzerland. Villalobo prefers electronic transfer anyway. More cash is the last thing a drug dealer needs.”

“You spoke to Valois about this?” she asked, stunned. “Before tonight?”

“I was trying to tell you,” Valois murmured.

She wanted to cry. So CoCo and Pierre had deceived the old man, too, to gain his cooperation. And now he’d be out twelve million instead of six. Ciara had no idea what he was worth, but that had to be a good slice of it.

As they approached the Palm room, she hissed, “You’ll never get aw—”

“Quiet!” Pierre ordered.

Two gorillas guarding the door saw them, and immediately reached for hidden weapons. “Private game,” one said in broken French. “Get lost.”

“
Señor
Villalobo is expecting
Monsieur
Valois,” Pierre told them.

One guard opened the door, exchanged a few words with someone in the room, then jerked his head at Valois. “
Solo el viejo
.”

Over her dead body
. “Not a chance,” Ciara said firmly. “I’m his diamond expert. I have to go in, too.”

“And I’m his bodyguard,” Pierre said. “He goes nowhere without me. It’s all three of us, or we walk away and there’s no deal.”

The guard glanced between them uncertainly, then stuck his head back in. “
Bueno
,” he finally said. “You can all go in, but I have to search you for weapons.”

The search was unpleasant and very thorough. Ciara had to restrain herself from retaliating with a very thorough ball-kicking. But she knew that would get her real dead real quick. And she needed to live. Giving Pierre his due after all this was over would be far more satisfying.

He must have left his
carte
at home, because they were all admitted after the gun from his holster and one strapped to his ankle were confiscated.

They walked in, and Ciara almost gagged from the thick haze of cigar smoke. Villalobo sat at a green felt table in the middle of a poker game. A large pot of cash sat in the middle, surrounded by four or five other players. At a signal from Villalobo, they filed out of the room. The gorillas stayed.

“So you made it at last,” he said in French heavily accented with Spanish. He took a drag from his foul cigar while studying them one by one with blatant distrust.

Valois stepped forward. “Our apologies for the delay. There was a bit of a fuss downstairs. The place is swarming with cops.”

Villalobo’s black eyes narrowed. “Were you followed?”

“Absolutely not. They have their hands full downstairs,” Valois assured him.

Ciara was grateful for the long gown that covered her suddenly quaking knees. With his pinstriped suit, slicked-back hair and thick, menacing scar running along one jaw, the drug dealer looked exactly like someone straight out of a bad gangster movie.

“Shall we do this?” Valois prompted.

“I’ll need to see the money first,” Villalobo said silkily, beckoning over one of the gorillas, who produced a small wireless computer and set it on the green felt of the table.

“
Naturellement
.” Valois went to it and typed for a minute, until the screen filled with account information from a well-known Swiss bank. “As you can see, it’s all there.”

Villalobo jerked his chin at the other gorilla, who went to fetch a case sitting on the floor in the corner. When he poured the diamonds from their red velvet pouch onto the felt table, Ciara sucked in a sharp breath of awe.

The stones were absolutely gorgeous. Even in the low light of the smoky game room, they sparkled and shimmered like stars against a dark green heaven.

“They’re larger than I expected,” Valois said with a frown.

“That’s a problem?”

“Diamonds of such size and quality will be much more difficult to dispose of. I’m afraid—”

“Enough!” Villalobo spat out, making Ciara jump and her pulse go into hyperspeed. “Not my concern. Do not try to renegotiate the price,
amigo
. You will regret it!”

To his credit, Pierre stepped forward as though to shield Valois. Villalobo’s face turned so red, for a second she thought maybe he’d kill Pierre right here and save her the trouble.

But Valois waved Pierre back. “
Mademoiselle
?” In keeping with her role as gem expert, he handed her the jewelers loupe he carried on a chain like a pocket watch. “Your opinion?”

It was all for show, of course. But thankfully, he’d taught her enough over the years to look at the stones and pronounce a rough but respectable range of color, clarity and carats. Even if the terror-induced adrenaline made focusing difficult.

“Can we get twelve for them?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and said what they’d rehearsed. “Eleven to twelve. Perhaps a bit less. Of course, without a microscope...” She did her best to lift her shoulder casually.

Valois nodded, and told Villalobo, “Very well. You’ll have your six million. “Pierre, gather the stones while I—”

“My man will do that,” Villalobo snapped.

Valois swiftly transferred the money and shifted the wireless computer to Villalobo to check that it had been deposited to his own account. With a smile that sent chills down Ciara’s spine, Villalobo then rose from his seat, took the velvet pouch from his man and tossed it to Valois.

Pierre reached out and caught it, offhandedly sticking it in his inside jacket pocket. “I’ll need my weapons back.”

The gorilla reluctantly handed them back under the suspicious eye of the other guard.

“See them out,” Villalobo ordered, dismissing them with hardly a glance. “And send the others back in.

“A pleasure doing business,” Valois said with a parting bow, then turned to her and took her arm. “Walk with me
ma petite
. All this excitement has quite taken the wind from my sails.”

Alarmed, she helped him to the door, even more distressed to feel his arm was shaking. “Valois! Are you—”

“Shhh. Find me a comfortable chair and a cognac and I will be just fine.”

So concerned she was with Valois that she forgot about Pierre and the diamonds, and everything else. It wasn’t until they were well out into the corridor that she noticed the line of armed police officers pressed to the wall on either side of the door.
What the
—

Someone grabbed her, yanking her away from the opening. She landed with a thump against a solid wall of chest at the same time she heard Pierre say, “Jose Villalobo, you are under arrest.”

She looked up just in time to see Jean-Marc pull out his handcuffs. Before she could exclaim, he spun her around and slapped the cuffs on her wrists—just as Pierre and a quartet of officers hustled Villalobo and his two gorillas out of the Palm room, also in handcuffs. The waiting phalanx of uniforms surrounded them, guns drawn. To her dismay, she saw another cop take hold of Valois’ arm.

“Oh my God, Jean-Marc. You’re not serious—”

But apparently he was. “You are under arrest,” he shouted above Villalobo’s curses and threats at Pierre, who was reciting a litany of charges against him.

“Put your hands behind your back, old man,” the other cop yelled at Valois over the din as Villalobo was led away, heading for the elevator. To her shock, right before disappearing around the corner, Pierre turned and gave her a wink.

What the
hell
...

She turned to Jean-Marc in confusion. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“We’re arresting the right-hand man of one of the world’s most notorious drug lords. Thanks for setting him up for us. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She gaped at Jean-Marc’s serious face, more confused than ever. She had so many questions she didn’t know where to begin.

“You
knew
?” she managed. “About the diamonds?”

“Of course I knew. You didn’t think I’d fall for that old flowers on the bathroom wall routine, did you?” He honestly looked offended. “Really, Ciara. Give me a little credit.”

He guided her over to the side of the corridor and tipped her chin up with a finger, inspecting her through narrowed eyes. “Are you all right?”

“Other than being arrested?” she muttered, still dazed by how this could have happened. “How did you know?” Then it hit her. Of course. “CoCo. Your spy strategy worked.”

He looked pained. “No, actually, it didn’t. She wouldn’t tell Pierre a thing. Very loyal, that one.”

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more angry. Jean-Marc had beat her at her own game. She jerked her chin off his finger. “You were ahead of me every step of the way, weren’t you,” she said, disgusted at her own overconfidence.

Hell, she
deserved
to be put away. Her plan had failed on every possible level. Beck was free and a millionaire to boot, so Sofie was in more danger than ever. Valois would spend his autumn years in prison. And her—

“As a matter of fact, no,” Jean-Marc said dryly. “I wasn’t ahead of you.”

She blinked. “Then...how did you figure it out?”

“Hugo.”

She stared at him. “
Hugo
?”

Her face must have fallen, because Jean-Marc gave her a crooked smile. “For the record, he was very hard to convince. In the end, I took a page from your book. Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”