The Obsidian Collection Read online

  She snapped out of it and threw the car into gear. Her black gloved hand handling the gear shift like a pro. They squealed out of the garage, through a hail of firepower.

  “Okay, genius, what’s your plan now?” Kent asked.

  “I’m driving this back to the owner—my client.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Why? Because of those guards? I disabled the security and phone systems. Including cells. No one can call out for another fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m pretty sure there are a dozen cops waiting out front.”

  “Why would they be out there?” She travelled through the extensive garage to the exit. The blue lights from the dash made her face glow like an angel.

  “Because I called them.”

  The car came to a screeching halt and the air filled with the scent of burnt rubber. Maya gave him a look that would make most men wet themselves, but not Kent. He found everything about her sexy. The sight of her behind the wheel of this beast of a car made her even more alluring.

  “Look, switch spots with me. I’ll get you out of here but I’ve got to drive. It’s the only way.”

  Maya ran her hands over the smooth leather dash and inhales. “God, it smells so good in here. Like—”

  “Sex and money.”

  “Mmmhmmm…don’t try anything funny,” she said, unlatching her seat belt.

  They climbed over one another—neither willing to actually exit the vehicle. In the process, she pressed her breasts into Kent’s face, while her hips landed close to his crotch. For a moment, he stopped breathing. He was quite sure she did it on purpose.

  They settled in their seats and Kent shifted into gear and said, “Follow my lead.”

  The car exited the garage and they were blinded by the bright afternoon sunlight. The massive house was surrounded by acres of land and they drove over a mile to get to the entrance of the property. A dozen police cars, lights flashing, waited for them.

  “Why did they send so many?” Maya asked, assessing the situation. If they could get through the road block, the Bugatti could out race any vehicle sent after them. “What did you tell them?”

  “This is a small town. Nothing much happens here. I told them someone was breaking in the house.”

  Maya watched Kent leave the car. His shoulders jutted back, his chin high. He reeked of confidence and success. As he approached the sheriff, he held his hands up in surrender. ‘What the hell is going on here?’” she asked herself, lowering the window to eavesdrop.

  She heard him speak in a panicked tone. “Sheriff, thank you for getting here so fast. My alarm system has been cut and my guards are non-responsive. I think someone’s trying to break into my garage.” He held out an ID. Fake, Maya assumed. “I wanted to get my wife off the property as quickly as possible. For her safety.”

  “Good idea,” the sheriff agreed. He looked back at his men. “Approach the house slowly and carefully. Let’s catch this bastard.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Kent said, walking back to the car.

  “What the hell, Kent!” One thing Maya learned that day was even though she preferred her criminal activity low key, Kent loved risk.

  He flashed a cocky, mega-watt smile. “Be cool, sweetheart. We’re almost out of the woods.”

  The twelve police cruisers started up and flew down the driveway. Kent put the car in gear and eased onto the rural road just past the entrance. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, tossing the ID in her lap and flooring it.

  “You had a fake ID made? And then used it to get away from the cops you called?” The ID said Thomas Fitzgerald, the owner of the house and original thief.

  “I always cover all my bases.”

  “Did you have a plan for a second thief showing up?” she asked.

  “No, you may be the first one to get one over on me.” He stepped on the gas and floored it, flying down the country road.

  Maya looks across the table at Kent, who is very busy studying the ice at the bottom of his glass.

  “Well, what happened next? Don’t leave me hanging.”

  Kent snorts. “I dumped Maya out of the car and finished my deal.”

  Queen’s jaw drops. “You kicked her out of the car?”

  “Like a fifty-dollar hooker.”

  “No wonder you hate him,” Oliver says, with an amused smile. An interested smile, and suddenly, the table feels a little too crowded for three.

  “Speaking of hookers, I guess I’ll hit the bar. You two have fun.”

  “Wait, really?” Queen asks, watching him walk away. “Your partner is nuts.”

  “Certifiable. And he’s not my partner.”

  Queen leans back in his seat and focuses all his attention on Maya. “Now that he’s gone, maybe we can get to know one another better.”

  With the slightest flick of her eyes toward the bar, Maya says, “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

  “Oh, my God,” Maya says, covering her mouth and sinking into her seat. She points to her empty plate. “That was epic. Maybe the best meal I’ve eaten.”

  Queen smiles at her from across the table, green eyes blazing in the candlelight. “Yeah, five-star resort restaurants tend to have amazing chefs.” He holds up the near empty bottle of wine and offers the reminder to Maya. She lifts up her glass and allows him to fill it up. She’s not drunk—just buzzed enough to amp up her flirtation.

  “Why did you seem so surprised to see me today?” he asked, now they were alone.

  “I never told Kent you were coming. He’s on a need-to-know basis. It’s for the best.”

  The meeting with Kent wasn’t the first time she’d met with Agent Carson. It was the third. The first took place a week prior. The second one, including Queen, happened the following day. Then, once the plan was firmly in place, they invited Kent. He needed to be coaxed into this project carefully. With a stroke of his ego and the idea that Kent had been their first choice—at least on even footing with Maya—was all that was needed to get him onboard.

  The chemistry between Maya and Queen was instantaneous. Which made it all the better. She needed to get close to him.

  “In my research on the painting, I discovered there’s some interesting mythology surrounding it. What do you know about that?” Maya asks. She’s curious to find out what he knows and she waited until Kent was out of sight to ask.

  “About the jewel?”

  “Yeah, the black diamond. You think it’s real?”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I think that it’s the equivalent of an urban legend, 1940s style.”

  “But legends exist for a reason! Little bits of truth, woven into the fabric of time.”

  “So you think that there’s a treasure hidden in the painting,” he says, lifting an unconvinced eyebrow.

  “Why not? People were doing all kinds of things during the war to save family treasures.”

  “They sewed them into clothing or hid them in the lining of their suitcases. Why and how would you hide a jewel, reportedly a large one, in a painting?”

  She shrugs. “Why not?”

  “Is that why you took this job? Hoping to find the diamond?”

  “No, I didn’t know anything about it until I did some research.”

  “Does Kent know?” A line of worry creases between his eyes.

  “Doubtful. I’m confident he’s here for the money and challenge, but never count him out. He’s smart.” And ruthless, she thinks.

  Queen tilts his head slightly. “You aren’t? Here for the money, that is.”

  She runs her finger over the edge of her wine glass and considers his question. “The money is definitely a priority, but the trip, the collaboration with the FBI, and a lot of other things made me curious enough to accept.”

  “You’re an enigma, Maya Clarke.”

  They share a dessert, unable to let the Italian sweets pass them by. Maya kept one eye on Kent during the meal and notices when he leaves the bar with a blonde on his arm. Kent is ma
ny things, including intelligent, cunning, and manipulative. In certain areas, he’s entirely predictable. With booze. Or women.

  Queen pays the bill with a Fed funded credit card and Maya excuses herself to the ladies room. She encounters Kent in the darkened hallway.

  “Where’s your hooker?” she asks, pushing past him. He catches her by the arm.

  “Did you tell Queen the truth about the car heist?”

  She eyes him up and down, knowing that she carries more control over this relationship than Kent will admit. “The less Queen knows about the two of us the better,” she replies.

  He leans against the wall and runs a hand down her side, resting it on her hip. “I didn’t tell you before, because Queen was slobbering all over you, but you look fucking hot tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she says, fighting off a shiver from his touch, “even though you’re wasted and about to go screw some Italian escort. Which by the way, better not happen in our hotel room or I swear to God, I will shoot her in the face.”

  “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like,” Kent leans in and whispers in her ear, striking a fire in the pit of her belly. “You know how much it turns me on when you’re angry.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  He gives her a handsome, lazy grin. “A man’s gotta try.”

  Maya pushes past him and goes in the ladies room. Inside, she runs her hands over her hair, taming stray pieces and leans toward the gilded framed mirror to freshen her lipstick. “Why do you let him get to you?” she asks her reflection. Kent has a way of getting under her skin professionally and sexually. They’re similar—too similar, and it causes an explosive reaction. A reaction Kent has no idea he triggered during their last encounter. He may be a manipulative liar and a jackass, but Maya is a force to be reckoned with. And Kent’s day of reckoning has arrived.

  She sighs and caps her lipstick annoyed that she’s thinking about his body and that a feeling of desire is spreading across her limbs. The mixture of wine, pleasant conversation with Queen, and the Italian air has lit a spark in her.

  Shit. If Kent’s out there when she leaves, she’ll probably end up sleeping with him—if he doesn’t open his mouth. Bracing herself, she leaves the restroom, calm and collected, prepared to deal with Kent one step at a time. She has a plan. An endgame, and fucking Kent may fuck it up.

  To her relief, when she steps into the hallway, he’s gone.

  Maya feels a twinge of guilt looking down at Queen. Which is dumb. She’s not exactly using him. Okay. Fine. She’s totally using him. But what better way to do it? Seems like a win-win situation for both of them.

  Queen’s flat on his back, beneath her naked body, seemingly fine with taking a submissive role with her. She bites back a moan, feeling the heat from his hands trailing fire across her skin. Everything about him feels good. Earlier, when they got back to the room and he took off his shirt, revealing a fit, muscular body, she knew this had been an excellent idea.

  “So you work out, huh?” she asks, running her hands down the ladder of muscles that make up his abs.

  “All-conference lacrosse in college. I still play,” he says through gritted teeth while Maya straddles and rides him at a quick, even pace.

  Sweat drips between them and Maya arches her back, giving Queen an exquisite view of her chest and body. She’s well aware of her attributes, and as he grunts and groans beneath her, she feels a smug sense of pleasure having shared herself with him. At the very least, he’s not a prick and she’ll secure his loyalty.

  “Wow,” Queen says between stilted breaths, head resting on the lush, down pillows.

  Maya rolls off and flops next to him. “Right? Nothing like a good fuck before a mission.”

  They lie next to one another, inhaling and exhaling. Maya feels the day catching up with her and faces Queen. “You probably need to go back on the couch. Kent finding you in here is not something you want to happen.”

  He frowns. “He doesn’t seem the type to get jealous.”

  “Ha. Yeah, jealousy is not one of his primary emotions. No, he’ll just be an obnoxious dick for the rest of the trip and I really don’t want to hear about it.”

  She knows Kent will find out. He can sniff out sex the way a hound smells a fox. She’s counting on it.

  “You ready for tomorrow?” she asks.

  “Definitely.”

  “We’ll celebrate tomorrow night. I’ll be a millionaire and you’ll be the golden boy of the FBI.”

  “And Kent?” Queen asks.

  “Kent will be sorry he dared to cross me.”

  Maya closes her eyes and Queen gives her a kiss on the cheek before grabbing his clothes. The last thing she hears before drifting off is the bedroom door click shut.

  Kent walks into the suite after midnight, stone sober and feeling a little cockblocked. It’s his own doing—the hooker really wasn’t a hooker, just a nice woman at the bar. He sent her to her room shortly after he saw Queen and Maya exit the restaurant. He knew he left her hot and bothered after talking to her in the hallway. They had a strange synchronicity like that. Enough of a bother that he knew she would run directly to Queen’s bed. Or rather her bed with Queen. From the sounds coming through the bedroom door, he was correct. A feeling of rage builds in the pit of his stomach and he pauses in front of the door…considering his options.

  There’s only one and he unbuttons his shirt, crossing the living room and entering his own bedroom for the night. He wishes it’s that easy to forget about her, but Maya has held a grasp on his heart and mind since they stole the Bugatti. The story Maya told Queen was certainly true. To a certain point. She left out what happened next—and it wasn’t that he kicked her out of the car.

  Kent shifted the car into gear and hightailed it down the country road with the windows down. Maya’s hair flipped into her eyes and the wind roared in her ears. She was alive with adrenaline. “How long before those cops catch on?”

  He shook his head. “No idea, but they’ll realize soon enough that the real Thomas Fitzgerald is a car thief, and they’ll spend the afternoon processing that entire garage.”

  “What’s your plan from here, then?” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “I’m dropping you at the nearest gas station.”

  “Like I’m letting this car out of sight.”

  He glanced at her sideways, hands steady on the wheel. “Babe, this is my job and you almost mucked it up for me. Take the fact I didn’t leave you back there as my gift to you.”

  “You never would have gotten out of there in time if I hadn’t turned off the security system.”

  “You nearly got me killed.”

  “It’s not my fault you missed some of the guards.”

  He laughed, showing Maya his perfect teeth. “You’re not getting a share of this.”

  “Fifty percent.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Forty.”

  “Nothing.”

  Maya reached down her leg and into her boot. She pulled out a sleek black gun and pointed it across the car. “I will blow your dick off unless you give me forty percent of your cut.”

  “Sweetheart, you can suck my dick and I’m still not giving you a fucking dime.”

  She cocked the trigger with a loud click, but they both knew she wouldn’t discharge the gun while he drove a hundred-and-ten miles an hour in back country Montana. Forty percent of dead was still dead. Kent abruptly turned right, forcing Maya to lower her gun and hold on to her seat. He left a trail of dirt, rocks and squealing tires in his wake as he raced down a dirt road.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Look, I can either dump you on the side of the road or we can both hide out for a bit until the transport truck gets here. Which do you prefer?”

  She kept her mouth shut but her gun ready. To her surprise, they entered a small wooded area and Kent slowed. “My truck is meeting me here tomorrow. We’ll plant some false leads across the state, and by morning, they’ll
think we’re long gone from the area.”

  “Smart,” Maya conceded.

  He pulled the car up to a huge weathered barn and pressed a button on his watch. The barn door slide to the side electronically. “So I see you’re using my product.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, pulling into the dusty barn.

  “That remote device on your watch. I created that.”

  He remained unimpressed and cut the engine. “Did you?”

  “So we just stay here?” she asked, looking out the windows at the cavernous barn. It was more a garage than a barn, but there was the unmistakable scent of animal lingering. Kent opened the door and exited the car. Stretching, he removed his driving gloves, tugging the black leather off his fingers and carefully placed them in his back pocket. Without a word, he walked toward the back of the barn.

  “Um, am I supposed to follow you?”

  “If you want.”

  “Asshole,” Maya muttered loud enough for him to hear. If he did, he didn’t reveal it.

  Kent stopped at the bottom of a wooden stairway. He jerked his head and she followed his lead. Maya saw a door at the top, and as they approached the top of the stairs, she noticed a small gray box on the wall. Kent flipped the box open, revealing a keypad. Entering a series of numbers, the door unlocked with a loud click. He opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

  “Holy crap,” she said. “This is…do you live here?”

  “It’s one of several properties I own.” He tossed his gloves and several items on a small table near the door. Flipping on a couple of lights, the rest of the loft was revealed.

  The furnishings were contemporary with a flair of stylish masculinity, black leather with stainless steel accents. Maya ran her hand along the back of the couch, feeling the luxurious leather. She knew Kent had money. That he had a came from a wealthy background, unlike herself, but she’d never known a lifestyle like this. She redirected her attention to Kent, who was now standing by a long, sleek bar next to a huge window that overlooked the forest.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked, already sipping on a glass full of brown liquid.