Chapter Three
There’s only one more check, and then I’m clear.
A yawn from sheer exhaustion is impossible to hide, so I turn my face away to try to stifle it. No such luck. It’s been over thirty hours. I was dead on my feet before we hit Tokyo. More so now.
I present my fake passport to the man in the kiosk, waiting for him to pass judgement on me. My eyes keep steady contact, and I force a slight smile at him as he scans my documents.
They’re solid. I’ve travelled on this passport for the last few years, and it’s held up in and out of the States. Of course, that doesn’t help my nerves and the spike of adrenaline that runs through my body while I walk the line between right and wrong.
“What are your plans in Tahiti?”
“I’m heading to Bora Bora, to one of the resorts. I’m in need of some serious relaxation, and it looks like paradise.” It’s no lie. I pull my bag a little tighter against my back while stifling another yawn. The gentleman flicks his eyes between mine and the passport in his hands, causing the beat of my heart to start racing as time slows around me. I clench my fists together and focus on slowing my breathing. This shouldn’t shake me, but I’ve struggled to calm myself.
Entering countries with stolen diamonds in my possession is nothing new. I’ve always been careful, ensuring there’s a minimum number of stones ready in my go-bag. If—and it is a big if—I’m searched and the gems found, I’m able to produce flawless documents to backup what’s in my possession.
Not this time, though.
There was no part of the plan I worked on prior to the drop that should have left me with a bag of cut diamonds, fleeing for my life. They were the payment my brother needed to gain a place at the table with a larger cartel, secure his business expansion across the west coast. My job was to source, vet, and hand the diamonds over, not smuggle them out of the country. Now I have half the payment. Ten million pounds worth of diamonds burning a hole in the titanium thread compartment in my jewellery case, and no idea what’s happened to Andreas or the rest of his team. They ran. I ran.
The bastard ran without me.
The man standing between my freedom and I—for the next few weeks at least—smiles and hands me back my passport. “Welcome, Miss. Enjoy your stay. It really is paradise.”
“Thank you.”
My relief is clear as crystal, but I don’t care. After travelling for over a day, I still have a plane to book to Bora Bora and then a sea taxi before I can relax. And even then, there’s no way I’ll be forgetting the protocols I’ve lived my life by for years. I quicken my pace and take a small detour, watching for anyone familiar or anyone who seems like they’re looking for someone. Half an hour later and I think it’s safe, so I look for a tourist desk about booking my next flight.
A painful wait for the next plane out finally ends, and although it’s dark when the sea taxi finally pulls up to the jetty of the Four Seasons, I can’t miss the beauty of the island. It’s enough for me to be distracted for a moment.
Stepping onto the wooden promenade, I make sure to slip the taxi driver a few of the only local currency notes I have on me. There’s no one else around, but it doesn’t stop me from checking. Every noise, every sudden move brings me right back to that warehouse where the ambush occurred.
“Merci, mademoiselle.”
Despite the lateness of my arrival, a steward is ready to help me to my water bungalow as soon as I’ve checked in. The last-minute reservation meant that the two-bedroom overwater bungalow was the only option open to me. No matter. Spending all my time alone, travelling from place to place and dealing in stolen gemstones affords me every luxury I can wish for. It’s a shame I don’t allow myself the time to indulge, but that isn’t my style. Not when I don’t need it to be, anyway.
The young lady, dressed in a pristine white uniform with a spray of tropical flowers in her hair, waits to lead the way.
“Excuse me. Do you have a boutique I could stop in first?” My go-bag doesn’t include anything even close to holiday attire.
“Certainly, mademoiselle. This way.”
The air-conditioned lodge a few hundred metres from the main reception has several glass-fronted stores. I dip inside and grab an assortment of clothing—everything from bikinis, skirts and dresses to more casual tops and flip-flops—and finally charge it to my room with a deep sigh. I’m so tired my eyes can barely see.
My guide carries a burning torch, which looks like something out of Indiana Jones rather than a five-star resort, but it lights the way. She unlocks the door and throws the lights on, illuminating the spacious open plan villa.
“The main bedroom is in the centre of the—”
“Thank you, thank you.” Going through the polite intro is a step too far. I shove the last of my currency into her hand and usher her back out of the room as quickly as I can. Every muscle in my body is ready to shut down from sheer exhaustion, and my eyes are barely open, but I can’t relax or sleep.
Not yet.
The windows and doors are open to my terrace, outdoor seating and plunge pool, all waiting for me to indulge. These touches mean I won’t need to go anywhere but the bungalow for the next few weeks. It also gives me the perfect exit point.
I strip out of the clothes that now cling to my skin for their life, tossing them onto the seating. The cool air against my heated skin is welcome and needed, but there won’t be any sleep for me until I find a suitable place to store the diamonds.
My gut tells me to keep them in my room, where I can lay eyes on them at a moment’s notice. But I also know that if I’ve been followed, my room will be the first place they search.
I scan the rooms to look for options to hide them away. A series of glass vases with pebbles and bamboo decorate the side table running along a wall next to the kitchen area. I pull out the jewellery case from my go-bag and untie the leather case.
