Читать книгу Hot Night - Shannon McKenna - Страница 6

Pirate gold. Coins and buttons, golden chains, orders of chivalry, glittering diamonds, glowing rubies, necklaces and rings and reliquaries.

Lucien’s fingers tingled as he leafed through the museum journal. The softly gleaming Spanish gold that had lain at the bottom of the Caribbean for hundreds of years made today’s take, lying in a tangled heap on the bed, look like cheap costume jewelry.

“I’ve found my next project,” he said to the naked woman who stood in front of the window. “Come look at these pictures, Cammy.”

The woman made no move to show that she had heard.

Lucien got up and uncorked the champagne, pouring it into the flutes that he had brought to the remote cabin just for the occasion. He carried one to the woman. “Camilla,” he murmured. “To our success.”

He chose a three-strand pearl collar from the pile of jewelry and fastened it around her neck. She shuddered at the contact.

Lucien kissed the angry marks on her back, where he’d pushed her down against the jewelry during sex.” You’re so quiet. Something wrong?”

She wrapped her arms across her breasts, shivering. “You didn’t tell me you were going to kill her.”

Lucien kissed a scratch on her shoulder blade that still oozed blood. “Is that all?” he crooned. “Gertrude Bingham was a greedy old hag. She overworked you and underpaid you. She deserved what she got.”

“But you shot her in the head.” Camilla’s eyes were haunted.

“I wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t burst in on us,” he said calmly. “These are the risks, when you steal millions’ worth of jewelry.”

Camilla’s chin shook. She put her hands over her mouth.

Lucien hid his impatience. “Come on,” he coaxed. “The woman was over eighty. You saved her from a lingering decline into senility.”

Camilla put her hand to her throat, as if the collar choked her. “So much blood,” she whispered thickly.

“Don’t think about it,” he crooned. “Think about you and me, making love on our yacht.”

Camilla grabbed him and clung to his neck. “I l-l-love you.”

That was his cue. The knife shifted from pocket to hand, stabbed deep under her rib cage. Realization, betrayal, then death, in one brief instant. His ears roared with excitement as he felt life leave her body.

He let her sag onto the rug. Wiped his hands with her blouse. Removed the collar. Rolled the body up like a cigar. There was a tarp under the rug to make things simpler for the cleanup crew.

No muss, no fuss.

He dressed, then tossed the jewels into his suitcase, staring at Camilla’s trussed remains with lingering dissatisfaction. The letdown had descended too soon. He already felt restless and out of sorts.

The only solution was to start planning his next diversion. Now.

He grabbed the museum journal and shoved it into the suitcase on top of the glittering snarl of gems.