One year later.
It was a dark night, only illuminated by the crisp moon, when Ian Miller halted near a petite flower garden in the south of France. There was no sound save for his own breath. His gaze carried to a second-story window. No lights glowed from it or any of the windows in the mansion. He knew Gwen was inside. He knew what she was doing. It was only a matter of time before she made her escape.
And right into him.
He smugly smiled as he waited. It had taken longer to find her than he’d originally thought it would. But thieves are prone to leave a trail. Even the best thieves. Even her.
After months of searching, he’d stumbled upon her trail in the form of a diamond. An eighteen-carat pink diamond was found on the market after months of being underground. Ian knew that diamond well. It was his. Just like the rest of the diamonds she’d stolen from him.
Gwen had a knack for her trade. The victims he spoke to admitted they didn’t know they were stolen from until they had their jewels appraised for insurance and found they were fake. He wondered at the extent of her thievery. How many jewels had she stolen in her career?
The first time she stole from him was bad enough, but he conceded that the single night with her, a beautiful, passionate stranger, was worth the pocketful of diamonds she’d flittered away with. But to steal from him a second time was too much, especially when his life and the life of his brother had depended on those diamonds.
Ian rubbed his clenched jaw. The theft had been a trifle before, and he never lost sleep over it. The warm, tingly remembrance of their night together had him smiling at the most sporadic and inconvenient times. But now it was different.
Now, it ended.
Life had been so simple before her, before the Sierra Leone rebels and government. His wandering lifestyle kept him happily traveling without a care in the world. It wasn’t until he stumbled upon the village of Njamba that life took a turn. It became complicated. It became messy.
But it was rewarding.
He wouldn’t let her get away again, not without a fight. Not while he still had time to do something about it.
* * *
Gwen stood at the window, hidden behind the thick curtain. There was someone lurking in the garden below. But who? The owners were away on vacation. She double-checked to make sure her information was correct and there’d be no surprises. From her times scouting the house and grounds, she’d never once seen anyone go into the garden except for the gardener during his weekly visit. But he wasn’t due for another two days, and she doubted he’d make a special visit at night.
Was it Castille? He had poached on her territory before, but she’d left him a warning he was sure to feel for years.
Well, whoever it was, she had no intention of being detected, especially not to someone as obvious as the man outside. Did he think she’d just run into him, trap herself in his clutches?
Gwen slipped a black canvas bag over her shoulder and walked downstairs to the front door. The alarm had already been deactivated, and there was no one in the front yard to stop her. She’d made sure to keep her blonde hair hidden under a black cap, and it was too dark to see her face unless a light was aimed at her. If any of the neighbors saw her, they’d be unable to pinpoint her.
As she wrapped her hand around the door handle, something prickled the back of her neck. She turned around to darkness, only a pale sliver of light slashed through the room from the back window. Who was out there?
She crept over to the window and peeked through. Where did he go? A man had been standing in the garden only moments ago, but now it was empty. She had to leave before she was caught. But where was he now? The front or the back?
Now concerned, Gwen dashed through the house, checking every window. He was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he wasn’t real, just a shadow formed in the shape of a man. It was possible. For the past six months she’d grown anxious, always looking over her shoulder. Perhaps her nerves were getting the better of her and paranoia was setting in.
Taking one last look out the front-door window, she cracked open the door and listened. Silence. Just as she was about to widen the door and slip out, it was pushed open, forcing her back.
“Hello, Gwen,” Ian Miller greeted her, his voice low and threatening. “Where are my diamonds?”
Gwen stumbled back. “Ian,” she gasped. “How did you find me?”
He took a step closer, blocking the door with his athletic frame. He followed her gaze and kicked the door closed. “I’ve been searching for you for a long time. I want my diamonds.”
Stormy gray eyes pinned her to her spot. She remembered those eyes well. They visited her in her dreams; they haunted her each and every time she picked up an assignment. Ian was furious, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was pretty sure he didn’t care for an apology, and his diamonds were long gone.
When she didn’t say anything, he stepped closer. “You stole from me, put the village in danger, and put me and my family in danger.”
She couldn’t say anything to that. It was true. “But I didn’t put anyone in danger the first time.” As if that mattered, as if it made things better. The first time she met Ian was . . . magical. There was no other way to describe it. Her assignment had been to scout out the mine newly purchased by Ian and take what she could. What she found was a smiling man in the midst of a poor village. They had just finished mining for the day, and everyone was celebrating at the canteen. Villagers danced around the fire, children played outside, a tiny monkey hopped from person to person, and a pygmy hippo waddled near the brown river that ran past the village.
But the only thing that captured her attention and held it was Ian. Carefree, completely at ease with life and his surroundings, nothing but a smile that tugged at the heart and a laugh that could make it soar. She had fallen for him in that single moment. When she found out that he was Ian Miller, her target, her heart that had been lifted to the clouds landed with a flop in the muddy banks.
But one night with him wouldn’t hurt, she’d thought.
Now, looking at the man no longer smiling and jovial, she knew that it had hurt. Both of them. But there was no turning back. No happily ever after.
“No, you’re right,” Ian clipped. “The first time you stole didn’t put anyone in danger. It was just payment for a night of pleasure, wasn’t it?” He glared at her. “If you needed the money so badly, I could have used your services a little longer. There was no need to rush off, unless that’s what prostitutes—”
Gwen’s powerful punch came out of nowhere, and she wasn’t sorry. Her fist connected squarely with his jaw. He fell back and hit his head on the door handle, knocking him out cold. Only then did she feel a tug of remorse. But not enough to lose sleep over. Her memories of him that night were nothing but warm and intoxicating, but now she knew they were one-sided.
Plus, he was married. She hadn’t known he was at the time, but she met his wife months later. The man was nothing but a two-timing jackass. All of those nights she had lain awake thinking of him were her penance.
Rolling him out of the way, she said, “Goodbye, Ian.” Without another glance, she stepped over him and left.
* * *
Someone repeatedly nudged him. Didn’t they know he was trying to sleep? The person shook harder.
“What?” Ian demanded, his eyes blinking open. He had to squeeze them shut again to block out the light. Why did his head hurt? Had he been drinking?
Someone shook him again, speaking to him in French.
French?
Ian groaned and cracked open his eyes. “English, please.” While he knew enough French to have a reasonable conversation, his head felt like it’d explode at the mere challenge of it.
“Who are you?” a French policeman asked. “What are you doing inside this house?”
Ian attempted to piece together what had happened. He followed Gwen, then found her, wanted so badly to shake her and then kiss her, and then he . . .
Christ, it was no wonder he was flat out on the ground. He was so livid at seeing her, emotions he didn’t even know he possessed had overflowed and took over his mouth. He didn’t blame her for punching him. He deserved it after calling her a prostitute. It made their night together seem polluted and dirty. It had been anything but.
But still, she stole millions from him. He wouldn’t be stopped by a mere sucker punch.
The policeman shook him again.
“Yes, yes,” Ian groaned. “I’m Ian Miller. I tried to stop a thief, but she got away.”
Unfortunately, they didn’t believe him, and he wound up at the station for further questioning. No matter how many times he tried to explain in English and in French, the police interrogated him over and over about his reason for being in France and for breaking into a house.
They still hadn’t realized anything was stolen. The owners had yet to return, and they wouldn’t know their diamonds were replaced with fakes until much later. Ian kept silent. They’d only question him more. They were like hounds on the hunt, demanding answers as to his reason for breaking into a government official’s house.
Government official?
It was then that Ian realized he needed help. So, he requested a phone call and then contacted his brother Greyson. Ian didn’t think he could have been kicked any lower, but a call to Greyson to save him from another scrape was about as low as he could sink.
“Again? Why do you need a lawyer?” Greyson asked.
“You know the best; just help me out.” Ian didn’t want to beg, but his head was killing him. If he was reduced to groveling to his always-perfect brother, then he would. At this point, he just wanted to return to Njamba. There was so much he still had to do.
“I’ve already helped you,” Greyson grumbled. “Or did you forget that you were taken hostage only six months ago? It cost me millions.”
As if he didn’t have millions more.
“I’m sorry,” Ian muttered. “Next time I’ll ask the Sierra Leone rebels to please let me go. I’m sure they will.” Ian wasn’t always prone to sarcasm. However, Greyson wasn’t standing in front of him to strangle. “And, anyway, you never paid the ransom. David and I escaped before the hand off.”
“My hotel was set on fire.”
“I told you I’d pay you back.”
“How? By marrying my girlfriend?”
Ian groaned. Were they really going to have this conversation now? It was true Ian didn’t give Greyson a chance to yell at him before. He had made himself scarce after thoroughly enraging his brother, but it’s not as if Greyson cared. That was their thing. Greyson was perfect, armed with an impenetrable shell, and Ian tried his best to crack it.
Well, it all worked out in the end. Greyson was completely besotted with his new girlfriend. They even opened a bed and breakfast together.
“Greyson, you know we had the marriage annulled immediately. We didn’t even sleep together.” Well, they did, but they didn’t have sex. Marrying Nadia had been too perfect of an opportunity to miss. Greyson had had his head buried under office papers, like usual, and didn’t see the fun, pretty woman he was missing out on. So Ian did what any responsible younger brother would and interfered. Juvenile, yes. He’d been that and more. Much more.
But not now, not anymore. What had been a simple existence of traveling and caring only for himself had changed. His whole world had changed.
When Greyson didn’t respond, Ian added, “You have Jenna now.”
Greyson let out a breath, and Ian knew he’d found Greyson’s weak spot. “What do you need?”
“Just get me out of France. I have to get back to Njamba.”
“What about Gwen?”
Ian had no choice in the matter. It was either Gwen or the village. And the village had already suffered enough by her actions; he refused to make it worse no matter how much he wanted to catch the pretty thief with a wicked hook. “I’m letting her go.”
“David filled me in on what happened when you were a hostage. I’m sorry it happened. Is that why you haven’t gone back to Sierra Leone yet? Is your search for Gwen just an excuse?”
Ian cleared his throat, not wanting to speak about the not-so-distant past, but Greyson was right. Gwen might be the reason he was here in France, but his nightmares kept him from returning to Sierra Leone.
However, it was time to go back. There were too many people counting on him. Gerard had kept him abreast of the situation, and it was bleak. It was time to end his hunt for Gwen and resume his responsibilities.