Chapter Forty-Seven

Maisa was so busy staring Jabba Beridze down and trying not to look at Dyadya that when at first her cell phone rang she didn’t even notice.

In fact, it was one of Beridze’s men, Rocky, the one who’d brought her in who said in a thick Russian accent, “Boss? Do you hear a cell?”

Everyone patted their pockets.

Maisa took the opportunity to glance at Dyadya. He still lay on the floor, but when she looked, he winked at her, which made her feel a lot better.

“It is yours,” Beridze said.

Maisa took her cell out and stared at it. After being a useless piece of plastic and glass for last couple of days it had suddenly come alive again. And she didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

“Answer it,” Beridze said.

She swiped the screen and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Sweetheart.” Sam’s voice was rich and deep and oh, so wonderful.

Her heartbeat started doing triple time. He must hate her right now. She didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say, not really.

“Are you all right, May?” His voice held impatience now.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “I’m discussing hostages with Mr. Beridze.”

That earned her a short pause. “Can they hear me?”

“Not right now.”

“Good. Do you know that you don’t have the diamonds?”

“Yes.” She’d made that unpleasant discovery when she’d gotten off the snowmobile in front of the police station, much too late to change her strategy.

“Okay, put me on speaker.”

She blinked, feeling almost hurt that he was so brusque. Silently, she held the phone out and pressed the icon for Speaker. “Everyone can hear you now.”

“Beridze.”

The mobster raised his eyebrows and stepped closer, peering curiously at the phone. “Officer Sam West, am I not right?”

“Correct,” Sam said. “I don’t know what Maisa Burnsey told you, but she doesn’t have the diamonds. I do.”

Maisa felt her blood turn to ice crystals in her veins.

She looked up and met Beridze’s amused lizard eyes. “Oh, yes?”

“Yeah,” Sam drawled, sounding as relaxed as if he were lounging in front of a football game. “You want ’em or not?”

Beridze’s eyes narrowed. “You know I do.”

“Good. Then bring both Ms. Burnsey and George to the lake at noon. I want them safe and I want them alive. I see either of them hurt or if you leave one behind, I’ll throw these lovely pink hearts into the lake. We make the exchange there and then I want you out of my town. Deal?”

“And why should I make any deals with you, Mr. West?”

“Because the cell towers are back up,” Sam said. “We have reception and soon we’ll have a boatload of FBI and police, all tearing into my town looking for you. And Beridze? You might not like my deal, but I assure you the FBI won’t be making any deals at all. This’s your last chance to get out of my town alive. Take it or leave it.”

The phone clicked and the screen read, CALL ENDED.

Maisa looked up into eyes that had all the humanity of a dead lizard.

“You lied to me,” Beridze said.

“Yes.” Maisa swallowed drily. “And I lied to him, too. I’m like that and so are you. But Sam West? I don’t think he’s ever lied in his life. If he says this is your last chance, then you’d better take it.”