A Job From Hell (Ancient Legends #1)

cooked up already.” I regarded him intently. If the
jewels existed, Dallas wouldn’t do something as stupid as stealing, even though
pilfering from some thugs wasn’t like taking away someone’s life savings. Mum
would be so proud of him . Not.
    “You bet.” Dallas moved away a few inches,
draping his arm around my shoulders as he whispered, “Friday night. You wait until
everyone’s asleep, then squeeze out and meet me down the road. Make sure you
wear black and I’ll dig up the rest.”
    “You don’t even know how to pick a lock.” I
felt laughter bubbling up again. Probably just hysteria at the outlook of
burglary. Cameron had broken up with me because I wasn’t as posh as his private
school friends. It mortified him to be seen with me, particularly after I
gained a few pounds when most of my friends were losing their baby fat. Soon I
could add dishonesty to the long list of character traits that kept him from
taking our dating to the next level.
    “I’ll look it up on Wikipedia. Now do we
have a deal?” Dallas held out his hand. I grabbed it, shaking my head. Like
usual, he was all talk, or so I hoped.
    “Wikipedia? How reassuring. Why are you
even waiting until Friday?” I asked. “Aren’t you worried the stones will be
gone by then?”
    “Think about it. Everyone’s out, partying,
on a Friday.”
    His reasoning made no sense, but I wasn’t
going to argue. Anything could happen in five days. I knew he’d change his
mind. “Just do me a favor and don’t get the stuff on eBay,” I said.
    He winked. “You know I can’t resist a
bargain.”

 
    ***

 
    After Dallas left, I gave up on preparing
lunch and went about finishing the household chores, fluffing up the cushions
on the sofa and watering the flowers, then looked around. What do housekeepers
do in a sparkling house? Would my boss notice if I didn’t polish the already
gleaming floors? Most likely not, which was good because scrubbing wasn’t my favorite
pastime. I grabbed the feather duster and waved it over the furniture, then
hung the clothes on the line to dry. Bored, I glanced at my watch. Dinner
wouldn’t be served before six, so I had a few hours to inspect the back garden.
    As I strolled around the bushes and trees, I
inhaled the sweet smell of honeysuckle that stretched up the brown brick wall
to the windowsills on the second floor. The drapes were drawn, the glass
shimmered almost black in the bright sun. I wrapped my thick cardigan around my
shoulders to fend off the cold wind, and turned my attention to the narrow path
leading into the forest. The pale cobblestones, scrubbed from years of heavy
rain, looked clean and polished. In the distance was a tall mesh fence obscured
by trimmed rosebushes, already wilted. What was the fence for? McAllister
obviously wasn’t keen on trespassers. I snorted. As if anyone would find their
way to this part of the country without the latest in satnavs and a good hound
dog.
    It was late afternoon when I returned to
the kitchen to cook dinner. The freezer was filled to the brim. I prepared a
vegetable stir-fry with pasta—one of the few things I knew how to
cook—and made a mental note to look up a few recipes on the Internet.
That is, if McAllister had an Internet connection.
    By six the sky had turned a dark shade of
grey, but my new boss had yet to arrive. I sat at the kitchen table, my hands
fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, unsure what to do. I took a large gulp of
water to soothe the dry cave of my mouth. I hadn’t been so nervous since my
first date with Cameron. It wasn’t like me at all.
    Eventually I heard the soft click of the
entrance door. I jumped from my seat, holding my breath. Should I meet him in
the hall, or wait? I had no idea. What did people do in movies? I dried my
clammy hands on my jeans and opened the kitchen door, bumping into a tall, dark
-haired guy. He reached out his hands to steady me. “You okay?”
    I peered up into pale blue eyes framed by
black lashes. He was stunning, tall and broad with high cheekbones, clad in
ripped jeans and a white shirt similar to the ones piled high in the basement,
a leather jacket draped over his arm. Wearing my flat shoes, I barely reached
his chin. The thought of laundry brought me back to reality. I’d been employed
to wash the clothes, not stare at some guy, no matter how hot he was.
    Clearing my throat, I pulled away and
smiled. “You must be Mr. McAllister’s son.” My statement sounded more like