Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

hard gem-blue eyes.

Chapter 7
    Scottsdale
    Tuesday
    9:40 A.M .
    Sam Groves dragged his prey away from Purcell’s booth and out into the hotel lobby.
    “Let go of me,” Kate said in a low, furious voice.
    “Or you’ll scream?” he asked without interest.
    She said something under her breath.
    “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. “Don’t want to call attention to yourself, do you?”
    “Mr.—”
    “Groves. Sam Groves.” He crowded her against a potted plant the size of a delivery truck and took a credential holder out of his hip pocket. A badge flashed gold. “Special Agent, FBI. Any questions?”
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    “That’s my question.” He turned over her hand, the hand that he hadn’t released from his grip. One blunt finger traced the delicate bump of wax or glue or whatever had held the stone out of sight in her sleeve until it was time to make the switch. “A quick scrape, the stone drops, and it’s switched before the mark knows what happened.”
    She gave him a look that said his deodorant had failed her sniff test.
    “Open up,” he said, “or I’ll have to hurt your fingers.”
    “You already have.”
    “You’re making me cry.” He squeezed harder. “Open up.”
    “How can I?” she retorted, struggling quietly, uselessly against his grip.
    Her dark brown eyes glared up at her captor. If he was bothered by her, attracted to her, or repelled by her, he didn’t show it. His attitude made it real clear that he wasn’t going to be distracted by a little skin. If anything, he looked bored.
    But not careless. Her fingers were white and the hidden stone bit into her flesh from the force of his grip.
    He replaced his credentials and moved his hand to her wrist without giving her a chance to escape. “Open up.”
    With an odd smile, she uncurled her fingers. A forty-carat emerald-cut blue sapphire gleamed on her palm.
    “Surprise, surprise,” he said. “Something stuck to your delicate little fingers. Who are you going to sell this to?”
    “No one.”
    “Yeah? You’re just switching stones for the hell of it?”
    “Something like that.”
    “You must think I’m as stupid as Purcell.”
    Kate met Sam’s cool blue eyes straight on. The man might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Normally, she would have been attracted to his intelligence and old-fashioned male strength. Not today. Today she wished she’d never met the son of a bitch.
    “I’m sure you’re very bright for a federal robot,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re right. I’m not a thief.”
    Sam’s dark eyebrows rose. He’d met some confident con men in his time, but she was something else.
    Federal robot.
    He almost laughed. If she only knew how wide of the mark that shot was.
    “Not a thief, huh?” he asked lazily. “That blue stone in your hand says you’re a liar.”
    “You’re assuming that the stone is valuable enough to be worth stealing.”
    “I sure am.”
    “The stone’s only real value lies in the time a cutter spent on it.”
    “Oh, yeah, right,” he said, not bothering to hide his impatience.
    Kate’s chin tilted up. The more her heartbeat settled down from being caught, the madder she got. “I can prove it.”
    “How?”
    “Pick a dealer. Any dealer. Show them the stone and see what they say.”
    For a long moment, Sam simply looked at his unexpected captive. She had the kind of classy face that made a man want to please her, dark eyes that looked earnest, fine bones, rich black hair, and an unmistakably female shape that the loose clothing couldn’t hide. Overall impression was of fresh, businesslike femininity. Intelligent too. Quick in more than one sense of the word.
    If he hadn’t seen her pull the switch himself, he would have believed her innocent act.
    But he’d seen the switch.
    Then he remembered just how much eyewitness testimony was really worth—slightly less than a handful of warm spit. Three eyewitnesses would earnestly tell you that the guy was tall, short, average, thin, fat, average, hairy, bald, average, and looked just like you.
    He glanced at his watch. The strike force meeting wouldn’t start for another twenty minutes. Whatever else the woman might or might not be, she was more interesting than the pages of the catalogue he’d been thumbing through since the booths opened at nine. She smelled better too.
    And there was always the chance if he crowded her hard enough, she might