“He asked for me by name?”

  “No, mademoiselle, but you’re the only one who fit his description. May I ask, is everything okay?”

  Jorja buried the envelope inside her jacket’s pocket.

  “Yes, yes, thank you. I’d like to check out though, please? I’ll be back to collect my luggage. Could you please make sure it’s kept in lockup until I’m back? Under the strictest security, please.”

  She had planned on taking it with but her instincts told her not to. She had left Franz’s folders in the concealed base. A sharp feeling of caution had come over her and keeping it safe was now more important than ever. She was certain, once deciphered, the contents would deliver far more than meets the eye, and if it was what she was suspecting it to be, she could use it as collateral, to free herself, or Ben—or both of them!

  “Of course. I will personally take care of it, mademoiselle. It was a pleasure to have you stay with us. I hope everything was to your satisfaction?”

  “It was, thank you.”

  She watched as he sealed the suitcase, added a note to it, and locked the piece of luggage inside the small lockup room before she moved away to read the letter. Standing to one side, she took out the envelope and tore it open, glancing over her shoulder when she got the sense that she might be watched.

  The single sheet of paper simply read: Tick-Tock. Below it, a large drop of blood was smeared across the paper.

  Ben’s blood! The thought sent icy chills down her spine as soon as she’d realized that Sokolov was responsible for sending the letter. In usual fashion it was a not so subtle reminder that he was watching her every move. His way of making sure she understood what was at stake if she didn’t deliver on the promise she’d made him. As if she needed reminding that he was holding Ben captive.

  Her fist closed over the letter, crumpling it into a compressed ball before she tossed it into the rubbish bin outside the hotel’s entrance. Newfound urgency surged through her body and once again, fear tortured her soul.

  Soon after she had left the hotel, the taxi dropped her at the airport where she booked the next flight to Abu Dhabi. Miraculously she had managed to secure a direct flight, shortening her flight time to only six hours. Aware that she wouldn’t make it through the customs X-ray machine carrying the contents of her hip bag, she scanned the terminal for another solution. If there was one thing she had learned a very long time ago, then it was to always think three steps ahead. A plan was only a plan if it was successful, and until that happened, it was simply a dance of opportunity.

  Her eyes scanned through the rest of the passengers who were also in line waiting to proceed through the customs checkpoint. She searched for a way to get her bag onto the plane without having to go through the scanner, but found none. In the past, Ben would have jammed the scanner, or they’d have someone on the inside. This time, however, she had no one to help her. Panic started to set in as another three passengers moved up the line. Showing no outward signs of her now racing heart, she continued looking for a way out. Then she spotted it: a young boy, waiting nearby with his parents. The boy was in a wheelchair, his body worn out from cancer. To his right, his parents stood talking to the airline staff, filling out last minute paperwork before they’d be taken onboard the plane through a separate entrance. Dangling from the back of his wheelchair was a large green backpack, shaped like a dinosaur. Its body sturdy and large enough to easily conceal her body bag. She dropped out of the line and passed directly behind the boy, nabbing the bag as she walked past. She had worked quickly, like the trained hands of a pickpocket, concealing it under her jacket as she disappeared inside the nearby washroom. Once inside, she removed her body bag and quickly concealed it inside the boy’s bag. As swiftly as before, the passengers entirely oblivious to her skilled handiwork, she slipped the bag back over the boy’s chair and returned to the line to wait her turn.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Adrenaline quickened her pulse as she watched the ground staff escort the boy and his parents through a separate boarding entrance, her eyes glued to the green dinosaur dangling from his wheelchair. For a minute or two, she lost sight of them where a wall blocked a clean line of sight. But then they popped up on the other side of the glass door, walking the short distance across the airfield to where they were helped onto the aircraft.

  Relieved that her bag had made it onto the plane, Jorja waited her turn and soon made it safely through the security scanner before she too boarded the airplane.

  Her seat was several rows behind where they had seated the boy, his wheelchair—with the green backpack—folded away to one side near the flight attendant’s station at the front of the plane. She’d have to move quickly, while the passengers were still settling in, she thought out her plan to retrieve her bag.

  A friendly flight attendant stood close to the chair, greeting the passengers as they took their seats ahead of her. Laser focused on the challenge that lay in front of her, Jorja continued along the aisle, intentionally passing her seat as she headed to the front of the plane. A frown settled across the hostess’ brow.

  “Are you having trouble finding your seat, ma’am?”

  “No, I think the gentleman seated over there might have trouble breathing. He looks rather uncomfortable, if you ask me.” Jorja pointed toward an elderly man who’d already taken his seat in the middle of the plane. His head was bowed since he was reading the inflight safety procedures, but from where they stood, the hostess couldn’t tell.

  As expected, the red-lipped woman responded quickly, giving Jorja the perfect opportunity to recover her bag. And, since most of the passengers were still standing in the aisle loading their hand luggage in the overhead compartments, she executed her task with ease.

  As she shuffled back to her seat, her fanny pack now back where it belonged around her waist, she looked forward to the flight. Without threat, she’d have the time she so desperately needed, to work up a plan to steal the painting.

  * * *

  But, three hours into the flight, Jorja was no closer to finding a foolproof way to steal the painting. Without blueprints, security surveillance, or, most importantly, a solid getaway in place, it was entirely futile and supremely ignorant of her to think she could pull it off and make it out of Abu Dhabi alive. Andre was right, she couldn’t do it, not without help.

  Resting her head back against her seat, her eyes closed to shut out the distractions around her, she once again asked—no, pleaded—for God to help her. Feeling hopeless and afraid, defeated before she’d even begun, lost in fervent conversation with the one she’d thought would come through for her, Jorja succumbed to the emotions that pushed beyond all reason.

  * * *

  Overcome by a sense of loneliness, fear, and the reality that she was destined to fail at rescuing Ben, her body responded in panic. She loosened the seat belt, suddenly feeling claustrophobic as if the aircraft’s walls were closing in on her. Tears lay shallow, her throat suddenly tight and constricted, her breathing labored to erratic spurts. Sick built up in her stomach and she launched herself from her seat in search of the toilet. When she burst through the narrow folding door, and shut it behind her, she emptied her stomach, crying as she tried to rid her body from the torment that now saturated her every cell. All she ever wanted was to start a new life, to walk away from the wrong she had done, and to protect Ben from the poor decisions of her past. Instead, her selfish desire to make Züber and Sokolov pay for Ewan’s death had clouded her judgement and instead, made it all worse. And now Ben was paying the ultimate price and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Regret filled her and she wished with all her heart she had trusted Ewan, told him the truth instead. He would have helped her, protected her, just like he’d always promised he would. And though she could have never loved him the way he’d always hoped she would, at least he would have still been alive. At least she wouldn’t be there, puking over a toilet on a flight to her own demise. They could have made it work; she could have tried. And Ben would still be alive in the safe haven she’d intentionally left behind for him when she walked out on him all those years ago.

  * * *

  When light rapping on the door jerked her focus away from the self-pity that seemed to have engulfed her entirely, she peeled herself off the floor and leaned back against the wall.

  “One minute, please,” she spoke through the door, her voice crackly as she hovered over the wash basin to wash her face.

  But, as she studied her reflection in the small mirror, saw her swollen, red eyes and the defeat that had settled deep inside her soul, she knew it would take a lot more to heal the brokenness that had now firmly taken root in her heart. By the time she made it back to her seat, she noticed the young girl who sat next to her had settled into another seat a few rows to the front. Relieved to now have the space all to herself, she moved over into the window seat. As she watched the young girl get cozy with a lad roughly the same age as she, Jorja couldn’t help thinking that she was wise to get as far away from her as possible. Once again, the small, whispering voices echoed in the dark corners of her mind, tormenting her with guilt over destroying everyone she crossed paths with. It was as if the words were etched deep inside her soul and somehow knew to only surface during the times her spirit felt most crushed.

  Exhausted, she leaned her head against the small porthole as she watched the clouds float peacefully underneath the plane. She wondered if this was what Heaven looked like and if God sat somewhere on an enormous gold cloud, watching His creation from His throne. Had God even heard her? What if He didn’t want to help her or if she had been so ignorant to assume that He’d want to forgive her? What if her sins were too big for Him to wipe away, if He had stopped caring?

  Her mind raced through a million questions she didn’t have the answers to. She barely knew God, she hadn’t had enough time to learn how He’d respond to her yet. Would she ever? Ewan would have known, but she never gave him the chance to tell her.

  She thought of Ben and wondered if he knew God. They didn’t know each other anymore, it’d been too long since they were together. Things were different now—she’d changed.

  * * *

  “We have got to stop meeting this way.” A deep manly voice suddenly spoke directly next to her and ripped her from her spiritually searching thoughts.

  When she turned to look, every cell in her body froze in place. At first she thought of getting away from him, but there was something so commanding of his eyes and stature that her limbs willingly succumbed to his power.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized.

  Still, she couldn’t speak.

  He waited, looked her dead in the eye, inviting her to say something, but she couldn’t. She watched as he buckled himself in, then called the flight attendant over.

  “Scotch on the rocks, please, and bring one for the lady too. Or shall I just call you ‘Jorja’?” he said with a playful grin.

  Shocked that he had come to know her true identity, Jorja still couldn’t speak.

  “Fine, I’ll give you a minute then,” he said as he rested his head on the headrest and shut his eyes. “The way I see it, you’re going to have to say something eventually,” he continued. “We’re still a long ways off from landing and well, there’s nowhere to run now, is there?”

  She could slap the smirk off his face, she thought, but restrained herself. Instead, composing herself before she spoke, her voice steely and her body rigid, she said, “What do you want?”

  His smile widened before he gave her a sideways glance with one eye open, then closed it again.

  “What do you want, and how did you find me?” she asked again.

  “Oh, now you want to talk, do you?”

  “Enough with the silly games,” she said, as she suddenly realized she didn’t have the slightest idea who he was.

  “Must feel awful not to know your opponent. From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the smart one, always a few steps ahead.”

  Her throat tightened.

  The flight attendant popped her head round the back of their seats and held their drinks out to them.

  “Will that be all, Monsieur Lupin?”

  Lupin! His name is Lupin!

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He pushed his chiseled chin out as he forced Jorja to take the glass of alcohol and proceeded to hold his glass up to signal that he wanted to toast to something.

  “To us working together,” he said, and took a sip of his beverage.

  “Working together? What are you talking about?” Jorja said, stunned.

  Once more, his eyes twinkled and his attractive mouth curled into an amused smile. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Miss Rose. Now, drink up. We have a lot to talk about.” He winked and took another sip of his drink.

  “I don’t drink,” she said, setting the plastic glass down on his tray.

  “Interesting.”

  “What is?”

  “I just thought all thieves consumed alcohol. You must be a cut above the rest, then.”

  Her heart just about stopped in her chest. He knew. He knew who she was.

  “See, I told you you knew what I was talking about.” The twinkle in his eyes was back.

  “What do you want?”

  “I believe I already told you. I want to work together.”

  “I work alone.” She turned away and faced the window.

  “Well, now see, this is where you’re going to ruin this little reunion of ours. You don’t have much choice in the matter. We want the same thing, and considering I know a whole lot more about you than you do about me, I think I might have a small advantage over you.”

  “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough,” his voice suddenly low. “Like, for example, the fact that you are carrying a gun, and a whole lot of other paraphernalia generally used to pull a heist of some kind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jorja shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unconsciously fiddling with the bag around her waist.

  “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t say a thing. Although, I must give it to you: the way you snuck that little bag of tricks onto this plane was quite genius and so skillfully done too. Of course, one little whisper to the captain and you won’t set foot on the Abu Dhabi tarmac, let alone get away with stealing a painting.”

  Jorja flushed bright red as heat infused her face and her insides felt as if it was going to ignite at any second.

  He smiled again, leaning in to whisper close to her ear. She shuffled uncomfortably, caught off guard with his enigmatic presence that sent sweet tingles down her spine.

  Where did that come from? Don’t drop your guard, Jorja!

  “See, I know things about you. You are mine now.”

  The ambiguity in his voice made her heart skip to where it exploded into a flurry of butterflies inside her stomach. Trying hard to hide the surprising effect he had on her, she snatched the drink off his tray and took two quick swigs of the gold liquid. Who was this man and why did he affect her so much?

  “I thought you didn’t drink.” The look in his eyes was teasing.

  But she was ready to deliver a few surprises of her own and she locked eyes with him when she spoke.

  “I might have once been the person you’re accusing me of, but I want nothing to do with the Gardiens.”

  She waited and read his eyes, certain she spotted the tiniest inkling of surprise behind his mesmerizing gaze before it once more, turned playful.

  “So you think you know me now?”

  “I know enough about you to say with certainty that I want nothing to do with you or who you work for.”

  He held her gaze, his eyes once again taunting her into feeling things she hadn’t felt in many years, if ever.

  “I can see I am going to need to change your opinion of me. And I do so love a challenge, Miss Rose.”

  Again, she was left feeling like he had won the round.

  “Tell you what,” he continued. “How about we start over? The name is Pascale Lupin. I believe you might associate better with my wife, Gabrielle Bouvier?”

  Jorja felt her face flush bright red in anger at the mention that he had a wife—and one the entire art world knew of and respected. Stupid woman! She cursed herself for being so childish in letting him toy with her like that. She wanted desperately to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. So, she just nodded.

  “So, you’ve heard of her then? Good, saves me the trouble of going into her entire family credentials and the history of how we met. It’s all so boring anyway. Now, tell me about the painting.”

  Jorja scoffed. “One would think with all your knowledge and influence you’d be quicker in your comprehension. So, let me spell it out for you, Mr. Lupin. I am not going to work with you. Not now. Not ever.”

  The teasing smile was back on his face, his eyes more amused than before.

  “I like working with a feisty woman. Your husband must have his hands full.”

  She was about to blurt out that she wasn’t married, but knew he was hinting. Determined not to be trapped in his flirtatious game, she disengaged, shut her eyes and rested her head back, hoping he’d leave her alone if she ignored him.

  “Yes, you’re absolutely right. We should get some sleep. There will be a lot to take care of once we land. Stealing a painting of this nature is going to require proper planning, not to mention the getaway. Any good art thief will tell you that the getaway is the most important part to get right in any heist. But then, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. Someone with your experience will have thought of that first, right? Yes, I’m sure you have it all planned out. It’s a good thing we’re not pressured by any timeline either. Imagine that.”

  His mocking words left a deliberate trail of temptation that forced her to turn and look at him. Desperate to respond, she searched for the right words, but he had already rested his head back and closed his eyes.