cascaded to the floor.
“What’s going on?” Emma asked from the doorway.
Lexi’s hands slapped against her thighs. “I can’t find it.”
“What do you mean?” Emma’s eyes widened. “How’s that possible?” She rummaged through the open drawers as if a second pass would cause the necklace to appear by magic. “You never lose stuff, Lex. It’s just not possible. How did this happen?”
Lexi dropped to the edge of her bed. “I have no idea.”
2
Tripp Fox pocketed the pendant as the coffee shop server approached with his iced mocha frappe—the only coffee he’d touch. Even as the summer season crawled to a close, the chime over the door dinged with each entrance or exit of a patron.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” The wide-eyed twenty-something in a bright green apron waited with a smile.
“No, thank you.” He grinned to himself, though she must have misread the expression as hers grew flirty before she walked away.
He withdrew the pendant again, a bright blue he couldn’t name, set in silver or platinum, he didn’t know—none of which mattered. The woman he found on the beach intrigued him far more than the gem. From her curls and full lips to her dark eyes, she grabbed him in a way no other had. She’d smelled flowery, but he couldn’t put a name to the scent. Fresh, he would say if someone asked.
The froth of his drink hit his lips as a steady stream of beach goers, shoppers and little kids tugging on their parents’ arms passed outside the coffee shop window. He chuckled at the craziness of families on vacation.
“Reminiscing or fantasizing?” Long-time friend and business partner, Ian Sands, straddled the seat opposite Tripp, his green eyes brilliant with bemused curiosity.
“Observing and thinking.”
“Coffee shops are better than bars, or so I hear.” Ian signaled to the waitress, pointing with two fingers to Tripp’s cup. “What’s that?”
“Some girlie drink Jill suggested. It’s actually good.”
Ian leaned back in his chair. “So you’re really going to marry the—I mean Jill?”
Tripp chuckled. “Why not?” Jill thought she snagged him. He let her believe whatever she wanted, but no one would capture him with any permanence—not the law and not a woman.
“You’re one lucky bastard, you know that? You’ve had good, bad, ugly and gorgeous. I just wouldn’t have thought she was your … um … type.” Ian turned to the window.
“Don’t the experts say men live longer when they’re married?” Tripp held up his iced coffee as if to clink glasses.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Ian shook his head, facing toward Tripp again. “You can even cheat and—”
“No.” Tripp’s tone bordered on dangerous. “Faithful I will be … once I choose that route … if I ever do.” He scrubbed a hand over his head, wishing for a moment that he’d shaved his head the way Ian did.
“Then you’re an idiot—especially with your … uh … abilities.” He marked his words when the server returned with the drink. She offered Ian the same smile she gave Tripp. “I think she likes me.” Ian grinned as she walked away.
“It’s her job to like everyone.” He leaned toward Ian, laughter in his smile. “So, what’s our next adventure?”
“Do you have to stay clean, or can we get dirty?” Ian’s eyes strayed to the crowds.
“Clean, Ian. We agreed. There is a hazy line between stealing and retrieving. Let’s stick to the more … angelic side.”
“Dammit. See?” Ian sighed, slapping a hand on the table. “I’m not angelic. And I’m sick of this small time shit we’re pulling. I want us back where the action is. Let’s take a couple of jobs big enough to get the old heart racing.” He thumped a fist against his chest. “You know? Something that requires beer afterward, not … coffee.” He set the cup on the table top. “Why’d I have to be nice to you twenty-three years ago if you’re going to take away all my fun now
Prefers to remain anonymous, Giles Foden