Mira was sure his tax bracket was near or at zero, like every rich person she audited, but fine.
Sunil sighed. “I will help you two as much as I can. I can go question the man I’m holding, see if he has any more info.”
She was still pissed at Sunil for sending them here, and for his obvious huge blind spot where Vassar was concerned, but he sounded genuine, so she nodded.
Wyatt leaned forward. “You do that. We’re finished, old man.” He turned the computer off when Sunil started sputtering. Wyatt’s smile to them was sympathetic, but firm. “I hope you make it, I’m really rooting for you.”
That was a dismissal if she’d ever heard one. Naveen rose to his feet first, still holding her hand, and tugged her up. They turned away, but stopped when Wyatt said, “Wait!”
The man nodded at the necklace. “Take that worthless necklace. I didn’t suspect it to be a fake until I had it in my possession. You can try a bait and switch like Vassar did with me.”
That sounded like a terrible idea, but Naveen scooped up the necklace. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Do you really think Sunil helped my dad cheat you?” Did they need to distrust Sunil?
Wyatt paused. “I don’t know. It’s hard to separate the two of them now, in my mind, you know? I suppose I shouldn’t believe they’re both the same, but it’s hard not to.”
Mira nodded. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d done with Sejal? Presumed guilt by association? Even though her sister had been trying to do the right thing. “If you care at all about this relationship, you may want to give it some more thought. Determine if you’re reacting because you’re a generally distrustful person, or because he’s given you a reason to be distrustful.” Why she cared, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she was feeling kindly to either of her father’s friends right now.
In fact, she wasn’t feeling anything. She was encased in ice, every bottle on her mental shelf completely frigid. Perhaps that was why she was speaking. So she wouldn’t break into a million pieces.
Wyatt nodded slowly. “Now, did you valet your car? Allow me to walk you out.”
Chapter Fifteen
When Naveen was young and on road trips with his family, his father had insisted on staying at roadside motels. His dad had said he’d wanted to keep them grounded, but Naveen had suspected it was partially market research. The family company owned more than one humble franchise. Generally the motels they’d chosen had been clean and safe.
The particular inn Mira and him had wound up at was at least one of those things, relatively clean. It was off the highway, with burned-out parking lot lights and a tired lobby. But the sleepy clerk had taken cash and hadn’t looked at their faces, so that was a win.
Mira had protested when he’d said they had to rest, but he’d persuaded her. He was bone-deep exhausted, bogged down with the weight of their survival, and he didn’t see how she was doing better.
Naveen pulled into the spot in front of their room and collected the Walmart plastic bags in the passenger seat. Neither of them had spoken about renting two rooms. He didn’t want to be far away from Mira.
The sound of the shower met his ears when he walked in. “It’s me,” he called out, lest she’d heard the door open.
Naveen placed the plastic bags on the table as the shower turned off. He sat on the edge of the bed and toed his shoes off. He also hadn’t thought to ask for a room with two beds. Mira hadn’t seemed to mind, but he’d sleep in the chair if need be.
Mira emerged in a towel, her hair in wet tangles around her face. Steam billowed out around her. She’d scrubbed all her makeup off, and her face was shiny and clean without it. The towel was too small, and gaped when she walked toward him, revealing a slice of soft thigh each time.
He averted his eyes and gestured to the bags. “There was a Walmart around the corner that was still open, so I got us some food and drinks, as well as some necessities.”
She poked through the bags. “You remembered my underwear size?”
His cheeks threatened to grow warm. He’d been on autopilot, and had thought nothing of tossing a pack into the cart. “Well enough. I tried looking for bras for you—”
“Regular stores don’t really carry my size.” She sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, holding the panties he’d bought. Her delicate shoulders were only a few inches from him. If he turned and pressed her down to the bed, she would go. And so would that towel.
Naveen sprang to his feet and picked up the pack of cheap boxer briefs and a toothbrush. “I’ll go shower.”
He turned the knob on the shower from hot to cold before he got in. The frigid droplets weren’t his favorite thing, but they did help cool his body.
He put his new underwear on and debated donning more clothes, but found himself apathetic to the thought of dressing.
Mira hadn’t moved except to scoot back against the headboard and stretch her legs out. The necklace lay on the nightstand next to her, winking in the light of the cheap lamp. As beautiful as her naked legs were, her drawn face killed whatever lust the shower hadn’t.
He came to sit next to her on the bed and folded his hands over his belly. “Are you okay?” It was a foolish question, given how not okay they were, but they needed to start the conversation somewhere. Mira had been distant and quiet since they’d left the Wyatt estate.
“No,” she said, quite clearly.
He nodded. “Understandable.”
“My dad double-conned a con.” Her throat worked. “Stole the necklace, ripped out the valuable part, sold it to Wyatt, who trusted him, probably sold the diamonds to someone else.”
“Yeah.” He’d come to the same conclusion.
“We have no leads on the real diamonds. And Cobra isn’t going to be happy with only the setting.”
“No.”
She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave my sister. I can’t go to law enforcement.”
He dared to stroke her hair. It was rough and wet under his hands, but as he combed through the strands, they sprang apart to form curls. She’d never worn it curly when they were dating, only straight. The only time he’d seen it like this was when she was just showered, or on the nights when she worked coconut oil through the strands. He’d wanted to massage that oil into her head for her, but hadn’t gotten the chance. “There’s another option.”
“What’s that?”
“We give Cobra cash.”
Her laugh was dry. “I’m sorry, do you have tens of millions of dollars lying around? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
“The necklace is appraised for that much. It was probably stolen to begin with and it’s not like a stolen necklace can be sold at Sotheby’s.”
“Right, so it’ll bring in much more with black market art collectors and criminals like Wyatt. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I have a family member who does,” he said simply. “Not tens of millions, no, but a few million. If we can convince Cobra we don’t have the real jewels, and this is the best deal they’re going to get . . . they may be amenable.”